#if i end up dead y'all know what happened | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage · 6 months

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I'm back on my bullshit thinking about the Hawke siblings again and how much I love a "both twins live" AU... but y'know what I love just a little bit more? An AU where all three Hawke siblings are alive, but one of the twins still get attacked by the ogre in Lothering and is presumed dead when they actually survived.

I like to think that since the narrative in DA2 is framed as a story Varric's telling Cassandra, we can play around with the fact that he's an unreliable narrator. Varric wasn't there in Lothering. He only knows what Hawke told him. It makes for a better story if Leandra, Hawke, and the surviving twin get to huddle around the dead twin and say their goodbyes... especially if they didn't actually get to do that. I mean, a lot of us already have that train of thought when it comes to Leandra's death and Hawke getting some closure through her final words telling them how proud she is. Whose to say Varric didn't do that for the lost twin, as well?

All that to ask what if the ogre attack happened, but the group was so overwhelmed by darkspawn they had to flee further and couldn't check the twin who "died?" Flemeth still showed up, but it was too late to go back and say goodbye.... so Hawke made a deal with the Witch of the Wilds and they all pushed forward to Kirkwall.

Imagine Bethany, left behind with broken bones and bleeding in the sand, fading in and out of consciousness as the remaining darkspawn surround her. She knows how to heal, how to fight back, but she's weakened. Her staff lays out of reach. Air shakes in her lungs. She tries to call for help, but only wheezes come out. Where's her mother? Her siblings? Did the ogre get them, too?

At this point, we all know what happens to the women darkspawn take, and Bethany could've met that fate; she doesn't have the strength to fight back as they drag her away. But before they can bring her underground, she's saved by another group of survivors. Perhaps they're more soldiers fleeing Ostagar, or townsfolk who recognize her from Lothering. They do what they can to treat her wounds but she needs a healer, so they bring her with them to seek refuge in Redcliffe... except they eventually realize she's an apostate. Well, she doesn't seem dangerous, but they still contact the templars.

Bethany wakes in a warm but unfamiliar bed with skilled healers tending to her. Templars hover by the doorway. First Enchanter Irving greets her, gentle in explaining she's safe inside of Kinloch Hold and that she's going to survive. When Bethany asks about her family, he gives her a sympathetic smile and says they only found her.

Bethany, who never took to embracing her magic the way her older sibling did and always felt like it burdened her family... has lost that very family. Could they survive the ogre and darkspawn? Or did the ogre tear them apart, too? How did she survive... but not them? Did the Maker really have such a sense of humor? How else would she end up in the Circle, a place her family went to great lengths to keep her safe from?

She doesn't want to think about it. She hopes they made it to Kirkwall, but the prickle of dread that crawls up her spine knows how unlikely it is. Bethany finds comfort in speaking with the mages who rotate in to heal and bring her food. Some feel trapped by their magic just as she does, but others remind her of her older sibling in the way they embrace their magic, a gift from the Maker. The younger apprentices who aid the mages ask her questions about what lies beyond the walls. The templars mostly keep their distance, but one is friendlier than others. A man with curly blonde hair and a sympathetic view of the mages bothers to speak to her more than his fellows do.

She's still in recovery when Uldred and his blood mages attack the tower, but she survives. Bethany heals, even as she's haunted by nightmares of the ogre wrapping its tainted hand around her body to crush her, flinging her aside to lay among the limp bodies of her family... haunted by the horrors the blood mages unleashed on the tower. She aids in restoring the tower the best she can, and accepts her new home, her new life. When she's well enough, she lights a candle for each of them; her father, mother, her eldest sibling, her twin... she even lights a candle for the family mabari, and prays to the Maker to give them her love as they stand at His side.

The Blight ends. Years pass. Bethany settles into her new life, becoming a fine example for the younger apprentices she mentors. She witnesses wrong doings against her fellow mages, loses friends to their harrowings or tranquility. She accepts what she is, even if bitterly. The Chantry's teachings about magic scar more than enlighten; she sees it in some of her fellow mages, feels it in herself. Secret meetings. Whispers of escape, of freedom. More escape attempts. Harsher restrictions.

Around this time, back in Kirkwall, Knight-Captain Cullen stands where he always does in the Gallows courtyard. He notices Hawke appear with some of their companions. It hurts to think back to Kinloch Hold, but something occurs to him: he knew of another Hawke who was brought to the Circle while he served there. They only spoke once before... well, before. He wonders if there's any relation. When Hawke wanders over to speak to him, as they always do, Cullen brings it up.

Hawke pales. A beat of silence. Cullen recognizes heartbreak; he sees it unfold in their eyes and swell in their throat as they realize that all this time, their baby sister was alive.

Then the day comes where new whispers float among the mages in the Circle. A visit by a Grey Warden. Most, including Bethany, assume he's here to recruit... until Irving comes to her. He says this warden's requested, though more like insisted, he see her now. But then Irving smiles; the warden in question said his name is Warden Carver. He received an urgent letter that his sister is here, alive, and he demands to know if that's true.

Bethany nearly collapses when she sees him.

While the reunion can't last; she can't leave the Circle and he has his calling; the twins embrace, sobbing out apologies and exclamations that they thought the other was gone. Carver tells her of Kirkwall, the expedition that led him to the Grey Wardens, and their older sibling's status as Champion. With a gentleness she never knew her brother to have, he tells her what happened to their mother, and more tears flow freely. Their sibling learned about her from a templar, though Carver grumbles that the bastard could've said something sooner.

There's the Maker's humor again.

...Now flip the script: imagine Carver being left behind instead.

For as strong and passionate as he is, that ogre still picks him up and slams him to the ground. Bones crack. Black splotches flood his vision, agony exploding across his skin. His sword flies from his hand. The soulless bastard tosses Carver aside like he's nothing, and he's left to lay there. His mother's cries muffle in his ear as though he's stuck underwater, sinking slowly into the dark.

It figured, honestly... that he'd survive Ostagar while his fellow soldiers were cut down all around him, that he and his eldest sibling would flee the field when all hope was lost... that he'd make it home to get his family out of Lothering... only to die protecting his mother. And why not? He is a protector. A warrior. It's a honor to die saving those he loved... so why didn't it give him peace?

Carver eventually wakes in the night among the bodies of fallen darkspawn. Everything aches painfully hot and his thoughts reject coherency. He knows his family is gone; they're dead, or they've fled... either way, he's alone; left behind. Something's broken inside of him, but he has just enough will to pull himself up at the sound of approaching footsteps. A group of survivors find him- funny enough, the same group who aided Bethany in an alternate timeline. Imagine that.

That's how Carver ended up in Redcliffe's Chantry with an overworked healer tending to him. He doesn't even flinch when the mage works their magic on him, knowing all too well the sensation of healing magic seeping into his skin, mending the flesh. He tries not to think of Bethany, or what might've happened to her.

The Chantry's overwhelmed with townspeople hiding from a danger outside that he can only assume is darkspawn... except it's not. He wonders how hard he hit his head when he hears the undead have come from the castle to slaughter what they can of the town every night. But then he sees it with his own eyes when one breaks in, taken down by a templar, and never before has he ever felt so useless.

Then the last two remaining Grey Wardens arrive. They're crucial in the final fight against the undead, swearing to enter the castle to stop the attacks at the source. While Carver couldn't participate in the final fight, something he complained loudly about, he did what he could in his condition to help like sharpening swords and handing out supplies. Mostly to keep his sanity and quite his thoughts throughout his recovery.

When the time came, he took up his sword again in the name of all those he lost.

An archdemon was said to be on the horizon, and the Grey Wardens needed everyone they could get to fight. Carver fights in the battle of Denerim where the Hero of Fereldan defeated the archdemon. He cuts his way through every darkspawn he sees. Ostagar flashes red behind his eyes. Lothering clutches at his heart. So much anger and sorrow built up inside him, flooding out in his tears and screams. Blood everywhere. Fire and smoke.

Then it's over.

In the aftermath of the Blight, like so many others, Carver has no home to return to. No family. He thinks to go back to Lothering to help rebuild, only to hear the lands were too tainted. These tainted creatures took everything from him... That's what eventually brings him to Vigil's Keep, standing before the Hero of Fereldan themself, asking to be made a Grey Warden. He already dedicated nearly two years of his life to killing darkspawn, and he had nothing else. Even when faced with the Joining, holding the chalice of darkspawn blood and being told to drink, he didn't flinch.

Life as a Grey Warden isn't as simple as he assumed it would be, but Carver finds purpose in his calling. Over the years, he grows to view his fellow wardens as family. He travels all over Thedas, venturing down into the Deep Roads to help clear out hoards of the darkspawn. But then comes the day he finds himself in Kirkwall, and it doesn't take long before he hears the name Hawke on the lips of the townspeople. His eldest sibling was not only alive, but they're quite popular among the people. But what about Mother? Bethany? He doesn't have to snoop too far to learn templars took Bethany away to the Gallows, and that Leandra Hawke was the final victim in a string of murders committed by a blood mage.

Carver finds himself standing outside the estate, glaring at the door. Furious. Heartbroken. Bitter. He wants to scream. This entire time, they lived. He's torn between wanting to reunite with his older sibling again, to get the truth from them, and wanting to barge into the estate, demanding answers to how they could let the Circle take Bethany... after what Carver sacrificed, how could they let Mother die like that? Was it all pointless in the end?

He leaves without knocking. He can't bring himself to see them. Not that it mattered. Before he could leave Kirkwall, the tensions with the qunari finally overflowed, and chaos fell upon the city. He's forced face to face with his older sibling again, but he wasn't prepared to watch the recognition slowly bloom on their face, or for all his anger to turn to mush. Carver's the first to speak.

"Somehow, I knew it would be you."

.............So, yeah. I really like this idea.

#da2 #dragon age 2 #bethany hawke #carver hawke #long post #there are so many routes you can take with this too like hawke finds out bethany's alive in fereldan's circle #and they gather all their companions like 'y'all we're doing a heist' 'great what are we stealing?' 'my sister'#'...isn't your sister dead?' 'APPARENTLY NOT'#or carver and anders could know each other from the wardens and one day anders tells hawke that they remind him of another warden he knew #and hawke is like '.............that little shit survived and he didn't tell me?? i'm telling mother'#OR both bethany and carver end up as wardens and happen to run into each other like '????? I thought you were dead?????'#and tbh bethany doesn't have to end up in the circle or carver with the wardens. that's just the paths i explored #maybe they're found by the warden and alistair who have wynne fix them up and they join the dao party #hell this could be backstory for an inquisitor carver or inquisitor bethany in dai #also yes this post is my way of saying that i love this idea but i'll probably never turn it into a fic so let me gush about it this way

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helpimstuckinafandom · 2 months

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JUSTICE FOR DAVINA CLAIRE I'M SO FUCKING SERIOUS FUCK OFF OH MY FUCKING GOD

#CAMI AND DAVINA GONE IN ONE EPISODE??!?!!??#YOU CAN'T BE FUCKING FOR REAL #(davina perma died an episode later both they both died in one episode right before that)#also this season has been slacking on marcel and the ep post-davina's death kicked him up several notches #he said all the shit i take issue with about the always and forever family bs #he hit that shit out of the park #also camille's death being all about comforting klaus fucking pissed me off #it was until she was scared right at the end that it was more about her #and her last words COULD have beenthe immortality line. but then they had to have her bolster klaus again instead #at least we got others mourning her after #but davina????#those bitchass ancestors forced her boyfriend to kill her then nearly shredded her soul #and she could've been resurrected. but of course fucking family came first #she had to die screaming for mercy alone as the ancestors tried to carve her soul from fucking existence #(and though i'm mad at elijah and freya for it it makes sense for them to do it #(what pissed me off was them and klaus then telling marcel that they were justified and he should just suck it up and understand)#(like no take the consequences let the man mourn)#(freya claiming family to kol too like girl i don't know you. and this 'family' loves you more than it ever loved me)#(y'all only love me on my deathbed)#(if being family means we kill each other's partners [which happens time and time again] then fuck being in this family)#like i don't actually want the mikaelsons dead. but also i hope super vampire marcel kills you all #hope kol gets away from you people because you are not family to him. you aren't.#but mostly davina. poor fucking davina #her and kol are my bonnie and enzo - finally finding someone who will choose them not just use them #only for death at the hand of allies #davina clair was an abused teenager you all used and who justifiably hated y'all #and she deserved more than to die like this. die basically three fucking times over still helping in the end #truly have not seen a witch this blatantly used and mistreated since the bonnie bennet #davina claire #the originals

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thesewordsareallihavetogive · 1 year

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LMFAO what are these cable tv writers ON

#no disrespect intended #bc i know that writers are In The Trenches right now #but... HUH???#there's a show i watched in middle school that is somehow still on the air #<- i'm saying that bc i just don't understand why cable networks PUSH and PUSH for more seasons of a show until it burns out #instead of letting the show end organically and letting the plot points resolve within five or so seasons but No.#some of these shows have been going for over a decade!!! like what !!!#these actors are 👏tired👏#anyway! what i'm getting at is that when shows run for long after they were initially structured and intended to... things get weird #like the same chaotic plot points and character near-deaths happen every other season #i'm not trying to be mean i promise #i just. get frustrated w the larger networks and production companies behind cable TV shows that just... let them run into the ground #for the sake of profit #they rlly beat that dead horse until it stops coughing up money #anyway. have a good night y'all!!! i will b stewing in the disdain i have for media being increasingly monopolized and arts being extorted

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dakotalun · 10 months

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"Oops" | Eddie Munson

pairing: Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

summary: Part 1--Eddie "accidentally" sends a tasteful pic to his best friend.

warnings: mutual pining, pet names (sweetheart), strong language, description of naked Eddie

word count: 3.4k

Part 2

a/n: went a little crazy at 3am the other night and wrote this. Part two will be up later this week!! Luv y'all <3

*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******

Eddie is your best friend of many years, the two of you being inseparable from the moment you met. So when you got a text from him tonight you don’t think much of it, figuring it was just a dumb meme he saw or a random thing from today.

What you didn’t expect to see was a picture of Eddie standing in his bathroom, towel slung over his shoulders with a prominent boner happening.

His hair is wet as if he just got out of the shower and hadn’t bothered to dry it yet. The long dark brown locks stick to his neck and chest in a way that can only be described as godly. The tattoos on his skin are glistening but covered by the towel around his neck and as you move your eyes downward the path of hair that leads to his dick is delicious.

And talking about his dick it is, mag-fucking-nificent! The way that it hangs there, the tip swollen and red, leaking the smallest bit of precum. It has your mouth watering.

You nearly choked on your own spit when you saw it. Never in a million years did you think that Eddie would be sending you of all people nudes. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wonder what he was packing but you never really indulged in those thoughts, until now. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen, memorizing every little detail in the photo.

Eddie sends another text but you’re too distracted to see what it is. Then a stream of texts start flooding in from him.

‘SHIT!’

‘I DID NOT NMEAN TO SNED YIU THAT!’

‘IGNORE THE PICTUREA’

‘HOW THE HELL DO I DELETE THE PIC?!?!?!’

‘GOD I AM SOSOSOSOSOSOSSOO SOORRY!!’

You giggle at his frantic typing, noting all the typos. Curiosity gets the better of you and you scroll up a little to see what he had said after he sent the picture. You’re eyes go wide at the words displayed on your screen.

‘Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. Jerked off twice while in the shower and I’m still hard. Wish you were here with me right now ;)’

You had no clue who this was really meant for but if it was meant for you you would 100 percent be on your way to him right now. The bottom half of the picture stares back at you as your eyes acan over the text again and again. You can’t deny the small hint of wetness that you feel on your underwear while looking at the two.

Twice? He came twice and is still hard. Whoever he thought about must be really hot if he can go 3 rounds without breaking a sweat. Could he go more?

Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone receiving a call, from none other than Eddie himself. You sit up in bed and pull your knees towards you as you answer his call.

“Sweetheart I am so so so sorry I sent you that. It was clearly meant for someone else. If I had known it was your contact that I was on I would have never sent that at all. I want you to know that I don’t go around sending nudes to everyone or anything, I’m not a slut I was just-”

“Eddie it’s fine. No need to apologize. I figured it wasn’t meant for me anyways.” It pains you a little at the thought that someone else was supposed to receive that message from your best friend.

“I’m still sorry. Is there any way I can make it up to you?” His voice sounds smooth like spreading butter onto fresh pancakes.

“Hmm,” You fake thinking about what you want even though you know exactly what it is you want, “You’ve gotta tell me who that text was really meant for.” Silence. For a whole minute there is just silence on Eddie’s end, you’d think he was dead if it weren’t for the fast pace of his breathing.

“Sweetheart,” The nickname is not helping the situation you have going on right now, “You don’t mean that. Can’t I just take you to breakfast or buy you a new outfit?”

“Nope.” You respond popping the ‘p’ as you say it. “Either tell me who it was meant for or I send it to the groupchat.” You were bluffing. You couldn’t let the others see him like that, that was for your eyes only. Not that anyone needed to know that.

“You wouldn’t dare,” His voice turned deep and threatening.

“Try. Me.” You challenge back.

Eddie groans, “Fine. You win,” A smile spreads across your face, “It was meant for Callie. This girl in my chem class, we’ve been talking for a little bit.”

You’re a mix of emotions right now; happy that Eddie found someone he’s interested in and took his shot, confused because he never told you about it, sad because you thought he trusted you with things like that, and slightly jealous because you want to be the one Eddie sent nudes to, purposefully.

“Sweetheart? You still there?” You completely forget that you’re still on the phone with Eddie until he says something.

“Uh yeah yeah I’m here. I’m um happy for you Ed. Glad you found someone. Look I gotta go to sleep, big test tomorrow, talk later. Bye.” You hang up before he can say anything else.

Why did you feel this way about all this? You shouldn’t be thinking of Eddie in this way, he was your best friend. Best friends don’t think about going down on each other, or the way it would feel to have his cock inside you, or the moans he would release when he finally cums in you.

You shake it off and lay back down, setting your phone on your nightstand to charge. You try for half an hour to fall asleep but your mind can’t stop thinking about that damn picture. So you unlock your phone and go back to your messages with Eddie, looking to see if he deleted the picture or not. And to your luck it was the latter, the picture and text below still there for your viewing pleasure.

You’re still horny from the initial thought of him so it doesn’t take long for your hand to wander under your shorts and underwear to your clit. The thought that your fingers were his and the way he would whisper in your ear egging you on to finish.

The images of him jerking himself off in the shower flood you, his hand on the cold tiles, water hitting his back as he fists his cock, rubbing it slowly at first but becoming impatient and going faster until he cums all over the wall and his hand.

The image of his face when he does and the moans that would leave his mouth is what throws you over the edge yourself. Wishing it were him between your legs pulling it from you not your own fingers. Finally your body is tired enough to let you go to sleep, dreaming of Eddie once more.

---

You’re sitting with Eddie and the rest of Hellfire at lunch a week later. Neither of you have talked about what happened that night, both too embarrassed to say anything.

Things were normal though, Eddie would pick you up and drop you off to and from school. You’d talk on the phone every night about whatever happened that day that the other wasn’t there for. You liked the thought that the text didn’t hinder your friendship but you can’t help but be a little jealous about Eddie fucking someone else. It’s not like you were expecting him to confess his hidden undying love for you the next day but the realization that Eddie really did send you that accidentally; hurt.

The freshman are talking about some video game coming out when Eddie lean over to you.

“Whatcha’ thinking about?” There’s a smile on his face, one that you always loved seeing.

“Nothing,” You go back to eating your fruit.

“Alrighty then. Hey I was wondering what time you wanted to come over tonight?”

Your eyes grow wide, mind going back to the text, “Why?”

“Um it’s Wednesday. Horror movie marathon night, remember?” His head cocks to the side a little, his hair falling into his face. It reminds you of a dog questioning what it’s owner has in their hand.

“Oh right yeah. Um I don’t know if I can make it tonight.” That was a lie, you had nothing going on. But being in the trailer alone with Eddie after knowing what he looks like naked is not what you need right now.

“Awe come on! I rented Scream, Saw, and Halloween for tonight. You can’t make me watch them all alone,” He lowers his voice and leans closer, “What if I need protection from the bad guys?” His big doe eyes large and pleading with you.

You roll your eyes and push his face away from you, “Ugh fine. I’ll be there, how’s 8?”

“Perfect! I’ll order the pizzas, do you think you could make those amazing cookies for us?”

“You mean for you?”

“No. I mean for us, I would never eat all the cookies myself.”

“You did like 3 weeks ago! There were 30 cookies there and I had none of them.” You stare at him as he thinks back to then.

“Nope don’t remember which means it didn’t happen. So will you?” There are those puppy dog eyes again.

“Whatever but I swear if you eat all of them again I’ll castrate you.”

Eddie’s hands fly to his groin, protecting it from your threat. “Ouch, sweetheart. Didn’t know you hated my dick that much.”

I don’t. Just hate that it’s not mine. You thought, but you just rolled your eyes and continued on eating lunch until the bell rang.

---

Eddie rushed around his room looking for his favorite shirt when you showed up for movie night. You let yourself in, per usual and set the cookies down on the coffee table before heading to Eddie’s room. He was squating in front of his closet when you come in, you don’t announce yourself just stand there staring at his back.

He got a few new tattoos since last summer, two of which on his back. A skull and crossbones along with a knife wrapped in barbed wire. You haven’t seen them in person yet, it still being too cold to sit out in the sun. But looking at them now was a pleasure, the detail popping out as his muscles flex.

Eddie huffs and stands, defeated about not finding the shirt he wanted. He turns around and finds you standing in his doorway.

“Jesus! Why didn’t you say you were here?” His hand is over his heart as he catches his breath from the unintentional jump scare.

“I texted you like 20 minutes ago that I was on my way. Figured you knew I’d be here soon,” You say as you enter his room fully to sit on his bed.

“I did not see the text, I was in the shower,” The mention of this brought back memories of the photo, and what you did whilst looking at it, “Anyways pizza should be here soon and I’ve got beers and soda in the fridge.”

Eddie walks around you to his dresser, grabbing a random shirt and throwing it on. You’re sad at the loss of his bare skin but quickly shake the thought away. You get up from his bed and head to his living room, Eddie following in toe.

“So what are we watching first? I’ve seen Scream a few times but the other two I haven’t seen,” Eddie remarks as he grabs two beers from the fridge, opening them before handing you one.

You mumble a thanks before taking a sip, the bitter liquid coating your tastebuds. “I’ve seen Scream and Saw but not Halloween. Heard good things about it though, at least that’s what Robin said, Steve had other opinions.”

“Lemme guess pretty boy hated it and wished he never saw it?” Eddie laughs as he sets up Halloween on the tv.

“Yeah pretty much,” You laugh along. The thought of your friend sitting there watching the movie curled up in a blanket next to Robin bringing a smile to your face.

Eddie finishes setting up the movie and walks back the kitchen. He grabs a bag of chips and some dip before returning to your side on the couch. He opens the chips and pops one in his mouth, crunching it loudly.

You smile at the normalcy of everything right now, it’s as if nothing ever happened between the two of you. Which if we’re being honest nothing really did happen, Eddie just sent you a nude on accident. It’s not like you kissed or anything. Not that you’d hate it if you did.

You snack on the chips and dip with him while waiting for the pizza to show up, never starting the movie without it. The two of you talk about nothing in particular while you sit there. Eddie tells you about the upcoming DnD campaign he’s been working on.

His eyes lighting up and hands flying around erratically as he explains what he planned, the animation in his character brings an even bigger smile to your face.

Just as Eddie concludes his explanation, inviting you to come sit in and watch it at the end, the doorbell rings notifying the both of you that the pizza was here and it was now time for movie night to begin.

Eddie pays the guy and happily walks over to the couch and sets the food on the table in front of the two of you, he can’t even wait til the movie starts playing to begin eating. You laugh at him as he opens and closes his mouth quickly trying to cool the hot pizza in his mouth, you just hit play and start watching the movie.

The pizza is gone, same with half the bag of chips and the cookies. Eddie actually let you eat a few of them before he scarfed down the others. You’re nearing the end of Scream, the third and final movie of the night when you look at your phone for the time. 12:25 stares back at you, you groan knowing that your parents are going to kill you for coming home so late on a school night.

Eddie hears you and turns to see why you made that noise. You just wave him off and go back to watching the movie, watching as Skeet Ulrich gets shot for the final time in the head. A few minutes later the credits roll and Eddie turns off the tv, letting the trailer fade into silence.

“Wanna tell me what that groaning was about?” Eddie asks turning to face you completely.

“Nothing, just didn’t realize that it had gotten so late. Parents are gonna kill me if I go home at this hour.”

“So just stay here,” He says with no hesitation, “You still have a few clothes here after last movie night. They’re just siting in my drawer.”

You think about it for a minute. You and Eddie have had sleepovers in the past, nothing special about them, just two people sharing a bed, occasionally cuddling because of the small size of it. But now the thought of it made you nervous, having him so close to you, so near yet not being able to touch him. It killed you, but it’s better than going back home right now and having your mom and dad rip you a new one.

“Alright, I’m gonna need to shower though. Coach had us run the mile today at practice and I still feel disgusting.”

“Yeah no problem, you go ahead and shower, I’ll clean up here.” He stands and starts clearing the trash from the table. You get up too and head into his bathroom, but no matter how hot the water is or how long you stand under it you can't get the thought of the picture and the words under it out of your mind.

He was right here, jerking off to the thought of someone. You scold yourself for thinking about him like that, again. But you couldn’t help it.

Recently you’ve thought about him more and more; his smile, the dimples that show when he’s really happy, how animatedly he talks, the way his hair is always unkempt but still looks so damn soft. You thought about him in ways you never did before seeing that picture; his arms, his muscles, his hands, his rings. Everything about him turned you on and you needed it to go away.

Eddie finished up cleaning and sat down on his bed, beer in hand while he took out his metal lunchbox for a joint. You walk into his room, towel wrapped around yourself, hair dripping wet from the shower. He stops his actions to just stare at you, the same way you did earlier that night.

“Uh could I borrow some clothes? I don’t have anything to sleep in,” You say wrapping your arms under your boobs, pushing them up ever so slightly.

Eddie clears his throat, “Yeah, sure.” He gets up and walks over to his dresser, rummaging through it to look for something you can wear tonight. He pulls out a pair on your underwear that you “left” there a while back and one of his Hellfire shirts. You denied his offer of some pants, saying they would be way to big on you and you’d rather just sleep in the shirt.

Eddie’s mind went straight to the gutter at that thought, you sleeping next to him, in just his Hellfire shirt and a pair of underwear he stole from you. His dick was growing hard just thinking about it. He quickly got back to looking for his joint and lighting it upon it’s appearance. He took a few hits while you changed in the bathroom, his mind slowly fogging over.

You return, hair still slightly wet with the towel in your hand. You toss it into his hamper before laying on his bed, grabbing his beer and taking a sip. You lay back and close your eyes, letting the serenity of this moment wash over you. Eddie offers you a hit but you decline, being that you don’t ever mix weed and booze together.

He finishes the joint while you finish his beer. The two of you just sitting there with the light sound of whatever record Eddie has playing. Your thoughts are quiet for the most part, just soaking in the time with your best friend, until you think of something. A question you’ve been meaning to ask for a little bit.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?” He responds head leaning back onto the wall where a headboard should be.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, hit me.” You reach your hand out and hit him in the thigh.

“Ouch! Not literally, I meant with the question, sweetheart.”

“I know,” You giggle.

“Brat,” He mumbles back.

“Anyways, I was gonna ask -and you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to it’s just something I’ve been thinking about- but did you really not know it was me you were sending that picture to?” The words lay heavy on your tongue as you say them aloud. You’ve been thinking about this for a while, it’s hard not to.

How did he not know it was you he was texting, your name was right there at the top of the screen. And if he was sending it to someone else how could he not double-check to make sure he wasn’t sending it to someone like Wayne or Robin.

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking about the best way to tell you that, yes he did know it was you he was sending it to. And yes he knew it was stupid but he wanted to try something to see if you felt the same way about him that he does you. Eddie’s loved you for about a year and a half now, never saying anything to anyone in fear of running your friendship.

But that night he was watching a show and one of the characters did this thing where they pretended to send a text to someone “they didn’t mean to”, to see how they’d respond. He thought that maybe this was an easy way of figuring out how you felt about him. But when you didn’t respond to his photo or texts he got scared and called you. Needing to clarify what he sent, and why.

Eddie Taglist: @ali-r3n @dixontardis

#eddie stranger things #munson #eddie munson #eddie my love #eddie my beloved #female reader #oneshot #smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #stranger things season 4 #eddie x reader

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babymochibeargyu · 25 days

Text

Drunk on Gyu

POV:drunk bf gyu trying to get your attention while you’re trying to complete your homework

genre:fluff

wc:~1.1k

Assignments were pilling up on your table and there was not a single spot left that was empty. That’s when you realized that you were spending too much time with your bf and neglecting your studies.

I mean look at him, how could you ignore that cutie patootie face? But you decided that the next day you would finally start on your assignments, if not you wouldn’t be able to complete them by the deadline.

But of course, nothing goes according to plan…

Once class finished, you were trying to scurry off without your bf, but he was already waiting for you, outside your class to go back together to your place.

To be fair, that was the daily routine for you guys. That you both would hang out at your place until the day ends.

Gyu would usually stay over unless his parents wanted to have dinner with him. But that was not the case for today.

You didn’t even let him know that you were planning to focus on your assignments without any distractions so you couldn’t fault him at all.

Yes, you weren’t happy to admit it, but this man distracted you very much without even trying that hard.

Once y'all got together he has never left your side unless he needed to(which was when he had to go home for dinner).

And you didn’t realize it until it happened. You’ve always thought that he came to your life to bring more light and happiness (which he had.)

All the times you’ve spent with him have been nothing but bliss and laughter which you appreciated.

And that when the time came, you would be able to revert to yourself being okay alone.

But the more time you guys spent together, the more he stayed by your side, whenever it came to the time he had to leave you to go back home, the feeling of emptiness started to grow more and more and you realized that you did not want him to leave you alone in the house.

But what could you do? It isn’t like you guys were planning to get married anytime soon.

But for now, he is not going anywhere and he was happy about it. It was a Friday and that meant he could have you to himself for the next two days. Oh boy was he already planning to stay over.

I think he was a little too over the moon because his parents weren’t around for the weekend and that meant that he wouldn’t need to leave your side.

He had already come up with a game plan of spending the next few days together with you.

Lunch

Play video games

Dinner

And repeat for the next two days

But what he didn’t know was that after lunch you were not gonna indulge in his game plan, but put all your focus in completing your assignments.

After you guys had finished lunch, you went to take a shower.

Gyu on the other hand, while you were showering, had already set up the gaming console and set it up in two-player mode, thinking that you would join him after your bath.

However, when you were done, you didn’t join him on the floor in front of the gaming setup, but sat at your desk, trying to figure out where you should start.

Gyu then stood up from where he was sitting and walked towards you. When he was beside you, you looked up from your assignment and saw that he was pouting and pointing to the gaming console.

“I would love to join you Gyu, but I’m behind on my assignments. I promise I’ll join you after I get at least 1/3 of it alright?”

With that, he didn’t say anything but kissed you on the cheek for motivation and went to play the game by himself.

2hrs passed and you were still not beside him playing the game. You were so focused on your assignment that you didn’t even realize Gyu had gone to the kitchen to get some beers because he was feeling restless waiting for you to be 1/3 done with your assignments.

After a while, you came back to reality and heard no noise coming from Gyu. Usually, when he plays video games, it involves a lot of screaming. However, it was dead silent.

You quickly turned around and saw Gyu, just lying on your bed looking lovingly at you. And then you saw the can of beers on the floor and you realized why he was silent.

Gyu was such a cute drunk. Usually, when he is sober, he would be such a loud dork. But when he was drunk, it was like he was a whole other person.

He would just stare at you silently. Looking at your beautiful features over and over again. Thinking to himself what did he do to deserve such a wonderful person like yourself?

And that was what was happening. Even though he was drunk after a few cans of beer, he still held onto your promise that you would join him after you were done with 1/3 of your assignments. He didn’t walk up to you and pester you to hurry up but gave you the space and time you needed. And you loved that about him.

Even though you weren’t looking at him, he just continued to gaze in your direction, hoping that you would turn around soon.

Which you did eventually because you were worried about the silence that should not be happening. And so when you locked eyes with Gyu, you folded so quickly.

You dropped your pen and went to him. Giving Gyu a big hug and showering him with kisses because he waited for you so well.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think that it would take me that long to finish 1/3 of my assignments. It’s getting late we should order some dinner or we could eat some ramyeon.” you said to the cute drunk in your bed.

He simply just nodded because he was too drunk to even form any sentences, hence you decided to order pizza for dinner instead because you thought that drunk Gyu would probably burn himself while eating ramyeon.

Bonus~

Once you guys were done with dinner, you sat back in your chair wanting to get back to your assignments when suddenly Gyu walked up beside you. And it was the cutest thing ever.

He had stuck a squishy toy that you had lying on your bedside table on his forehead. With that, you decided to stop with the assignments for today and gave your full attention to your drunk bf for the rest of the night.

You guys ended up cuddling until you both fell asleep.

masterlist

Ahh I really loved writing this. Wrote this after i saw the drunk gyu live and he was too adorable. This really gave me butterflies while i was writing because i feel that gyu would actually do this.

Hope you guys enjoyed it as much as i did!!(lmk your thoughts abt this one in the comments, would really love more interaction with you guys🫶🏻see yall in the next one🤍)

Edit: yall are insane its been 4 days since i published this and its at 280 notes now?🥹only started writing a few days ago, so happy that u guys enjoyed this as much as i did

#babymochibeargyu #drunk on gyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu soft hours #txt beomgyu #beomgyu fluff #txt x reader #beomgyu #beomgyu imagines #choi beomgyu fluff #txt fluff #beomgyu x you #drunk gyu #drunk beomgyu

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sanguineterrain · 1 year

Text

i'll put us back together at heart - s.h.

Summary: It's 1987. You haven't spoken to Steve Harrington in nearly five years. Then Dustin Henderson tells you about a sweet deal he has at Family Video, where he can rent any movie he wants.

Pairing: ex-best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 8.8k

Warnings/tags: friends to strangers to lovers. the reader is twenty in 1987 and i technically made steve twenty-one/about to turn twenty-one. s4 happened but eddie's alive and vecna's dead. no earthquakes or anything like that; reader has no idea about what really happened. lots of angst, mentions of billy hargrove (yuck) and steve's s1 asshole friends.

A/N: oh my lord. i don't know where this eighteen-wheeler of a fic came from but here it is. there is a happy ending, not to worry. i'd never do that to y'all <3 feedback and reblogs are always always appreciated!

divider by firefly-graphics

August 1981

"I wish we could stay eighth graders forever."

You lift your head from your orange pool floaty. Steve drifts on the surface of the water. His hair is longer, way longer than you've seen it in the three years you've been friends. He says it's better for styling that way; he's even bought a gel and cream for his hair. You don't understand why he wants to change something that doesn't need changing.

"Why?" you ask. "I thought you were excited for high school."

He hums. The sound echoes in his backyard.

"It's bigger than middle school. More kids, more teachers, more work. I like eighth grade."

"I'll help you with your work," you say.

Steve turns his head and smiles at you. Part of his face is in the water, the image distorted.

"You'll do great," he replies. "You're so smart."

Steve doesn't say those things to get you to help him like other kids do. Steve means it.

"You'll do great too," you say. "You're funny and nice and my best friend. People will like you."

"You think?"

You nod. Steve turns his head and closes his eyes again.

"We'll stay friends, right?" he asks.

The floaty squeaks as you move to sit up. You paddle to Steve so you can look at his face.

"Why wouldn't we?"

"I dunno." His eyes are still closed. "You might make super smart friends. And I'll just be a dumbass holding you back."

You shove Steve's shoulder lightly.

"You are not dumb, Steve."

One muggy June night had had Steve admit he wasn't thirteen, like you and all the kids in your class, but fourteen. He had been held back in third grade after his parents moved from Illinois. It's why my brain's mush, he'd said. I was born dumb.

He had made you swear not to tell anyone.

"You're not dumb," you say again. "Say it, Steve. Say you're not dumb."

His frown deepens, but he still won't look at you.

"Tommy says I am."

"Tommy Hagan is a shithead," you shoot back with so much venom, Steve's eyes fly open. "It's not true, whatever he tells you."

You hate that they've been hanging out more this summer. You can't tell Steve that, because it's not like you own him. He can be friends with whoever he wants. But you can't help that your skin crawls when Tommy and his stupid girlfriend, Carol, drops by and pulls Steve away from you.

“Promise?” he asks.

“Yes, Steve. I promise.”

“‘Kay.” Steve smiles a little. “Thanks.”

You nod and lay back on the floaty.

“Wanna get ice cream after this?” he asks.

“Just us?”

“Just us.”

Now. (January, 1987)

You slam the phone back onto the receiver. A girl playing Pac-Man carefully glances at you.

Whoops. Right. You're still at work.

You smile and give a thumbs-up. She turns around. You return to your wallowing.

You’ve called three different video rentals. Jewel Films, which is about to go out of business; More Movies, whose attendant hung up on you before you could say Molly Ringwald; and finally, Blockbuster, which is thirty minutes outside of Hawkins. None of them have a copy of Pretty in Pink.

And okay. You could just watch another movie. You don't need that specific one. But this year has been shit. You'd thought after starting college, you'd finally break out of the Hawkins forcefield that had limited your social life. You'd thought you'd make friends and not be so terribly lonely. Life is supposed to get better after high school, isn’t it?

Obviously, whoever said that is a big, fat liar.

“Dude!” you hear a familiar voice exclaim. “Stop hogging the game!”

Tawny curls peek from under a green and yellow hat. The hat hovers over an older boy who’s glued to the Tempest booth. You go to them. Dustin Henderson lights up when he sees you. You can read his hat now; it says Camp Know Where ‘85.

“Hey, Y/N!” he greets brightly. “This guy has been here for a half hour. I left to get nachos and when I came back, he was still here.”

“I’m this close to beating my score!” the kid insists.

“Come on, guy," you say, one arm on the machine. "You gotta give other people a turn."

The kid, evidently demon incarnate, sneers at you.

“Who’s gonna make me? You?”

You lean against the side of the game, considering.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” he says.

You snort.

“Sixteen? And you’re still on Tempest?”

He glances at you.

“So?”

“Everybody your age is playing Rampage, that’s all.”

You wink at Dustin. He beams.

“And, uh, I saw a couple girls hanging around Rampage,” you add.

The kid turns to you. You tilt your head innocently.

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Seriously. People always flock to the new games.”

Which is true. The girls part is not, but he doesn’t need to know that. With that attitude, he won't be getting many phone numbers anyway.

You drum your fingers on the game like you have all the time in the world. And sure enough, the kid takes his quarters and heads towards Rampage. Dustin jumps in delight.

“You’re awesome, Y/N!"

You grin. “I try. Where are the others?”

Dustin sours.

“They ditched me. To hang out with their girlfriends! Can you believe that shit?”

“No way!"

He shakes his head.

“I know, right? My friend told me that that’s what happens in high school. People change, y’know? And he’d know, I guess. He’s old like you.”

You scoff. “You make me sound like some kind of ancient. I’m not that old, Henderson.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He pats your arm. “In many cultures, the elderly are wise. Now in my experience, this hasn’t been the case. But I think you’re wise.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Dustin smiles like the little shit he is and puts his change in the slot.

“Well, contrary to what this other friend says, I’m sure it’ll pass,” you say. “You guys will hang out again."

You swallow your acidic truth. Dustin's a good kid, and so are his friends. You don't want him to turn cynical like you have. He's too young.

Dustin shrugs, starting the game.

“I guess so. I got a copy of The Lost Boys for us to watch on Friday. They said they’ll be there.”

“Whoa, seriously? That one just came out, how’d you get a copy?”

“My friend,” he says. “The one I mentioned. He works at Family Video and reserves stuff for me.”

“Huh. I thought Family Video was closed."

You'd applied to work there last year and never got a call back. You'd gone by once and it had looked abandoned. Hence why you now work at the arcade across town.

"It almost did, but Keith took over so now it's barely scraping by."

"Ah. Sweet deal on the movies."

“Yeah,” Dustin agrees, eyes crinkling. “My friend's pretty cool. You'd like him."

"Would I now?"

"Absolutely," he gushes. "He's a total badass too. He won his first fight last year. He used to be a jock but he's recovered."

"Wow. Impressive."

"Mmhm. I could ask him to hold stuff for you too, if you wanted.”

“You would?”

The game makes a sad game over noise. Dustin sighs and takes a gulp of his slushie.

“Yeah, totally,” he says through a mouthful of blue raspberry ice. “Which one do you want?”

“Pretty in Pink? I missed it in theaters."

“Sure. I’ll tell him to hold it tonight and tomorrow you can pick it up.”

“Cool. Thanks, Dustin.”

Dustin gives you an apple-cheeked grin.

“Gotta stay in good graces with the arcade attendant who lets me play Tempest as long as I want.”

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, walking away. "Don't get slushie on the game."

"'Kay!"

Dustin only gets a little bit of slushie on the game, but he cleans it up with about a million of the cheap snack bar napkins. When he leaves, he tells you to mention his name at Family.

"Who do I ask for?"

"You can talk to either of them," Dustin says. "Doesn't matter. Except Keith. You know Keith, right?"

"Unfortunately.” Keith used to terrorize the arcade before he blessedly moved on. “He works there?"

"Barely." Dustin scoffs. "He's almost never there, so don't worry. And feel free to ask for more movies. They owe me one."

Your sole interactions are with professors and a gaggle of high school freshmen. But now you get to watch any movie you want. Maybe this year won't totally suck.

The bell rings pleasantly as you step inside. There's a few people on line, so you take your time walking in. There's a movie display with about thirty copies of RoboCop. A cardboard cutout of RoboCop stares back behind his red helmet.

"Can I help who's next?"

You go to the counter. A girl about your age with a choppy haircut smiles at you but it's sort of strained. She has a pin on her green work vest that says Ask me!

"Please don't ask for Adventures in Babysitting," she says.

"Oh. No, I'm, uh, Dustin's friend?"

You can't believe you're name-dropping a high schooler.

She nods in realization.

"Oh, yeah. God, I keep telling that dweeb not to promise holds."

You wince.

"Sorry. If it's going to get you in trouble…"

Her brows raise. She smiles a bit.

"No, it's okay. Usually my coworker deals with it but, well. He's taking an extra long break today. So, what movie was it?"

"Pretty in Pink," you say.

"Classic," she replies. "John Hughes fan?"

"Somewhat. I didn't get to see it in theaters. I like Molly Ringwald."

She grins.

"Me too. She's pretty."

"Super pretty," you agree.

The girl considers you, then sticks out her hand.

"I'm Robin," she says. "Nice to meet you."

You take her hand. "Y/N.”

"Did you go to Hawkins High?"

"I did. Graduated last year."

"Oh, cool. Are you in college?"

You nod.

"Hawkins State. Twenty minutes from here."

"Sweet! I'm taking a gap year, but afterwards, I’m gonna apply there. It's cheap. College is college, right?"

"College is college," you agree. "But I wish I'd gone away for school."

You don't know why you're telling her this. You've known Robin for all of two minutes. But she seems friendly. And her sense of style is cool. She wears a blue blazer and tie underneath her vest.

"How come?" she asks.

"Everybody from Hawkins is there," you say. "And I… I just want a new start."

Robin smiles sympathetically.

"They're jerks," she says.

You huff. "Yeah."

You'd turned yourself into a social recluse a million years ago. It's your own damn fault you can't befriend anybody in this town. At least, not anymore.

Robin types into the computer, then smacks the monitor. She groans.

"Ugh. Gimme a second," she says. "Stupid technology."

"No problem," you say, smiling. You like her. Maybe you can integrate Family Video into your regular routine, become friends. You can see Robin becoming a good friend. One you wouldn't grow apart from.

She disappears into the back room. You browse the old releases and stop at Die Hard. This one you saw in theaters. John McClane is a badass.

You think of Dustin, and his supposedly badass new friend. It's too bad you didn't meet today. Dustin has a good sense about people. If he says so, it's possible you and this friend really would get on.

The bell rings again. You're slow to look up. The entrance is empty when you do. You keep reading about John McClane's adventures.

"Have you been waiting long?"

You turn at the new voice. The video slips out of your hand and clatters onto the counter.

Steve’s hair has grown since you last saw it. He looks different too, though he has yet to break out of his signature church boy polos. There's a smattering of stubble on his jaw. His arms are lean with muscle. He wears a matching work vest like Robin's, name tag printed Steve in blocky font.

He looks at where you've dropped Die Hard and smiles.

"This is a good one," he says. "John McClane is a total badass."

You blink.

"Did you want to rent that one?" he continues, meeting your eye.

"No," you manage.

"Okay, no problem. Just browsing?"

He doesn't remember you.

You stare and stare. Steve leans in, concerned. He's changed, but he hasn't. He's still handsome with his swoopy hair and big, dark eyes, but the Steve you knew wouldn't have been caught dead working at a video store.

And he doesn't remember you.

"Are you okay?" he asks, sounding genuine.

You take a step back from the counter. The blood roars in your ears. Robin comes back in, Pretty in Pink in hand. She looks at you, then at Steve.

"Got it!" she tells you. "Computer should work now."

"I have to go," you say.

You don't look at Steve again, instead focusing on Robin.

Her brows rise.

"Oh. Is everything—"

"I forgot my wallet," you blurt. "I can't pay for the movie. Sorry."

"That's okay, we can just—"

You run. The bell chimes over her words. You keep running until you get to the bus stop, three blocks away.

Only there do you stop to catch your breath.

And then you cry.

February 1982

"What do you think about Marie?"

You look up from your textbook. Steve is doodling in the margins of his notes. You gently prod his arm. He returns to reading but his leg starts to bounce under the table.

"Marie Iverson?" you ask.

"Yeah."

Steve glances at you. He pushes his hair back. It had taken him freshman year to get his bearings with all the gels and creams, but now, his hair is a point of pride, always perfectly coiffed. Seniors call him "The Hair" and high-five him in the hallway. You hate it.

"I don't know. I don't know her that well."

"She's cute."

"I guess so," you say.

It's harder to get Steve to focus on homework these days. Last year, he happily made flashcards with you and even bought fancy gel pens to share for your notes. Now, he prefers to talk about girls or—

"I was thinking of asking her out."

The tip of your pencil breaks. You really ought to start using pens, but you don't like being unable to erase.

"Shit, here. Take mine."

Steve offers his still perfectly sharpened pencil. You stare at it.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah." You take the pencil. "Thanks."

"Sure. So what do you think?"

"I don't know, Steve. I thought you talked about this stuff with Tommy."

"I would, it's just…" Steve shifts uncomfortably. "He can be rude about it sometimes. He doesn't even get why we're friends, y'know? Doesn't understand why I don't just date you."

Tommy is a moron, but you've said that since last year, and Steve's never listened before.

"Some people don't get it," you say mildly, because you have an upcoming French test and there's no use in getting upset over Tommy Hagan right now.

"But you do. And you know about this stuff better than me. Girls and all."

"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I know what girls are best for you to date, Steve. It's weird to talk about."

Steve deflates.

"Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Sorry."

You sigh and rub your temple.

"I thought you knew all about that," you say, extending an olive branch. "Asking girls out and stuff."

"Well, I mean, I've kissed girls but I've never… you're, like, the only girl I really know."

Something like pride swells in your chest. Selfishly, you want to keep Steve. You don't want to help him if it means losing him. Oh, you're so greedy, aren't you? You watch Steve run off with Tommy and Carol and nameless seniors and seethe, because Steve was yours first. Steve is yours.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah." You give him back his pencil and fish for another one in your bag. "Did you ever think about writing how you feel?"

"Writing?"

"Yeah, like a poem or a letter."

"I'm terrible at writing," Steve laments. "The letters get all jumbled and I never spell a damn thing right."

He'd told his mom once how letters melt into each other, how b's become d's. She'd taken him to get his eyes checked, and when the doctor said Steve was fine, Deborah Harrington had told her son to stop begging for attention.

"Someone who really likes you won't care about spelling mistakes, Steve," you tell him. "As long as you write from the heart. Don't do that cheesy shit and quote Romeo and Juliet. They're young, impulsive, and they die at the end, and that's not romantic."

Steve laughs, nose scrunched.

"What!" you demand. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, 's just—of course you'd have something to say about quoting Shakespeare."

"It's overdone," you say, crinkling your nose. "And girls would much rather read your own words."

"So you think I should write Marie a letter?"

"If you really like her," you say. "Only write letters for girls you really like. Otherwise they lose their meaning."

Steve frowns. "I don't know if I should write her a letter, then."

Don't, you want to say. Don't write any of them letters.

You shuffle your papers into a stack.

"Can we study now?" you ask.

"Oh, sure, yes. Sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing, Steve."

He shifts closer to you. His leg has stopped bouncing.

"Lemme take you out," he says.

You nearly swallow your tongue.

"Wh–what?"

"For ice cream," Steve clarifies. "Like we used to. Dairy Queen."

"Oh. Okay, sure. But after we study."

Steve beams. "I'll drive you."

Steve's dad had bought him the BMW as a birthday present this year—not that Richard Harrington actually knows when his own son's birthday is, considering the gift was three months early. Still, it's another point of pride for Steve and about all anybody talks about whenever his name comes up. Steve is the only person in your grade with a car. Junior girls hit him up for rides. You make yourself scarce when they do.

You don't care. You liked Steve before the car. And the clothes. And the hair.

Your throat feels tight. You want your best friend back.

"Just us?" you check.

You can't tell these days. Steve seems to hang out with everybody but you. You're shocked he'd even asked to study together.

"Oh, sure," Steve says. "I just have to drop off Tommy and Carol first, okay?"

You check your watch and close your book.

"I have class," you lie. "I'll see you later."

Steve catches your wrist. He looks at you and you're struck by how sweet his face is. It's not like you didn't understand why girls want him but it's Steve. Your Steve, who still sleeps with a nightlight and who framed a picture of a sports car he cut out from a magazine because he'd thought it would make him cooler (it didn't. You still tease him about it.)

"Please," he says. "For helping me."

Your eyes slit. "I didn't help you to get stuff, Steve. I helped you because you're my friend."

Steve blinks like he's forgotten what it's like to be friends with someone just for the sake of being friends.

"You're right," he agrees. "You're not like that. I'll tell Tommy and Carol to find another ride. It'll be just us. I promise."

You perk up at that. "Really?"

"Really. You can sit in the front with me and we'll play Bruce Springsteen, like we used to. Please?"

"Okay, Steve." You ache. You’ve never been very good at telling him no. "I'll meet you in the parking lot."

And maybe… maybe your best friend is still in there after all.

Now

You ask your shift manager if you can work at the snack bar today. It's in the back and you won't have to deal with any game hogs.

"You didn't put enough syrup in my slushie."

You might have overshot the perks, though.

Slushie Girl's hair is bleach blonde and hairsprayed to God. You want to tell her that all that hairspray doesn't keep friends. Or brain synapses.

"I don't make the slushie," you say for the third time. "That's how it comes out of the machine."

She shoots you a mean look.

"I'm complaining to the manager."

You paste on a smile.

"You do that. Have a nice day."

She finally walks away, probably on the hunt for your manager, who's definitely smoking a joint outside to avoid this exact situation.

Dustin comes around the corner and this time, he's with the rest of his party. You smile.

"Hey, Y/N!" Dustin greets.

Lucas waves at you. Max and Mike are arguing and therefore are in their own world. And there's their newest addition, El, whose story you're still not clear on, as well as Will, quiet as always.

You lean your elbows on the countertop.

"What'll it be, gang?"

"Six nachos and six slushies, please. One blue raspberry, three cherry, and two Coke."

You fill up the slushies first. Dustin dances on his toes.

"So did you pick up the movie?" he asks.

"Oh." You try to smile. "I went there but I couldn't. I forgot my money. Pretty dumb of me."

Dustin accepts this with no argument.

"Well, you can go back. They'll hold it for a few days."

You're never setting foot in there again, but you don't tell Dustin that.

He takes his slushie and immediately starts drinking.

"Slow down, dude. You'll get a brain freeze," you say.

"You sound like Steve," Dustin informs you. "Doesn't Y/N sound like Steve?"

Lucas nods.

"Yup. They're both parents."

You feel queasy. You focus on making the nachos, the cheese pouring out thick and gooey.

"Did you meet Steve?" Dustin asks. "You probably know him from high school, but he's different now."

"Yes," you say quietly. "I knew him."

"I promise he's different. Even Mike likes him, and Mike hated his guts. Right, Mike?"

Mike pauses in his animated discussion with Max and looks at you.

"What?"

"I'm telling Y/N about how Steve is cool now," Dustin explains.

"Oh." Mike shrugs. "He's fine. Much better now that he's not dating my sister."

"He's not?" you ask. "But they were in love. I–I mean, that's what I heard, at least."

"She dumped his ass," El says, and it sounds a little ridiculous in her soft monotone.

Max scoffs, taking her Coke slushie.

"Did you live under a rock? It was a huge thing."

"Now Steve is lame," Mike says with a snort.

"Getting dumped doesn't make somebody lame," you say with an old ferocity you'd thought had disappeared.

"Okay, jeez." Mike holds up his hands. "Steve's alright. He's different, that's for sure."

"He's our paladin," Lucas says. "A protector."

Dustin nods eagerly.

You blink. "He protects you guys?"

Max elbows Lucas. You have no idea what that's about. El steps forward and smiles softly.

"Yes," she says. "He's our babysitter."

"Aren't you guys freshmen? I thought you were too old for babysitters."

"Oh no, Steve doesn't get paid for it or anything," says Mike. "He just does it 'cause he has nothing else to do."

"That's not true!" Dustin argues. Then he shrugs. "Well, it's a little true. But he does like us. He's a good guy. He cares about his friends."

You bite your tongue, not wanting to reply to that.

"That's great, guys. The girl, Robin? She seems pretty cool too."

"That's Steve's best friend," says Dustin. "She's great."

"Oh." You wince. "Best friend?"

Dustin huffs. “Yeah. They don’t date. He won’t say why."

"Platonic with a capital P," Max confirms. “It’s obviously because he’s in love with somebody else.”

“Not Nancy!” Lucas protests.

“There are other girls besides Nancy, Sinclair.”

You busy yourself with serving the last set of nachos. The kids pull out crumpled bills and coins in return. You count the money and stack it directly into the register; you know there won't be any change.

When you turn, they're still there. Dustin has his signature grin on, eyes squinty.

"Yeees," you drag out. "Can I help you?"

"We need a favor," Lucas says. "Please."

"Hmm." You lean over the counter. "What's up?"

"They're showing Prince of Darkness on Friday," Dustin explains. "But it's rated R."

"So just sneak in. Isn't that what you guys did at Starcourt?" you ask.

"We had an inside man then. They're a lot stricter at the new one," Lucas frowns. "They ask for IDs 'cause some mom complained after her kid snuck in to watch Risky Business."

"And why can't your babysitter take you?"

You sneer at the thought. Steve spending his Friday nights herding a bunch of adolescent teens into a movie theater. There's a reason you consider Dustin affectionately delusional.

"He has a stupid date," Dustin groans. "He's a serial dater, Y/N. It's terrible. He gets lucky once and totally ditches us."

Now that sounds like the Steve you knew.

"I see. I don't really like horror stuff."

"You don't have to stay!" Dustin insists. "You can watch whatever you want after we’re in. I'll pay you back for the ticket."

“This would be so much easier if Steve still worked at Scoops,” Mike grumbles.

You blank for a moment, the image of Steve in a sailor’s hat and those ridiculous shorts whiting your brain.

“Um,” you begin. “You know I don’t have a fancy BMW to cart you guys around in, right?”

“It’s cool. We’ll get there,” Max says.

“So?” Dustin bounces on his toes. “Sooo?”

You sigh. It’d been nice of Dustin to get you the movie, even though you’d chickened out and ran. And it’s not like you have anything better to do.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll get you guys in.”

Dustin pumps his fist. “Thanks, Y/N! You’re my favorite old person.”

You roll your eyes. “Funny. Any funnier, and I might rescind my help, Henderson.”

“Byeeee!”

They all disperse to the arcade. You wonder how on earth Steve got involved with them.

March 1983

“Okay, but if you had to choose.”

“Pass. I would literally rather swallow pennies than kiss Principal Coleman’s bald-ass head, Steve.”

Steve takes a triumphant swig of beer. “So you’re saying you’ve got the hots for Benny the janitor.”

“No!” you insist through giggles. “I don’t. God, you’re gross. Can’t believe I’m being treated like this on your birthday.”

“Exactly! My birthday.”

He rolls onto his side in his deck chair and nearly faceplants on the cement. You reach out, reaction time delayed.

“Steve!” you yell. “Careful.”

“I am, I am,” he mumbles, and rights himself on the chair. “Jus’ wanna see you better.”

“I keep telling you you need glasses.”

“I do not,” he whines. “My vision’s ten outta ten. Could a guy who needs glasses do this?”

He crumples up a Twinkies wrapper and throws it towards the garbage. The wind picks up and sends the wrapped into the pool.

“Shit,” he says.

You belly laugh in delight.

“Wait, wait, redo. Go fish it outta there.”

“Oh, as if. I’m not going in there. I told you you need glasses. Even Mother Nature agrees.”

"She does not. Mother Nature thinks I'm a doll."

You hum and close your eyes. Alcohol always makes you sleepy.

The chair scrapes against the concrete. You hear a crinkle of a chip bag. Those are your only warning before you’re crushed by two hundred pounds of drunk boy.

“Steve!” You wheeze, squirming as his hair tickles your face. “Get off!”

"’M sleepy,” he mumbles.

“Well, don't sleep on me, weirdo.”

“‘S cold.”

“You run, like, a hundred degrees, don’t lie.”

He lifts his head. “So you’re saying I’m hot?”

“I’m saying all that booze cooked your brain,” you reply sweetly.

“I’ve been wounded,” he moans and plops onto your shoulder.

“Ugh.” You resign to your fate and lean back. Steve’s not actually that heavy; even drunk, he has a lot of control over his weight and he’s situated himself so he isn’t crushing anything important. No, you squirm underneath him for a very different reason.

“Steeeeve,” you whine. “You’re gonna squish me into a pancake.”

“Can’t believe no one else came.”

You still. Steve’s face remains buried in your shoulder. His body is beside yours, and he has an arm slung over your belly.

“I didn’t—didn’t want a party,” he continues. “I always throw parties. I thought I’d do somethin’ different. An’ none of them even wished me a happy birthday. ‘Cept you.”

You rest your hand on the back of his hair. It’s wind-blown and messy from the drinks, free of his heady hair gel. You’ve never loved it more.

“Did you tell them your birthday is today?” you ask gently, even though you know he did.

“Yeah,” he says. “Told all of ‘em. Guess they weren’t listening.”

“I listen.��

Steve looks up at you. His eyes are glassy.

“God, I miss you,” he says.

You feel the wall you’ve built this year crumble, just a little.

“I’m right here, Steve.”

“I know but—been a jerk lately. I know I have. You’re my best friend, okay? Nothing’ll change that. I–I love you so much.”

Your breath hitches. Steve barrels on, not noticing.

“And I’ll be better. We’ll hang out more. Not–not here, drunk. But for real. We’ll go to the movies. Y’wanna see a movie?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I wanna see a movie.”

“‘Kay, what movie? Anything you want. We’ll get popcorn and Raisinets.”

“You hate Raisinets,” you choke through a watery laugh.

“I’d eat Raisinets anytime with you.”

You lay there, in the dark, the only sound being the pool filter.

“Let’s watch the new James Bond.”

“Hmm, okay. But you’ll have to say the name eventually.”

Your nose crinkles. “I am not calling it by its name.”

His laugh is warm in your neck.

You don’t tell Steve to get up again. He snuggles into you, leg over yours. You fall asleep like that, curled underneath him.

Now

“Wait.” Max stops. “Shouldn’t we have, like, a game plan?”

“Game plan?” El asks quietly.

“Yeah. Some of us aren’t so great at playing it cool.”

She stares at Lucas.

“I play it cool!” he squawks. “I am so cool!”

“Right.”

“Just let Y/N do the talking,” Will says. “She’s technically the adult so she should act like this is a conscious choice.”

You shrug. “Makes sense to me.”

Dustin beams. “This is gonna be great!”

“Or a total disaster,” Max says.

You go to the counter, the kids trailing behind like ducklings.

“Six tickets for Prince of Darkness, please,” you say. “And uh, one for Dirty Dancing.”

The attendant looks at you, then at the kids.

“Don’t you mean seven tickets for Prince of Darkness?” she asks. “It’s rated R.”

Shit. “Right, yes. Sorry. Seven tickets. And one for Dirty Dancing. We have another friend who’s late.”

“Uh-huh.”

The attendant, whose bored expression you’ve recognized on your own face after long days in the arcade, hands you your tickets without any questioning.

“I think we’re in the clear,” Lucas whispers when you enter the concession area.

You wait for them to buy their snacks. Max persuades Lucas to let her mix M&Ms into their bucket of popcorn. He agrees and shuffles closer so they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder while they share.

“Okay, last stretch,” Mike says, shoveling a frighteningly large handful of sour worms into his mouth. “We just have to get past the ticket guy.”

Said ticket guy is a kid who can’t be much older than you. You think you might’ve gone to school together, but you’ve made it a point to eviscerate everything about high school from your mind.

“Hey,” you say, trying to act cool. Maybe you’re the one Max should’ve been worried about, instead of Lucas. “Uh, here are our tickets.”

He takes the tickets, then looks behind you.

“Prince of Darkness is only for people seventeen and older,” he says.

“I’m an adult, so I’m with them,” you explain. “I’m, like, their guardian?”

“Yeah, uh—” He hands you your tickets. “No can do. There needs to be an adult for each person under seventeen.”

“Come on,” you cajole. “They’re high schoolers. It’s not like they’re gonna be scarred for life watching some zombies, or whatever.”

He shrugs. “Rules are rules.”

“She’s an adult!” Dustin argues.

“Look, if you’re gonna hold up the line, I’m gonna have to—”

“Yo, Gillespie! That you?”

Dustin turns and lights up. The seven of you part for Steve Harrington and his date, a pretty strawberry blonde you think you had biology with.

“Harrington, man, what’s up!”

Ticket Prick gets up to slam Steve into a bear hug. You barely resist an eye roll.

“Shit, I haven’t seen you in a year! Where’ve you been all this time? Hey, did you hear about that shit with Munson?”

Steve flinches. It’s a tiny movement, indiscernible to the trained eye. But it’s there all the same.

“Gillespie, c’mon. Don’t bring the party down with that,” Steve says, all sweet charm.

“Sorry, sorry. Daisy,” he greets the girl attached to Steve’s arm.

“Gil,” she replies with a giggle. “You smell like popcorn butter.”

America’s future taxpayers. Terrifying.

“Are you gonna let us in or not?” Max interrupts, arms folded.

You feel a burst of pride.

Gil shoots her a dirty glare and puffs up, ready to fight a fourteen year old. Steve cuts in smoothly.

“Gillespie, listen. I know her.” He points to you. You bristle. “I can personally vouch that she’s just trying to do right by these kids. They wanted to see Prince of Darkness, y’know? Get away from the parents.”

“It’s a sick film,” Gil agrees. “You seen it?”

No, of course Steve hadn’t seen it. He hates horror.

“Planning on it,” Steve says, the ultimate image of playing it cool. “Look, you remember sneaking into the movies. Fast Times? Ring any bells?”

Max rolls her eyes. You’re inclined to do the same.

Gil laughs dopily, and nudges Steve. “Hell yeah, I do. That was a crazy night, Harrington.”

Steve smiles thinly. “Sure was. So whaddya say? For old times’ sake?”

Gil considers your little troupe. Then he shrugs.

“Why not. Manager’s not here anyway.”

He takes the tickets and tears them to stubs, then gives them back.

“Theater six. On your left. Enjoy.”

The kids stampede into the left theater wing. You hang back with your own ticket.

“Appreciate it, man,” Steve says, all smiles. “Take care, alright?”

“Hey, you too, Harrington! We gotta catch up!”

Steve and Daisy go in. You expect them to walk right past you, and Daisy does, predictably. But Steve stops.

“I’ll catch up, okay?” he tells her. “Find us some good seats?”

She paws at him a little, then goes, sodas in hand. You stiffen as Steve walks and stops three feet away from you.

“Hey,” he says. “Sorry about that. Gil’s an asshole.”

“I know. He yawned during my poetry reading sophomore year. And then you guys went to the movies together.”

Steve shrinks. “Your poems were great.”

You’re suddenly exhausted.

“What do you want, Steve?”

“I just… I wanted to see you. Say hi.”

“Okay.” You cross your arms. “Hi.”

“You forgot your movie,” he says. “The other day.”

“I didn’t want it that much.”

“Dustin said you looked everywhere for it.”

“Well, in the end, it didn’t really matter,” you say. “Not enough to stay.”

“Y/N—”

“I think your date’s waiting for you,” you interrupt. “Better get back to her. Wouldn’t want to taint your reputation.”

Steve makes a noise like he’s been wounded. You turn on your heel before you can think better of it.

“Wait.” He catches your wrist. Steve’s grip is light, like you’re something precious to hold. You wrench your arm away. “Y/N, I want to apologize. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you ask. “For forgetting me? I didn’t expect you to remember, Steve.”

“I didn’t forget you,” he insists. “I could never forget you. I wasn’t—please, can I just explain?”

“I don’t need your explanations,” you snap. The hurt corrodes your tongue like acid. “I know what happened. We were both there. You left.”

Steve’s eyes are huge and dark. He looks like you just stabbed him in the heart, and that makes you feel worse. You’d thought telling him how much it hurts would put you back together, but all it did was break you more.

So you run. Again.

You slam through a back exit and rip your ticket into a million pieces. The wind is cold and unforgiving. Your eyes sting.

You call out sick for two days in a row. You kind of expect to get fired, but then again, people have been leaving Hawkins and if you’re not here to serve the masses their slushies, who will be?

So, after lying in bed not thinking about movies and strawberry blonde girls and how sick you are of this town, you get up and put on your arcade vest.

Now it is two in the afternoon. You’d heard it was supposed to snow today.

Robin eyes the snack counter like it holds the next plague outbreak. You don't blame her; you make it a point to wash up to your elbows after work.

"Slushie?"

She looks at you like she’d forgotten you were there. "What?"

You point a thumb at the machine. "Are you here for a slushie?"

"Oh. No, sorry. Red dye makes me insane in the brain. Steve actually—"

Robin stops, grimaces. So he's told her. Probably everything, if the kids had been telling the truth.

You're honestly surprised she's here. Unless it’s to, like, swirlie you in the vat of artificial cheese.

"Are you here to drown me in nacho cheese?" you ask.

Robin's eyes go wide as dinner plates. "What? No!"

"Just checking." You lean against the counter. "What can I do for you, Robin?"

Robin suddenly looks like she's never interacted with a human being before. You like her a lot. Steve probably does too.

"I came to drop off your movie." She holds the tape over the counter like it's a pool of lava.

"But I didn't pay for it." You shove your hand in your jean pocket; you only have a couple dollars on you. "I guess I can get you the money tom—"

"It's on the house. For a fellow Molly fan."

Robin wiggles the tape with two fingers. You take it and wait for a catch. There is none.

"Thank you," you say. "You didn't have to do that."

"Actually, it wasn't me," she confesses. "I'm just the mailman."

You prepare to hand it back but Robin shakes her head.

"He's not going to pop out of the slushie machine, okay? He's just trying to make it up to you."

"He doesn't need to make it up to me," you bite, except those aren’t the words you mean. "Why does he even care? We're not in high school anymore."

Robin smiles a sad smile.

"I know," she says. "We’re not. I know he should've known to fix things earlier. He's received a lot of blows to the head, though, so he's still catching up."

The thought turns your stomach. More? More you weren’t there to protect him from?

"He doesn't owe me anything," you say and wave the tape again. "You can take it back and leave it for somebody else."

"Y/N, I know we don't know each other, like, at all. But it's important to me you know that Steve cares about you, because you’re important to him. And you knew him way before I did, and you probably know a lot of stuff I don't, and that's good because he has a friend like me, but he should also have a friend like you too, Y/N."

"I don't want to be his friend," you mumble.

"Yeah," Robin says. "I figured. But I don't think that's a confession he should hear secondhand."

You look at her, stunned. She's such a clever girl. You hope she treats Steve well.

"If you two are—"

"We're not," she says, like this is a regular explanation she goes through. "Steve and I are friends. Steve has crashed and burned with every single date since his fall from regency. Steve is the best person I've ever met."

"Yeah, I’ve heard. You and Dustin are his biggest fans."

Robin snorts. "Trust me, I'm not proud of it."

You shake your head. Your eyes feel hot.

"This town is so shit," you say.

"Yeah," Robin agrees. "It really fucking is. But I'm not asking you to give this town a second chance. Just him."

"Why are you trying so much?" you ask. "You don't even know me."

Robin shrugs. "No, but you're the one person Steve used to be friends with who's not an asshole, and I think us non-assholes need to band together."

"I can sometimes be an asshole."

"Me too. So are those little dweebs. How about calling ourselves the Semi-Assholes Club?"

You laugh. "We'll get jackets."

"With partially drawn butts on the backs," Robin says with a giggle.

You look at the tape in your hand.

"Does Steve like John Hughes?"

"He does. He's a total sap for those. He thinks he's in his own coming-of-age movie because he's delusional."

He sounds perfect. He sounds like the friend you loved.

"I did want to watch this one," you say.

"It won't hurt you to," Robin promises.

You suppose not.

December 1984

You don't believe the whispers. All week, the rumor mill spins tales of Billy Hargrove finally pushing the King off his throne. There's no way he'll show his face, a girl at the adjacent lunch table astutes. I sure as fuck wouldn't.

Steve Harrington is a loser. Steve Harrington got dumped for Jonathan Byers. Steve Harrington may as well be dead, and on and on.

Every line gets you angrier. A boy who sits behind you in chemistry taps his pencil like he always does. Tap, tap, tap.

Halfway through class, you snap at him to quit it. He does, but not without a tinge of embarrassment. You’re so angry this year. Angry at your loneliness, angry at the unfairness of said loneliness. You might’ve done this to yourself, and that fact only gets you angrier.

You see Nancy Wheeler in the hallways with Jonathan Byers, and the confirmation of that rumor should make you happy. It doesn't.

A week later, most of the excitement has died down. Everybody’s moved onto the next big thing, which is to deduce who fucked in Vice Principal White's office. One look at V.P. White, and it had been decided that it can't have been White himself.

You can't care less. Once upon a time you might’ve laughed about it with a friend, but you don't have any more of those, and high school is bullshit with or without them. So.

Steve walks in twenty five minutes into the period. Mrs. Kaplan gives him a downright beastly glare and demands to know where he had been.

"I'm sorry," is all he says. "If you give me detention, I understand."

There are a few snickers that rub at an old hurt, one that had flared up whenever somebody dared to make fun of your best friend. It doesn't bother me, he'd said, and you'd known it was a lie.

It bothers me, you’d replied, and Steve had hugged you tight.

Mrs. Kaplan seems more stunned Steve hadn't swaggered past her like a peacock escaped from the zoo and lets him go sit down without a fight. He takes the only empty desk, two rows across from you. You stare. You can't not.

Half of his face looks like it was mashed in a garbage disposal. It's purple and a sickly yellow. His eye and lip are still swollen. You stare and stare. You feel queasy.

Billy had done that. You're so angry. You think you might never get past this grief, this loss of a once permanent fixture in your life.

No one wished Steve a happy birthday this year, you realize out of nowhere.

You stare and stare and stare until Steve looks right back. You're blindsided by thick guilt, like blinking through a milkshake. And then the familiar curl of anger returns because why the fuck should you feel guilty? You aren't the one who fucked everything up, who mascerated this good thing. Steve did this to himself. Steve deserves to walk the halls alone. It's Steve's fault.

But when you look at him, at his raw wounds, at his bruised knuckles, you know that he already believes he deserves every punch Billy Hargrove gave him.

You hate Steve Harrington. But you really wish you'd been there to drive him to the hospital.

Now (And Forever)

The tape sits buried in your drawer for three days. You don’t know what Family Video’s return policy is, but you hope you’re not racking up late fees. You doubt name dropping Dustin will work again.

It’s Saturday when you decide to watch Pretty in Pink. You remove the video from its sleeve. An envelope falls out.

The front has your name printed in squished, loopy script. You remember January at Steve’s house, a stack of thank-you cards courtesy of his mother awaiting the Harringtons’ sign-off. Steve’s hand would cramp and you’d take over while he made grilled cheese for the both of you. Love, The Harringtons, and there was no love in that house, but you think maybe Steve loved enough to make up for it.

Hi, the letter begins. I hope you’re good. Robin told me you’re going to Hawkins State.

That’s fucking amazing. I’m so proud of you. Are you still writing poetry? I liked that one you wrote about the birds who shared a branch and kept each other warm. I still have it in my notebook in my room.

I’m sorry for the other night. I’m sorry for every night since freshman year, honestly. I’m kind of a dumbass, but you know that, so it doesn’t really excuse anything. I think I’ve actually lost brain cells since we drifted apart.

You crumple the corner, suddenly hot with anger. Who keeps telling him he’s dumb? You want names.

I didn’t forget you, you know. I got scared and I thought maybe I could ease into it, but then you recognized me and… well. I don’t blame you for running.

Anyway. I’m talking too much about myself, when there’s nothing to say. I’m really sorry about what I did, or, actually, what I didn’t do. Somebody told me I was living on autopilot, and that it wasn’t really living at all. I think it was you.

I’m not living on autopilot anymore. I woke up. And I realized that you’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. I love Robin and the kids and this little family that has apparently invayd invaded your life too. Sorry about that. They never leave and they eat all your food. Good luck.

But I miss you. I always have.

Shit happened these last few years that I’ll tell you about one day, if you want. I’d rather not, though, because you’ve always been the paranoiac (like that one? Robin said it’s an SAT word) of the two of us and I feel like this would just make you even more of one. But I will tell you, if you want to hear it. I want to tell you everything. I want you to tell me everything too. Like we used to.

I want you to tell me how college is going. Who the annoying jerks in your classes are so I can go beat them up (kidding). I want you to stop by to rent movies so I can lend them for free and you’ll yell at me about taking advantage of fre friendships.

Fuck, I miss you. It’s always been there, bubbling below the surface. I never stopped missing you. I never stopped loving you. I’m sorry I didn’t write this sooner. I know you said writing is how we express things we can’t say. You were right. You always are. Can’t believe I forgot that.

It’s okay if you don’t want to be friends. I mean, it hurts, but I respect it. I understand. Most days, I can’t believe people can bear to be around me. But then I hear your voice in my head, telling me that most people are shitheads and that I’m golden and. Well, I don’t know if I believe that, but you were right that most of the people I surrounded myself with were shitheads. Except you, of course. And then I went ahead and fucked that up.

I’ve been working on finding the non-shitheads of the world. I think I’m doing pretty well. And I wrote this because I realized that while I will probably end up buried in this fucking town, you’re going to do something incredible. And nothing incredible ever happens in Hawkins, so I figure you’ll be far away when you do it.

I didn’t want to miss this chance to write things I never said. So here they are. And you can do whatever you want with them. You’ve always been the best of the two of us. I trust you.

You should watch Dirty Dancing. You’ll like it. I did. I’ll see it again if you want. I’ll watch anything with you.

Did you know there’s another Bond movie coming out in the summer? We could watch that one together too. If you wanted more time to decide.

Sincer

Your friend,

Steve

You don’t bother ejecting the tape. You run all the way to the bus stop, Steve’s letter in hand.

You have to see him. No other thoughts register except that one. You have to know if Steve wrote these words because he can’t say them or because you won’t listen.

It isn’t too late when you get to Loch Nora. The neighborhood is dead, which is weird. Steve’s house looks frozen in time: his parents’ car isn’t in the driveway. You wonder if they’ve ever come back since you’ve been gone. You wouldn't be surprised if the answer is no.

There’s a tarp over the pool. The gate is locked with a chain. You can’t sneak in through the fence like you used to. Not that you would. You don’t think strangers can sneak through pool gates.

You knock on the door three times. And wait.

Steve’s car is in the driveway, a duller burgundy than when he first got it. There are a few scratches in the paint. No longer a prized possession. Maybe well-loved instead.

The door swings open.

Steve says your name like a prayer. You swallow and steel your spine.

“I got your letter,” you say.

“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck. His hair is damp like he’s just showered. It curls around his ears. Waves of want hit you.

“I don’t want to be friends,” you continue before he can speak. “I don’t—I can’t do that again.”

Steve’s mouth draws into the saddest frown you’ve ever seen.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, that’s not—I don’t mean it like that.”

His brows knit. “What?”

“I…” You pull out the letter and wave it. “Did you mean it? Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Steve whispers. It’s like a shout in the quiet street. “I meant it.”

“Like a friend?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Will you love me like a friend forever?” you ask.

“Always.”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I love you as something more,” you blurt, watery. “I have for a long time.”

You hear the door shut. This is it: your heart on the line, all for nothing—

“Then I’ll love you as something more back,” Steve says. “I’ll love you any way you want me to.”

And he holds you the way you’d held him so many times. You inhale and wrap your arms around his neck. You’ve got an iron grip around the letter. Tears slip down your cheeks.

“I missed you,” you confess.

Steve nods against your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says, and it sounds a little wet. “I missed you too.”

“You were wrong,” you say into his neck.

“Hmm?”

You pull back to look at Steve.

“Incredible things do happen in Hawkins.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve smiles, cheeks blotchy. “Like what?”

“We found each other again.”

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #friends to lovers #strangers to lovers #friends to strangers to lovers

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redbullgirly · 4 months

Text

The Dancer [FA14 smau]

Fernando Alonoso x dancer!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Few months after, everybody laughs when they remember the rumors about Fernando Alonso and Taylor Swift dating. Would they laugh though if they new it maybe wasn't so far from truth as it may seem? Well, one thing's for sure - Y/N and Fernando will laugh very much while soft launching their relationship... and confusing everyone with swiftie content thanks to her job.

Warnings: Maybe wrong dates and timeline of The Eras Tour, but whatever XD.

messages between Y/N and Fernando

fernandoalo_oficial posted on instagram

liked by alex_albon, zhouguanyu24, pierregasly and 562,109 others

fernandoalo_oficial I was taken by the view like we were in Paris... romance is not dead.

view all 4001 comments

user1 i dont think my brain can comprehend so many things all at once😨

user2 right? I'M IN SHOCK

user3 fr fernando wants to give us a heart attack😭

lilymhe I see what you did here...

alex_albon I indeed see what he did here too...😏

user4 guys tell us what he did pls I'm begging youuuu

user5 Alonso soft launching was not on my 2024 bingo card

user6 him soft launching with TAYLOR SWIFT wasn't on MY bingo card 😭

user7 How he's suddenly so hot in the first pic? Like damn sir okay🫢

user8 girlfriend effect is real y'all

georgerussell63 Mate you can't do that to me, I just woke up 😧

user8 lmfao princess georgie is as confused as we are xd

fernandoalo_oficial sorry mate, don't get wrinkles🤞

gerogerussell63 What even is that choice of emoji?

fernandoalo_oficial well, someone is original with an emoji and someone is original with a pose... choice is yours 😃

georgerussell63 Stop it's been almost a year 😭

user9 not them bullying each other💀

user10 Yeah the duo we didn't know we needed

user11 I saw the first picture and almost spat out my drink in shock of such a hot photo of Nando. Then I swiped and literally choked on it because the last think I'd ever expect from his photo dump is a soft lunch of some baddie girl🫣

user12 I am delusional for thinking Taylonso could still have a chance, aren't I?

user13 well i mean you basically answered it yourself so... yeah XD

user14 OMG WHAAAAAAT😱

user15 oh no Fernando is not single anymore💔

user16 I think I accidentally teleported into some alternative universe... what is thiiiis?

user17 REAL

user18 fuck me this man seriously used lyrics from paris by ts💀

user19 Idk why but I kinda like this new side of Fernando😻

twitter

yourusername posted on instagram

liked by taylorswift, fernandoalo_oficial, carmenmmundt and 5,234 others

tagged: taylorswift and 9 others

yourusername crazy performance, even crazier night out and the most crazy training the day after... I call that the life of a dancer😻🎉 also my head and heart did go vroom vroom after the second pic

view all 218 comments

taylorswift I call that the eras tour life!💗

yourusername yes ma'am!

user1 damn she got our queen Taylor replying to her posts... how does it feel to live my dream?!😭

yourusername amazing! 🥰

user2 such a shame my mum didn't force me to try dancing when I was little... I could have been at podium next to Taylor Swift right now 😃

liked by the author

user3 You are such a good dancer, the shows wouldn't be the same without you Y/N!

yourusername omg thank u sm I really appreciate that!!🥹

user4 sooo... are we gonna just ignore Fernando in the likes or what???

user5 THAT'S WHAT I CAME HERE TO SAY

user6 fr I need some crazy detective from twitter to figure this out😫

carmenmmundt Hey, could you give me and lilymhe vip tickets...?

yourusername I mean... everything can be done 😏 I'll just need to ask mother Taylor bc I just used my plus one at the last concert🫡

lilymhe OH MY GOD WE LOVE YOU Y/N

yourusername I love you girls as well, we have to finally meet sometimes!!!

carmenmmundt Yeah, I think we'll have chance at the end of February at the latest😉

user7 WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE

user8 Omg are they hinting Y/N at the Bahrain GP?? F1 season starts at the end of February right?!

goergerussell63 Well hello there, nice to meet you Y/N... given the fact my dear girlfriend doesn't care about me, could you give me and alex_albon vip tickets as well?😊

alex_albon Yeah Y/N we are very big fans😊

yourusername everything for the guys that go vroom vroom🫡

alex_albon Like your heart

yourusername exactly!

user9 I AM FREAKING OUT

user9 MY BRAIN HURTS FROM HOW MUCH IS GOING ON

user9 WAIT FUCK I THINK I GOT IT

user9 AAAHHH I FEEL LIKE SHERLOCK MF HOLMES

twitter & messages between Y/N and Fernando

yourusername posted on instagram

liked by selenagomez, fernandoalo_oficial, francisca.cgomes, astonmartinf1 and 8,234 others

yourusername preparing for the next season🤞

view all 1,029 comments

user1 y/n is literally living my dream life rn

georgerussell63 Oh no... he infected you with that emoji, didn't he?

yourusername we'll never know... maybe I infected HIM with it

gourgerussell63 I think higher of you and your taste in emojis

yourusername aww thanks princess georgie how sweet🥰

georgerussell63 I take it back

user2 HELLO?! what is happening💀

dancer1 excuse me little miss y/n... is that a man i'm seeing?🤨

yourusername well... maybe

dancer2 Be fr she's trying to soft launch him for like a month now😭

dancer1 okay i'm calling you rn STAY WHERE YOU ARE

user3 Guys why's nobody talking about the paddock pass in the 5th picture!!!!

user4 omg that's a PADDOCK PASS?😱

user5 yeah it is I noticed it thanks to this comment

user6 Wait... does that mean her and Fernando have been together longer? Because she already went to a race before the winter break??

user5 idk girl we don't even know for sure she's really dating him😓

user6 idgaf about who's dating her bc even without bf y/n's sooo hot like damn... mommy🥵

user7 I'm so confused... is this Alonso's girl or not?

user8 trust me user7 - we'd all like to know that😭

user9 😍

yourusername and fernandoalo_oficial posted on instagram stories

yourusername story has been seen by taylorswift, lance_stroll and 13,634 others

fernandoalo_oficial story has been seen by charles_leclerc, astonmartinf1 and 308,003 others

user1 replied to yourusername story: is that an f1 driver there y/n

dancer1 replied to yourusername story: Hope he'll not disappoint me in person when you talked about him sm 😒

yourusername ohhh trust me you'll love him just as I do🥰

dancer1 omg bleeeeh I hope not 🫣

user2 replied to yourusername story: your friends are so pretty😩

taylorswift replied to yourusername story: When you'll take him to get my approval??

yourusername soon taylor, soon... I'm just afraid it'll break the internet lol

taylorswift I think we're used to that already with Travis at this point😂

yourusername true😭

fernandoalo_official replied to yourusername story: 🔥

yourusername it's going to be okay, they'll love you 🫶

fernandoalo_oficial how did you know I was nervous amor?

yourusername I saw you literally shaking when you left to the bathroom love...😹

yourusername oh they're back come quickly!!💞

fernandoalo_oficial onmw

user3 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: IS THIS THE CONFIRMATION WE NEEDED?!

user4 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: I see what you're doing here old man 👀

user5 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: soft launch slowly turning into a hard launch and I'm here for it!!!!

dancer1 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: I guess you aren't that bad in person...

fernandoalo_oficial 😁

user6 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: screaming crying throwing up

taylorswift replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: You better treat my best dancer right Alonso!🤍

fernandoalo_oficial of course ma'am! 🫡

user7 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: So cute!!😍

messages between Y/N and Fernando

fernandoalo_oficial posted on instagram

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, f1, yourusername and 601,239 others

tagged: yourusername

fernandoalo_oficial All these people think love's for show but I would die for you in secret... #swiftie

view all 6,022 comments

yourusername I'd just like to make it clear to everybody that it's me who made him be swiftie... you're welcome💋

liked by the author

user1 OMG THE LYRICS FROM PEACE BY TAYLOR

carmenmmundt Y/N is so pretty!😍

yourusername ohh carmen ilysm you're even prettier🥹

user2 No way Fernando just really har launched his gf😭

f1 We smell a new wag!

user4 LOL you're kinda late for that admin xd

user5 Congrats and wish you well world champ!💪

user6 can we talk about how gorgeous she is???

lilymhe double date when honey?

yourusername anytime babeee!!!

fernandoalo_oficial why do I have a feeling me and alex_albon will be third-wheeling on you two?🤨

alex_albon you'll eventually get used to third-wheeling your own girlfriend and her friends, trust me fernando...🤠

user7 This girl is like a goddess, I can't even blame him ❤️🔥

user8 mommy & daddy

georgerussell63 Finally! Congratulation on the hard launch mate👍

fernandoalo_oficial and look who's original with emojis now...😂

user9 from now on this is my fav couple

user10 mine to

user11 SHUT UP THE DELULU GIRLIES ON TWITTER WERE RIGHT

lance_stroll 💚💚

user12 nah I don't know what he see in her🙄

user13 Go away we don't want the jealous haters here 🥱

kellypiquet Welcome to the F1 family yourusername!🤍

yourusername thx!💞

user14 i call this couple goals

user15 I'M SO READY FOR BOYFRIEND MATERIAL ALONSO

user16 I can already feel he'll be so hot in his new era 😩

user17 lmao nando in his swiftie and stlutty era as someone on twitter said😹

yourusername swiftie and slutty era? i like the sound of it😏

user16 not y/n reading all the comments sipping over her bf 💀

liked by yourusername

THE END

Author's Note: Hello everyone, hope you liked it! I'm not sure you should get used to me posting so often, but let's say that after Lance's social media au and the great feedback I had so much motivation... plus I'm sick, so I actually have the time to write and create XD. Anyway, I'll be glad for likes, comments, reblog and every other way of showing support! Have a great day and let me know how you liked Nando and swiftie dancer together!

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super-who-locked-me-in-here · 4 months

Text

I've been seeing some articles online about how now would be the perfect time to revive NBC Hannibal because Bryan apparently has ideas and Mads wants to finish the story and also we're coming up on the 10th anniversary of The Wrath of the Lamb in 2025, but how, because of the time between seasons, they'd most likely have to do a time skip in the show.

And I just have to say that I love that idea and I think that's how season 4 could thrive if it happened. Because the fandom has had nearly 9 years to think about and create their own post-fall headcanons, and there are bound to be people who maybe made art and fics and are in love with their post-fall idea and the show wouldn't turn out the way they wrote it in their fic or drew in their art and they'll be upset.

But what about 5-10 years after the fall? I don't know about y'all but I don't see a lot of fan works about that. And I think it'd be interesting to see what the NBC Hannibal team would do with a Will and Hannibal who are fully realized as murder partners, if not murder husbands.

If I could throw out an idea for what I think would be a funny way to show us Hannibal and Will in a timeskip season 4:

~~~~~

We're getting a moving view through their house in Cuba. It's dark outside and dark in the house, too. We can hear the sounds of Will and Hannibal somewhere else in the house, grunting and breathing heavily.

Will pants out, "Move faster."

"Patience Will. I'm not as young as I used to be."

A laugh escapes Will and he grunts again, "You didn't seem to have much trouble thirty minutes ago."

"That was thirty minutes ago. This is now. Perhaps if you're so spry then you don't need my assistance finishing this." Hannibal remarks.

There's a loud thud. "Hannibal!" Will accuses, although he sounds more annoyed than angry.

The camera finally pans to a hallway in the house where we see Will carrying a dead man by his underarms and his lower half is dropped unceremoniously at Hannibal's feet.

Will sighs and looks at Hannibal. "Will you help me with the cuts? Please."

The corners of Hannibal's lips turn up. He's never been able to deny Will when he uses that word. He bends down with another quiet grunt and picks up the corpse by its feet, and the two of them move into a room at the end of the hallway and shut the door.

~~~~~

#listen one of my favorite things in hannigram fics is when they talk about their 'extracurriculars'#and it's unclear whether they're talking about murder or sex #i think that's so funny #hannibal #hannibal season 4 #hannigram #post fall hannigram #hannibal fic #hannibal lecter #will graham

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floralpascal · 1 year

Text

The Best Lies

Summary: After you join the 141, Ghost does everything he can to fight his growing feelings for you. But during a night out with you, he finds it harder and harder to ignore.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.9k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only, mdni!)

Warnings: a little angst, Ghost agonizes over having feelings, canon-level violence, blood, alcohol/drinking, kissing, semi-public dry humping, fingering, unprotected p-in-v sex (you know the drill, wrap it y'all), secret relationship

A/N: This truly is 50% Ghost trying to ignore the fact that he's down bad and 50% depraved smut. Writing Ghost losing his mind over having feelings is truly so fun. I hope you all enjoy!

Illicit Indulgences Series Masterlist

Ghost had convinced himself that he had done more than just nip his issue at the bud. He thought he had pulled it out by the roots and set it aflame, never to bother him again.

And why would he think otherwise? He had done that same thing time and time again, and it had always worked. This time, he thought, would be no different. He had washed his hands of the issue and could continue on like before.

The problem was that he was dead wrong. This time was different.

You were different.

You were the newest member of the 141, a sniper and one of the best hand-to-hand combat specialists he had ever seen. You were a strong woman who fought hard and fast, with an eye for precision. Price had been trying to get you onto the team for months, telling Ghost that he was convinced you were the perfect addition. Price had been right; you were perfect. You fit right in with the guys, kept up with their banter, and were as tough as nails. When you worked, you had a focus that was so zeroed-in that Soap and Gaz had started to liken you to Ghost.

By all means, you were the best addition to the team that they could have asked for. You weren’t the problem. Ghost was the problem.

What had started as a small acknowledgment of your attractiveness had slowly grown into something more. It was your quick sarcastic quips that battled with his own, your soothing demeanor and featherlight touch as you patched him up, your ability to make a terrible situation seem better than it was - the list went on. There was something there between the two of you, a connection that he had never experienced before. No, his attraction wasn’t just surface-level, it was something deeper.

It was something that he wasn’t supposed to feel - on many levels.

Ghost never got involved, period. He could acknowledge when a woman was attractive, have a night where he gave in to the physical aspect of it, but it never grew to anything. He didn’t let it. He would dispose of those feelings as soon as he registered them. In his line of work and in his experience, feelings were a liability - a luxury that he would always pay the price for. They complicated everything and unusually ended in pain. In short, they were a weakness that needed to be disposed of.

What was more, you were his subordinate, his teammate. He was a professional, he never let himself feel anything like that for his subordinates. Hell, he barely even had what could be classified as friendships with his subordinates. Soap and Gaz had been the first he had ever shown his face to, and that was after fighting by their side for years.

The bottom line was that Ghost didn’t let himself get distracted, much less get distracted by a subordinate who was just doing her bloody job. Yet, in a few short months, you had flipped everything Ghost thought about himself on its head. It was disorienting.

Once he realized what was happening to him, he tried to put a stop to it. He worked with you when he had to, interacted with you when he had to, but besides that, he largely steered clear of you. Whether it was downtime at the base or a night out with the other 141 guys, if you were there, Ghost wasn’t. It was the only solution he had.

If only it had worked.

Even staying clear of you couldn’t stop the spread of whatever had taken hold of him. He slipped one day, imagining what your lips would feel like against his while you talked to Price, barely even realizing that he had been staring at your lips the entire time. Not too long after that, you had tried to get his attention while on an assignment, opting to whisper a low, breathless “Ghost!” into the comm. Going straight to the comm in his right ear, the low drawl of his name from your lips was almost like a siren’s call, sending a shiver racing down his spine as he responded back to you. Another day, he caught a glimpse of you training with Soap, watching as you passed his guard and kneeled between his legs as you continued to fight. The sight shouldn’t have sent his blood boiling or sent his thoughts straight into the gutter - you were just training. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw you look up at him as he swiftly left the training room, your piercing gaze following him as you helped Soap up from the floor.

He didn’t feel anything for you. He didn’t feel anything for you. He repeated it like a mantra, like he could make it come true if only he said it enough, with enough conviction.

So why did he still have a knot in his chest every time he saw you? Every time you spoke through the comms directly into his ear, your voice strong and smooth as honey? Every time your eyes locked with his, an unreadable expression on your face?

He didn’t feel anything for you. He almost made himself believe it.

“Styx, get the fuck out of here!” He bellowed at you. “Leave me! That’s an order!”

It was a stealth job gone south nearly a year and a half after you joined the team, their intel leading them into a pretty nasty situation. Almost everyone had long retreated to safety.

Ghost was hit, blood streaming from his right thigh. The bullet was still in the wound, making it bad enough to where he could barely put weight on it, considerably slowing down the two of you. He was a liability now, putting you both at risk of being killed or captured. You stayed with him nonetheless, shoulders set with determination.

“Like hell,” you scoffed as you crouched down to where Ghost sat. Your face was dirty from the fight, your clothes scuffed and torn with a slice cutting through your sleeve from a bullet graze. He tried to push you away, continuing to order you to fall back with the others, but you refused, your burning gaze snapping up to meet his. “Either I get you out of here or we keep bickering right here until they find us and kill us! Your choice.”

Of course you wouldn’t leave him behind. It’s who you were. It’s what made you you, even if it was infuriating to Ghost. Even if he would have done the exact same thing you were if it was you with a bullet wound instead of him.

His head starting to go fuzzy from the blood loss, his focus wavered.

“Hey,” you called, snapping your fingers in front of him before you started to check his wound. “Eyes on me, Ghost. Stay with me.”

After examining his thigh, you clicked your tongue before finally deciding that the makeshift bandage he had fashioned would be enough to suffice for now.

Ghost let out a groan, finally letting you pull him up and wrap one of his arms around your shoulders. You took some of his weight, helping him limp a little faster now. He was putting you in more danger, that he knew. If you would’ve just listened to him, your chances of going undetected and making it out of there would’ve been drastically higher. But your grip on the strap of his belt to help ease the weight off of his leg was firm, refusing to let him go.

That same feeling nagged in the back of his mind as you dragged him with you, the blood loss making it harder to ignore the thoughts that he usually shoved down.

You murmured words of encouragement to him as you walked for what felt like a lifetime. “Come on, big guy, just a little more. Just a little faster.”

Ghost huffed a small laugh. He was in a haze now, letting words slip past his lips that he would normally have guarded against. “Can’t be sayin’ stuff like that, love. Might give a man the wrong idea.”

Your head snapped to look at him, surprise written in the pinch of your brows. Ghost found enough clarity then to shut up, the reality of what he had just said slowly setting in. Not only had he voiced a sentiment he had barely been willing to admit to himself, he had voiced it to you.

You examined him for a moment with a confused, analyzing eye. Finally, you huffed out a laugh, your grip tightening on his belt as you readjusted his arm on your shoulder. Your eyes slid over his masked face, a flicker of amusement creeping into your gaze before you turned to look at your surroundings again.

After that, Ghost tried to hold on to every bit of self-control he had left to keep his mouth shut.

You both made it out that day, the two of you banged up and worse for wear, but alive. Ghost had been pretty out of it by the time you got him back to the exfil point. How you had managed to drag the both of you out of there while holding up a man as large as Ghost, he could barely remember, the whole event becoming fuzzier in his mind past the point when he had let those words slip to you.

The shot to his thigh had been a nasty one, leaving him bedridden in the medical area for the next few weeks, per the doctors’ orders. Price made sure Ghost didn’t try to disregard them.

Ghost told Price what you had done, wanting you to get the credit you deserved for your bravery. Still, it didn’t stop him from thinking that you very well could’ve gotten yourself killed for him. The thought pulled at the familiar knot in his chest.

“What’re you in for?”

Ghost followed the voice to the doorway of his room only to find you leaned against the frame, a small, teasing smile on your lips. You were cleaned up now. Having donned a fresh set of clothes, you now wore a plain black T-shirt tucked into camouflage tac pants. Despite your teasing attitude, your eyelids were heavy, like you had barely slept in the two days you had been back on base. A thick bandage poked out from under your shirtsleeve, covering the area where you had been grazed. Other than that, you seemed like you were in one piece from the entire ordeal.

Why did that revelation alone release some of the tension in his chest?

“Jus’ a scratch,” he rumbled. He couldn’t help but humor you a little. He gestured to the hospital bed and monitors surrounding him as he huffed, “Bit of an overkill if you ask me.”

You chuckled, pushing yourself off the door frame before coming closer. Voice laced with sarcasm, you said, “Yeah, okay, tough guy.”

It was quiet for a moment, the silence thick and heavy over the two of you. Your eyes slid over him, taking in his condition, your gaze almost too much to handle.

He didn’t feel anything for you. Under the weight of your scrutiny, the thought was more like a pleading prayer.

“You should’ve left me out there,” he asserted, trying to ignore his own thoughts. “You disobeyed a direct order.”

You rolled your eyes, your hands moving defensively to your hips. “I made a call and saved your life. You’d think that would count for something.”

“That wasn’t your call to make.”

“Listen, just because you can’t stand me doesn’t mean that I can’t make a call. You-”

“Is that what you bloody think?” Ghost spat, surprise creeping into his voice.

For the first time, he saw you hesitate. You blinked for a moment.

“How could I not?” You finally retorted, stepping closer to him, your tired eyes alight with anger. “You avoid me like the damn plague, it seems like you can barely stand me, and you second-guess every call I make. Yet you treat all the guys like your brothers. You trust them when they make a gutsy call. And what? I’m supposed to think you respect me at all?”

Of course that’s what it looked like to you. You had taken his distance to mean that he didn’t want you here, that he didn’t think as highly of you as he did the others.

“I’ll only say this once.” Ghost leaned forward, his eyes locking with yours through the holes in his mask. “You’re wrong. You’ve got my damn respect - have had it for a while, even before this mission. I think you’re one of the toughest people here. But I still gave you an order. You could’ve gotten yourself killed. And that would’ve been on me.”

Whatever you were expecting to hear from him, it wasn’t that. You appraised him, squinting a little as you did. When you finally spoke, your voice was quieter, but still even. Still strong. “I’d do it again.”

Now, it was Ghost who was at a loss for words. He tried to ignore the intensity in your voice, the certainty. As if that wasn’t exactly his issue - that you would be willing to put yourself on the line for him again.

“Y’know,” you mused as you turned and walked back to the door, “usually people just say ‘thank you’ when you save their life.”

With one last glance at him over your shoulder, you were gone.

~~~

In the months following your confrontation, Ghost stopped avoiding you at all costs, letting himself be closer with you again. The fact that you had taken his distance to mean that he thought less of you gnawed at him in a way that was damn near painful. Ghost’s issues were his own - he wasn’t going to take them out on you anymore by avoiding you. He shoved those thoughts for you down into the recesses of his brain, thinking that this time, the tactic might actually work.

You seemed happy about his change in demeanor. While you said nothing to point it out, he saw how you gradually relaxed around him over time. You were quick to joke with him now, your sarcastic quips as precise as your aim, as if you knew that your banter made it easier for him. You were lighter with him now, ignoring the weight of that mission. Most of the time, he could, too.

Most of the time.

I’d do it again. The words rang in his ears each time he saw you now. They dug at him, called to him. It was maddening. The weight of those words remained heavy on his chest, their meaning something he was wary to look too closely into.

Tonight, he found you at a small pub a few streets over from the hotel the 141 had been staying at in some small Irish town, your elbows resting on the sleek wooden bar as you swirled a whiskey in its glass. You seemed deep in thought, your eyes only half-watching the amber liquid spin under the pub’s dim, warm yellow lights.

“The guys all leave?” Ghost asked, pulling you from your thoughts. A small smile played at the edge of your lips as you turned towards him, gently placing the glass back on the table.

“Yeah, they all left me,” you sighed dramatically. “Price went to see an old friend here in town. Soap and Gaz wanted to go check out a pub a couple blocks over from here.”

Ghost paused for a minute to order a bourbon from the bartender. “And you didn’t wanna go?”

You shook your head. “The place sounded a little too loud for my liking.”

Ghost made a noise in solidarity, picking up the glass the bartender had placed down for him. Your taste in pubs, he had learned, was close to both his and Price’s: laidback and quiet. Sure enough, this pub was just that. It was an old vintage-style pub, one that didn’t attract a loud, rowdy crowd. The small number of patrons were mostly older people - locals, by the looks of them - laughing softly as most of them paid attention to the football game on the television. It was the kind of pub people went to when they were looking for a warm, peaceful night. It made it easier to relax a little in this strange pub in this strange city. In your line of work, that was a difficult feat to accomplish.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you for a while, both of you nursing your drinks.

But something was on Ghost’s mind, something that had been sitting with him for months. He broke the silence to say only, “Thank you.”

You turned to look at Ghost, an eyebrow raised. You hesitated for a moment, seemingly unsure that you had heard him correctly. “Huh? What for?”

“I never said it,” he explained simply, voice even and calm. “For savin’ my life ‘n all.”

You appraised him for a moment, taken aback by his admission. The two of you had barely talked about what happened that day. Finally, you nodded. “Still think I was wrong for disobeying your order?”

“No,” he admitted, quickly adding, “just don’t make a habit of it, yeah?”

You nodded, chuckling a little before you took the final sip of your drink. “Of course.”

It was quiet for another moment before you set your empty glass down with a clink. When the bartender came back around, you handed him enough money to pay for both your drinks and Ghost’s. Then, you turned back to Ghost and said, “You sure are… talkative when you get shot.”

Ghost averted his eyes from you at that, opting instead to watch the other patrons as they celebrated their team’s goal. His only response was, “It was blood loss.”

When he looked back to you, your piercing eyes were trained on his. You seemed like you were trying to piece him together, to figure out the puzzle of him.

“Blood loss or not, I never took you as the kind of guy to have his head in the gutter like that,” you teased, your tone light. Underneath the teasing tone though, laid something more serious. Something Ghost hoped he was wrong about.

“I’m not.” It was a lie. He knew it. The worst part was that you knew it, too.

A smirk played at the edge of your lips at that.

“Sure you’re not, Ghost,” you teased. You stood from your seat then before you leaned in close to Ghost’s ear, your hand gliding along his shoulder. Voice near a whisper, sweet and honeyed, you added, “Can’t be saying things like that, then. Might give a girl the wrong idea.”

With that, you were gone. By the time Ghost turned around, you were halfway to the door, shooting him a sultry, burning look over your shoulder. It was a look he had never seen from you before, a look he was sure was aided by the whiskey you had been drinking. It was an invitation extended to him under the dim yellow lights of the pub.

It was the first blatant sign he had seen that you were interested in him like that - that it hadn’t just been him afflicted by whatever this was.

In the split second your eyes locked with his, a million thoughts ran through his mind, all saying that he definitely shouldn’t take the invitation, shouldn’t follow you. For one, it would undo all the work he had done to ignore his own thoughts about you. Not to mention the fact that he was your superior and all the hardline rules that very clearly stated that he shouldn’t unless he wanted to risk his entire career.

But what if he did? What if he gave in to you this one time? What if all he needed was a night with you to finally get you out of his damn head? He could have you once and finally be able to get over the hold you had on him. To let go, maybe all he had to do was give in.

Fuck.

Ghost abandoned his seat in a moment. Weaving his large frame through the tables and patrons, his eyes were trained on you as you slipped through the front door. He caught it right as it swung closed from you, hot on your tail. Pushing out into the cold, crisp night air, he found you barely two steps away from him. You turned when you saw him, a small smile blooming across your face.

Ghost was on you, his hands grabbing your hips as he pulled the both of you into the alley. Shrouded in darkness, he pressed your back to the brick wall of the pub before shoving the lower part of his mask just above his mouth. Before he could even move again, your hand came to wrap around the back of his head, pulling his lips to yours in a rough, messy kiss.

It was better than he imagined. You were better than he imagined, the feeling of your plush lips on his almost making him forget why he had held himself back from you for so long.

He caged you in against the wall, one hand grasping against the rough, scratchy surface as he leaned in while the other held your head in place. You pulled at him, fervent and insistent as you drew him ever closer to you. Shifting in your hold, he slotted his knee between your legs, maneuvering so that his large, muscular thigh rested against your clothed center. When you gasped against him, he took the opportunity to slide his tongue along yours, the thick, heady taste of your whiskey mixing with his bourbon. It was the taste of you, though, that was intoxicating. More so than any drink he could have ordered.

As you ground down against his thigh, your tongue met his with equal fervor. And while you grasped the back of Ghost’s mask in your desperation, he knew you would make no effort to pull it from him. How he knew that was a mystery even to him. All he knew was that the way you tugged at his hair through the mask sent him careening over the edge of a chasm that he couldn’t see the bottom of.

His hand left the wall beside you to firmly grasp your waist, urging you to increase the speed of your hips against him. Flexing his thigh, another gasp fell from your mouth. It was maddening, a sound he knew he had to draw out of you again, only louder and unobstructed. The sound shot through him like adrenaline, fast and exhilarating.

For the first time in a long time, Ghost felt truly awake. It was like a fire had been lit in his veins and you were the gasoline fueling the raging flames.

Suddenly, a loud group of people passed by the alley on the adjoining street, voices ringing out in conversation. All at once, Ghost was reminded that you were both out in the open, albeit tucked into a dark alley. You broke from the kiss, your mind seemingly on the same track.

“My room,” you offered breathlessly. “At the hotel.”

“Lead the way, Styx.”

You made the quick walk back to the small hotel with Ghost in tow, winding through the dimly illuminated streets and alleys with an illicit sort of stealth and swiftness, the both of you keeping an eye out for any of the other guys along the way. While you both knew that you wouldn’t see any of them again tonight, neither of you could seem to help it. You both knew you weren’t supposed to be doing this.

Yet, neither of you put a stop to whatever this was either.

Ghost had you pressed up against the door to your room the moment you locked it, your back to his chest and arms extended to brace yourself against the sleek black wood. His mask once again pushed to just under his nose, he lavished hungrily at your neck just below the ear, earning another sharp gasp from you. His hands dipped to the front of your jeans, racing to blindly undo them. Movements deft, efficient, and precise, his fingers were quickly past the undone line of your jeans and slipping under the band of your underwear.

“You want this?” he rasped, both because he needed the confirmation that you were completely in and because he wanted to hear the way you would sound.

“Yes,” you rushed almost immediately, a newfound desperation lining your voice. You moved your ass back against him, pressing yourself against his covered erection and he had to hold himself back from rutting into you. “Fuck, Ghost…”

Ghost nipped at your ear as he stilled your hips, his right hand drawing lower under your underwear.

“Easy,” he warned. ”Gotta open you up first.”

With that, his fingers finally met your core, gliding through your soaked folds. He groaned at the feeling of you already dripping for him, your underwear even damp with your arousal. He dragged some of your slick up from your entrance until he found the small bundle of nerves that had you rolling your hips forward in his grasp. Completely encircling you from behind with his body, he held you flush to him while he rubbed hard and fast circles between your thighs.

Melting into his touch, you started to move your left hand from the door to grasp for him. His free hand stopped you in only a moment, grabbing your wrist and replacing it back in its previous position.

“Hands stay there,” he ordered. For once, you actually listened, opting instead to claw your fingers against the wood as he slipped two fingers past your entrance and into your heat. He moved achingly slow at first, letting you feel the way his fingers dragged along your walls, filling and stretching your tight cunt already. You moaned, your head falling back to rest against his broad chest.

“Ghost… Ghost, faster,” you pleaded, voice airy. The satisfaction he got from your desperate request was all too strong, more than he had ever experienced before. It shot through him like a drug, fast and disorienting.

He picked up the pace, steadily building up to a pace that had your knees ready to give out. Wrapping his free arm around your middle, he held you steady while he wrecked you with his fingers. He tried not to think about the fact that it had only been a few months ago that it had been you holding him up, that now he got to return the favor to you in a much more pleasurable way.

When you cried out for him, Ghost whispered into your ear, parroting your own words from that fateful mission, “Just a little more.”

With that, he added a third finger, holding his blistering pace. The sounds you made were utterly debauched, utterly sinful. He should have been worried about how loud you were - surely others in the hotel could hear your moans. You would be lucky if there weren’t complaints to the management by morning. It was reckless… but Ghost couldn’t bring himself to care. He was too enraptured by the ringing of your voice as you fell apart beneath his touch.

It only took another minute for you to come undone around him, your muscles tensing around his fingers, squeezing him as your mouth fell open in a silent scream while he worked you through it.

After you had begun to relax, a sweet whine leaving your lips, he finally slowed his pace to a stop. He pulled out of you then, drawing his hand up to his mouth to suck them clean. Eyes blown wide with lust, you turned to watch him as he slowly pulled his fingers out of his mouth, the tang of your cum one that he was sure he wouldn’t be able to forget. You watched his display until the tip of his middle finger left his lips. Then, you turned so swiftly he could barely register it and pushed up to kiss him again, your tongue dipping into his mouth to taste yourself as you threw your arms over his shoulders.

A groan left Ghost, one that surprised even him. It was so much. The taste of you on his tongue, the feel of your body under his hands, and the way you grasped at his back to pull him closer all had his head swimming, his usual cool-headed clarity quickly becoming muddled. His heart was hammering in his chest, his cock so hard it was aching in his jeans.

Alarm bells rang in his head, telling him that he was in too deep. Never had he ever been this… wrecked from sex before he had even gotten his cock out of his underwear. Something was different this time. That feeling was back in his chest - the one he wouldn’t put a name to.

But he couldn’t turn back now. His sense was far too gone for that.

Ghost effortlessly lifted you up from the floor before carrying you to the bed. When your back lightly hit the mattress, your mouth open in a surprised oh, he was already on top of you. He helped you peel the clothes from your body, his own clothes soon joining yours on the floor, save for the mask.

You looked so beautiful like this, spread out under Ghost like a dream. It was like every one of his long-ignored thoughts about you had come to life. Your hungry eyes, the way he could see every dip and plane and curve of your body like this, the way you practically glowed in the moonlight that poured into the darkened room… the sight made him finally let go of all his inhibitions about having you. He would deal with the consequences later.

Suddenly, he realized that he had just been staring at you.

You quirked an eyebrow at him, an easy smile on your lips. “Enjoying the view?”

In lieu of a reply, he leaned down, grabbed your chin, and smashed his lips into yours as he ground his hips against you, his cock sliding along your slickened folds.

“Ghost,” you breathed against him. He wished you wouldn’t say his name like that - like he was something good for you. Yet, it still only made his cock ache more. “Just - fuck - just fuck me already.”

“This isn’t gonna be soft, Styx,” he warned, lining his cock up with your entrance.

You gave him a small smirk, eyes full of mischief as you replied, “Good.”

Fucking hell, you were trying to kill him.

Ghost pushed inside of you slowly at first, reveling in the way you felt around him as you squeezed him, all molten heat and velvet. He draped himself over you, one hand planted on either side of your head, and watched as your eyes rolled back, your breathing becoming ragged once again. Your nails bit into his shoulder blades as you tried to adjust to him, the sting ever so satisfying against his skin.

“You’re s-so - ah - so big,” you mumbled, almost to yourself.

Buried to the hilt in you, he waited until he felt you begin to relax.

Then, Ghost threw himself into the flames.

He almost drew out of you completely before slamming back into you. And if he thought your sounds before were something to behold, the moans you let out now were nothing short of divine. Again. And again. And again.

He fucked you into the mattress so hard the bed shook and groaned with the force of each thrust, devolving into one never-ending cacophony as his speed increased. Your tits bounced with each impact and he dropped his head to take one nipple into his mouth, lavishing it with his tongue before moving to the other. Using one hand to hold onto his shoulders for dear life, you roughly fisted the sheets with the other, searching for any point of stability you could find as your world rocked.

When he lifted from your chest, he found your head tilted back on the mattress, neck outstretched and straining. Your eyes were squeezed shut, your face contorted in pure pleasure.

Yet, something gnawed at Ghost, an urge so deep and so powerful he was useless to hold out against.

“Eyes on me, Styx.”

Your eyes blinked open, fluttering for a moment as you tried to refocus your gaze. Finally, your eyes locked with his, as piercing as ever. That feeling flared in his chest again, his next few thrusts even harder than before. It was like he was drowning, only in the best possible way.

He watched the force of each thrust as it rocked through you, every twitch of your face and desperate grasp of your hand in the sheets. He watched the way you drank him in, eyes hooded and hungry as they held his gaze.

“Ghost.”

It was a plea. A demand. One he was all too eager to give in to.

Connected your lips again as one of his hands wound up to the hand you had fisted in the sheets. His fingers wrapping around your wrist, he guided your hand above your head and pinned it to the mattress. He felt you groan into the kiss before you slipped your tongue into his mouth, heated and messy.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It was all too much. He was enjoying this all too much. You were too good, too addicting.

You were taking him deeper than he had ever been. Your cunt threatened to pull him under, the pleasure of your tight walls too intense. He was only a step away from the edge, having to hold himself back from going over before you.

Ghost used his free hand to grab one of your legs and hook it over his hip.

Like this, his movement told you.

Taking the hint through your haze, you brought your other leg up around his hip and locked them together behind him.

Instantly, you broke from the kiss, a broken moan ringing in his ears and vibrating against his lips. They flowed freely from you now, the beautiful sound filling the room. He couldn’t hold in his own grunts anymore, one for every snap of his hips against yours.

Ghost felt you tense a moment before it happened, your body going rigid and your moan abruptly cut. Then, you were squeezing him so tight, it ripped a deep, guttural moan from his chest. The force of your orgasm rocked through you, seeming like you were trying to pull him over that same edge with you. Surely enough, with a few more rocks of his hips, he felt that heat as he released, coating your walls with his cum, your release taking every bit of him with you.

Before he could pull out of you, spent and panting, your hand found his covered cheek, the cloth warm under your touch, and guided his lips back to yours again. Your kiss was slow. Deliberate. Heavy. A hint of something deeper on your lips.

And as he ducked out of your room that night, the moonlight seeming dimmer in his room than it had been when it was illuminating your face, Ghost tried to push all his thoughts of you away for good.

He had his fill and now he was done.

He could move on.

He didn’t feel anything for you.

They were all good lies. For the best lies were the lies he told himself.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #simon riley fanfic #my writing

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winterrrnight · 8 months

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I'll be there for you

PAIRING: zach maclaren x gn!reader

SUMMARY: on your way to be broken up with (unknowing to you), you bump into a blue eyed boy who becomes your saviour after the break up.

WARNINGS: break up, heartbreak

EDITH SPEAKS: zach maclaren is what I have always imagined soft!rafe to be like. You don't know how big of a win it is for me (and for all the people who are obsessed w soft!rafe). zach is a sweetie and i NEED to write fics for him, so here you go!! it's my first fic for him as per the poll 🫶🏻🫶🏻

if you enjoyed reading this, please reblog!! feedback is always appreciated so please don't be afraid to comment and leave your thoughts 💕💕 + give me some cute cute zach requests y'all 😭

navigation || join my taglist || requests

You speed up your jogging, and try to simultaneously avoid all sorts of puddles. It's been raining heavily and you almost had an accident with your car as you accidentally drove into a huge pothole. It's at the repair shop, and you're stuck with walking as your medium of transportation.

Your partner asked you to meet up with them at a local coffee shop, and it's been almost 20 minutes since the time you were actually supposed to be there. You forgot to charge your phone so you're just carrying a dead device with you, and you have no way of informing them about you being late.

As you're jogging (which has now become sprinting, accompanied with your heavy breathes) you find yourself getting mesmerised by a new shop as you pass it. You watch through the window of the shop whilst running, and the decore inside intrigues you deeply as you make a mental note to visit the shop on your way back.

Just as you direct your attention to the road, you find yourself almost running into a huge puddle of water. Your reflexes act up as you suddenly swerve to the left, and with such a late response, you end up crashing into someone.

"Ow!" You say, as you and the unknown person both groan. In the heat of the moment, the other person has their arms wrapped around you to prevent you from falling (or from keeping themselves from falling) and you clasp onto their arms as you both steady yourself.

As you regain focus and look up at the person, you see the most beautiful pair of blue eyes looking at you back, and a mop of hair which looks as soft as bunny ears.

You forget what happened just a second before as you find yourself so mesmerised by this person in front of you. The world around you has seemed to stop spinning, and it feels like you and this person are the only people on this planet.

"Are you okay?"

The most musical voice enters your ears, and you think you haven't seen a person this perfect before.

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay, are you okay? I'm so sorry I just full on slammed into you," you laugh, as the person takes their hands off your arms and you do too. You had forgotten you both were holding each other.

"Yes, I'm fine. You look worried and distracted, is everything alright?"

"Uh yes, it's all good," you smile at the stranger. His kindness has warmed your heart.

You suddenly remember you are on your way to meet your partner. You look at your wrist watch to see you're now over 30 minutes late.

"Oh shit I gotta go," you say, starting to run again.

"Be careful!" You hear him call out behind you. You lightly laugh at his words as you run, and pick up speed but this time keeping yourself focused.

You quickly reach the coffee shop and enter inside, the bells jingling just like they always do. You look at the corner to see them sitting there with their eyes buried in their phone. You rush up to them and give them a quick kiss on their cheek before sitting opposite to them.

"I'm so so sorry I'm late, my car is at the shop and I had to run and on the way I almost-"

"It's okay," they say, taking a sip of the coffee they ordered for themselves. There's nothing on the table for you, when you know they are fully aware what you love to drink from here.

Ignoring that, you just nod and look outside the window.

"Listen, I want to talk about something really important," they say, regaining your focus.

"Yeah?"

"This," they say, gesturing to the both of you, "this isn't working out anymore. I'm pretty sure you've noticed how we've grown apart and have been basically living two separate lives since a few months now. I, I want to break up with you."

You watch them with your eyes widened and your heart loud in your chest.

No doubt you have felt the lack of love between you two, but you've made some beautiful memories with them and to think it all ends here now, does make you sad.

"Oh," you whisper, not knowing what else to really say.

"I'm also moving away next week, and I might as well start to live there permanently," they add, and you just look at them with disbelief. They're moving away and this is the moment they thought is the perfect one to break this news to you?

"I have absolutely loved being with you all this time, but I think it's now time we separate and do our own thing." They take the last sip of their coffee and get up from their chair. "I wish you the best for your life." They smile at you and leave the coffee shop, you left all alone at the table.

It takes you a few minutes to process what has happened, and how you've been broken up with in such a horrific way. You stay seated with your eyes focused on your hands in your lap, as you turn their words in your mind over and over.

You take in a deep breathe and get up from your chair, and leave the coffee shop. You walk slowly back to your home, you hands stuffed in the pockets of your jacket as you try to distract yourself by kicking the stones on your path.

You are nearing the shop you wanted to visit, and just before that, you spot a familiar face sitting on a bench. He sees you and gives you a smile as he gets up from the bench.

"You look so sad," the blue eyed boy says.

"Well, I did just get broken up with," you say with a laugh, but nothing was funny about this situation.

"Oh my," he gasps, "I'm so sorry," he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in a hug.

Should you be hugging someone who's name you don't even know?

Probably not, but you are in a desparate need for closure.

And this person really knows how to hug.

"You'll be fine," he says. "It wasn't meant to be, because if it was, you wouldn't be broken up with right now. It may take some time for you to realise it, but I promise you, it happened for the best."

Your lips upturn into a small smile. "We fell out of love a long time ago, I don't know why I'm clinging onto something which practically ended so long ago."

"I think it's because they did make you feel things, and you're just missing all the good times. And that's totally normal. But there's someone out there who'll keep you so much more happy."

You suddenly pull him into a another hug, and you hear him giggle as he hugs you back. This is the best thing that has happened to you all day.

"Thank you for that," you whisper. He simply smiles at you and nods.

You look around and your eyes land at the shop which attracted you deeply.

You only live once, right?

"If you aren't busy right now, would you like to check out that shop with me?" You ask, pointing to it. He turns around to look at where you're pointing.

"I would love to," he smiles, and it's like you've already forgotten about the heartbreak you were experiencing a few minutes ago.

He was right; it was never meant to be and there's someone who's going to keep you so much more happy.

And that someone is him.

Zach Maclaren, the boy who you fell in love with because he provided you support when you thought you would crumble apart.

The boy who showed you happiness in forms you didn't know you could feel.

The boy who loved you with his last breathe.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @tahliac11 @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify

(If you want to be added, check out the 'join my taglist' post on top! + send in requests if you have any, but please read the 'requests' post first!)

#zach maclaren #zach maclaren fic #zach maclaren x reader #zach maclaren fluff #zach maclaren fanfiction #zach maclaren fanfic #zach maclaren imagine #zach maclaren oneshot #zach maclaren x you #zach maclaren x gender neutral reader #the other zoey #drew starkey #drew starkey fic #written by edith! 🪄

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soupthatistohot · 2 months

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BSD: An Absurdist Analysis - Ch. 114

My thoughts on "Crime and Punishment"

[BSD Absurdism Masterpost]

Okay, so! Fyodor probably isn't dead.

And my theory for what his ability is would tie into Asagiri's absurdist storytelling thus far.

In Sigma's flashback, we see Fyodor get impaled in a manner that is eerily similar to how he dies in the helicopter, a way that pratically guarantees his death. Yet, as Sigma observes, he must have escaped the execution in order for him to still be alive.

My theory, put simply, is that when someone successfully kills Fyodor, he takes their place.

His ability is called Crime and Punishment, right? And if the ultimate crime (sin) is murder, then the punishment would be death. So, then, perhaps when someone is able to kill Fyodor, it causes their death, and somehow Fyodor takes on their lifeforce (for lack of a better term) and is able to keep living.

This would also explain why he has been able to live for such a long time. If he keeps getting killed by people whose lifeforce he assumes, then he can theoretically live forever as long as people keep attempting to murder him.

This would explain the end of the chapter where the body is shown to clearly not be Fyodor's. The helicopter pilot would have paid the consequence for Fyodor's murder, and thus been the one to die. For whatever reason, I suppose this means he and Fyodor switched likenesses? This is further supported by the panel in the flashback/memory where something seems to be happening to the man who impaled Fyodor after he does so. This part I cannot explain as well, but I think y'all can understand what I'm getting at with this.

Additionally, this theory of Crime and Punishment explains the purpose of the prison-break game, he's been trying to goad Dazai into killing him all along so he can die in turn, and finally be rid of his rival.

(Edit: the above point is likely rendered invalid because No Longer Human would very likely protect Dazai from death by Fyodor’s ability. That being said, it further explains why Fyodor is so determined to kill Dazai — not only is he his match in wits, but he might be the only one capable of killing him for good.)

Further, it could possibly explain Nikolai's desire to kill Fyodor. Perhaps Nikolai knows the nature of Fyodor's ability, and is the only one who does, which is why he considers them to be so close. He idolizes Fyodor, and so he desires to one day kill him, because he knows it will kill him in turn and Fyodor will get to continue living on. This one's a bit of a reach, but I do think it's a potential explanation if my theory about Crime and Punishment is correct.

And now for how this all fits into absurdism!

Fyodor has been the main antagonist for a really long time, basically for half of the manga's run. Up until this point we've had little to no clues about the nature of his ability and if my theory turns out to be correct, wouldn't that just be the greatest absurdity of all time? A villain that literally cannot die because when someone kills him, they actually die instead of him? How do you even defeat such a person?

I'm fairly confident about this theory, my only question would be why he would reveal this now? Surely, he knows that Dazai would figure it out, both from Sigma and from the corpse clearly not being him, so what benefit does Fyodor gain from revealing not only that he's survived, but what his ability is?

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd manga #bsd manga spoilers #bsd 114 #fyodor dostoevsky #sigma bsd #dazai osamu #bsd absurdism analysis #soup rants

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sunsents · 1 year

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Neteyam - Reacting to your death

Hey y'all, how y'all doing 😟? It's been a year since I published something but I am in my avatar era. I will post an announcement about where I've been, but enjoy(?) this heavy angsty.

Summary —> You're on your last breath, and Neteyam has a hard time accepting it.

Pairing: neteyamsully x !reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 1024

Warnings: blood/angst/mentions of a g*n/sad neteyam

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

Sharp pain was all you could feel when you jumped down the ship. It was that short moment of pushing Neteyam before you to minimize exposure that the realization hit you; you followed after him without thinking twice about the consequences, yet again.

Your ears rang in the otherwise silent ocean, like the water completely separated itself from the unnatural, unnecessary and foreign violence happening in the surface. A sigh of relief, contentment, serenity, until you're resurfucing again - or rather, struggling to.

"Fuck," you sputter, feeling a strange loss.

Lo'ak shouts after you to hurry up, but you can't, and it frustrates you. You hate falling behind, no matter how dire the injury is. "You sxkawng," gasping and trying to hold onto something, crimson surrounds you. "I'm shot."

Everyone stills.

Neteyam's head whips around with nothing but pure, unadulterated horror. His eyes fall on your pained face, then the bullet wound on your chest. You can see dark shadows casting over his face, the tremor of his hands, the slowing of his breath - all working together to keep his gears turning you assume. He quickly swims forward. "Quick, the Ilu."

You feel yourself being held around your body - suddenly, warmth feels like an unfamiliar concept. When had you become so cold to the outside world? When had you closed yourself off that warmth was foreign?

Though in odd, you fashion, you're not panicking. You're just lying there, gazing at the sky and letting chaos erupt around you. Sounds are muffled, and you don't know what's happening but you can only assume they're taking you to land.

The sky looks uncharacteristically blue - against all odds you've found yourself in. Eywa is in mourning.

Maybe it's because you cannot fathom that you, your own life, cannot end. You feared losing loved ones, but never feared nor thought about dying. It's not like you were immortal of course, one day you were going to leave the physical world and join the all mother amongst your family.

You just didn't think it would happen this soon. And you still think against it - you think against it when Mr Sully lays you down on cold rock, when he turns you over to inspect something, and when he looks at you with a faraway look.

"Dad," Neteyam chokes out.

Everything hurts and you start struggling to breath. Light headed, that's when you stop thinking all together.

"Am I-" you gasp for air, surprised that you, out of all people, is struggling to speak. You were quite chatty, at least that's what they told you. "Am I, dying?"

"No!" yells Neteyam, he's cupping your head with his palm, not letting your head touch the cold surface. "You're not dying, ____!"

He's sobbing, and you look around the faces of the people you consider loved ones. Lo'ak is wide eyed, staring at your probably paled face. He looks in utter agony and...confusion? Mr. Sully is crying, this is the first time you have seen him cry - be so vulnerable. He was Toruk Makto, so he'd always dismiss you with a nod, sometimes crack a joke here and there but stay stern all the while. He was clutching your hand, his own shaking. Kiri was just now arriving at the little land formation, and the look of her horror on her face brings tears to your eyes. You were dying - no. You were dead, it was final.

You try to calm your breathing, an obscene contrast to the gushing blood on your chest. You couldn't speak, but you could feel. And you were feeling the love of the people around you - and with the intensity of it, you deemed it a worthy way to go.

Neteyam however, was cluthing on your hand, hard. "You are not leaving me ____....Dad!" he sobs, a wretched sound breaking through his chest as he doubles over your body and shudders. "Do something!"

He's yelling, screeching even. His dad looks in anguish at his son's state, or perhaps because he feels utterly helpless at saving you.

"It's okay, Neteyam." you say softly, in a very wispy voice; "You're going to be okay."

You smile, and he screams, trashing and hugging your body to his chest. You try to push him away, but to no avail. Your limbs have fallen weak, you have already accepted the pain. "No!" he screams again, chest reverbeting against your deflating form.

"No, no, no, no!"

Mr Sully grabs ahold of his son and softly pulls him back, seperating him from you, "Son, please," his voice sounds broken.

Lo'ak is silent beside you, head held down, shuddering. Warm droplets are hitting your arm, and you can only guess it's tears. Kiri is on her knees, begging To Great Mother.

But you know it's final. And you don't feel too sad about it. You'd get to be with your parents, and Eywa, and all that. You'd be happy, you know you would be.

"____! No, I have to tell-" Neteyam gasps, trashing in his fathers hold. "I love you, I see you. Please,"

You're eyes have finally glazed over, you're gone.

You hadn't heard, and that only breaks Neteyam more. He screams in agony, clawing at your body, shaking you so, somehow, miraculously, you would open your eyes, tell him you love him and that you wan't to spend the rest of your life with him.

But there is no, "rest”. This was it for you, this was your life. When you had told him that you wanted to spend your life exploring Pandora, this was the extent. You would never have that, you will never be able to fulfill your dream because this day was the entirety of your future and present.

Neteyam is helpless. He had somehow escaped his fathers hold and was hugging your lifeless body close to his. Shrieks were ripping from his throat, desperately trying to transfer some sort of energy into your limbs. He could feel his mother's warmth surround him, a weak force pulling him back. "Please, don't. Let me hold her."

He sounded so broken, empty, purposeless that his mother and father break down as well.

#neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #avatar twow #avatar #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #neteyam imagine #kiri sully #tuk #loak #loak sully #loak x reader #jake sully #neytiri #neytiri sully #angst #avatar angst

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elaemae · 3 months

Text

The premium version of human is here to wreak house, mfs.

[Twst x ObeyMe!AFAB!reader]

CHP. 7

Again, I thank y'all for the reblogs, likes and comments guys, it really helps me :)

CW: Blue pronouns or address for MC every time they get mistaken for a guy. Also, I'm a potty mouth so MC is too.

Inhale..

Exhale....

Inhale......

Exhale.......

Inhale.........

Ex-fucking-hale.......

You're about to have a stroke right now.

You should've just went back to the goddamn infirmary instead of checking in on these obnoxious, bitch-less, probably father-less, motherfuckers.

It's just cleaning windows!! How the hell can you mess up like this?! Why the fuck did the cafeteria chandelier get involved??

GODDAMNIT!! WHY IS YUU INVOLVED AS WELL?! AHHHH—!

*One eternity of screaming like a banshee later*

After sending those damn kids and cat away to get some sort of magical stone in some godforsaken mine, you wrangled with the headmaster for at least two hours to prevent him from writing up the expulsion papers of Yuu and that Blue-haired kid who was mostly innocent about the ordeal.

(Meanwhile, encouraging him to kick that Ace kid and the damn cat off the school. You ain't about to let audacity run free rn, mostly because you feel yourself start genuinely tweaking as you almost got possessed by the urge to sucker punch someone's soul out of their body.)

[Satan perked up, there it was again.

That distinctive spark of wrath that he can feel through your pact with him is both concerning and comforting.

On one hand, the anger he feels means that you're alive. And seeing that what he's feeling through the pact is mostly annoyance, then that must mean that nothing marginally bad or traumatizing had happened to you yet.

You're actually more pissed off in a 'someone-had-the-audacity-to-eat-my-snacks' kind of way more than anything else, meaning that you're safe for now.

But on the other hand, he doesn't know how long that temporary safety will last.

There's also the fact this is the fourth time he'd felt that spark of 'I-wanna-punt-someone-into-the-fuckin-sun' kind of anger from you, which is worrying because it hasn't even been 48 hours since you were kidnapped by some mf.

He shook his head, calling upon a subordinate (read: Devoted fan) to collect more and more books to learn what type of teleportation and sleeping magic was used in your kidnapping.

With the massive search party spanning all three realms that they'd called upon, they will find you sooner or later.

And once they do...

Well... You'll need to get used to being with someone at all hours of the day.]

*Passive-aggresively reminding Crowley that he can't kick out an innocent kid for something they didn't directly do as they had no way of stopping the events that transpired.*

["You don't want the word to get out that you let an innocent teen roam around in a foreign world with absolutely nothing to their name and nobody to protect them, right?"

"That is true, but I still can't just let this go unpunis–"

"Especially when it's the school's faulty equipment that took them so far away from all of their loved ones and belongings, right?"]

Needless to say, Yuu ended up being "fired" in the end, quite an unfortunate result because they will need to freeload off of you until the end of your stay in this world. (Poor them, they got fired before they knew that they had a job in the first place.)

Oh well, it's better than being kicked out from practically their only way back home right now...

Hays... That cruel crow..

Anygays, it's time to snoop around and hopefully make some connections to the residents of this school.

This is a well-known college, right? So there should be influential people here somewhere...

Hehe.. It's time you bring out your gaslight, gatekeep, gold-digging skills so that you can girlboss your way into stability inside this foreign world.

• • • • • •

Suddenly, more than a dozen individuals felt a strong shiver run up their spines.

Haha... Well that's ominous!

• • • • • •

Ortho deadpanned at his brother.

It seems that almost burning down their dorm room last night isn't enough to deter him from making his [Mr. L/n x reader] fanfiction complete with mandatory fan art for every single chapter.

Haaa....

But at least his brother isn't 'fanboying' about another fictional character again...

Hm... Now that he thinks about it..

Maybe his brother will be more inclined to make friends if it's Mr. L/n!

And thus begins Ortho's journey of being an unknowing wingman as he tries to get his introverted brother to make friends.

• • • • • •

You narrowed your eyes as you looked at the small gift on top of your temporary bed in the infirmary.

Dats suspicious....

Dats weird......

You turn your necklace into a staff and start poking the box, trying to see if it'll suddenly turn into a horrific eldritch monster and jump you. (Won't be the first time that happened.)

• • • • •

"It is done, ××× ×× ××××××" (This is too easy to guess😑)

• • • • •

Diavolo sighed for the tenth time that hour, lamenting how trying to focus on his paperwork is a really hard task when MC gets thrown into the situation.

'Maybe a small break will help clear my head?'

He might as well just go out for a walk in the garden to get some fresh... air...

Oh? what is this?

His eyes scanned the dark envelope he'd seen wedged under the 'To burn' stack of paperwork in his desk.

This envelope wasn't here yesterday...

After confirming that the piece of paper wasn't cursed or charmed, he opened it with apprehension.

...!

This..!

• • • • •

Barbatos appeared in the office, tense as he'd heard his lord call out his name with haste.

Reading the letter shoved in front of his face by the serious Diavolo, Barbatos made a mental note to get the dungeon chambers ready.

They've got themselves a lead.

← Pr.6 | Chapter List | Chp. 1.1 →

Just tell me if y'all wanna get added in the permanent taglist, even if I already tagged y'all here.

That's just so I'll know if you wanna get tagged in all the upcoming chapters of this fanfic.

@caprinaesprout

@iameliseposts

@leviathans-tail-scales

@twst-om-lover

@a-traveling-void-human

Reblog or I'll take your ankles😈 (Pls like and reblog, it really gives me motivation🥺)

Also, the next chap is the start of Arc 1: Satan but short.

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ellethespaceunicorn · 3 months

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🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Landlord!Ari + being caught watching you while you sleep

Well, it took me a couple of days but I did it!! Oh, and it's the longest drabble in the world. Did y'all know a drabble is only 100 words???? I thought it was 100-500...I still wrote way more than that, but still.

Title: No Good Deeds

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Landlord!Ari Levinson x Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Summary: Moving out on your own is challenging, but your landlord, Mr. Levinson is kind and helpful. But he may want more from you than your tenancy.

Prompt: Landlord!Ari + being caught watching you while you sleep

Warnings: age gap (Ari is mid-40s, Reader is early-20s), yandere Ari, drugging, non-con fingering (f receiving), non-con p-in-v intercourse, non-con creampie, choking, dead dove: do not eat

A/N: Hahahaha this was supposed to be a drabble. Thank you to @peyton-warren for the beta!

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

Moving out on your own isn’t exactly the easiest thing for you. You spent four years living in your college dormitory, but you always had at least one roommate. So, signing a lease and accepting the single set of keys was a huge accomplishment.

Your landlord, Mr. Levinson, is so great. He told you to call him Ari more than once. From the first tour of the apartment to the day of your move-in, he offers his help in many ways. Where the best farmer’s market is, how to reach him if you need any repairs, and even when the local bars close are just a few tidbits he leaves you with.

You get to know him a bit more during a block party one Saturday night. The two of you talk over cheap beer, tamales from Señora Cruz, smoked brisket from Mr. Lorenzo, and lasagna from Mrs. Di Paolo. Ari seems like he is lonely, and your kind heart can’t stand to see someone in need.

Before you know what you are getting into, you agree to have a weekly tea date with him. It’s during one of those visits that you realize that something is a bit odd about Ari. He tries to cover up how he knows what cabinet you keep your tea in, but he makes up some dumb excuse that it would just be “the perfect spot”.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom as he busies himself with setting the tea, and when you come back, a steaming mug is waiting for you on a saucer on your coffee table. Usually, you make the tea, but Ari wanted to help out, and you had a long day at work, so you accepted.

“What is in this tea? It’s almost spicy,” you ask, taking another big gulp of the tea you don’t recognize.

“Is it spicy? Well, it does have ginger and cinnamon in it. Some chamomile, too. A little benzodiazepine in there,” Ari clambers on, trailing off at the end.

“D-did you say benzo…dia…zep,” you slur, reaching for Ari as you sit on the couch, but you end up passing out with your head in his lap.

When you come to, you struggle to remember what happened. Your heavy head pounds as you turn it to the side before putting the heel of your hand to your still-closed eyes.

“Take it slow, Bunny. You must’ve been really tired,” he consoles, from the other side of your bed.

“Mr. Levin-”

“Uhn uh. Call me Ari; no more of that Mr. Levinson polite shit, ok?” he swears for the first time in your presence.

“Um, Ari… What are you doing in my bedroom?” you ask, your mind a blank slate from earlier.

“Oh, Bunny. You invited me over for tea, and then you weren’t feeling well, and you asked me to stay until you felt better. Next thing I know, I’m carrying you in here because you fell asleep on me with that sweet little face of yours right in my lap,” he comforts, the knuckles of his hand sliding down your face before he boops your nose.

“Why do you keep calling me Bunny?” you mewl, still trying to get in control of all your limbs.

“When you sleep, you furrow your eyebrows and scrunch up your nose like a little bunny. It’s one of the cutest things you do,” he admires, his hand now moving down your neck and through the valley of your breasts to get to where your skirt rides up your thigh.

“Mr.-Ari…I think I feel better now; you don’t have to-”

Your words are cut off when Ari reaches under your skirt, and you specifically remember having on panties earlier today, but his fingers are touching your tender pussy directly. Did he take off your underwear?

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Must’ve been all that time I spent rubbing your cute little cunt through those white cotton panties. God, those little moans you were making went straight to my cock, Bunny. Feel it,” he dares, grabbing your hand and resting it against the thick outline of his dick through his Wranglers.

While your hand is on his length, he shoves two of his fingers into your wet heat. At first, you are surprised by the shock of it. But soon, you can tell that he knows how to work your body. You scream out his name, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he shoves one hand over your mouth and gets close to your ear.

“You’re not gonna ruin this for me. You have been parading yourself around here like you’re some holier-than-thou sweet little thing. And I knew you’d end up letting me smash at some point. But I didn’t wanna wait anymore, Bunny. You have had me wrapped around that little finger of yours since you moved in. It’s time that I get what’s owed to me-what you’ve been flaunting in front of me,” he sneers, pulling his fingers out of you and sucking them clean before opening his pants and pulling his dick out.

He lines up with your sodden core before thrusting in with no grace or elegance. Slamming himself inside your tight snatch for the first time feels like he is splitting you in two. You’re no virgin, but you also don’t have much casual sex, so Ari’s thickness was a shock, to say the least.

“Sweet Bunny, you’re so tight. What a good girl! You’ve been waiting for me like I’ve been waiting for you, huh? Fuck, you’re like a fucking vice. You hear that, Bunny? Hear how that cunt loves it when I fuck it? Love that loud, sloshy pussy,” he beams, his wide hips between your legs making your joints hurt.

You’re in stunned silence as Ari uses your body to chase his release. Your mind is bringing up all the times it seemed like he was getting a little too close for comfort. All the times when he would talk to you about his divorce, or his current dating trend, or the fact that he once told you that a pretty thing like you belonged locked up in a tower for a prince to come and free you.

Did he think he was a charming prince?

“Oh, Bunny, fuck, I’m not gonna last much longer. Look at me; wanna see your eyes when I cum inside you,” he blurts, holding your face in his hands as you look into his dilated, hungry eyes. “Take it. Just. Like. That.” The last few words are punctuated with thrusts as he paints your walls with thick, milky ropes.

Once he closes his eyes, his hips remain still, and his forehead meets yours. This would be almost romantic if Ari didn’t make it beyond creepy by whispering how perfect you are and peppering kisses all over your face. His softening cock finally slips free from you, and you are happy to be empty until you feel the flow of his semen leaking from you. He notices your discomfort and mocks your whines as he pushes his jizz back into your swollen hole.

“Don’t worry, Bunny,” he starts, moving off of you to recline next to you, “Not gonna leave this bed ‘til you’re knocked up. As soon as you are, I’m gonna move you in with me. You are gonna be well taken care of, too. You are so perfect-every little thing about you. And when the baby comes, we are gonna be the perfect little family. You wouldn’t wanna ruin our family, right? You’re gonna be a good girl for me, huh?” he implores, holding your cheeks in his hand so your lips poke out a bit.

You nod while tears stream from your eyes, finding it hard to form words. But what would you have said? He seems to like you mostly silent; you haven’t uttered a single word since before he was inside you. It wasn’t too late to try, but it was too late to have hope; at least that’s what you told yourself.

“I don’t know about you, but I am starting to get hard again just looking at you. On all fours for me, Bunny. I know you got it in you,” he orders, no kindness in his voice.

You quickly scramble to get on your hands and knees for him and are happy that he is pleased with your speed. As he slides into your sensitive folds again, you grimace but hold in your noises of pain. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you hurt, even though what he is doing is traumatizing. He relishes in the gushy sounds your pairing makes and the mighty “oomph” you make when he wraps an arm around your neck and flattens you down to your belly.

He has you in a chokehold while his hips canter back and forth, plunging his length deeper and deeper inside you. When he hears you start to sputter and gulp in air, he removes his arm from around your neck and holds your face cheek-down on the bed.

“Look at her, taking my cock just like she should. You’ll be the prettiest little wife and mother, won’t you? Gonna keep you nice and round as much as I can. My perfect little Bunny…ugh, fuck,” he blurts, his release surprising him suddenly.

When he pulls out, he smacks your ass and lays down next to you while your life flashes before your eyes. He moves closer to you, readjusting your body to lay on top of his as he rubs your back. He kisses the top of your head in such a kind gesture that you feel your eyes stinging with unshed tears.

You can’t even bring yourself to fully cry, the tears streaming down your face just to splash on Ari’s denim shirt. Forgotten and dried up to never be seen again.

A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble!!!!

**Tag List**

I also didn't know who to tag since this is the first time I wrote Ari.

#chris evans #ari levinson #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson smut #chris evans characters #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #ellethespaceunicorn prompt fill #ask reply #landlord ari levinson #dark ari levinson #dark ari levinson fanfic #dark fic #dark fanfiction #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #dead dove

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