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nexusnyx · 1 year

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Me & Mr. Miller

au!Joel Miller x f!Reader [5.2k] summary: You and Joel had a deal to stay away from each other. The only obstacle is—neither one of you wants to do that. He might be the father of one of your closest friends and someone a few (many) years older than you, but... who cared. Not you. Not him. The deal wasn't going as planned. 📝 in this scenario the outbreak never happened! joel miller is doing just fine! If you enjoy it, reblogs and comments make all the difference. warnings⚠️ mature content—explicit depictions of sex, so minors dni. | 🏷️ age gap, misunderstanding, secret relationship, pining, strangers to lovers. Oral (f receiving), penetration (p in v), unprotected sex, dirty talking, love-making.

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤTexas, Winter of 2023.

"Aw, shit, Joel. Fuck," Tess turned to him with her face twisted into a weird, panicked smile, and that's exactly when Joel realized he'd gone and fucked up again somehow. "You set me up. You set me up!"

"What?!"

"We could've at least told me you were inviting me to Sarah's birthday to be eaten fuckin' alive—is she still looking at me? Goddamn," the panic left for a second, replaced with a knowing smirk that he was unfortunately too familiar with. "She's got really nice eyes, I'll tell you that much. Were you gonna tell me I came here to make your girlfriend jealous? And really—is she still looking? 'Cause those are very intimidating eyes, and I'm gonna need to prepare myself."

There was no preparing to look into your eyes.

Joel would know.

He was done for the minute he laid eyes on you. The way you looked at him.

His hands started to sweat, and his mouth ran dry. He had to look. Gravity couldn't keep him from it.

"You know... a lot makes sense now," Tess starts.

"Don't."

Tess chuckles, hiding it in her drink. "Jeez—did you win her by blabbering her ears out? 'Cause I only got a single look into Miss Daggers for Eyes, but she looks—"

"Jesus Christ, I'm gonna regret having brought you, won't I?" Joel interrupts because he can't turn around as sharply as he'd like, and he can feel it already. Your eyes on him.

Tess stops hiding her laughter, "Oh, for sure. And only because I'm gonna make it very hard for you because you didn't tell me. Because you think that not talking about it makes things just... go away," she wiggles her fingers like dandelions in the sky, and Joel loves his best friend, but she can be a bit of a dick.

"I was gonna tell you," he sighs, fidgeting inside the stupid blazer; sipping his bourbon to ease the jitteriness inside his skin already proved to be a terrible fucking idea when in your presence. "I was—" and where are you? There are a lot of people behind Tess' shoulders and Joel could spot you in a football crowd.

"Jesus." Tess enunciates every letter. "Joel, find her so you can have your focus back."

"Just for the record, she isn't my girlfriend," he states.

Tess scoffs, and it says more than words could.

"She isn't," he presses.

"I believe you," says Tess. "But now I also know I wasn't crazy when I said you were happier last year after going to New York. You were. And Miss Daggers for Eyes—"

"She has a name."

"—is the reason. Does she? Does she have a name, Joel? Her parents are so kind for giving her one," Tess sasses. "I would know her name if you hadn't hidden her from me."

"I didn't hide anybody, there was nobody to hide. Also, can you shut up? You're louder than my thoughts."

The next laugh comes accompanied by a slap on the shoulder, and Tess walking away, but not before whispering in his ear. "Joel, buddy, I wholeheartedly believe you had the best intentions with bringing me here, but here's a tip you didn't ask for: Not one of you is as over whatever the hell happened as you may think. Talk to her."

Talk to her.

As if it was that simple.

As if there wasn't a deal.

Joel needs to find you, but first, he needs another drink.

He gulps down his glass and tries to smile as the guests pass him by. None of them seem to notice his imminent heart attack. None of them see through his carefully curated nonchalance, and he's happy about that.

There's already a person present who can see through him like glass, and he can barely deal with that one.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤNYC, Spring of 2022.

You stood no chance against him.

The first time you saw him, Joel looked like a Wes Anderson visual.

Pink suit, grey strands unabashedly mixed in his soft, shiny black hair, and a shy smile to put any of the other men present to shame.

You were drawn like a moth to a flame.

He looked quite serious without that beautiful smile on—he looked like someone who would, in fact, never wear a pink suit, so you walked over to him and slid right next to his spot at the bar. "That's a bold outfit choice," were your first words. You smiled when his eyes landed on you, so wide and filled with surprise; warm, and stunning like a hot summer day. "But it suits you."

Joel looked stunned for a moment.

He blinked, sipped his bourbon glass and his eyes did a not-subtle-at-all up and down. Then, he put down his glass and the corner of his mouth twitched with the idea of a smile. "I lost a bet," he answered. You recognized the southern accent immediately. "Believe it or not."

"Oh, I believe you," you chuckled.

"It suits me, though?" he asked, opening his arms to the sides.

You nodded. "It does," your peripheral vision caught Bruna approaching behind the bar, and you smiled at her. "Hi, babe. Can I get a caipirinha, please?"

"Hey, girl," she smiled at you and used all of her subtlety to glance at Joel observing the exchange. "Sure thing. Vodka, sake, or cachaça?"

"Bruna, you know there's only one way to do a proper caipirinha," you rolled your eyes.

Bruna smiled. "Cachaça it is, then. Lemon, or something else?"

"Hm, how about an unexpected fruit? Surprise me."

"You got it. Anything else?" she asked.

"Nope, just remember to drink some water. You always work too hard," you winked at her.

Bruna left to make your drink with a blinding smile on her face, and you turned around to find Joel staring. He leaned on the counter with his arm supported on it, and as soon as you looked at him he asked, "Where d'you two know each other from?"

You pointed at the huge banners of NYU standing behind you. "She goes there — I go there."

"You go to NYU?"

"I do," you answered. "Getting my phD, actually," your smile always came out at that.

Joel's face never hides his surprise, but the smile was unexpected and very welcome. "Wow. Congratulations."

"Thank you. I imagine you're here because of the Spring exhibition?" you looked around at the gallery where everyone around looked as posh as you and he did, save for the curious New Yorker just enjoying their walk.

"I am. My daughter has a paper on display on the third floor," he replied.

"Politics and Law area?"

"That's her," he confirmed.

"I have a few close friends in the department," you smiled. "It was my first stop."

"Are you here showin' something too?"

"I'm actually here as one of 'somethings' to show?" No matter how long in the business, talking about being the art itself was always surreal. Especially in front of otherwordly handsome and charming men. Where was Bruna with your drink when you needed her? "My roommate's exhibition won the main exhibit, and we — dancers — are her tool. Her paint."

"You're part of the main exhibit?" He looked every bit impressed, and you nodded, feeling giddy at the prospect. "Double wow. Wait—shouldn't you be backstage, then?"

"Oh, no, gods, no. This whole thing stays here all afternoon, the final piece is only at sunrise—6pm, kinda?"

"Okay. And do I get to know your name before you run off to become art or d'you plan on dropping a crystal shoe so I can roam around later tryin' to find out?"

That had been the first time he made you laugh.

Truly laugh; not a few breaths out of your nose or an easy chuckle—Joel was silly, and he looked like modern-day Adonis in the stupid pink suit that he only wore because of a goddamn bet, and you had no chance.

"I'm Joel," he extended his hand.

That had been the doom of it all—no last names. Only smiles.

You shook his hand and offered your name back, only for him to repeat it out loud.

Test it on his tongue.

You were always doomed.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤTexas, Winter of 2023.

Jealousy looked godly on you.

Joel hated himself for even thinking it, but he hated himself a lot this evening.

He had hurt you, for starters.

The only thing he set himself not to do, and he'd done it.

More than a year has passed since the fateful day you stepped, yet better—waltzed into his field of vision, and had he known a day of peace ever since?

The day he met you still played on his head like a broken record stuck inside a player:

Saying goodbye to Sarah in front of the gallery, turning around the corner, and seeing you with smoke blowing in front of your face, smiling at the sight of him. You in your green dress. The happiness written all over you, the obvious and earnest glee of seeing that Joel was still around.

Walking with you all around New York, feeling three times less intimidated by the imposing streets with you by his side. The smell of your apartment, the street food you two got on the way, the conversation that flowed as easy as a river stream.

Joel had the imprint of your shining personality burning behind his eyelids. The taste of strawberry from your caipirinha permanently inked on his tongue.

He stood no chance against your eyes—as much as she teased, Tess was right.

Miss Daggers for Eyes.

The way you looked at him at said, "You gotta stop looking at me like that, Joel. I'm starting to think you're not paying attention to what I'm saying," even though you already knew that to be true. Since the moment the strap of your blouse fell from your shoulders and you kept on talking, Joel was fish in a net.

He had the taste of your cunt and the smell of being buried between your thighs waking him up late at night for the next months to come.

The way you rode his face just as he asked you to—no mercy, no shame, only that, only your desires and the alcohol and the weed and the conversation and everything—everything, everything, everything.

Joel took it all out like a starved, greedy man, and you took it back, and neither of you slept until the sun was shining again in the sky.

The next couple of months were filled with texts since Texas demanded him back home and you were already home.

It could've been just friendship.

It was supposed to be simple.

So what if you two called each other and got off while on the phone like a couple of young adults who can't bear to be away from each other? So what if Joel texted you and had to endure Tess and other co-workers smiling at him and wondering, "what the hell's got Joel Damn Miller in a good mood, huh?"

So what if Joel learned more about you than he could admit to himself that he even wanted to know? Even if he was the one asking?

It didn't matter, because it wasn't simple.

Because when you called and said, "Your name is Joel Miller?" he realized why Sarah said he was such a 'distant concept'. No social media meant nobody to pry, but it also meant misunderstandings.

It also meant having to answer you with apprehension, because your tone had never been that off. "It is. Why are you sayin' it like I'm on a list or somethin'?"

"Joel." His stomach fell at his name alone. "You're Sarah's dad. Fuck. Of course you are—"

"Wait, you know Sarah?"

"Yes, I know Sarah. I'm friends with Sarah, or I was before—oh god, she's gonna kill me. She is, isn't she?"

He had assisted you through your panic even though he felt the same.

He walked outside his office, talked you through your next breaths, and guaranteed you there was no reason to panic. "That's it, it's ok, hun'—," he stopped, cursed mentally, and rectified his mistake with his name. You were not his hun, and Joel had been lost on cloud nine without realizing you could've never been. "Just breathe. She doesn't know. She won't know. You two are fine."

That had been it, or so he thought.

Joel stared a lot at the last message he received from you. Thought about sending something else. Continuing the conversation.

Instead, he let the silence make the dust settle.

It had been a haze.

A dream, or a glitch in the matrix—it wouldn't be happening again, and no matter how much he looked at the text you sent weeks prior — i really like talking to you, Joel — nothing would change.

Except it did.

Except — the silence amounted to nothing.

One look at you across the street and Joel was dragged back in.

That Summer when Sarah invited him back, Joel had almost said no, but he remained as able to deny her anything as when she was a kid. The weekend went perfectly, and Joel did his best to not think of you as he was there, but all it took was a few words on a screen:

ㅤㅤㅤㅤSaw Sarah's IG stories. You loaok so good when you smile , JoelㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLove how the sweater looks on yoyu

Drunk baby. Honey.

The second time there was no deal on the table yet, but there was you.

Joel appeared at your apartment door at twenty past two in the morning and only left a couple of hours before his plane left.

You two pretended your apartment was a bubble.

It worked.

Joel had missed you. It sounded silly when he thought it early in the morning before leaving for work—when everyday routine served as bitter medicine it was enough to convince himself it was all just wishful thinking.

With you in the same room as him, lying was harder.

There was no 'wishful' part on how well you two worked.

There was a divine inspiration in the way you made him feel like something new.

Joel felt warm, wanted, devilishly handsome under your gaze. Your careful touch.

"You're so fucking handsome," you repeated to him.

He never thought about his looks, but he couldn't stop himself from enjoying the truth in your words. How much you believed them. "Glad you think so."

"Don't snicker at me like that, Mr. Joel—"

"Snicker? I ain't snickerin', I'm laughin'. You keep tracing my wrinkles like that and I'm gonna get a complex, hun."

"The drama. You're so lame! Oh my god."

"And yet, you're laughing. You know, that's the same shit my daughter says. I'm startin' to think it's true."

"It is. You're silly. But it's okay —" the tip of your fingers tracing his features felt like the first drops of rain hitting the skin. Joel shivered under your touch more times than he cared to count, and he'd only been present for it a couple of times. He'd hate to think of how much you could ruin him with enough time given. How much no other touch would suffice anymore. " — 'cause it's all part of your charm..."

Who would've thought Joel still had it?

Charm.

No amount of charm made up for the situation, though, and before you left, you asked the inevitable question. "No one can know, right?"

"No." He knew what was at stake—your friendship with his most important person. Maybe more. "It was just our last time."

"Right. We're not doing this again."

"We can stay away from each other. I like it like this," he said, pressing his face in your beard-burnt neck, inhaling your sigh and perfume. "But I know..." she can't know.

No—no one can know.

He nuzzled into you, and you nuzzled back. Dug your fingers in the fabric of his shirt. "We can still... talk, can't we?" you asked.

Joel's chest clutched and he held you a little tighter. None of you were at fault for the circumstances, so you both deserved some more stolen time. "We'll talk." He kissed under your ear. "We'll stay away from each other. Talk. Friends can talk. We just—we don't do this anymore. And, no one can know it happened."

"Okay." You sounded muffled against his chest, and Joel thought about how he'd miss touching your hair like this. "I'll just — take a while. To be able to look at you and not —" you stopped abruptly, and pulled away to look up at him and show him not what.

Not look at him with eyes that demanded a kiss.

Without pulling him in by the fire in your eyes.

That had been then — July gave him you again. You for the last time.

The next time Joel saw you after that had been a few weeks ago. Sarah invited you to a party during the holidays, and third time was the charm.

You two talked like good, old friends.

The longing in his chest was ridiculous, the whole entire time.

Now—

jealousy looks good on you.

Sarah's birthday was big enough for Joel to have his eyes on you without you even realizing it. From his bedroom porch, Joel saw you walking by the pool between the guests with that set to your jaw. Another friend of Sarah's stopped you and started a conversation, but the look refused to leave your face.

The problem was—there was nothing Joel could do.

If he pulled you aside to clarify that Tess was only a friend, a work friend who Sarah has called 'Aunty Tess' since she was fourteen, he would be wrong.

Rubbing salt on the wound.

What did it matter what Tess was?

You two had a deal.

Gods, Joel was getting too old for this—too old to watch things from a distance, to see the sadness on the pout of your lips and crave to run and kiss it away, to realize when the lights of the party hit your face in the right angles that your eyes are shining and fuck—

He gets back downstairs and leaves the glass somewhere along the way.

No more bourbon for him.

Joel hears his name called a few times. Allows himself to be distracted by conversation here and there. He's good at lying to himself—he's done it often enough by now. Joel keeps himself trimmed from the deep wants and needs that grow like weeds through his bones, even if he isn't sure why.

Something so rich like you — of course it wasn't for him.

What would he do?

You're Sarah's dad. Fuck.

Sarah's father — he clapped the louder, smiled the brighter, and when the candles were blown and she handed him the first piece of cake, Joel wondered if he should feel guilty for going after someone who's close with daughter of all people.

All he could feel was sadness as he saw you disappearing in the crowd after talking to Sarah in hushed tones inside a hug.

Joel needed to find Tess.

He should leave — his house would be the roof for a lot of people tonight and he needed to talk, maybe—Joel started laughing as soon as the thought came to him.

That's how much you affected him.

He leaves in direction of the kitchen, guarded by the commotion around the cake.

Joel had trouble finding people he liked talking to. You spoke with him for three hours as if time meant nothing, and now it got him wanting to talk about you to his friends, spilling all the bits of stolen moments here and there.

The texts he's read so many times he has memorized.

He needs to get those things off his chest if he wants to stop clinging to them— they've been inside his close fists since Joel got his hands on them — on you — and he hasn't let go ever since.

"Dad?"

He places the bottle down on the fridge shelf, happy he was caught before and not during the act. He pops his head out, and Sarah's standing on the door of the kitchen with a look.

"What?"

"I promised myself I was gonna stay out of this tonight, but — is there a reason? Any solid reason why you two decided to stay away from each other since you're both so... clearly happy about that?" she finishes, eyeing the fridge as if her view is made of x-ray, and the bottle weighs twice more in his hands.

Then—"Wait." Joel's brain freezes. "You knew?"

Sarah's eyes widen, and her mouth falls open. "Oh. My god." She blinks once, then covers a burst of laughter with both hands. "Dad. You and she are so not subtle—I thought you knew that I knew — oh my god. It's not because of me, is it? I mean—don't get me wrong, if you two as much as flirt in front of me at first I'm gonna hose both of you like, on the spot, but—I'm ok with it. Obviously. You two are two grown adults, and dad, don't take this the wrong way, but last year was the most I've seen you smile in a long, long time."

Joel needed a few minutes to take all of it in.

Was it just because of Sarah?

No one can know, you'd said. What if you were ashamed of him, too? Of the age difference, and —

"The same goes for her, obviously." Sarah's words pulled him out from underwater. "I've known her for a couple of years, but... last year was definitely happier than the other one."

He smiled. "You're the best, did you know that?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Duh."

"Tell Tess I left?"

"Sure." Sarah's smile spread. "She just left. D'you want me to text you where she's staying?"

Joel had already gifted her, but that didn't stop him from walking over to kiss her cheek and smile proudly. "I'll buy another gift."

"You better."

Joel drove all the way hoping to be right.

Hoping it hadn't all been just a fluke — the moment, a chase, a thrill.

He breathed a deep inhale before knocking on your hotel door.

It took a second before he heard your footsteps, and he wiped his palms on his jeans. "Uhm — I didn't ask for room service?" you sounded confused.

And like you'd been crying.

Fuck him. "I know you didn't."

It was him.

You wished you hadn't opened. He looks good — like always, but better. Hair slicked back, thick jacket to shield from the cold and the soft eyes; it's what bought you, and what traps you again.

You're speechless, but Joel helps.

"I just have somethin' to say and somethin' to ask, then I can be on my way. If you want," he adds.

"I thought we had a deal." It's almost like a plaster. A veil to cover the pink hue on your cheeks, maybe. "And how did you get up here without them calling me?"

He lifted his hands — your scarf was in them, and he tried very little to hide his amusement when he explained. "I've lived in this town my whole life. I just told Nina downstairs you forgot your scarf at the birthday party and you left pretty early tomorrow mornin'." Joel looks past your shoulders. "You're not the only one with friends. Can I come in?"

You wonder if it's possible to say no to him.

You simply take a step back, and Joel walks past you.

He feels like an omen standing there in your hotel room. The one you'd gotten because staying at his house seemed impossible.

The one you dreamt about him appearing out of nowhere, just like now.

If you had drunk more tonight, you would think maybe you're out of it.

"I'll keep it short, mostly 'cause I feel like a nerve wreck." Joel clears his throat and turns around to look at you as you close the door behind you. "She knows. Sarah — she uhm, she asked me basically why we're makin' each other miserable."

She knows.

You feel splinted from your body for a moment as the weight of the secret leaves your shoulders.

"She knows?" your whisper is more to yourself than anything else, but Joel still answers.

"Yeah. And also — that was Tess, tonight. With me at the birthday party."

He closed it at that because the rest was implied — you heard of Tess, many, many times.

When you and Joel spoke before Summer and the few times you two spent hours on the phone after long periods of silence in between, Joel told you about his friends. He told you about his work colleagues, about old college memories, about anything you asked.

He waited for you.

Patiently, as you took in the fact that your only worry didn't exist, Joel stood there a few feet across from you with his hands in his pockets, waiting.

And then, "I get if that wasn't the only reason why you said we should keep it between us. But—"

"It was." You were just... flying. Free. You breathed out, weighing a thousand pounds less. So you could have him? "Joel?"

He takes a step forward. "Yeah?"

There's little to be said when both of you move like orbits.

Your arms already know the way around his shoulders. Joel's familiar with the inches of your waist, and more than anything, you missed this, missed him.

His clever hands wrap carefully around your waist, and you abandoned every ounce of worry that this might be a dream.

"What are you smilin' at?" he asks.

Joel asks you that as he molds your bodies into one—the man is nothing but broad shoulders and back, thick arms that act like tentacles on your body that melts into his touch from the get-go.

"I had a lot of dreams like this," you confess. It feels incredible to just say what pops into your mind.

"Well, then let me remind you that real life's better," he mutters, hands already cupping your neck and cheeks.

Joel is the type fo kiss with his whole body.

You have no idea how both of you deluded yourselves into thinking any sort of deal could prevail when you two are made of this:

His hands roaming your throat, squeezing as you cling your legs around his waist and Joel takes the full weight of you on him. The back of his knees hitting the bed, his body and yours falling into a mess and tangle of limbs.

No deal was bigger than the desire you had of jumping his bones whenever he was at close proximity.

You wanted to devour him — you sucked on the fingers he offered with the same gusto your hips rolled against his lap; Joel moaned for you, and he trembled for you, and he smiled for you.

"'m gonna take my time with you — you know I like to take my time, stop grindin' that pretty pussy all up on me," he growls, and you mewl.

Joel is relentless with his touches.

Every time he took you, it felt like a possession.

Like he was carving your body out of marble to keep the curves set in stone — his palms ran through every inch of you until all your clothes were gone somewhere in the room, and he laughed at himself every time you cried out his name in a loud plea for more.

"Please — please just gimme something," you begged.

Joel smiles at you, dropping his pants to the floor. The entire lower half of his face is shining with the slick and sweat from you — keeping his head buried between your legs, your thighs stradling his shoulders and squeezing around his ears — he always started the nights like that.

"I was givin' you somethin'," he replies. Voice low and thick as honey. Just as sweet, too.

He crawls over the bed, naked, and you have to stop yourself from jumping on him until he's on his back. It'd be worse for you afterwards — you learned it the hard way. Joel would milk every orgasm out of you until you blacked out if you kept him from touching your body to his liking before you could do anything, and who were you to complain?

"Need more, Joel," you cried.

"More what?" He palms your calves, and starts smoothing his hands upwards. "Ask for it, baby."

"Whatever you want to give me, just — please."

"Ah. She learned," he chuckles, and kisses the inside of your thighs. They tremble at the feeling of his beard, and he nuzzles his face there for good measure. "I usually wanna see you ridin' my face 'till you're screaming for the heavens, but —" Joel climbs all the way up, cages your face between his forearms and lets his body lay on top of yours slowly. He doesn't give you his whole weight, but part of you wished he did. "I really just wanna be inside you right now."

"Please!"

"We'll have all night, I just—"

He stopped there, but you got where he came from.

It was different.

Knowing you would wake up and he'd still be there — it was different.

Taking him in when you knew he had more to offer and that's what he wanted to give — it made every inch Joel pushed inside feel more real.

He held both of your hands over your head, intertwining his fingers in yours. He went slow, and kept his eyes on you, and you felt less silly about the hours you cried before because you thought he wasn't yours. Because you wanted him to be.

He must sense you getting lost in the what ifs because Joel's talk changes somewhere in the middle.

His praises, always the tether grounding you to Earth while he fucks your mind straight out of it, changes in words and tone. He whispers, "I'm here, baby," in your ear, and it makes your legs hug his waist tighter. Push him inside even deeper. "Fuck — like that. Does it feel good? Is this what you wanted?"

You wanted him. "Yes — want you so bad," you wanted all of him. "All of you, Joel."

That granted you a hand of his letting go of yours only to make a fist on your hair.

It was rare for Joel to lose control, but you loved it when it happened. When he let go of everything and you could see him without anything on — no pretenses, no clothes, no reservations.

Joel started to mumble in your ear about anything, his hips losing rhythm inside of you as he made you ride out your orgasm. He talked about how good you are, how much he'd spoil you, make you his, his his —

You were. You were.

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wynnyfryd · 6 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 26

part 1 | part 25 | ao3

cw: period-typical homophobia, recreational drug/alcohol use

He’s marching over the grass with a couple of varsity guys; two on his left, two on his right; V-formation like a flock of geese. Jason's at the head of the group, self-assured purpose of a leader, and it’s weird, seeing this little runt all grown up. The kid used to worship Steve; used to follow him around practices like a lost puppy, called him Captain before he’d even earned the role.

“Is this freak bothering you?” Jason asks. His voice is harsh, winded, winding up for a fight. Steve can see it in his stance: the tightening of his jaw, the clench of his friends’ fists. Plant your feet.

Steve’s gotta shut this shit down before it goes where it always does. Smashed plates, broken bones. All pissing contests flow toward the ocean or whatever.

“Nah, man,” he answers, standing up to dust himself off. The coke zips under his skin, makes him jittery and hot. Hard to play it cool. “We’re good. Busted my ass on the rocks; Munson was just helping me up.”

Munson. Like they’re buddies. Like Eddie’s thumb isn’t still damp from Steve’s tongue.

Jason doesn't seem to buy it. Little pastor-cop in training, he narrows his eyes and turns on Eddie. “Were you following him, Freak?”

Eddie's eyes flash in warning, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Steve shifts his weight to stand in front of him, and his fingers twitch around empty air. He wishes he had his nail bat with him; kind of wants to glue the handle to his palm.

Never know when monsters will come crawling out of the woods.

"Well?" Jason barks, "Answer me!"

His lackeys all pipe up then, the guy to his right sneering, "Not so talkative without his lunch table to stand on, is he?"

"Look at him shaking," adds another.

"Think he was trying to do some Satanic ritual shit while no one was looking?"

"I don't know," says the guy on Jason's left. "Looked like they were sucking each other off to me. Hey, maybe Harrington’s turned fag.”

“Andy!” Jason warns, and Steve—

Steve staggers forward with three arrows in his chest. One for every letter of that stupid fucking word that's been haunting him for years; raging fire in a black box in the far reaches of his brain, belching thick, black smoke, singing his fingertips whenever he gets close enough to touch it.

He wonders if Andy can taste the sulfur in it, too.

“No, go on,” he seethes, voice deadly calm when he lays a hand on Andy’s chest. Steeple his fingers, tips his chin. “Say it again; don't think I heard you right.”

Andy swallows hard, grinds his teeth; tenses to square off for the fight, but Jason throws an arm in front of him. "Easy," he says.

Easy. Down boy.

Andy snarls and backs off.

Jason lowers his voice, searching Steve's face. "You sure you're good? Can't be too careful with..."

His gaze slides over Steve's shoulder, his nose wrinkling in disgust. Steve's never wanted to risk a concussion more. "I'm fine," he grits out, balking at the diplomatic bullshit that's about to slither from his mouth. "Really. Thanks, though, man; appreciate you looking out for me."

Jason gives him a serious nod. "Any time."

—

“So, uh…” Eddie squints at Steve once Jason and his goons run along. His arms are hugged tight around his middle, and he's biting his lip; nervous jiggle of his leg. “How, um— How are we playing this, exactly?”

Steve scrubs at his face; swoons where he stands. Feels like all the blood's drained out of him without the adrenaline to prop him up. Goddamn, he's still so drunk. “Playing what?” he asks, confused.

Whatever it is, it’s already been played, hasn’t it?

Fight’s over; Steve’s exhausted. He just wants to go home.

But then Eddie shakes his head and tuts softly at the ground, his expression gone sour and sad, and there it is again. That feeling that Steve’s fucking everything up somehow.

He’s so tired of that feeling.

Slowly, so slowly, he reaches out a hand. Skims Eddie's side; leather jacket, bony hip, and then he hooks his pinky finger into the belt loop of his jeans. Tugs, just a little. Not hard enough to topple him, just—

Enough.

He hopes.

—

part 27

tag lists in separate reblogs with the tag "#trailer park steve au taglist" if you'd like to filter that content, comment and let me know if you want me to add you tomorrow (21+ only, please confirm your age if you're asking to be tagged)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #my fic

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honestlydarkprincess · 24 days

Text

whenever you're ready

buck & bobby || rated: g || wc: 792 || read on ao3

Buck had been kind of expecting it when Bobby pulled him aside one day after shift and gently asked to speak with him.

He knew he was acting weird around the station, that he was jittery and flighty but he couldn’t help it. So far he had only told Maddie that he was bisexual and it was sitting on the tip of his tongue anytime he was around the others. He desperately wanted to tell them but he didn’t want to just blurt it out over breakfast, he wanted to tell them all individually. Buck wasn’t exactly sure why he wanted to do it like that, surely ripping off the bandaid and telling everyone at once would be easier but he felt vulnerable sharing this part of him and he wanted to do it how it felt right to him.

He felt anxious as Bobby closed the door behind them, leaving them alone in the captain’s office.

“Talk to me, Buck,” Bobby said gently, gesturing for him to have a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “You’ve been jumpy for a couple days now. Is something going on, kid?”

“I— I haven’t been jumpy,” He tried, swallowing roughly when Bobby just gave him a look.

Bobby surprised him by sitting down on the chair next to him, Buck had been expecting him to sit at his desk. “I know something is going on, Buck. You don’t have to talk about it, I can’t make you, but I just want you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what it is, okay?”

Buck felt his throat go tight as tears burned at his eyes, taking him by surprise. The earnest support in Bobby’s expression made him crumble. “I— I realized something about myself the other day.”

“Okay,” Bobby said, encouraging him to continue with a nod of his head.

“I’m bisexual,” Buck said quickly, getting the words out as fast as possible.

Bobby was quiet for a moment, digesting Buck’s words and making Buck sweat. But then he was cracking a wide smile and saying, “Thank you for telling me, kid. I’m so proud of you.”

Buck felt all the tension melt away. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bobby nodded. He stood up and held out his arms, unsurprised when Buck shot up and collapsed against him. Bobby tucked Buck against his chest and hugged him tightly.

“You’re sure you’re okay with it?” Buck asked. He knew that Bobby had never been anything but accepting with Hen but there was still that kernel of anxiety that sat in his chest, weighing him down.

“Of course, Buck,” Bobby reassured him. “You love who you love and that’s that. I’m glad that you’ve figured this out.”

“Me too,” Buck said, pulling away from the hug. “I feel…free in a way that I’ve never felt before,” He admitted shyly.

“Well, it’s a pretty big thing to discover so that makes sense,” Bobby said, putting his hand on Buck’s shoulder and squeezing. “So that’s why you’ve been so jumpy?”

“Yeah,” Buck looked down at his hands. “I want to tell everyone I’m just…nervous.”

“You know they’ll give you nothing but support, right?”

“I know,” Buck nodded. “I just…it’s hard to find the words, I guess. I’ve told Maddie and now you, I guess I should tell the rest of them, huh?”

“Who you tell, and when, is up to you, son. We’re your family, we’ll be here when you’re ready,” Bobby said quietly.

“Yeah, that’s what Maddie said,” Buck gave him a small smile. “I think I’m almost ready.”

“You don’t have to rush, you can let it happen when it happens,” Bobby advised. “Whatever it is you choose, just make sure it’s what’s best for you.”

Buck swallowed roughly, his throat going tight again as emotion rushed through him. He’d known Bobby would be supportive but he hadn’t expected how it would affect him, to have the man he saw as a father figure accept him with total ease, not even an ounce of hesitation. “Thank you, Bobby,” Buck said sincerely. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

Bobby just hugged him again and Buck let a breath, hugging back just as tightly. When they separated Bobby cleared his throat. “Now, go on. You must have somewhere to be on a Friday night.”

“Actually,” Buck ducked his head. “Our date is tomorrow.”

“Good for you, kid,” Bobby smiled. “You have fun and stay safe.”

“You got it, Cap,” Buck saluted, grinning as he walked to the door and let himself out of the office. He walked out of the station smiling and whistling to himself, feeling so light and carefree.

Two down, a few more to go.

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icallhimjoey · 15 days

Text

Reinvent Love

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Joe are treading new waters. You’re no longer flatmates, but still close. More than friends, but nothing defined. Nothing labeled. Determined to not lose what you have, though. But, can you?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, jealousy, accusations, soft fluff, season 3 of my flatmate!joe

Author’s note: the first cracks; they're here - and, again, you don’t need to have read define close or explain us, but it’ll obviously give you backstory, which might help!

Wordcount: 3.6K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

It was silly. Joe was being silly.

He knew it, and felt so stupid for it. Like, in hindsight, the worrying felt so dumb. The constant milling shit over didn’t change anything, there was no real point to it. Although, maybe you being on his mind in this... new manner was what summoned you last night.

You just showed up, talking about a crazy day, no sad pouts, no needy touches. Just jittery movements and a lot to tell him.

Joe kind of sat back on his sofa, spread out and leaning into his left elbow and watched you pace around his lounge. Something about something a colleague had said that then turned out to be lies and you found out something by overhearing a phone call you weren’t meant to overhear – Joe was barely following along. Didn’t really try his best to, if he was honest.

He was moreso paying attention to what you were actually doing – were you even aware that you had started grabbing random things he had left lying around on his coffee table, on the kitchen island, on the counters, and one by one, put everything away where it was meant to go?

Joe pursed a smile as he realised you knew exactly where everything went. Why did that make his chest ache in the best of ways?

This new casual form of intimacy seemed so small, but Joe felt how it smothered that little grain of doubt that resided in his chest. That little grain that had convinced him that you were probably going to fall into a new routine with your new flatmate after he moved in and, then you would probably grow close to him and Joe knew how you... no.

No.

He couldn’t think that.

It wasn’t fair on you. He caught himself trying to finish the thought a lot, but he knew it wasn’t fair. Wasn’t true. He didn’t even fully believe it. It was this thing. Still, he also couldn’t help how it simultaneously made him grow a little more possessive and made him want to prepare for the worst.

But, she was here, he had to remind himself.

She’s here.

And she was wandering around his space, letting her train of thought flow freely from her brain into his living room and he used to witness this all the time when you lived together still. Joe realised he’d actually missed it a lot, and wasn’t that the whole point? That he got to miss you now?

God, Joe missed you a lot and you were right there and he could just burst at the seams at how fucking lucky he felt.

He was a just normal guy in a normal flat with a normal relationship– well, normalish relationship, anyway. Not that you had talked about anything yet. Of course you hadn’t. But it was pretty fucking obvious what this was. So he had started shrugging whenever someone would ask if you were actually together, which felt a lot better than the forever, “No, we’re flatmates, what are you talking about?” he used to throw at people, practically gaslighting them out of whatever they thought they’d witnessed between him and the girl that he used to live with.

It was working. The plan he had made, this vague idea of normalcy; it was working out the way he had wanted it to.

And yea, sure, you were getting a new flatmate and Joe had a difficult time not feeling some type of way about that, but, he had made the decision to move out and, look at you now.

“Do you think I can get a raise out of this? Or at least get a weird bonus, mid-term?”

Joe had a hard time not laughing at your question as he saw you had already mentally moved onto something else. You were stood in the middle of the room, both hands on your hips, eyes scanning the room. Everything tidy and organised.

“Joe, when did you last clean?”

Joe followed your gaze up into one of the corners of the ceiling.

“I cleaned today.” Joe said, knowing you’d likely not take it as an honest answer. You had lived together, remember? No fucking way was Joe ever going to feel the urge to maybe sometimes swipe a feather duster across the upper corners of his living room.

You shuddered at the thought of what resided behind his curtains there.

You sighed and tutted and turned back to Joe’s kitchen like you were going to start cleaning his fucking ceilings at half past ten at night.

“Hey, no. No, no. Stop. Will you come sit down a second? My god.” Joe huffed, feigning annoyance. When you turned on your heel and giggled as you scurried over, Joe let a laugh escape his throat just before you let yourself fall into the cushions next to him.

He hooked an arm around your neck to pull you in so he could press his nose into your cheek a second. You gladly let him, and when he held you close like that for longer than you initially thought he would, you suddenly realised you’d just been talking about yourself for twenty minutes straight.

Just barged in with unimportant thoughts on your mind that you just verbally vomited right into Joe’s space. You knew it was mostly nervous energy that was only there because your new flatmate picked up his keys earlier, which now meant there was every opportunity for someone to just... walk into your flat at any given time. That had unexpectedly brought on way more anxiety than you previously thought it would do.

Hence why you decided to just... escape it, and went over to Joe’s to spend the night there.

Joe was pressing his nose into your cheek and held you in place for a bit before he moved his head down, hiding into your neck a second.

“You okay?” you asked softly, head tilting down a bit.

“Mm, yea, fine.” Joe inhaled deeply, before pressing a few small kisses to the crook there and moving back to look at you the in eye. He unhooked his elbow from around your neck and placed two cupped hands on either side of your face, swiping bits of hair back in the process.

Joe was leant all the way back into the sofa, head squished in between two of the back cushions and you took a moment to look at each other. Joe studied your face and rubbed his thumbs across the apples of your cheeks until you grew shy.

“You look tired,” you softly said before Joe sat up a little and leant closer. It had you close your eyes just before scrunching up your nose as he kissed the very tip of it.

“I am tired.” He mused, copying your nose scrunch when you blinked your eyes open again, and Joe looked so soft. Sort of pleased with life, happy to be where he was and like he’d just had a really good productive day. He blinked slowly, eyes only half open, and looked sleepy enough to slip right into dreams the second his head would hit his pillow.

You loved him like this. His hands on you, all soft touches. Comfy and cosy and calm. Just you and him. No one else. No threat of someone randomly walking in.

This was perfect.

“Mmm, me too.” You smiled and let Joe grab one of your elbows to pull an arm across his stomach as he sat back again.

“I’m not surprised. You’ve just done a 5K as you tidied this room, I think.”

You huffed a laugh as you sank into Joe’s side, and then you sat like that in silence for a moment. No TV on. No phones in sight for some easy distraction. Just you and Joe and the view of his living room.

“Are you okay?” Joe suddenly asked, emphasis on the you, and you tried hiding the small, hitched intake of breath by quickly nodding and casually going, “Yea. Fine.”

You could feel how Joe tucked in his chin to look at you.

He waited. Wasn’t going to tell you, “No, be honest...”, but also wasn’t going to accept it and move on. It was still like that. He knew you were lying, and you knew he knew, no words shared at all.

So you sighed and took a second, and then said, “Josh picked up his key today.”

And you didn’t want to explain what that meant.

Didn’t want to tell Joe that, for a while, this existing-in-two-flats thing had just felt like a bit of a joke. Just the two of you playing and being silly about whatever you really were. You still sort of thought of him as a flatmate because he still came over all the time, and you went over to his all the time too. You existed in the same space almost just as much as before, sort of.

But now a new flatmate was actually moving in, and suddenly, it felt like reality had slapped you right across the cheek like it had done that day that Joe moved out.

You’d gotten to hide away for a lot of that.

And there was no real hiding this time around.

You couldn’t go home and pretend Joe was going to move back in eventually, because now Josh’s things were going to be all over the flat. Which was fine. Josh signed a lease. His things were allowed to be all over the place.

It was just... things were getting real now.

Shit was real.

“Which reminds me,” you suddenly piped up, pushing uncomfortable thoughts down, tucking those away for another time and place. “This is going to save you some money!”

You saw how Joe’s mouth slowly stretched into a smile as he watched how his own feet rubbed against yours. Then he caught himself and quickly furrowed his brow, saying, “No, I don’t think it works like that.”

You copied his expression, but were more confused than anything else.

“Of course it does. Josh signed the papers, he’s going to start paying rent now, you–”

“I said that I had taken care of things, didn’t I?” Joe interrupted you, fingers playing with the folds in your sleeve of the arm that rested over his stomach. “Can’t just not keep a promise like that.”

You blinked at him a second, then moved to sit up to stare at him harder. If both Joe and Josh paid rent, that basically meant that you... got to live for free for a while? That math wasn’t mathing. One plus one wasn’t equalling two here. You looked around Joe’s flat and tried to think of his own expenses, and... what the fuck was he doing?!

“Joe,”

“You’re not going to be able to talk me out of this.”

“Joe.”

Joe ignored you and faked a yawn, sped it up along with stretched out arms above his head and quickly said, “So tired. Bed?” before getting up and leaving you on his sofa as he left the room.

“You’re insane if you think I’m just going to accept that!” you called after him and heard him laugh from down the hall.

“Did you not just say you were after a weird mid-term bonus?”

And you hated how that made you smile. Made you punch one of the cushions and sink your teeth into your bottom lip begrudgingly as you forgot to breathe a second.

Joe smiled to himself too as he turned on the lights in his bathroom. It felt like he was winning a contest - there was no contest, no one to fight, not really, but, he was definitely winning.

“You coming?”

Breathe.

Calm down.

You could pretend to fight him on this once more in the morning.

Crawling into bed with Joe had its own little routine which was different from the one at yours. Different order of things, because the lay out of the flat was different.

Bathroom first. You brushed teeth together, always had to stop Joe when he washed his face too aggressively and then used your own moisturiser on him. “Just for your dry patches,” you’d always say, but would end up swiping delicate fingertips all over anyway. There’d be a snarky comment, of you using too much, of him feeling too greasy, of how he was going to stick to his pillow all night now, and then you’d always kiss him to shut him up before moving on to do your own skincare routine.

When you’d get into bed, Joe would already be in there, giving his phone a last once-over before he’d scoot down and get comfortable.

This time, however, when you walked into his bedroom, the lights were already off, and it looked like Joe was already falling asleep.

This soft man.

So sleepy.

He was all messy curls and bare arms, duvet tucked under them, curled up right in the middle of his bed. You slid in and cuddled up right behind him, hips against his bum, chest to his back.

You were right.

Joe was already falling asleep.

You pushed a leg in between his for warmth and snuck an arm around his front.

“You’re crazy,” you whispered into the skin of his shoulder which prompted Joe to grab hold of your hand and pull it into his chest so you were hugging him properly. The big spoon to his small one. Then he just hummed as you pressed a small kiss to his warm skin there.

“So crazy.” you nuzzled into his pillow, your nose rubbing his back as you did, and you felt how he ducked his head down to press a small kiss to your fingers.

You fell asleep warm, comfortable, and smiling.

You woke up in the same way.

Just on your stomach now, and with Joe’s heavy limbs slung over your body. When you turned over, it woke Joe up, and for five blissful early morning minutes, you tried crawling into each other’s skin as best you could. Breathed each other’s breath and tasted each other’s skin. Stroked hands underneath clothes and had fingers crawling into underwear, just to touch and to hold.

When you quietly asked if Joe wanted coffee, he groaned and told you to shut up. He was able to feel you giggle to that, and he could cry with how happy he felt in that moment. Why would you have to go and ruin it by getting up to go and make coffee?

“Five more minutes.”

“Mmm... it’s never just five.”

Joe sighed, “Just five.” speech slurring with early morning drowsiness and then burrowed himself into you even more.

And fine.

Joe could have five more minutes.

But then they easily turned into twenty, because they always did, and you had to eventually bribe Joe with breakfast for him to let you go so you could sit up.

“If you take a slow shower, I’ll have it ready when you finish.” You looked over your shoulder where Joe, still with his eyes closed, smiled widely. His nose was slightly red from pressing it into your skin, and his bedhead made you have to suppress a giggle that you hid by leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead before you got out.

Joe barely even felt that little grain of bad in his chest when he thought of how much he loved you.

Because he did.

Joe fucking loved you.

There was going to be a moment soon where he was just going to have to say it. It was going to spill out of him in some other way if he wouldn’t simply use the words, he just knew it.

Joe loved you as he watched through squinty eyes how you reached for a pair of white socks of his to borrow.

Loved you as he watched you pull one of his old sweaters over your head before you walked out, bare legs still on show.

Loved you when he stepped into his living room after his shower to the smell of burnt toast and scrambled eggs and coffee.

Loved you as he watched you step onto a chair in the corner of his room, wet dishcloth in hand to remove the strings of dust you had scolded him over the night before.

Loved you as he felt what the sight of your stretched body, your bare tighs, and the little peep of your bum did to him inside of his boxers.

Loved you as he groaned and let his head fall onto the counter, having to breathe through it, because you were just cleaning his living room, and not giving him a sensual striptease act or whatever.

Loved you as you looked back over your shoulder, raising your eyebrows in surprised confusion before accusingly asking, “Really, Joe? Cleaning?”

Loved you as he stutteringly defended the blood rush down south by saying, “You have no idea what you look like right now.” into his elbow where he had to hide his face for a second.

Loved you, loved you.

He was hardly able to deny any of it.

And he didn’t feel that he had to, either.

Because, you were there. In his flat. In his clothes. Cleaning his dusty ceiling corners. And wasn’t that just something he wanted to tell the whole fucking world about?

That small little green grain of doubt and worry and negativity dried out and got no sunshine to really grow into anything. Thank fuck.

He got to ignore it for a while.

Forgot about it entirely, and pretended it wasn’t even there for a bit.

It was easy.

Joe loved you.

He knew he did.

Would tell you soon.

Didn’t know how.

Or where.

But he was going to say it.

He was going to use his words because he was just a normal guy who loved a normal girl and you weren’t being weirdly secretive about what you got up to in private. At least, not how you used to be, anyway.

Joe loved you.

You brought Joe flowers and cleaned his ceiling and wore his clothes and cooked his breakfast.

Joe loved you, even though your new flatmate Josh turned out to be impossibly good-looking in addition to being incredibly kind as well, so Joe didn’t even get to have a real reason to dislike him at all, which seemed unfair, but, all right.

Joe loved you, even when suddenly two shiny black acoustic guitars appeared on your living room wall, because Josh worked in music, and wasn’t that just so cool?

Joe loved you, even though his very first thought after that was, well I know how to play guitar too, don’t I?! which you had never even mentioned before.

Joe loved you, even when he walked into your flat one evening and interrupted a dinner you were having with Josh and one of your friends and, look, Josh cooked for us, and for the first time ever, he felt uninvited and intruding.

Joe loved you, even when your friend jokingly said, “You’re over here at lot for someone that moved out.” right to his face, to which you then heartily laughed, because she was only joking, Joe, and then you didn’t say anything about how you were together, but, you were together... weren’t you?

Joe loved you, even when he stuck to the bit and handed you his flat key like he always did, expecting to find it in his coat pocket later, but then ended up finding both his pockets empty when he went home the next morning, which, yea actually, that made sense, because Josh lived there now, and it was a little weird to have a key still, wasn’t it?

Joe loved you, even when you had told him to come over on Friday evening because you’d had a shit day at work, and for the first time ever, he had to ring the doorbell to get inside.

Joe loved you, even when Josh was the one that answered the door, and Josh almost didn’t let him in, telling him, “Oh, she’s fallen asleep on the sofa, mate.” to which Joe just smiled as he stepped around him, because what the fuck did Josh even know about falling asleep on the sofa in this flat?

Joe loved you, even when he found you asleep on the sofa, curled up under a blanket he’d never seen before, with an empty pizza box bar some crusts still on the coffee table, and you never ate a whole pizza yourself, so that was obviously shared with someone else.

Joe loved you.

He knew he did.

But there was a playstation besides the TV now, and a cool record player on the side, pile of vinyl next to it, and, God.

Joe fucking hated this.

Whatever was inside of Joe’s chest, that thing he didn’t even want in there, was growing.

Was getting fed without Joe even fully realising he was feeding it.

He hated those guitars. He hated that he no longer had a key. He hated that stupid blanket. And he hated that empty pizza box.

Still, he sat down beside you and placed your socked feet onto his lap. Watched the last scenes of whatever film you’d put on as he slowly kneaded a foot and let you sleep, and he tried his best to not get bitten. To not let it sink its teeth in. To not let it hurt.

It was silly.

Joe was being silly.

Rational thought saved him.

Rational thought told him he still loved you.

And he hoped rational thought was going to be enough.

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #define close #explain us #reinvent love

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pyrrhiccomedy · 1 month

Note

I'm sorry that you're going through this. It sounds terrible.

How does a machine make your bones feel like jam? What do you mean, "like jam"? What helps while you're in the machine?

You lamented the lack of a "no downers" Tumblr option before. Is there any kind of fun internet thing your followers could curate for you?

thank you for actually asking me about the Big Machine

so a modern radiation therapy machine looks like this:

It is actually kind of hard to communicate the scale of this thing. It's the size of most people's living rooms, and the whole thing rotates around you. You feel like you're trying to dock with the international space station.

Actually being in the machine doesn't feel like anything. You lay down, they take your boob out of your hospital gown and align the lasers to these little tattoos they've put on your chest and sides, they leave the room, Vivaldi plays for about 5 minutes while things beep and buzz and the space station revolves a few times, and then you're free to get dressed and go home.

Then - in my experience, as someone who is, apparently, "a real outlier" in terms of how sensitive I am to radiation - about 30 minutes later, on the subway ride home, you start to feel extremely bad. Shaky, weak, exhausted, stabbing pains all over the boob, and just an overall feeling of, like...internal griminess. Like there's grit gumming up everything on your insides. You feel wobbly, like your bones have turned to jelly. It feels a little like food poisoning, but without the nausea, if you've ever had that experience. Just that jittery, feverish, whole-body feeling of something being very wrong.

That feeling persists for 4-5 hours, then starts to taper down; but it never tapers down completely, so every day (and you go in for radiation every day, except for weekends) it builds up a little bit more. So on Monday, you feel like shit for a couple of hours, but you shake it off by dinner time; but by Friday, you're dragging yourself through every step of the process and then you get home and pass out for 14 hours.

It's weird, too, because it's not like there's anything that the doctors can do to make it better. Like, they can't give you a different treatment, or give you less radiation. There's a set amount of radiation you need to receive over a set amount of time to be sure that they've killed all the cancer, and the alternative to radiation is cancer, so you're getting radiation. The radiologist was sympathetic to how hard I've been taking it, but all she could really do is remind me that it's temporary. All of the effects of the radiation will be out of my system a week or two after the treatment ends, so like. Knuckle down, camper, it is what it is.

Y'all are sweet to ask if there's anything you can do, but honestly, not really. I vent a bit about this stuff on Tumblr because I don't want my friends and family to have to hear about how tough this is. Sending the occasional nice message or little question is appreciated! It gives me something to think about that isn't cancer.

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poppy-metal · 2 years

Note

being hawkins golden girl and ur first time being with Eddie but it is so sweet even if it is in the back of his van :(((( he probably lays out blankets and little pillows AHHHH

STOP HIM LAYING OUT BLANKETS IM GONNA BITE MY HAND OFF.

longer than i expected so under the cut

please you think because its your first time you'd be the nervous one, but its the other way around. you feel solidified in your desire and your readiness to be with him that way, meanwhile eddie is fussing over putting the blanket out, making sure its padded enough that it won't be uncomfortable on your back- "unless you wanna be on top? because that's totally fine. that is a-okay with me. wont here any complaints-"

"eddie" you placing your hand on top of his jittery one, rubbing your thumb over one of his cool metal rings to soothe him as you smile warmly. he shuts up immediately, stills too, looking down at your hand like he's still marveling that someone as kind and pretty and soft as you is here with him out behind his shitty trailer, in his shitty truck bed. "i want my first time with you on top, if that's okay. i....think it'll be nice."

romantic, you wanna say. although the thought of riding him isn't unappealing at all, but. your smile is shaky, your voice wistful, "i wanna hold you. and stuff."

eddie might faint. he spends several seconds staring at you like you're a forest nymph that just came from the woods with all your sparkling beauty and stood before him. he licks his lips, his hands make a useless jerky movement in the air between the two of you. "yeah. uh. i mean, definitely. um-" he bites his bottom lip, "fuck. can i kiss you now. I'm nervous as fuck, and i wanted to make this perfect and all romantical and movie like and shit, but lets be real, its the back of my truck- and you still- you're just-"

he scoots closer until hes kneeling in front of you, both of you sitting on the blankets in his truck, he cups your face in his hands and rubs his thumb across your bottom lip, your cheek, under your eye, "you're unreal." he breathes, swallowing. "I'll make it good for you, yeah?"

you smile, not a doubt in your mind. "yeah." you agree softly, and he kisses you, then. soft and seeking. your hands wind through his hair and the scent of him, sharp cologne fills you up as you sag against him, let him lead, trust him implicitly.

It has its awkward moments. eddie is more nervous than you, his hands shaky as they take off your clothes, and he stops too many times to ask "this okay?" but you like that about him. town outcast, seen as standoffish and weird and even once a satan worshipper by those small minded, more scared of you then you are of him.

the awkwardness melts into sensual intimacy though, his hands skating over your bare skin, eyes thick with want and wonder alike as he peels down your panties and sees the evidence of your warm sticky arousal. the night air cold against your exposed cunt, but quickly warmed when his fingers touch you there.

you're already nodding before he can ask if its okay. nodding still when he grips your thighs and shimmes down and yanks you boldy to his mouth. you gasp and arch your back, nipples stiff and aching in the night air as he tongue glides through your folds. he moans, and you hear him say, faintly, "so fuckin' good, what the fuck-" before his mouth is back, licking and eating and sucking.

you have to remind him to take his own clothes off, eager and focused on you as he is, your hands tugging on his shirt and shoving his pants down past his ass, greedily gripping his firm butt in your hands to drag his bare skin to the center of you, hungry for it.

you both gasp when his hard cock notches against the swell of your pussy, sliding through your wet slit. "fuck-" eddie gasps, hips jerking against you on instinct. "fuck you're a little minx. Jesus, just let me-" he shifts and now his cock is sliding easily through your folds with every hump forward of his hips, his tip catching against your hole with every slide. "That's it." he breathes, sounding breathless. "god, baby. already feels so good, not gonna last-"

wrapping your legs around his waist you urge him forward again. "dont care." you whine, pant. "fuck me, eddie. now."

"fuck." his head fits against your opening and then there's this pressure, hot and hard and heavy as he slides in and you moan almost as loud as he does, but not quite.

"baby." he moans, whines more like, eyes closed as his hips sink into yours. "baby, fuck, your pussy- it-" he cuts off as he groans, rocks his hips, drops his face into your damp with sweat shoulder and mouths at the skin there.

its fast, hungry, and desperate. both of you rocking against eachother, you holding onto him, digging your hands and nails into his back as the bed of the truck rocks. you're wet between your thighs where he's sliding, slick and easy, in and out of you, the sound your cunt are making are sloppy and loud but you can't find it in yourself to be embarrassed when eddie is babbling into your neck with every thrust.

"you ruined sex for me- shit- baby- never as good as this. gripping me so tight, wanted this, wanted you for so long. feels so good. please cum, please, please, cum on my cock, need to feel it."

and you do, the steady pressure of his pelvis against your needy clit making you shake as you cum around him, on his cock like he asked, and you feel the broken off moan he lets out at the feel of your cunt clutching and pulsing around him.

you whine at the loss of beinf filled when he pulls out, scarbbling up to your elbows to watch as he kneels over you, over your well fucked out pussy to jerk his cock.

"im so fucking close." he bites out, and you watch mesmerized at the flushed red tip of him being punched in and out of his fist. wanting to see him cum, wanting to help, you glide your hand down and spread the lips of your sex, widening your knees.

his eyes fly to your pussy immediately, transfixed.

"gonna get on the pill, soon" you murmur, thumbing your clit for him. "so next time-" you say softly "-next time it can be inside."

"holy hell-" he cuts off as thick ropes of his cum spurt from his cock, landing all over your soft tummy, and dripping down to your clit.

you rub some of it in and he sounds wounded, grabbing your hand like you've just been caught with your hand in a cookie jar when you shouldn't have.

"you." he pant. "are a bad influence."

#ask #this was longer then i intended my bad #my love for eddie slipped out #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut

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pilfappreciator · 4 months

Note

Can you write about Veneer... Just, like, anything at all. I'm BEGGING. They could be headcanons, drabbles, oneshots, ANYTHING. My little gay mind can't handle it. If you don't have any ideas here are some that I have off the top of my head ^_^ (also if you could make any of these male reader I will love you forever BUT you obviously don't have to <33)

- Baking with him (but either veneer or the reader is a nightmare in the kitchen and everything goes wrong)

- Having a slumber party !! (Doing eachothers nails, hair, makeup, watching movies, just talking, possibly falling asleep in eachothers arms and being embarrassed in the morning)

- Playing hide and seek together

- CHRISTMAS WITH VENEER!!! (Decorating the house/Christmas tree, getting presents, playing out in the snow, just general festive activities:3)

- Reader who has a shit ton of stuffies and has named them all (introducing them to Veneer, cuddling, fluffy things)

- Eepy time (sleeping/cuddling hcs, shenanigans, not being able to fall asleep, weird midnight chats)

I had more but I forgot....

NAHHH UR LITERALLLY SO BASED I LOVE YOU FOR THAT!!! Veneer is literally such a criminal cuz like?? He kidnapped someone, tortured them, AND he stole your heart??? SOMEONE STOP HIM ASDKJALJSLD

Ended up combining a few of your ideas into one big concept! Hope you don't mind :3

Also heads up that this takes place before the events of Band Together took off! Just figured it'd be kinda hard to throw a sleepover when your ass is literally in prison lol

Veneer x Reader: when your favorite twink invites you to a sleepover

Includes: Male! Reader, sleepover shenanigans, fluff, slight angst, gaygaygaygay—

💎 You and Veneer would have to be INCREDIBLY close before he even considered invited you over

💎 Tbh I feel like getting invited to hangout with this guy in any way is actually? Kind of a privilage?? Like his fame is obviously a big factor in that but growing up, I doubt he had any actual friends who weren't his sister. I imagine him as kinda shy and non-confrontational as a kid, and though Velvet wasn't the BEST sibling, she never hesitated to cuss out whatever poor soul chose to pick on her brother. She's always been the one to lead and Veneer has always just followed

💎 I mean... the guy literally participated in tortue just cuz his sister told him to. He sheep coded as hell 😔

💎 So yeah, this boy probably has like zero experience when it comes to having friends who don't use him for his fame and/or are related to him by blood. Luckily you came along! Now he's actually got someone with whom he shares a genuine connection with!!

💎 Whether that connection is strictly platonic has... yet to be determined >;3c

💎 WITH THAT BEING SAID!! This guy has never once participated in a sleepover (hanging out in his sister's room doesn't count), and he's got absolutely no clue what to do ://

💎 Will conduct numerous amounts of research days in advance! And by research, I mean he's binging all his favorite chick flicks and having Krimp take notes aslkdhaljsdl

💎 FR THO!! THIS BOY IS JITTERY AS HELL WHEN THE TIME COMES TO ASK YOU OUT OVER LIKE---!

💎 "Oh heyyyy, (____)! Fancy seeing you here!"

"This... is my house?"

"R-right, right! Obviously! Um, anyway, do you like sleeping?"

"Uh."

"Also, u-uh, totally unrelated but have you ever wondered what the inside of my house looks like?"

💎 Pls just accept his invitation. If he gets any redder he might pop a blood vessel or something

💎 Heaves out the BIGGEST sigh once you say yes. He'll try to play himself off as nonchalant even though he's absolutely ecstatic, but like... the boy is literally vibrating with excitement okay, he's not fooling anyone lol

💎 Once the big day comes and you show up to his house— sorry, MANSION? Prepare yourself cuz he is most definitely giving a tour. From the indoor pool, to the outdoor pool, to the personal studio/production room, to the many walk-in closets, to a room that is literally just one big ball pit, to a heigh-ceiling hallway just lined with photos/painting of him and his sister... he is NOT afraid to show off asdkajsdlkhjf

💎 (Sidenote: don't worry about Velvet potentially intruding on the sleepover. She's agreed to step out for the day on her brother's behalf. Was definitely pretty pissy about having to vacate her own home but eventually relented... but Veneer definitely owes her for her kindness)

💎 Yknow all those cliche sleepover activities people do in movies? Yeah, you guys are doing literally all of them

💎 Such a dumbass <33

💎 NO LIKE ACTUALLY THO?? Krimp made Veneer a list of popular and totally optional things to do at a sleepover and the second he saw it, he was just like "uugh, seems like a lot of work but I GUESS I'll do it 🙄"

💎 You guys are painting your nails matching colors, doing facemasks, messing around with each others' hair— the whole shebang!! And considering this dude is rich as fuck, you just KNOW he's got nothing but all the top-of-the-line products 😤😤. Only the finest for him (and you <33)

💎 LET HIM DO YOUR MAKEUP!! I feel like he really enjoys it as a whole! Like it's probably his favorite part of getting ready for shows or just his day in general, and the only person he's done makeup for is Velvet (tho those instances were VERY rare)... but if you just? Suggest that he does yours for you?? Like just sitting back so he can do his thing, allowing him to call the shots like he rarely ever does???

💎 Literally swooning SO HARD ASLDHKALKJSJDLKJA

💎 Unfortunately the whole thing kinda backfires on him cuz: 1) you're already super cute without makeup, and 2) he knows what he's doing and could easily boost someone's looks with just some eyesliner and the right shade of lipstick

💎 He makes you look hotter, is basically what I'm getting at

💎 He's not sure if he's just done himself a huge favor or screwed himself over for the rest of the night

💎 Considering his crazy wealth and the fact he probably grew up pretty sheltered/spoiled, I doubt this boy knows anything about how a kitchen works lol. Like most of his meals were either made for him by Krimp or served at high-end hoity-toity restaurants with caviar that probably cost more than most organs sell on the black market ://

💎 So yeah, dinner is really gonna come down to you and your skill level

💎 If you know you're away around, CONGRATS!! You've just signed yourself up for cooking lessons with Veneer! And yes, the kitchen WILL end up a mess (but no worries, he'll just make Krimp clean it up). You'll definitely have to take the lead here and he's more than happy to let you do so! Just tell him what spices you need or what utensil to grab, and his ass is on it 🫡 If you wanna teach him how to knead dough or peel certain ingredients?? He won't complain (especially if said activity requires you two to be in close proximity hehe)

💎 Do NOT leave him alone in the kitchen for more than 10 seconds. You'll just return to find him trying to cut strawberries with the dull side of a knife u_u

💎 If you're also total shit in the kitchen?? No worries! Veneer may be living that high life but he's not above ordering takeout lol

💎 Remember those chick flicks I mentioned earlier? Yeah, you two are totally running a marathon of those. If you happen to have any good recs or other movies you happen to like?? He's totally willing to give them a try! Just know that if it's a scary movie… he's gonna be wrapped around you like a koala and screaming into your ear at every jumpscare

💎 He may be talentless but this boy can hit a high note if he feels he's in danger

💎 He may be different from his sister in some ways, but one attribute he shares with her is the fact that he's a TOTAL GOSSIP LIKE?? THIS BOY IS MORE THAN PREPARED TO SPILL THE TEA ON ANY GIVEN OCCASION—

💎 "Oh my gosh, did you HEAR about what happened to Nikki Mirage the other day??"

"No? Wait, who's that again?"

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHO--- okay, sit down so I can educate you 😤"

💎 Him and Velvet literally thrive on drama, idk what else to tell you

💎 (he might also spill some tea about his sister... nothing too incriminating, but like, a few embarrassing childhood stories couldn't hurt, right?)

💎 Late night talks are a MUST!! At some point in the night the two of you end up like... nestled under the covers of whatever fort you guys threw together... you're facing each other, heads centimeters apart as you share a pillow... whispering and giggling for no real reason...

💎 Maybe he vents a little about his insecurities and the way Velvet treats him, less like a brother and more like a shadow she can manipulate as she pleases... and maybe you grab his hand under the blanket... yknow, just to comfort him or whatever...

💎 Veneer only ever gets physical affection when he visits his parents, and even then it's just like? The bare minimum?? Pats on the head/shoulder/back, brief hugs, chaste kisses on his cheek— that kinda crap. And it's so tragic cuz this boy is literally the biggest little spoon to ever spoon. Like actually pls just hold him

💎 If he wakes up the next morning to find you laying behind him? Arms wound around his middle?? You face burried against his neck/shoulder blades/top of his head????

💎 He is not moving from that spot even after you wake up too <33

Cannibal, I absolutely ADORE YOU FOR THIS ASK!! LITERALLY SO FUN TO WRITE SAKLJASADKJSD THANK YOU SO MUCH <3333 (was originally gonna split this into two parts but was like, "nah, this ask deserves to be hella long" uwu)

Veneer redemption arc when??

#love that noodle limbed elastic shiny plastic twink <33 #can twinks also be himbos? or is having muscle mass a requirement?#guess he's just a dumb twink 😔#*me writing this and realizing that there are a lot of parallels btwn Velvet and John Dory*#mayhaps for another day #the guards at Mount Rageous Correctional Facility don't allow sleepovers unfortunately ;((#Veneer agreed to serve his time...#but at what cost #trolls #trolls band together #trolls x reader #x reader #trolls veneer #velvet and veneer #ask

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skipper1331 · 8 months

Text

World Cup Loss // Mary Fowler

a/n: based off this request.

"Baby, look what your mom just sent me!" you shouted as you made your way over to Mary who was sitting on the couch with her laptop on her lap. "Show me" your body flopped next to her as she closed her laptop.

It was a picure of the two of you after a u20s game. Mary had her arm around your torso while you talked to her dad. Your faces were still a little sweaty, a result from playing 90 minutes but nonetheless you looked beautiful. Mary had the biggest heart eyes as she looked at you, smiling widely.

Everyone around could see that Mary was so in love with you.

"Why didn‘t she sent me that picture?" the striker pouted.

"She loves me moreeee" you replied, cheeky. "She does" Mary agreed as she pulled your legs over her lap, her eyes like on the picture: heart eyes.

"Because you‘re one of a kind-"

Your bubble was broken when your phone rang, both of you looking at it. "Coach. What shall I do? Oh god. Mary, what shall I do?" You shoved your phone right in front of her face, waving nervously with it.

"Take it, love" her voice was calm - the complete opposite of you, you were panicking.

You accepted the call while you stood up, "Hello," internally hitting yourself at the weird greeting with your quevering voice.

The world stopped.

Your face went pale whilst you could just listen to Tony Gustavsson.

"Thank you… yes… have nice day!" were your last and only words before you hung up, your phone slipping out of your hand.

"My love? Are you alright? What happened?"

Mary turned you around so she could look at you - herself standing. "I did it," you whispered in disbelief, "I really did it. I‘m in the squad."

"Baby! That‘s amazing! I‘m so proud of you" she hugged you in a death grip, spinning you around. Utterly in shock, you couldn‘t even hug her back.

Not even two seconds later after she‘d put you down her phone started ringing.

'Tony Gustavsson'

"My phone! Argh! What shall I say?" Now, she was the one panicking - you calm. "Take it" you repeated her words, your hand finding hers.

Mary was shaking slightly yet smiling, nodding along. "Thank you! Bye!"

"We‘re going to the World Cup, baby!" squealing, she picked you, your legs wrapping around her waist as you held her face. "I‘m so so proud of you," each word said between kisses.

"We‘ve been dreaming about this since we‘re little. Baby, we‘re going to a World Cup!"

Her lips found yours, kissing them passionately. All you could think about was Mary, the way her lips felt on your own. The slow movements of her tongue made you go crazy, desiring more. Pulling away, your lover attached her lips to your neck, sucking on a certain spot where she knew it made you weak. "Mary" you whimpered, breathlessly, your hips grinding against her while her hands rested on your bum.

"I love you, i love you so much"

Australia vs Ireland

Starting XI, Mary and you made it. You were in the lineup. Nervous wouldn‘t even describe what you felt when you entered the changing room. You were jittery and excited, you couldn't sit still for a minute, not even when Mary braided your hair like she always did.

The feeling to walk on the pitch, a complete nation behind you who supported you was absolutely amazing. It was just wow.

When Steph slotted that penalty, the whole stadium went crazy as well you did. You jumped screaming on your teammates, overcome with joy.

The first goal of many, hopefully.

The next game was against Nigeria, Mary was on the bench while you were in the starting lineup. It was a rough game, you couldn’t do more than assist Emily to make it 1-0 yet shortly after, the draw was made.

It was 1-1 at half time - nobody was happy. At the 60th minute, you got subbed off, not happy with your performance. You took a seat next to Mary who was watching you closely. She wanted to tell you that she was proud of you but she didn‘t, she remained silent. She knew the signs. She knew when the right moment was to say something to you or when it was better to be quiet. In that moment, it was better to be quiet, to just be there.

5 minutes after your substitution, Nigeria went in the lead with 2-1. To be honest, you didn‘t know how to feel. This was the group stage everything was possible. And it was dangerous. You hoped that your team would make it 2-2 but then Oshoala made it 3 to 1. Your teammates looked exhausted but still determined. They had hope - you had hope.

In the 90+10th minute Alanna made the score line 3-2 but it wasn‘t enough. Australia had lost by one goal.

You laid in Marys arms, searching for comfort. Why didn't you play better? "I can hear your thoughts," the striker whispered, your legs tangled together as she played with your hair, "You need to believe, my love. I‘ll promise you we‘ll make it past the group stage"

And you did.

Canada vs Australia, you had to win. Everyone was confident. Australia could do it. The fighting spirit of each individual player was there, the communication and tactics worked and the 1-0 came by. Hayley Raso scoring a banger. The stands erupted in cheers and 20 minutes later, the one and only Hayley Raso scored again.

2-0

If you thought the stadium was loud before, hell no, now, every fan was screaming at the top of their lungs.

Despite the fact that the score was 2-0 at half-time, Canada shouldn't be underestimated. Canada had world class players like Sinclair, Fleming, Leon and many more. The whole squad was full of top players. But Australia played at its best. As the 58th minute came, it was the time to shine for your girlfriend, this time for real. Her goal counted. You were the first to jump on her as your teammates followed. "THAT‘S MY GIRL!" you yelled, not only you and your teammates but the whole nation was proud. You wanted to kiss her - you didn‘t. This was a world cup match, not a place to kiss. Yet she would receive that well deserved kiss later.

Last but not least Steph made the score 4-0. You kind of felt sorry for Canada but this was a World Cup.

After the game you talked to some canadian players and comforted them. Yes, you were happy you won but seeing the others cry hurt a bit, you knew a lot of them.

At the end you swapped your shirt with Jessie Fleming as a reminder. You didn't mean to be mean in any way, it was common to swap shirts and the Canadian jerseys looked really nice, to be honest.

Behind closed doors you kissed Mary, you kissed her like the proud girlfriend you were. You kissed her the way she deserved to be kissed.

And she kissed you like you were the only one, she kissed you like she would lose you. You laid in bed, kissing and holding each other. You made it past the group stage. "You were right," you mumbled in her neck, half asleep, "We made it"

"I promised you, my girl. You know I never break my promises." She pressed a gentle kiss to your head before she fell in to a slumber, exhausted from the day.

Round of 16.

Some people thought that wasn‘t much but this wasn't true at all. It was already the first knock-out game in a world championship where nobody went down without a fight. Everyone tried to do their best as a team and individual. And for Australia's luck (and talent) it went 1-0, Caitlin Foord scoring and Hayley Raso making it 2-0. The team was overcome with joy. They survived their first Knock-out match and were about to play in a quarterfinal - against France. Tough call. France was a top team.

The game started with you on the bench and Mary in the starting XI, she looked so good.

The perfect chance came in the 40th minute for Australia. The french goalkeeper besides the goal, Mary shooting. Out of nowhere came de Almeida who managed to prevent the goal. Your heart stood still for a moment as well of your teammates on the bench, basically everyones heart stopped beating for a moment in the stadium. Everyone thought the ball was going in for sure but it didn‘t. Mary was angry and disappointed yet it wasn't a reason to give up, you had to admit de Almeida did a really great job defending the goal.

0-0 at half time.

0-0 at the 90th minute.

Extra time.

You were subbed on but couldn't help to make the lead. It was going in to penalties. Australia was nervous but determined.

France started but missed.

Foord 1-0

Diani 1-1

Catley 1-1

Renard 1-2

Kerr 2-2

Le Sommer 2-3

Fowler 3-3

At this point you were a nervous wreck, holding on to your teammates, praying that you would win.

Périsset 3-3

Macca on fire!

Arnold 3-3

Geyoro 3-4

Gorry 4-4

Karchaoui 4-5

Yallop 5-5

Lakrar 5-6

Carpenter 6-6

Dali 6-6

Macca saving not once but twice.

Hunt 6-6

Gosh, your heart couldn‘t take it anymore.

Bècho 6-6

Steph and Sam both looked at you. You had to take that penalty. You've never been a fan of penalties, you've either shot over the goal or hit the post and now you should take the winning penalty. They were crazy. Your face should have told them that you didn't want to, that you couldn't but you had no other choice. You had to do it. Slowly, you walked to the penalty area, many cameras were pointed at you, the whole world could see how nervous you were. However, once you had put the ball on the spot, your whole face changed. Your face was stone cold, no sign of nervousness.

Mary was sweating, hoping, wishing. You had to do this. For your own sake and Australias.

You took three steps back, one to the side.

The world stopped, Durand dived right and your shot went left. You scored!

Y/L/N 7-6

Australia made it. They‘re in the semi-final. Your whole team jumped on you, shouted roars of passion, feeling energetic.

In the locker room, Macca and you in the middle of the circle as everyone sang and danced around you. They celebrated you. Mary watched you closely, she felt so much joy - seeing you, winning, about to play in a semi-final. As you stretched out your hand for Mary to join you she instead pulled you close, kissing you in the middle of the changing room. Your friends wolf-whistled while your cheeks turned red.

"I love you"

You had lost against England.

Toone scored first, wasn‘t great but Australia still had a chance then in the 63rd minute Sam equalized.

71st minute, Hemp 1-2

86th minute, Russo 1-3

It hurt, tears streamed down your face as you pulled your shirt over your head, sitting defeated on the grass. You wanted to hide from the world, you gave everything and it wasn't enough. You didn‘t know what to do. You wanted to be at Marys side but couldn‘t move. "I‘m sorry," Alex Greenwood whispered as she had her hand on you neck, squatted down. She was like a mentor to you, a big sister, one of the first people who made Machester feel like home, "I‘m proud of you" she gave your forehead a kiss before she left you alone. Esme, Chloe and Lauren giving you a hug which you appreciated. You left as soon as you could, you didn‘t listened what Gustavsson said, you couldn‘t. It fell to death ears. You wanted to go home.

Mary felt devastated, heart broken.

That night, you laid in each others arms, holding on to one another as if the other would disappear. There was so much to say but neither of you could. Silent tears were rolling down your faces, fingertips wiping them away, softly.

For hours you laid in silence, seeking comfort in the touch of your lover. "I don‘t know what to say," Mary whispered, her hands holding your waist in manner of comfort, "i have so much to say but i don‘t have the words…"

"I know.."

"It- it just hurts, so much. I couldn’t do anything to help the team. And- and looking at you hurts because you- you look so sad while you probably feel the same. I don‘t know."

Your thumb caressed her cheek as a single tear rolled out of her eye. "I‘m so proud of you, Mary. It's not optimal how it went, for sure but other nations didn't even make it that far. At the end of the day, we can be proud of ourselves even if it hurts," you whispered, "We can win 3rd place"

You didn‘t. Australia had lost 2-0 against Sweden. It stung.

This time, Mary was by your side. She didn‘t want to be anywhere else. She hugged you as if her life depened on it, crying in your neck. You wanted to whisper sweet nothings in her ear like you always did when she cried but you couldn‘t. You grieved as well. Seeing Sweden get their medals hurt, seeing all those happy faces while you felt pain yet Sweden deserved it, they played fantastic, no matter if some fouls happened. As you watched their ceremony the complete Australia team sat on the ground, looking exhausted and broken. Mary had her arm around you, needing to feel your touch to somehow ease her pain, as your head rested on her shoulder. Comforting one another.

"love?" you asked. She squeezed your hip to let you know she was listening. "Do I think I can ask Rolfö for her shirt?"

Fridolina Rolfö was one of your favorite players, she was just wow, you liked the way she played and her unique talent. Though you didn‘t know If it was the right time to ask her yet you didn‘t know when or If you would ever play against her again.

Chuckling at your admiration torwards the blonde, your lover pulled you close, "Go for it, baby." You looked at her, a smile covering your face.

"Do you think she‘ll give it to me?"

"You have to find out"

Your teammates swarmed out to talk to a few of the swedish players (Steph talked to Stina, Sam with Magda,…).

Yes, you lost an important game but that didn't mean you don't show respect or sportsmanship to your friends.

Nervously, you made your way to Rolfö, "Hi?" your voice was shaking. "Hey!" the tall blonde greeted you, smiling fondly at you, "Umm do- do you wanna swap shirts? With me?" Awkward! Mary watched you, laughing to herself at your nervous state. She could imagine what you just said. "Sure! I‘d love to" Rolfö replied, already taking off her shirt. You turned around, respecting her privacy - there was none in the stadium but still, you respected her and Mary. You took off your jersey as well, handing it to her as you swapped. "Th-thank you" gosh, you were an awkward mess. To be fair, who wouldn‘t?? She pulled you in a hug, thanking you for your shirt and the game before you walked to your girlfriend who grinned. "Fridolina Rolfö just hugged me" you said, not believing what happened.

Back at the hotel, the team ate together before everyone went to their rooms. Your pain wasn‘t away and maybe it would never go away but you would come back stronger, the whole team would.

You were already laying in bed as Mary joined you, her head rested on your chest as her hand laid on your stomach, tracing patterns. "I love you" she whispered, feeling the urge to tell you. Her mind was back at the match, what she could‘ve done better. "Look at me" her eyes found yours, they looked so sad "I‘m disappointed, too. We wanted more and we could‘nt achieve it. It‘ll hurt for a while but we changed this sport forever. Look at us, look at Australia, look at all the little girls, we can be proud"

"When did you become so wise?"

"it’s always been in my nature" giggling, she started tickling you. Hovering above you, she stared at you with so much love, the same way as on the picture her mom sent you which was also her wallpaper, by the way, the same way like all those years ago: with heart eyes.

The out-come of the World Cup wasn‘t the result you wanted but at the end of the day you could be proud of yourselves.

The Matildas would come back stronger.

—————————

#mary fowler #mary fowler x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #matildas #wwc23 #australia women #man city women #auswnt #auswnt x reader

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fr3sh-tragedies · 6 months

Text

Busy Confession

[Mean Girls 2004] Janis Ian x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.81k

Proofread: No

Content Warnings: Language, anxiety, and feelings of rejection

[A/N]: Story three for Janis--I'll be working on another character soon. I still have a couple of characters I want to write for, but then I'll upload the master list I'm currently making and start answering requests.

[A/N] #2: Sorry this one took longer than the others. I've been trying to post every Saturday, but I could not for the life of me figure out how to write this one. I haven't proofread this yet, so let me know if there are any mistakes.

Enjoy!

“Oh come on, turn red already!” Janis hollered, her voice raising towards the end as her nails dug into the material of her steering wheel. Her hands had begun to cramp in the past few minutes, and she knew it was from her white knuckled grip that she had on the wheel during the entirety of her drive, but each time she tried to loosen said grip to help her tense, aching muscles relax, they’d return to their firm grasp at the mere thought of the text she had received.

Logistically speaking, Janis knew [Y/N] wasn’t trying to come across as flirty or teasing. In the emotional part of her mind, however, she wondered if it was actually the opposite–if the girl she had been crushing on for years was finally picking up on it and was now taunting her with semi-flirty responses. Usually, when her emotions would spiral out of control the way they were in the moment, she’d head to [Y/N]’s house to rant about it and ask for any kind of advice. Since that was who was causing what she was feeling, however, she knew she had to resort to her other best friend: Damian. Too jittery from her gay panic, Janis only managed to call him long enough to let him know she was headed over.

He had tried to say something to her before she hung up, but she was in too much of a rush to get in the car that she didn’t comprehend a word he said. She hopped into her car after barely remembering to snag her keys from the hook by the door, scolded herself when she struggled to get the key into the ignition, then sped off out of her driveway toward the direction of Damian’s house.

On the way there, she continued to glance anxiously over at her phone, which she had tossed over into the passenger seat. She feared that [Y/N] would notice her going silent and say something, but she herself couldn’t think of anything to say. With anyone else, she could blurt out a clever retort or crack some kind of joke. With this girl, however, she always seemed to find herself falling silent. The last thing she wanted to do was say something weird or make the situation worse and lose [Y/N]. She was aware that wasn’t how it would happen. After all, she had known [Y/N] far longer than she had known Damian, and even knew her before Regina George changed the course of her life back in middle school.

But that was exactly why she was suddenly so cautious over her words around her. She didn’t want to ruin all of those years together and lose the one person who genuinely seemed to love her for who she is. As far back as she could remember, [Y/N] was the one person she could always rely on without the constant worry of being talked about behind her back. She didn’t want to ruin that by assuming [Y/N] felt the same way about her that she did.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, Janis finally made it to Damian’s house. There, she practically fell out of her car with her phone tugged tightly against her chest. Quick footsteps beneath her was all she could hear as she more or less ran to the front door. Subconsciously, her arm raised far enough for the side of her fist to pound against the thick wood of the door now in front of her. Almost immediately after, it swung open, revealing Damian standing there with a conflicted look. Before he could say anything, however, Janis pushed her way past him and dashed into the kitchen. She froze in the doorway upon seeing Cady standing there as well, visibly confused at her desperation.

“Janis? What’s going on?” Speechless for a moment, Janis could only stare at her. At length, Damian stepped in and cleared his throat, moving to stand beside Cady. “Yeah,” he started, “I was trying to tell you that she’s here, but I guess you weren’t listening. Which, I mean, your face right now kinda confirms that for me.” Finally, the goth managed to blurt out a small, “oh,” before glancing at her feet to avoid eye contact with the redhead still glancing at her in puzzlement. “Am I interrupting something?”

A heavy sigh slipped past Damian’s lips as his hand shifted up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “No, but I think I’m not the only one here that’s “too gay to function.” Not sure if she even heard me at all before she hung up.” Finally, a look of understanding crossed Cady’s features. “Oh,” she mumbled as she once again turned to gaze at Janis. Although she was still averting her eyes from Cady’s focus, Janis managed to sneer up at Damian at his words.

Now worried she was in the way, Cady slipped past the two having a one-sided staredown and made her way over to the front door. “Well, I was just about to head out anyway.” Janis glanced up at this, looking slightly relieved. “But, uh…I’ll give you a call about our plan later on, Damian.” The exhausted teen, at the mention of his name, looked over at Cady as well and nodded. “Yeah, sounds good.”

With that, the redhead vanished through the door and began walking home. Only waiting a moment to make sure she was really gone, Janis quickly whipped her phone back up and powered it on, clicked over to her recent messages, and turned the phone for Damian to see. “Dude, I don’t know what to do. What the fuck do I even say after that? Do you think she knows how I feel about her? What if she does? I don’t want her to hate me for it. How would she react if she really did know? Would she–” Two hands landed heavily on her shoulders, halting her babbling and forcing her to look up and away from the screen.

“Janis, calm the hell down, holy shit.”

He huffed when she managed to settle a bit, then took the phone from her hand to read the screen properly. At the sight of the words [Y/N]’s had chosen, he chuckled and ran a hand down his face. “Good lord, I have no idea how you’re gonna survive if the two of you actually start dating.”

“That’s exactly why I came here, Damian: if I don’t ask her out soon, and if she starts talking like this all the time, I’m going to fucking die of embarrassment. Problem is, I have no idea how to ask her out without ruining everything. I need your help, man. Please.” Damian let out a laugh, crumbling whatever sense of confidence Janis may have had. “Oh my god, you and Cady are the bane of my existence today. How did I manage to not be busy the exact same day you both decided you needed relationship advice?” At his words, the goth tilted her head and hummed in confusion.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you over the phone: the reason Cady was here was because she was trying to figure out how to ask Aaron out on a date without Regina ripping her to shreds.” Janis’s brows shot up in surprise. “Oh, shit. Seriously? Is that what the phone call she mentioned was about?” Damian only nodded in reply, crossing his arms as he suppressed another groan. A moment passed where they only stood there in silence, and Damian was internally grateful his parents were at work as Janis had an existential crisis in the middle of their kitchen.

Finally, a smirk replaced his bothered grimace. “So, she wants to kiss you, huh? Wanna do that with her?” He teased, leaning down to nudge her shoulder and gain her attention again. Janis scoffed and shoved his arm away. Her head turned and lowered in an attempt to hide the growing shade of red on her face, though she wasn’t able to bite back the small grin that painted her lips. “You know damn well I do,” she murmured almost silently.

Damian snickered, cupping his ear and leaning toward her in a mocking manner. “What was that? Speak up–you know I’m selectively deaf.” Janis sighed, forcing herself to speak in a louder tone. “I said you know damn well I want to kiss her.” Upon finishing her statement, she stormed over to the kitchen table and planted herself in one of the chairs, crossing her arms on the tabletop and burying her face in them with a drawn out groan.

As she struggled to gather her thoughts, Damian moved to sit next to her, cackling softly to himself at seeing how uncharacteristically distressed his best friend was over a girl. “But it’s not just kissing you wanna do, is it?” He questioned after a moment. Janis shot up from her slouched position and gestured wildly with her hands. “Of course that’s not it! You know it isn’t! But I just…” She glanced down again, her fingers tangling themselves into her fringe and tugging harshly at the strands as she wordlessly went to war with herself, unsure of what to actually say.

“I just don’t wanna mess everything up,” she all but whispered in a broken confession, returning to her previous position of hiding her face in her arms.

The sound of a chair squeaking followed by something landing softly on the table and being slid her direction made her glance up again. Damian had slid her phone back over to her, though now it was face-down and powered off. “I know. I know you love her–pretty sure everyone does at this point. You’re terrible at hiding it.” Janis jabbed him in the arm again, making him chuckle. Upon seeing how distressed the goth was, he sighed, his voice taking on a much softer tone.

“But I do know that she’s one of those people too, even if that’s not what you wanna hear. Trust me, she feels the same. I’ve got quite the eye for these kinds of things.” Defeated, Janis sighed. She leaned back against the chair, dropping her head back to glare up at the ceiling. “Even if that were true, how the hell would I confess without sounding like some sort of loser? I don’t want her to think I’m a creep or something.”

Her friend hummed in thought at this, his eyes seemingly scanning everything and nothing in front of him at once. “Well, why don’t you make it count then? Make it special–your confession, I mean. Just add a whole bunch of stuff she likes. I mean, she loves going to the movies, eating out at restaurants, playing random sports and board games…there’s all kinds of stuff you could do.”

Janis remained silent for a while, prompting Damian to question if he said something wrong, or if she had even heard anything he said. Finally, right as he parted his lips to ask if she was alright, Janis slowly looked up with a growing smile, almost as if realizing something. “That’s a good idea,” she murmured. “Uh,” Damian started in reply, glancing around nervously as she pocketed her phone and began to stand. “Which one?”

“All of them.”

Over the span of another two and a half weeks, Damian managed to help Janis set up a plan where she could finally confess her feelings to [Y/N] and ask her out. The day had come that they agreed to put it into motion. Janis had never felt so nervous before. Not when she had a class presentation, not during any of the art contests she had participated in, and not even when she came back to school after leaving for the final half of her eighth grade year. She knew how to handle those levels of anxiety, but not this.

Never before had she confessed to someone–let alone someone she could actually picture a future with. In the past, when she found herself developing some sort of crush on another girl in her class, it was short lived. She never had to deal with the feeling long, which is why her feelings for [Y/N] became very evident after reflecting for a while.

In the days leading up to her confession, Janis more often than not found herself sketching [Y/N] on everything. She wasn’t able to focus during classes, so she’d pretend she was taking notes or working on an assignment to hide her inattention from the teacher. Even when [Y/N] wasn’t there for her to see, Janis was still doodling her from memory on anything and everything available to her.

Her sketchbook had been filled to the brim with illustrations of the girl before, but the closer she got to the end of the book, the more the pages seemed to be occupied by her face. No matter what she tried–playing video games, watching movies, going to work after school–she couldn’t get [Y/N] out of her head. More than usual, anyway. Tucked away in the corner of her room, hidden by a thin white sheet, she kept a canvas propped up on her favorite easel. Underneath the cover lay a portrait of [Y/N] she had spent weeks on, always finding another flaw that had her repainting over the dried, flaking pigment.

In her mind, Janis could picture the girl so easily. She could recall every little marking, whether it be a scar or a freckle of some kind, it was so vivid. On her canvas and on paper, however, she just couldn’t seem to get it right. She wanted the illustrations and paintings she made of her to be perfect because that’s how she saw her.

That’s how she had always seen her.

It felt nice thinking about someone she loved so much, but it also worsened her anxiety for her upcoming plans.

She waited until school had been let out for a holiday toward the end of the second semester to carry them out. It would allow for her to set up an outdoor date that would hopefully take place past the beginning of her and Damian’s ideas, as well as give her time off from both school and work.

After making sure [Y/N] was ready for the day, Janis let her know she was headed in her direction to pick her up. The entire drive there, everything about her was shaky, including her breathing. By the time she arrived, her mind was numb and her limbs were tingling. She barely managed to type out a coherent message to let the girl know she was there. Her breathing only got worse once [Y/N] was in the car with her, sat so close to Janis, yet so far away somehow. When she greeted her, her voice cracked and shook, furthering her embarrassment. [Y/N] giggled at her, so she looked down. “God, fuck my voice,” she mumbled.

Again, [Y/N] chuckled, but planted her hand gently on the goth’s shoulder and gave a comforting squeeze. “Hey, I don’t know why you’re getting so flustered about it. Do you not remember when we first met back in elementary school? You know. When I was crying?” Janis sat up a little straighter and smirked. “Because another kid ate one of your dino nuggets during snack time? Yeah, I remember that. Squeakiest voice I’ve ever heard, even to this day.” [Y/N] faked a gasp and a look of offense, bringing her free hand to her chest in an exaggerated manner. “How dare you say that when Karen Smith exists in the same town as us?”

Finally, Janis snickered at her, turning back to the wheel and shifting her gear into drive. “Fair point,” she replied. She leaned over a bit. “You’re definitely the runner up, though.” A scoff and a playful shove was what she was greeted with in reply, prompting her to finally let out a proper laugh. Her smile visibly faltered for just a moment at the feeling of [Y/N]’s hand sliding off of her shoulder a moment later and moving back to rest in her lap in the passenger seat.

“So, what all are we doing today?” At this, Janis’s anxiety spiked once again. “Well, I thought we could go see a movie and then go eat somewhere before I show you the surprise I have for you.”

[Y/N] leaned over a bit, drawing out a long “oooh” with a dorky grin. “What’s the surprise?” Janis laughed and gently pushed her back, even though she didn’t want to. “If I told you the surprise, then it wouldn’t be a surprise.” Again, the girl in the passenger seat faked a look of hurt, though it was quickly replaced with a smirk. “Okay, okay, fine. Fair enough.”

As Janis began leading the car in the direction of the nearest movie theater, [Y/N] slipped her phone out from her back pocket and began typing away and swiping through her apps. Unintentionally, Janis continued to glance over at her and her screen periodically, some unknown feeling bubbling up underneath her skin and causing her throat to fall dry. Her hand slipped to the side to turn the AC’s settings up higher, then drove upwards to run down her face as she sighed. Whatever it was that she was feeling was making her burn up.

[Y/N]’s attention was drawn to Janis’s motions, her head perking up and turning in her direction. “You good?” The goth only nodded, desperately trying to scrounge up some sort of excuse as to why she was suddenly far more flustered than she previously was mere moments ago. “Yeah, I just…I’m really hoping you’ll like the surprise when we get to it. I worked really hard on it.” A small pause. “Oh.” Another pause, one that had Janis fighting the urge to scratch or pick at something with her fidgety hands.

“I’m sure it’ll be amazing, Jan. You don’t need to worry about anything.”

With a bit of force, Janis managed to convince her lungs to work properly again. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to hide her struggle in the motion, and let it slip back out in the form of a heavy sigh. “Yeah, okay,” she replied softly. Thankfully, before things could grow even more awkward, Janis pulled into the parking lot of the movie theater. She switched the engine off and tucked her keys away in one of the pockets of her black, baggy cargo pants. “Well, I guess we should get inside if we wanna get through the long ass line for concessions,” she explained as she pushed her door open and slipped out of the car.

Without thinking too much about it, Janis sped over to the passenger side and tugged the door open for [Y/N], who glanced up at her with a confused stare. She quickly chuckled, however, and stepped out, moving over far enough for Janis to close the door again and lock the car. “Such a gentlewoman,” she teased, prompting the goth’s pale face to flush red again. She still laughed, even through her slight embarrassment, and rolled her eyes. “Whatever. You’re welcome.”

“Thanks,” came her reply, though it was accompanied by a small bump against her shoulder. She had turned to walk towards the entrance, but [Y/N] had almost immediately caught up with her and nudged her arm with her own. Janis grinned at her and double checked that her car was locked before they got too far. As she stuffed her hands into her front pockets, Janis found herself glancing around at the other people littering the street nearby.

She subconsciously let her teeth hook against her bottom lip as she spotted the couples walking in and out of the building, each one leaning against each other and sharing light conversation or cracking jokes. Her fingers bent upwards, allowing her to toy with her rings as she managed to tear her eyes away from a pair sharing a quick kiss and focus on the ground in front of her. For just a moment, her eyes glimpsed over at [Y/N], who was squinting to try and read the movie posters lined up on the wall still halfway across the parking lot.

Janis couldn’t bite back her small smirk at her focused expression, though she let her gaze drop back down to continue watching her feet leading her forward. Too caught up in her thoughts, Janis let out a startled gasp when she felt two arms wrap themselves around her left one. One hooked around her elbow, the other sliding down so a hand could rest on her forearm. She turned her head to face who had clutched onto her, her cheeks and ears bursting with color as [Y/N] stepped closer and beamed up at her. “A-Ah, you okay?” Was all she could manage to ask between stuttering breaths.

“Yeah, I just like your jackets. They’re cozy, even if I’m not the one wearing them. Like, this sleeve?” [Y/N] gently patted the section of Janis’s sleeve covering her bicep to clarify, making the other girl jump, “it’s soft. Not sure how. Looks really rough, but it’s not.” She giggled to herself for a second. “Kinda like you.”

A darker shade of crimson dusted Janis’s already reddened face. “What?” [Y/N] smirked at her reaction. “Well, I mean, a lot of people are scared of you–specifically the freshmen–but I’m pretty sure it’s just because of your style. You’re really good with comebacks too, and even when they’re mean, they’re still funny as fuck. I think people are just afraid to confront you because they know you’ll destroy them. But you’re actually the sweetest person I know. And you’re really cool. I don’t think you and I have ever really gotten into an actual argument, but I also think it’s because you make sure to listen to me and hear me out.

“Most of the time. Unless you’re trying to lecture me on my gaming skills.” Janis smiled at her last statement, though her heart hammered against her ribs for the small speech before. She thinks I’m sweet? And cool? Unintentionally, she tuned out the majority of what the conversation was about as they both headed inside, the wide, sheepish grin never leaving her lips.

They got their tickets checked, stepped into line, got their drinks and snacks, then headed to the room playing the movie they were there for. As they sat in their seats toward the back of the room, Janis finally felt her spiked nerves subsiding a bit, realizing they could both focus on the movie and avoid having to make awkward conversation.

She didn’t pay attention to most of the film. Although her anxiety had calmed, it was certainly still there. Each time she thought of what she had planned next, another wave of trembling shot through her body. Roughly halfway through, [Y/N] shivered, shifted in her seat, and grumbled something under her breath, gaining Janis’s attention. Sensing eyes now on her, [Y/N] made eye contact and sent a nervous smile in her direction. “Sorry, I just keep forgetting how cold this damned theater is.”

Janis hummed, and almost instantly, after putting her box of small chocolates down, she slid her jacket from her arms. She leaned over a bit, motioning for [Y/N] to lean forward. When she did, the goth dropped the jacket gently on her shoulders and pulled it around her a bit before moving to sit properly in her chair again. She fought the urge to glance back over at [Y/N], but from the corner of her eye, she could see the girl tug the jacket snug around her frame. She let out a gentle sigh at the warmth.

Janis cracked a smile without realizing. She picked her overpriced sweets back up and pulled another one from the box, popping it in her mouth before scooching over enough to take a sip from her soda. For the remainder of the movie, the two sat in silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence. When the film ended and the lights came on, they got up and wordlessly left the theater. Once they were in the car, Janis finally fully looked over at [Y/N], sucking in a breath at the sight of the jacket now fully on her.

Sometime during the ending, [Y/N] had ultimately slipped her arms into the sleeves to wear it properly. Janis beamed, feeling a strange sense of pride. “So,” [Y/N] chirped, snapping her out of her trance. “Which restaurant are we going to?”

Oh, right. Her plans.

Janis, to distract herself momentarily, turned her car on and began the journey to the restaurant she had made a reservation at prior to the movie. She checked the time before answering. “Ah, it’s that new Italian place down by the mall.” “Oh, cool! Have you heard if it’s good?” “Yeah, it’s got a lot of good reviews online. It was also honestly the only place I could find that the two of us haven’t both been to.” [Y/N] laughed gently. “Yeah, but who knew we’d end up being drawn to so many different places here?”

The time at the restaurant, much like the theater, was hard to pay attention to for Janis. Throughout the meal, even when she didn’t realize it, she could be caught practically staring at [Y/N] as they both ate their dishes. She managed to focus enough to answer any questions thrown her way and keep the conversation going, but had anyone asked what they talked about, she wouldn’t be able to answer.

By the time they had made it back to the car, [Y/N] was able to tell something was wrong. As soon as the car started and Janis pulled out onto the road to head toward her next plan, [Y/N] tapped her arm to get her attention. A hum slipped from the goth to show she had acknowledged the touch, though she kept her eyes on the road. “Are you alright? You’ve been really…quiet. Like, all day.”

Shit.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m still just really nervous about the whole surprise thing. Which…is where we’re going now.”

After she pulled up to an empty parking lot, Janis took a breath, practically freezing in her seat as [Y/N] slowly got out of the car. A moment or so later, at the sound of a knock on her window, the goth finally pulled her attention away from the steering wheel to find [Y/N] standing there, confused. Finally, she managed to pry herself out of the driver’s seat and close the door. She locked the car with trembling hands before wordlessly walking in a random direction. With a small squeak of surprise, [Y/N] jogged to catch up with her, immediately questioning where she was headed.

“Oh, right,” Janis muttered, glancing up at the now concerned girl for just a second. She turned around to face where she was walking again. “Sorry, I’m just…I’m leading you to where the surprise is, I just forgot to say that somehow.” “Oh.”

Too anxious, Janis couldn’t force herself to blurt anything out, too afraid of making small talk as they headed to where her source of anxiety was originating from. The entirety of the walk, [Y/N] trailed behind her and quickly told herself to just look around at the scenery. They had stopped at some kind of large park, though the part they were headed toward looked more like the entrance of the woods. The sight at the darker shade under the trees caused her nerves to spike, though she calmed down when Janis finally managed to mumble a really soft–almost inaudible–“we’re almost there.”

The closer they got to the wooded part of the field, the more concerned and puzzled [Y/N] grew. Finally, just as she was ready to ask if they were lost, or if Janis planned on killing her–which in her mind made sense, considering the goth had started acting weird in the past hour–Janis sighed and stepped to the side. She lifted and waved her arm, motioning toward a small setup partially in the shade. “We’re here.”

[Y/N] turned her focus to the setup, which made her gasp softly. It was a classic picnic scene: a red and white checkered blanket laid out neatly underneath a large oak tree, a small woven basket weighing one of the corners down, and a cooler for the drinks. However, a decently sized gift was wrapped up and was propped up against the bark. “Surprise,” Janis murmured, snapping [Y/N] out of her surprised trance.

“Oh, Janis,” she whispered. “It’s beautiful.” Janis seemed surprised at her words, a small smile finally painting her lips again. “Really? I figured you’d find it cliche or something.” [Y/N] chuckled and gently nudged the goth’s shoulder. “I mean, you know I love a good cliche. It’s not a bad thing.”

After sharing an awkward grin, the two of them headed over to the blanket and sat down. They picked a few snacks from the basket on the corner, as well as a drink from the cooler, then ate slowly as they did their best to strike up a normal conversation. This worked for a very short amount of time, but [Y/N] eventually gave in and finally asked what it was all for, to which Janis grew nervous all over again.

She tried to find a way to segway smoothly into her confession, but eventually realized there was no point in trying to appear confident. She had blown that long ago. With a heavy sigh of defeat, she stared down at her lap, fiddling with the tab of her soda can to pull her attention away from the set of eyes on her. “Okay, I can’t keep this up anymore,” she began.

“I brought you here because I–” She swallowed hard and shut her eyes. It was just a confession. How hard could it possibly be?

“I brought you here, and did everything else today, to tell you that I really like you. Like, I’m in love with you. A-And I wanted to bring you here to ask you to be my girlfriend.” A moment passed where the two just sat in silence, and although she didn’t want to, Janis finally managed to open her eyes again to glance up at [Y/N]. She worried she had been completely ignored, but she mainly feared she was about to be made fun of by the one girl she actually had serious feelings for.

Instead, she was greeted with the sight of [Y/N] blushing for the first time that evening, a small smile cracked across her lips. “Uh,” the goth stuttered. “It’s fine if you say no. When I told Damian about wanting to ask you out, he said I should make the whole thing special, so…here we are.” More silence, though Janis couldn’t tell that it was only there because [Y/N] couldn’t find the right words to express how she felt. After what felt like a whole hour to her, Janis finally sighed and put her drink down, readying herself to stand up. “This was a mistake, wasn’t it?”

As she began to lift herself off the blanket beneath her, a hand grasped her wrist, halting her movements and prompting her to sit down again. “No, I’m sorry, Jan! It wasn’t a mistake, I just…I never thought you’d actually ask.”

Janis could only gawk at her, mouth agape. “Huh?”

[Y/N] giggled at her reaction. “I would love to be your girlfriend, Janis.”

More laughter stemmed from Janis sitting there, purely dumbfounded as she visibly tried to process the words. Finally, a bright smile graced her lips, one wider than ever before. An excited glimmer shone in her eyes. “Wait, really? You would?” “Yeah, of course!”

Janis finally let out a laugh, then a sigh as she shifted to fall over and let her head land in [Y/N]’s lap. “Oh thank fucking god,” she blurted, causing the girl to chuckle and gaze down at her in slight bewilderment. “I’m so tired. I spent so much time planning this whole thing out. I wanted things to be perfect. I didn’t know you were going to say yes like it was the most obvious thing on earth.” They shared a laugh, the previously thick tension finally lifting.

“Yeah, no, I was always gonna say yes. But don’t worry, I really loved everything we did today. Uh, well, except when you were leading me to the woods and started acting weird. Thought I was about to be wiped from this planet.” Janis snickered again. “Nah, I wouldn’t do that to you.” She grinned softly up at her, shifting to lean against [Y/N]’s stomach. “But I am glad you liked everything today. That’s a relief.”

[Y/N] beamed wider and nodded. She drove her free hand upwards to let her fingers rake through the goth’s dark strands, causing her to let her eyes to flutter shut and lean into the touch. They stayed like that for a while, but [Y/N] eventually had a small reminder pop into her head. “Oh, what’s the box against the tree for by the way?”

Janis’s eyes shot open again, a deep crimson red dusting her cheeks. “Ah, well…” She hesitantly sat up and stood long enough to pick up the present and hand it to [Y/N]. She sat back down next to her and watched as she carefully peeled open the gift. Once it was mostly torn away, [Y/N] gasped gently at the sight of a canvas with a portrait of her, glazed over nicely with Janis’s signature down in the bottom left corner, right next to a small note.

To the one person who has always seen the best in me and has never treated me poorly. I hope this painting does you justice.

Silently waiting for a response, Janis kept glancing over between the portrait and [Y/N], trying to gauge her reaction. When she got nothing, the overly anxious girl cleared her throat. “Do you…like it?” Finally, [Y/N] turned to face her. “Are you kidding? I fucking love it,” was her reply. Janis huffed out a sigh of relief from the reassurance and smirked, leaning against the other girl’s shoulder and closing her eyes again. “Jesus Christ, another huge relief. I love you so much.”

Softly, [Y/N] nuzzled her head against Janis’s, slipping one hand from the partially unwrapped canvas to lift it and cup the girl’s cheek, her fingertips lightly grazing her raven hair.

“I love you too.”

#fluff #x reader #slight angst #female reader #janis ian #janis ian x reader #janis sarkisian #janis sarkisian x reader #mean girls #mean girls x reader #mean girls janis #janis mean girls #mean girls janis ian #mean girls janis sarkisian #janis ian mean girls #janis sarkisian mean girls

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inchidentally · 5 months

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ok it's been a while since I did a big weird dumb emotional parasocial Lando post - this tangent being based on this photoset by Audrey/landoom

bc we have a perfect comparison for all three of Lando's teammates and oh yes I've got a lot of thoughts in my big dumb head !!

okay so

the carlando one is perfect bc this is what they do between race weekend duties, chatter away about this and that like they always have. but their dynamic is also always the same in the way they sit: Carlos is The Man with his manspreading and taking up space and he always leads their conversation, even doing that mock reprimanding when Lando is just plain wrong or too silly etc. of course Lando will always be The Boy bc Carlos got to know him before Lando's voice had changed and before Lando's body had even finished growing. their entire season spent together was Lando latching onto Carlos to cope with being too young for F1 and looking endlessly grateful that Carlos is a natural dab hand at media duties and the interminable periods of waiting on Thursdays, Fridays and even Saturdays. Carlos had also just been looking after another F1 baby in Max so playing the role of big brother and guardian was hardly new. but that's why Lando always has to squirm into whatever space is left (which fortunately he's very skilled at doing) when he's spending time with Carlos. even when they walk together, Carlos is striding and facing forward while Lando skitters at his side and twists himself to talk at him. Lando doesn't quite behave like the jittery toddler that he was with Carlos at first but he's also never going to be an equal to Carlos in that social way that Charles is. Carlos and Charles move in and around each other's space and are close enough in age for there to be nothing in it - Charles is another Man. Lando will always be baby brother wanting to hang with big brother with Carlos. big brother will always put his big arm out and keep little brother safe.

then the dando of it all that for me is equal parts hahahaaaaaaaa Daniel Ricciardo you got got at your own silly game - but also angsty as hell. bc Lando had to go through a very uncomfortable realization that Daniel was repeating the same kind of bromance dynamic with him that Daniel does with everyone, especially with his teammates… right at the same time that Daniel realized that for all his gay joking he'd caught some kind of baffling feelings for this strange little scrap of boy with the beautiful face and an intense charisma that came entirely from being vulnerable and sincere. I have a love/hate relationship with bromance content in general so I was like partly enjoying Daniel's Lando content suddenly becoming obsessive and transparently adoring, but also feeling (kind of) bad for him bc his idiot straight man bro-brain suffered a little bruise of queer longing in the shape of Lando that he'll never be rid of. because while Lando already knew he could make any man love him in a protective/guardian way, it was right during Daniel's tenure when Lando realized he could make any man actually fall in love with him - even without trying to. so there's DannyRic, playing up a fake version of the big brother thing Carlos has with Lando because he's too old to consider Lando one of his usual buddies, but then his trademark smile falters because he's jokingly getting Lando to wear his clothing line and jokingly tucking a flower behind Lando's ear and jokingly zooming in on Lando's glowing face again for a video... except he has to remind himself to force a bro-y laugh because it seems as if the sunlight is always shining out of Lando's face instead of the sky. and that's where their dynamic has lived ever since. Daniel wants to feel the sun again and forces out laughs to remind everyone, including himself and Lando, that it's cool and nothing serious. sometimes Lando laughs until it hurts and sometimes he feels out of it and can't bring himself to laugh back.

and like, knowing that that's been Lando's experience with teammates so far it's why we've all had this ??? !!! along with him when Oscar arrived packaged all alone, neat and tidy with a placid small smile on his face and half his career under professional management already. he's inscrutable but also so easygoing. he's friendly but he hardly ever touches another human being. he's polite but also firm in his feelings. he refuses to be anyone but himself but also gives absolutely nothing away. he must have shades and colors beneath all that pale skin because his eyes ignore everyone but the people he chooses as worthy of his time. with most people he's so ambivalent that he's barely even present but then Lando comes into his view and the fresh coffee color of Oscar's eyes fills back in. he doesn't blink enough around Lando and doesn't pay attention to much else when Lando is around. but he also won't capitulate and just be a bro or a bromance or some other easy entity. sometimes he takes a downright firm hand with Lando which is startling, but he just as suddenly will capitulate to whatever Lando wants which of course is delightful. and then he never takes away the attention that Lando lives off of like food and water. Lando realized at some point that he has to disappear so far from Oscar's field of vision for Oscar to not follow him or watch him. so why isn't Oscar being a big stupid simp like Daniel or a warm strong guardian like Carlos? why won't he just play ball during challenges and why won't he just let Lando know once and for all how exactly Oscar fits in with all the men who adore Lando because dammit he's the only one he can't categorize. he can't seem to find his footing and he can't even be mad about that because Oscar is so faithful and kind and unselfish and downright respectful and admiring in ways that other men and teammates never have been. how can you get mad at a boy for not easily defining what you are to him when he stays one step behind you at all times because you're the number one driver and he has no problem showing it - who hangs so far back at your home race fan stage that the host actually looks confused for a moment because she doesn't expect even the number two driver to look so happy about letting his teammate soak in all the glory on his own. why should it hurt that Oscar doesn't seem to view himself as a significant part of Lando's life when Oscar is so comfortable with that idea and so happy to just have Lando while he has him and not expect anything more?

and that's why we get Oscar as an unexpectedly intimate part of Lando's cameras. cameras are his creative expression - a cringe free space where he's safe to show the world he sees when he's the observer and not the observed. of course the little black heart under the photoset that starts with Oscar just stands for black and white photos of McLaren and the place he calls home. but Lando also agonizes over those posts and when you look at how he looks at Oscar and what they've been through and how steady and strong Oscar has been for Lando even in his rookie season, it felt a little prescient that Oscar would sign a contract immediately for as long as McLaren would give him. Oscar who has proven that he will determine his own future and that he will not let his time or his fate be in the hands of anyone else. that Oscar looked at McLaren and looked at Lando and said this is what he wants. McLaren has been Lando's home for so long and with that kind of proof from someone like Oscar, shouldn't it make sense that Oscar feels a lot like home. so he gets to be the first picture and the little heart sits directly beneath.

that's the thing for me about landoscar - we know so little about who Oscar is as a person on any deeper level apart from the people and things his eyes turn coffee colored for. we already all love Lando and the fact that Oscar's eyes open up around him is like a little window into who Oscar is down deep. firm but fair, faithful but not blind, adores too intensely to show it, effortlessly funny but controlled, withdrawn but not cold. we know Oscar is lovable and there's something so intensely upright about him.

so the one landoscar moment in this photoset is one of many times we see Lando taking a photo of Oscar's face. because he may not have an easy, handy way of defining what kind of friend/presence Oscar is in his life, he knows what Oscar has given him and Lando's camera is how Lando can reciprocate. he can grab Oscar in that moment, put him in his camera and look at him where he can understand him. sometimes post him publicly but most of the time will not.

#landoscar #I need a tag specifically for when I'm insane about them #also this is carlando and dando but I never know who in the tags will get mad at multishipping so #mine

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zmediaoutlet · 6 days

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Sam marks time. Dean doesn't know why. Their watches still tick and that weird clock in the library still traces the hours and Sam writes them out on the chalkboard in the kitchen: one day and then two and then three and then—Dean doesn't keep track, doesn't want to look. The sun rises and midnight comes and it's another day in an empty world. He's not sure what the benefit of knowing how long it's been is, other than a hair shirt. Sam's good at constructing those but Dean's never felt the need. The hair shirt rides with him, inside his skin. Never really goes away.

Two remaining humans on Earth. Jack's a question mark. He spends a lot of his time split between his bedroom and sitting out on the side of the plant above the bunker. Taking in the air, or something. Dean would ask but he doesn't know what to say. When they failed—this bad. When it's their fault and there's no excuse to offer.

Sam would say it wasn't their fault but Chuck's. At least another Sam would. He tried on that first day after they came home, Chuck's glee searing some new kind of pain over every one of Dean's bones, and Sam's supposed to be the optimistic one but even he couldn't get through it. They could have, they should have. On that first night they both get very, very drunk, and Dean does have the thought somewhere between the last moments of lucidity and blackout that—okay, so they should've played their roles—at least Earth would be alive, at least there'd still be the old lady who worked the register at the grocery store and little kids selling chiclets in Acapulco and the Denver Broncos—but really, would that have been the end? If they'd gone full Romeo and Juliet. If he'd shot Sam in the head and then cut his own wrists and waited, the blood pooling into a lake, feeling every weakening heartbeat as the punishment he deserved. Would that have been enough? Or would the writer have realized that ending wasn't satisfying, either, and there'd be—shock, surprise—another sequel, the show renewed another year, and the Winchesters would be dragged back from death to enact some new version of melodrama? Dean watched a lot of soaps, back in the day, waiting through dull lonely days until he could dig a grave under cover of darkness. He knows no one ever got free, unless they got recast, and on an empty Earth there was fat chance of that. Which he explained to Sam, but Sam might've passed out by that point.

Fourth day of an empty Earth they get in a fight. It's halfhearted at best. Dean's hungover and Sam's jittery and terrified because there's nothing he can think of to fix what's gone wrong and Jack's quiet, a kicked dog not wanting attention in case another boot comes its way. Dean drank the last cup of coffee and Sam's pissed at him and then Dean's furious. It feels pointless even as it's happening. Sam gives him that look like he expects more and Dean throws his empty mug at the wall and leaves the kitchen and every ounce of anger drains out as soon as he's in the hall. He takes a shower—by some miracle, they're still getting water and power and light—and leans his aching head against the cold tile and doesn't cry but maybe he'd feel better if he could. It keeps not coming. When he dries off he pulls on boxers and a t-shirt and goes back to the kitchen and the pieces of the mug have been swept up and left in a broken pile on the kitchen island. Visual metaphor. He hopes Chuck appreciates it.

Sam's in his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed with a beer in hand. Ten in the morning. "Stealing my move," Dean says.

Sam doesn't look at him. Dean sits beside him on the bed and looks at the wall, too. Says, "Where's Jack?" and Sam says, all rusted edges, "Outside," and Dean doesn't know how the kid does it. When the door's closed on the bunker it feels—not good but not all that different than it used to. When they were alone down here, and the world could pass by overhead unknown. The silence down here is something Dean loved. The silence out there—

He takes the beer out of Sam's hand. Sam lets him. He takes a deep swallow. Then he sets the beer on the bedside table, and then he sets his hand on the back of Sam's neck, and then watches Sam close his eyes and his jaw flex. Dean doesn't want to ask; he doesn't have to.

They fuck. It's not good or bad. Dean's brain shuts off and when he comes to they're panting and it stinks kind of, Sam's sweat and the jizz in the air and two bodies sticking together. Sam's arm is curled under Dean's head and Dean turns his face down into Sam's bicep, hides his eyes from the light. His hangover hasn't gone away and may never. He says, "If we could've," and can't finish, but Sam knows what he means.

"We had our whole lives to learn how," Sam says. Very quiet. He lays his hand on Dean's belly and his forehead tips down against the back of Dean's head. Kind of hurts, bone to bone. "I never could. Could you?"

Sam's blood on his hands in exchange for seven billion lives, plus or minus a few. His gut aches. He can't respond but Sam doesn't seem to expect him to.

Refractory periods being what they are in a man's forties, Dean can't wipe his brain clean again the way he'd prefer. He leaves Sam's room and gets drunk again instead. In the morning he's hungover, and Sam's made coffee, and the chalkboard says it's day five.

#happy wincest wednesday #my writing #ww lottery #a random ficlet for episode 326 #i actually forgot it was wednesday for a while #but then remembered i had to take out the trash #and also that i had to do this other thing

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wynnyfryd · 6 months

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Trailer park Steve AU part 15

part 1 | part 14 | ao3

“Please please please please pleeeeease,” Dustin whines, tugging hard on the hem of Steve’s shirt.

“Dude get off me.” He slips the last of the leftover containers into the fridge, slams the door shut, and turns to glare at Dustin, who oh-so-conveniently had to step out after dinner to ‘walkie Lucas about a homework question’ and left Steve and Eddie to do the washing up.

In the absence of a Henderson buffer, the air between them had pretty immediately gone stale. Hesistant and charged, overly formal; fucking weird. Eddie moves like a weirdo, sways his hips out of the way of counter corners instead of walking a straight path, like some swaggering drunken pirate, and he spent the last ten minutes awkwardly traipsing around the perimeters of the kitchen as if Steve were a landmine he might set off at any time.

So yeah.

Steve’s feeling a little ungracious at the moment. “Seriously, what is so important that you can’t just show it to us tomorrow?”

“Ummm, scientific discovery? Wonder at the natural world around us?? Where’s your sense of adventure, Steve?”

“The last time I followed my sense of adventure out to your cellar I almost got—” His eyes cut sharply to Eddie, who’s doing a terrible job of pretending not to eavesdrop. Steve scrambles for a way to end his sentence that isn’t eaten by a creature with a razor flower for a face. “—uh, mauled.”

“Mauled?” Eddie asks, eyes bugging out. “Henderson, I’m not following you into the woods to get to turned into some feral thing’s chew toy, man.”

“It was fine,” Dustin insists, covertly kicking Steve in the shin.

Steve thinks of his NDAs and plays along. “Y-yeah. Totally fine. It was just, like, a rabid raccoon or something.”

“That… does not sound fine.”

“It’s cool,” Steve tries to reassure him (no idea why, really; that cellar’s nightmare fuel.) He throws a dish towel over his shoulder, nods his head decisively. “I’ll bring my nail bat with us.”

“You’ll fucking bring your what?”

—

Steve drags his nail bat through the leaves on the narrow trail, the wood thudding along behind him as they make their way to the cellar, a detached storm shelter at the far edge of the lot. It’s dark out here. And cold. His breath hangs in a puff of wet fog when he mutters, “Seriously, Dustin, this better be Noble Prize worthy stuff.”

“It’s Nobel,” Eddie says.

“Huh?”

“The, uh- the prize? It’s No-bel.”

“….Well, that’s stupid.”

“Why would it be Noble?” Eddie snorts, but his eyes are curious and kind.

“Because— because you have to be Noble to earn it? I don’t know!” Eddie laughs like he finds the answer cute. Steve doubles down. “That makes perfect sense, and you know it. A Noble Prize for a Noble Effort. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong,” Dustin grunts as he unlocks the cellar doors. “Now come on.”

—

The cellar's just as creepy as Steve remembers: low ceiling, dusty cement blocks, a single, sad lightbulb dangling on a string. He eyes the dark corner on the far side of the squat room, bricked up now but it wasn't before; there were tunnels under here, once, vast networks like blood vessels to the beating heart of a monster Steve still can't fully comprehend. He grips the bat a little tighter.

"—Shit," Dustin says suddenly, cutting himself off mid-ramble about how cool his latest science project is, how it puts Cerebro to shame. "I forgot the remote." "You want me to go get it?" Steve offers. "No!" Dustin says it in a rush, then stammers, "No, that's okay. You won't know what to look for." He seems nervous. Jittery. Maybe the cellar creeps him out, too. "Be right back, just wait here."

"Grreeeat," Eddie replies as Dustin jogs back up the stairs, cupping his hands around his mouth to call sarcastically after him, "We'll just be loitering in your murder basement, then; take your time!"

With Dustin gone, there’s nothing to do but stand there metaphorically twiddling their thumbs. Steve’s idly swinging his bat in a wide sweep around his calves, and Eddie’s staring at the ground, scuffing the toe of his shoe into a streak of dirt, arms crossed over his chest, head bowed. He’s humming something that Steve can't quite make out, but it doesn't sound like the stuff he usually blasts from his van. It's softer. Easy. Almost pop.

“Hey, wait a sec...” Steve holds up a finger, turning his good ear toward the stairs. The leafy crunch of footsteps isn’t getting any quieter, and now it sounds like there are two pairs, getting louder; circling back. “You hear that?”

Eddie nods. Looks serious and spooked. Steve raises his bat, a sudden spike of fear; he creeps over to the stairs. “Hey,” he calls to the darkness. The rustling noise picks up, a swish of movement through the brush, and then the crrrrroak of something metal. Something heavy, groaning on its—

Hinges. Hinges. Son of a bitch, the cellar doors. “Hey!” he shouts, breaking into a run. “HEY—!”

BOOMMMM.

The doors slam shut with a heavy crash and the grating clink of more metal scraping metal. Steve bolts up the stairs, shoves with all his strength against the slanted doors above him. The doors don’t budge. “What the fuck?” Eddie shouts from the bottom of the stairs.

Steve pounds against the doors. “HENDERSON?”

Eddie comes up to join him, using his forearms like battering rams to try to bash the doors open. His voice cracks when he hollers, “Henderson, for real, man! I-if this is some kinda- some kinda sick fucking joke it isn’t funny!!”

“It’s for your own good!!” a voice that isn’t Dustin yells through the gap in the doors, and Eddie squawks, “MIKE?”

Mike?? MIKE?? Oh, that goddamned ungrateful, conniving little—

“We just wanted you two to talk to each other!” Mike says.

Dustin adds, “For real this time."

“Yeah, for real this time!”

Steve punches the doors, and Eddie bares his teeth like he can scorch a hole through the metal with the heat of his glare alone. “Wheeler, you are SO dead!!”

“So fucking dead!!!” Steve agrees.

---

part 16

tag list below the cut, comment if you want to be added tomorrow (or dm me if you want to be removed)

@acedorerryn @ahsokatanoss @annabanannabeth @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awolfstudio @bananahoneycomb @bronwenmarie @burymestanding @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @cr0w-culture @cuips-not-cute @dawners @dontwasteyourchances @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @evillittleguy @fandomfix8 @foolofentirelytoomanyfandoms @goodolefashionedloverboi @gregre369 @griefabyss69 @grtwdsmwhr @heartsong18 @hellion-child @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @marklee-blackmore @messrs-weasley @nburkhardt @noodle-shenaniganery @novelnovella @perseus-notjackson @ppunkpuppyy @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @steddie-island @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #st fic #my writing #my fic

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