#just felt like being sad about donna again :(

[crookedkingdom]

i actually think watching david tennant doctor regenerate again would have hurt me less than him getting to live out a life with his best friend and his niece and the rest of his found family hurt me

#donnas his sister and that is so wonderful and beautiful but. #i want that. i want that and i want to have a niece and a family that isnt irreparably broken and i wont have that #when do i stop being sad about happy things and just be happy again? #i want to be someones sister again #im having Big Complex Emotions and i havent felt an emotion in like 6 months thanks mr davies #doctor who #doctor who spoilers #text

[quiet-onset]

fever pitch

pairing: michael berzatto x reader

wc: 12.1k+, somebody sedate me

summary: an assortment of your time with michael berzatto

warnings: no use of yn, smut, so minors dni!!!, unprotected sex, sex under the influence, by ext. dubcon since reader is unaware at the time, oral (f receiving), drug use and addiction (character and reader), canonical character death/suicide mention, pregnancy mention (sorry not sorry), please do not read if any of this is triggering for you!!

a/n: beta’d by @brattylyricist bc she has no other choice than to put up with my bs!! also bc the content matter here is triggering and i have personal experience seeing the damage that addiction can do to someone you love, I’m including national hotline phone numbers here. please don’t be afraid to seek help if you need it: national suicide prevention hotline: dial/text 988, substance abuse and mental health services administration: 1-800-662-HELP. again, please do not read this if any of the warnings are triggering for you!!!

The day went by in a blur. You got up, showered, did your hair and makeup. You ate the little breakfast you could stomach. You put on an acceptable black dress and matching high heels.

You drove to the church — tried to sit in the back, but Sugar pulled you to the front pew, right next to her. You stood behind the lectern and said kind, loving words. You drove to the cemetery and watched as his casket was lowered into the cold. And you went to the repass, doing your best to stay out of Donna’s way, knowing how she gets when she’s both sad and under pressure. 

But you hadn’t cried.

You sat on the stairs with your wine glass filled with water as everyone mingled, exchanging condolences about your dearly departed. You let your heart ache as you downed the glass, stories of him being told by this person and that.

But you still hadn’t cried.

Donna burst out of the kitchen, her hair a bit disheveled and eyes red from crying. “Have you seen Carmy?”

You couldn’t help but let out a sigh. It must have been the seventh time she had asked. “No, Donna, I have not seen Carmy.”

“What a fuckin’ help you are.” She snapped, pulling a box of cigarettes from her apron. With her other hand, she snatched your empty wine glass and turned on her heel. “I do all this work, and I can’t even go outside to smoke.”

You followed close behind, huffing as you stood. “I thought Sugar was with you.”

“Sugar is with her.” The middle child interrupted. She gave you a weak, empathetic smile when you entered the kitchen behind Donna. A wine glass of her own in hand as she sat on the kitchen counter, she sipped on red wine. “But Sugar can’t cook.”

“Not like Carmy, you can’t. Get your ass off my fuckin’ counter, shoo!” Donna swatted at her daughter’s thigh until she hopped off the counter, snatching her half full wine glass as well. She downed the wine in a couple seconds, and you and Sugar shot each other a look. It was passing, but you both understood the meaning — Donna needed a break.

“She doesn’t have to cook, Donna. Just watch everything. Keep an eye on it, y’know?” You tried to intervene but she was having none of it.

“I don’t need an eye. I need hands! I need someone who can cook!” Donna threw the glasses into the sink, and you flinched when they shattered against the metal. “Fuck!”

“I’ll do it, Donna.” From the shakiness in her hands, you know she’s so close to losing it. To taking everything in the kitchen and throwing it on the ground, at the wall, at whoever she deemed worthy of having something thrown at them. “I know I’m not Carmy, but I’m better than Sug.”

“Hey!” Sugar sounded defensive, but you and Donna barely paid her any mind.

“You can’t fuckin’ cook, Sugar, get over it.” Her mother snapped. “I’d normally have Mikey do it, but he—”

“Ma.” You gently placed your hands on Donna’s shoulders, and a bit of the tension fell from them. You hadn’t called her that in a long time — it no longer felt right — but doing so made her recall happier times. You looked her in the eye, reassured her. “You go outside and smoke. I’ll take over for a few minutes, okay?”

Her eye twitched ever so slightly, and she was still shaking, but you could tell it grounded her a bit. “If everything else goes to shit, make sure the fish is good, alright?”

“Save the fish. Got it.”

Donna nodded, pulling a cigarette out of the box. Then she finally walked toward the exit of  the kitchen, twirling it in her hand. Just before she left, she glanced at you again, her voice shaky. “You.. you would’ve been good for him. If he’d let you.”

When Donna left, there were tears in your eyes. Sugar watched to see if you’d need comfort, especially after one of those tears fell from your eye. But you were quick to wipe it away, taking a deep, shuddering breath. You turned to Sugar, gesturing toward the sink filled with broken glass. “Could you…?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She was quick to do so, grabbing a paper bag to put shards in. You both worked in a comfortable silence. The only sound was the clinking of glass against each other. Sugar battled over whether she wanted to speak, but she figured if she needed kind words, then you definitely did. “Ma’s right, y’know. Michael lo—”

“Sug. Please.”

“Okay.”

There was a pause as you stirred a pot of stew, then you sighed. “I know he did. As much as he could anyway.”

—

Michael met you on a sober streak. He’d been clean for three weeks, the longest stint thus far. When Richie found out about his addiction, he dragged Michael to Narcotics Anonymous. You’re gonna die cooking at the restaurant or doing something cool, not fuckin’ OD, Richie had sneered in the car.

He sat in a chair, his arms crossed over his chest, grumbling like a child. Despite being sober for three weeks, he maintained that he didn’t need to come to these meetings. To Michael, this was just proof that he could quit whenever he wanted to. Regardless, Richie drove him to every meeting and planned to do so until he seemed ready to go on his own.

The host of the meeting, Brayden, greeted Michael with a kind smile, but he responded with a grunt. For three weeks, Michael sat silently in that circle and said absolutely nothing. He wondered what it took to get the man to speak, but of course, he’d never pressure anyone to share before they were ready.

Then you walked in. You seemed a bit more put together than others in the room, but still a bit shy. An oversized sweater wrapped around your frame, and you pulled it even closer, eyes glancing around the room. You nodded a greeting to Brayden before sitting in the circle across from Michael. When you noticed him glancing your way, you offered a friendly smile, and he returned it.

He knew then that he’d return to his weekly NA meetings.

The session started shortly after, but Michael was only half listening. He was mostly glancing back and forth from whoever was speaking to you. He liked the way you gave your full attention to every person who spoke, even when they said things you didn’t agree with — he could tell when you didn’t, a little crease would form for the briefest moment between your brows. But it always disappeared, and your attentive expression returned. 

“Alright, would anyone else like to speak? Someone new maybe?” Brayden asked, quickly glancing at Michael.

He’d never admit it, but his heart was pounding at the idea of airing out his dirty laundry to a group of strangers. He took a deep, nervous breath, but then another voice spoke up.

“I’ll go.” You said, watching the relief wash over Michael’s face. You cleared your throat, pulling your sweater closer as you introduced yourself. “I was in a car accident two years ago. It, uh, it killed my son… That plus divorce plus prescribed oxy apparently equals addiction.”

The slightly playful lilt in your tone made Michael chuckle quietly, though you both knew nothing was funny. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat. Still, you continued, “I’ve been sober for two months, but my son’s birthday is coming up in a few months, so I, uh, needed a meeting. But yeah, that’s my story.”

After the meeting, you stood by the snack table, nursing a cup of coffee. Michael approached cautiously as he poured his own coffee. “Can I ask what his name was?”

You looked up from your paper cup into warm brown eyes. “Sorry?”

“Your son?”

“Oh.” You paused, and your heart sank at the reminder that your baby was gone. “His name was Benson.”

He snorted into his coffee cup, trying to hide his quiet laugh by clearing his throat. You noticed the light in his eyes, and it inexplicably made a smile pull at your lips too. “Sorry.” He said. “Benson’s a great name.”

“It’s a dorky name. Dorky first name, anyways. It’s what his father wanted.” You confirmed with a chuckle. “But it was my son’s name. So I liked it.”

“Course.” He smiled at you kindly. He was charming, and you liked it. “I’m Michael, by the way.”

You gave him your name and shook his hand. You went against your better judgment and invited him to your place. You both spent all night wrapped in your sheets, in each other’s embrace. He left for work the next morning but not before getting your phone number. 

You texted Michael and arranged to meet up again that night. Then, you called your sponsor. 

That was the beginning of the end.

—

“Cousin, your girlfriend’s here!”

“Not his girlfriend, Richie.”

“Not yet.”

“Send her back!” Michael’s voice floated in from the back of the kitchen.

You sidestepped Richie and walked through the kitchen, saying your hellos to everyone. “Where’s he at?” You asked.

“The office.” Tina answered, lightly nudging you in his direction. “He’s not having the best day.”

You nodded your understanding and proceeded to the small office where Michael was leaning back in his chair, hand over his face as he spoke into his cell phone. “No, I just don’t understand why we keep talking about the same shit.”

You leaned against the doorframe, giving him a small smile. He gave you the tiniest acknowledgment, a small wave, before spinning around in the chair to face the wall. You scoffed jokingly, closing the door behind you, “Well, fuck me, I guess.”

“Carmy, you’re a big shot in some fancy, five-star, European restaurant, what the fuck do you wanna be here for?” He asked exasperatedly. There’s a short pause, mumbling from the other side of the phone before Mikey throws a hand in the air. “Five star, three star, who gives a shit? Look, Carmen, you’re doing big things, good things. Stay in Europe. I gotta go.”

When Michael hung up, a long, tired sigh racked his body. “This would be a perfect time for—”

“One month.” You interrupted. You knew all too well where his mind was headed. He was spiraling into that dark, secluded state of mind you’d found him in just a few weeks after you met. He’d relapsed after a particularly hard day at the restaurant, something about finances and paying back a loan that he refused to tell you more about. But you’d helped him then. Picked him up, dusted him off, and called his sponsor — Started him back on the path of sobriety again. If you could help it, he’d never reach that lonely place again. 

“One month.” He repeated to himself. Then, he spun around. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You walked over to him, standing between his spread legs. He immediately rested his forehead on your belly, groaning when you carded a hand through his hair. Your other hand rubbed circles into his back, the tense muscles a sharp contrast to his soft black locks. “I take it that was your brother?”

He grunted affirmatively. “Keeps askin’ to work here.”

“At The Beef?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, isn’t he a professional chef? Why don’t you let him?”

“C’mon, sweetheart, you’re supposed to be on my side.” He grumbled, pulling you down to sit on his thigh. 

“I am on your side.” You chuckled. You took your thumb and rubbed gently at the spot between his eyes until the frustrated crease disappeared. “‘M just saying, he’s a trained chef, this is a restaurant. I don’t get what’s not adding up for you, baby.”

Michael sighed, looking up at you. He brushed a stray hair from your face and smiled up at you. You smiled back encouragingly, patiently waiting until he found the right words. “Carm doesn’t know.” He admitted.

“Carm doesn’t know…?”

“About the painkillers. And I don’t know if I’m ready to tell him.” His brow furrowed once more, making you frown. “I mean, he’s got three Michelin stars. The kid’s a fuckin’ genius in the kitchen — he doesn’t need to be around all this shit, all my shit.”

You let his words sink in, deep in thought as you stroked his hair. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you thought about all the stories Mikey and Richie told you about the youngest Berzatto. How he could be quiet and unassuming, but, with a little encouragement, always came out of his shell around family and friends. Maybe, for Carmen, it wasn’t about the restaurant.

“Maybe he just wants to see you.” You said pensively. “I mean it’s been how long since he’s been home?”

A scoff passed Michael’s lips. “A long fuckin’ time.”

“Maybe the restaurant is a pretense. I mean, he would come work at The Beef and stuff, but maybe he just wants to see you again. Hang out with his big brother like he used to.”

His thumb stroked your thigh as he looked at you, silently admired the way you seem to come in and make all his problems melt away with a single thought, a word, a smile. “What about the whole bein’ an addict part?” He asked.

“You don’t have to tell him right away.” You suggested. “Baby steps.”

“You are too fuckin’ good to me, y’know that?” He grinned back at you. When you rolled your eyes playfully, he pinched your side, making you jolt and laugh. 

You pulled his arm around your waist, settling your hands at the nape of his neck. “So, you’re letting your brother work at the restaurant?”

“How ‘bout we just start with a visit, hm? I’ll tell him to come home for a week or somethin’, stay at mine.” He compromised. “Baby steps.”

“Oh, I’m so proud of you.” You cooed playfully, pinching his stubbly cheeks. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He swatted your hands away, leaning forward to press wet kisses to the column of your neck. He smirked as you suddenly ceased your pinching, bracing your hands on his shoulders. “You should let me return the favor, sweetheart.”

“Not in your office!” You gasped when he bit down on the juncture between your neck and shoulder before soothing it with his tongue. 

“Why not?” He chuckled, lifting you onto his desk. He probably should have been a little more worried about his records and papers getting folded under the swell of your ass, but all he could focus on was the small strip of fabric covering the part of you he wanted to devour. “Wouldn’t you prefer I be addicted to my girl than painkillers?”

“That’s not, ah,” You jolted above him, the sensation of his thumb pressing into your sensitive clit knocking you back to your elbows, “That’s not funny, Mikey.”

“What’s Brayden say?” He muttered, pulling your panties to the side. His fingers expertly tugs your lips apart, and he pressed a soft teasing kiss to your hood-covered button. “Humor’s my coping mechanic.”

“M-mechanism.” The correction came out in a soft moan. Just then, his words hit you — his girl. He’d never said that before. All the times you’d kissed, made out, had sex, he’d never called you his girl. You liked the way it sounded, the way it rolled off his tongue effortlessly. “Your girl?”

“Yeah.” He pulled away, his hands finding your calves as he looked at you. His brown irises held the tiniest bit of vulnerability in them, an emotion reserved for you and you only. “I mean, if you wanna be. Do you?”

You smiled and encircled his wrists, tenderly stroking his skin with your thumbs. It was a simple touch, but it made the hairs on his arm stand at attention. Strange how you always managed to do that. “Of course I do.”

“Good.” He exhaled. His large hands slid up your inner thighs, pausing at your core. With a gentle touch, he tugged your folds apart, watching the way your entrance fluttered. His mouth dropped open, and he let his saliva drip down onto your pussy, rubbing it into your clit with the pad of his thumb. “Now, get comfy, sweetheart, ‘cause I missed this pretty little pussy.”

—

“Where is it? Where is it? Where the fuck is it?”

You’d torn your apartment apart. Old storage boxes that gathered dust were now open and emptied. Your clothes were thrown all over the place. You managed to push the couch and check the floor, but you found nothing but crumbs and linty hair ties. 

Tears started to blur your vision, and your chest felt heavy, like the entire world sat directly on your lungs. Your breath was just as shaky as your hands that tugged at the roots of your hair. You ran to your mess of a kitchen and scrambled for your phone, typing the familiar number from memory.

Your ex-husband answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Where’s Eli?” You heard him call your name, but his confusion was the last thing on your mind. “Benson’s stuffed cow, Eli. Where is it? I can’t find it.”

He sighed, his voice lower and more scratchy than you remembered. He must’ve been crying, too, you thought. “How am I supposed to know?”

“You helped me move out. Did you take it? I swear to god—”

“I didn’t take the damn cow.” He snapped. “Do you think I’m that selfish that I would keep it from you?”

“I didn’t call to rehash our marriage, alright? I need Eli, okay? I need him.”

The line went silent. You both knew you weren’t talking about the stuffed animal anymore. He let out a deep breath. “Have you tried therapy?”

“I don��t need to pay a bunch of money to have someone tell me I need to get over the death of our child.” You hissed, scrunching your nose at the suggestion. 

“Have you been to his grave?”

You wiped your tears away, thinking about the cold, unfeeling stone that solidified your son’s death. You hadn’t seen it since the funeral. You took a shaky breath, “Do you have Eli or not?”

“I don’t.”

He tried to speak once more, but you already hung up. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe without this one piece of your son. Tears dropped onto your phone screen as you scrolled and scrolled through your contacts, finding the name you were looking for. The line rang three times before a deep voice greeted you. “What’s up?”

“I need to see you. Where can we meet?”

Hours later, Michael was walking toward his apartment building with Carmy. He’d been purposefully avoiding bringing up The Beef, and luckily Carmy didn’t push. Instead, his little brother decided to bring up the little stuffed animal that Michael had pushed into his jacket pocket. “So,” Carmy started quietly, “You startin’ a collection with that thing or…?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Michael laughed. He pulled the stuffed cow out of his pocket. “It’s my girl’s. Remember I told you about her son?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes she likes to talk to me about him. She brought this over to my place a few weeks ago to show me. Apparently, the kid was obsessed with cows.”

“No shit. Look at you, bein’ vulnerable.” Carmy chuckled in amazement, admiring his brother’s new relationship.

“Yeah, whatever. The, uh, anniversary of his death is coming up, and she’ll probably be wanting this, so you can meet her while you’re here if she’s feeling up to it. Sound good?”

“‘F course.”

When Michael unlocked the front door, he was met with chaos. The front door banged into the coat closet door, somehow left open with coats strewn across the floor. The rug in his living room was flipped over, and the couch was now far from the wall. Michael was only brought back to reality by the stunned woah that passed through Carmy’s lips.

Somehow, Michael knew. He wasn’t a mind reader, but he remembered that feeling. A feeling that bubbled in the pit of his stomach, traveling throughout his body until it pounded at his head. It was dread, hopelessness, not knowing how he’d find the strength to take another breath. He knew, and he needed to help you.

“Di-Did someone break into your house or something?” Carmy asked, closing the door behind him.

“Just stay here for a second, little brother, okay?” Michael’s voice was dismissive, preoccupied, as he followed the trail of despair into the kitchen.

And there you sat. Red eyes, swollen from crying. Head lulling from side to side and your heart almost numb enough to keep the darkness from creeping in and making a home, uninvited,  in the hole of your chest. Your arms circled around your knees that you’d drawn up to your chest, hugging them close. Maybe, if you squeezed hard enough, you could stop grieving and move on.

Michael approached slowly, like you were a wounded animal. “Baby?”

“I couldn’t stop myself.”

“We don’t have to—”

“Please don’t hate me.”

He crouched down in front of you, steadied your head with a firm hand on your cheek. His warm, calloused skin helped to ground the thoughts in your fuzzy head. He looked you in the eyes, bold and sincere, just as you had when he relapsed. “I could never hate you. Never, you hear me?”

You paused for a moment before trying to explain. “I couldn’t find Eli, and I just- I started going fucking crazy—”

“Eli?” He asked, pulling the stuffed cow from his pocket. “Sweetheart, I have Eli. You left him the time you came over a couple weeks ago, and I was gonna take him back to yours.”

Michael thought the knowledge would console you, warm your heart enough to give him just the tiniest hint of a smile. But you just threw your head back frustratedly, the impact against the wall causing a dull pain to crash through the back of your skull. “Fuck.”

“Baby, why—”

“I’m so stupid.”

“You’re no—”

Tears gathered once more. “If I had just called you… I’m an idiot.”

“Hey,” He regained your attention, this time with both hands holding your face steady. “You’re not stupid. You’re not an idiot. You just made a mistake, ‘s all.”

“I fucking relapsed, Michael.”

“I’ve relapsed, and look at me, huh? Picture of a healthy, law-abiding citizen.”

“Michael.”

“You’ll start over. Just like I did. Here, give me your phone.” You dug around in your pocket and pulled out your phone, handing it to him. He turned the screen toward you so you could watch as he scrolled through your contacts until he found your dealer’s name. Then, with zero hesitation, he blocked the number. “See? Good as new, yeah?”

If tears could show your appreciation, you’d have cried an ocean’s worth. But the most you could do was throw your heavy arms around his shoulders and press a chaste kiss to the base of his neck. To you, nothing you could ever do or say would be enough, but to Mikey? If he could take your burdens and make them his own, carry the weight of your world on his back, he’d do it without a second thought. Your appreciation wasn’t needed — only your love. And he knew he had that.

“Uh, Mikey?” Carmen’s voice called from the living room. “What the fuck is this?”

Michael reluctantly untangled himself from you for a moment, signaling for you to stay quiet. But you knew what was in there — you’d left the needle on his coffee table. Immediately, you could hear Mikey try to calm his brother down. “Carmen, it’s not what you think.”

“You sure? ‘Cause that looks like a fuckin’ needle. Jesus Christ, are you—”

“I’m not high, Carm, just listen for a second.”

“Listen to what?” His voice got louder, more angry. “Michael, are you fuckin’ serious? You know this family has… issues and this is what you do? Fucking shit!”

“Hey, relax, alright? You’re making a big deal out of nothin’.”

“Nothing? If you’re getting high, it is a big deal. A huge fuckin’ deal.” Carm pushed his brother on the chest, hoping it’ll knock some sense into him. And Michael, he just curled his fists, restraining himself. The last thing he wanted was to lose control on his own brother. Carmen took a step toward, pointing one accusatory finger.

But before he could get a word out, a small voice, your voice, stopped him. “It’s not his.”

Icy blue eyes met yours as he took in your disheveled frame. You stood in the entrance of the living room, leaning against the threshold to hold yourself up. The high was starting to wear off a little, but you still felt the lingering effects. You tried to give him a smile, but a weary sigh passed through your lips. “Hi Carmen. I’m sorry, this isn’t how I wanted to meet you.”

Carmen looked back and forth from you to Michael. His eyes narrowed as his breath started to even out, confusion replacing anger. “You’re the girlfriend, yeah?” He finally asked, confirming your name.

You nodded, gauging his reaction as he let it all sink in. “I had been sober for a while, so I asked your brother not to say anything. But today was- today was hard.”

“Right,” The younger brother nodded, finally taking a step back and pushing his hands deep into his pockets. “Uh, sorry for your loss, by the way.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“So, Michael isn’t… he’s not using…?” He knew the words, knew the question he wanted to ask. But he was so afraid, so terrified of what the answer might be.

You knew the answer. It would have been less than savory, admitting that Michael was also an addict and had relapsed more than once since you met. The truth was potentially earth-shattering for Carmen and Michael alike. You glanced over at Michael, at how he hid the fear from his eyes. Still, you see it. In the way his hand flexed at his side, and how he refused to look in your direction. It’s almost like he knew what was coming if you told the truth, that he might have lost his brother for good. 

That fear broke your heart. So, you lied. Took your blame and a little on the side. “No. No, just me.”

You excused yourself back to the kitchen to hide your tears. You hugged Eli close, burying the stuffed animal under your nose.

It smelled like Michael.

—

That fucking fork. 

Fuck forks. Fuck Christmas dinner. Fuck all seven fishes. Fuck Pete’s eighth fish. And, above all, fuck Michael.

Chaos ensued after Michael gave in to his self-destructive tendencies. He all but flipped the table over in an effort to fight. Fak was making sure Sugar and Pete got out unscathed. Carmy practically begged his mother to stay out of it, and she only relented when her eldest son started making taunting braying noises — she retreated to the kitchen with a cigarette and the bottle of merlot in hand.

You gave up trying to help Michael calm down when he wretched himself from your grip, nearly knocking you into a wall in the process. Richie rushed over to help steady you, and Carmy, over all the chaos, called your name, “Yo, are you alright?”

“Peachy.” You called back sarcastically, rubbing your sore arm.

Carmen then turned his attention to his brother. “Michael, shut the fuck up for two seconds, for fuck’s sake! If you don’t calm down, you’re gonna hurt someone!”

“Kinda the point, little brother.” Michael’s eye twitched as he glared at Lee. He tried once more to push past Jimmy to no avail.

“Yeah? Was hurting your girl part of the point, smartass?”

Michael turned to you, the anger in his eyes slowly overtaken with concern. He hadn’t meant to push you; he didn’t even know you were one of the people trying to hold him back. But that didn’t take back his actions. Your gaze went cold as you pulled away from Richie, pushing Michael hard on the chest. “I’m not his fucking girl anymore.”

Then, you hightailed it out of the house. Everyone went silent as you peeled out of the driveway, rubber squealing against pavement.

Richie watched Michael carefully, noticing how his brow furrowed and his chest heaved. He took a step toward him and dropped a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Mikey,” Richie warned, “Don’t do anything stupid.” Michael pulled away and stomped his way up the stairs, leaving Richie to call after his best friend from the dining room. 

Over Richie’s voice, Carmen could hear his mother sobbing in the kitchen followed by the soft glug of wine as she turned the bottle up. And immediately, he followed after his older brother. Richie tried to stop him, “Cousin, he just needs a minute.”

“Yeah, just a minute?” Carmen replied dismissively. “Fuck off, cousin, he’s not a baby.”

He pushed open every door looking for Mikey. Finally, he came upon one door that wouldn’t budge, locked from the inside. Carmy pounded on the bathroom door. “Yo, what the fuck was that?”

“Go away, Carmen.” Mikey paced the bathroom floor, hands pulling at the roots of his hair. He wished he had an answer for his brother, but he came up short. Maybe it was pride, or ego, or his innate tendency to self-destruct, he couldn’t choose. So he just paced the floor, avoiding the sight of his own reflection.

“Mikey, you need to go downstairs and fix this shit, alright?” Carmy continued. “Ma’s drinking herself stupid, Sug’s a mess, your girl just fuckin’ left, c’mon man.”

“Hey, you think I don’t know that?” The older brother hissed.

He braced himself on the sink, finally looking up into the mirror. He looked disheveled, angry. His hair was messy from pulling at it, and the whites of his eyes had a red tint to them. One prominent vein pulsed in his forehead, and suddenly, the need set in. 

His head is fuzzy, brain pounding at his skull. So many thoughts, too many, clouding his head. He lifted his hand to push away a few strands of his hair, limp with sweat, and he realized that his hand was shaking. Even as he closed his fingers into a fist, it trembled like an earthquake. He blinked hard, eyes scrambling as he tried to think of a quick solution, a way to gather himself before he faced his little brother again.

Carmy was quiet as he started to think maybe he should have listened to Richie. “Mikey?”

No answer.

“Mikey, look, I’m sorry—”

The door flung open, and Carmy studied him. His hair was pushed back. His eyes were red, but Carmy assumed Mikey must’ve been crying. Everything seemed right, but there was something he couldn’t place. Something about his big brother that was very wrong. “Nothing to be sorry for, Carm.” Michael told him, one big hand on his shoulder. “I gotta go.”

When Michael started booking it downstairs, Carmy was quick on his trail. “Wait, go? Go where?”

Michael responded with a call of your name, “Gotta make sure she’s good.”

Carmy ran a hand through his golden brown locks as he followed his older brother out the front door. Their sister noticed the argument and followed them out the door, “Whoa, hey, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, Sug, go back inside.” Michael stopped for the briefest moment to turn around and place a kiss on his sister’s forehead.

“He’s leavin’.” Carmy sighed frustratedly.

“He’s leaving?” Sugar turned to Michael. “You’re leaving?”

“Fuckin’ snitch.” Michael mumbled under his breath. He squeezed Sug’s arm with a tight smile, “I’m just goin’ to find my girl, okay? I’ll be back, I promise.”

“How are you even going to find her?” Carm scoffed.

“You know her password, right?” Sug asked her eldest brother. “I wouldn’t normally say this, but you could track her phone. Here, give me yours.”

“What about Ma?” Carmy threw his arms up in defeat. Michael was the one who started all that mess, and now that it was time to pick up the pieces, where did he go? Chasing you. Like always, Carm thought to himself. “You’re the only one who can get through to her when she’s all…” He waved his hands around as if the devastating words he was looking for would magically appear.

“Well, you’re home, ain’t you? She missed you — just sit with her till I get back, alright? I gotta go.”

And just as quickly Mikey was off too, running toward the closest train station.

If there were ever a time for oxy, that would’ve been it. But instead, you drove and drove and drove until the tank was damn near empty. You pulled into a parking lot and called your sponsor. She talked you down, persuading you to delete your dealer’s contact information in your phone. When the long conversation was over, you were still angry, furious even, but you’d at least lost interest in relapsing.

Knock knock knock.

You jumped in the driver’s seat when calloused knuckles tapped on the car window. Michael wasted no time in starting an argument. “What the hell were you thinkin’, leavin’ like that?” He yelled, voice only slightly muffled by the barrier.

“How did you even find me?”

“Sugar showed me how to track your phone.”

“You tracked my phone?”

“Open the fuckin’ door.”

You pushed the door open and got out of the car, deciding your best course of action would be to walk away from him. “Leave me alone, Michael.”

“Where are you goin’?” He was quick to follow you as you walked down the street, just a few strides behind.

“Leave me alone.”

“What’s the plan here, huh?” He asked. “You just gonna keep walkin’ till your feet fall off?”

“No, just till I’m away from you, Michael.” You retorted coldly.

“Hey, stop calling me that.”

“That’s your name!”

“Not to you! To you it’s Mikey, or baby, or my love, not fuckin’ Michael!”

“Fuck you, Michael!” You caught him off guard when you spun around, poking your index finger into his chest. “You couldn’t just let it be. You had to ruin Christmas for the whole fucking family!”

“Why do you care so much, huh?”

“Why do I— Jesus, do you even hear yourself? You do nothing but ruin shit for yourself for no goddamn reason! No one forced you to throw that fork!”

Michael scoffed and ran his hand over his lips, his warm breath evaporating into the cold air as he raised his voice again. “So we’re gonna pretend that’s why you’re upset? Because of the fork?”

“I’m upset because you ruined any chance at having a good Christmas with our family!”

“They’re not our fuckin’ family.” He laughed, though no traces of humor could be found in his eyes. “They’re mine! Okay? I’m the fuckin’ Berzatto, not you.”

Your eyes widened at his words. You parted your lips to retort, but he just kept going, slicing your heart in two with expert precision.

“You wanna act like the- the chaos bothers you, but you thrive on that shit — You’re just in a shitty mood because you miss your own family, and now that you can’t replace them with mine, you want some fuckin’ oxy to ease the pain, ain’t that right?”

Smack!

You’d never hit Michael before, never wanted to. Like any couple, you had your share of fights and passive aggressive comments. One thing you two never did, though, was weaponize your addictions against each other. It was an unsaid invisible line that had never been crossed until now. Michael Berzatto, the man you loved more than life itself, had never been so mean. At least not to you. 

It happened faster than you expected, your small hand reaching up and slapping across his stubbly cheek. He just stood there, eyes dark and slightly angry, but you weren’t afraid. You were furious, hot tears filling your eyes. “Fuck you.”

You slapped him again. And again. Then, you beat on his chest with your fists. Michael started trying to swat your hands away, but when that proved ineffective, he caught your wrists in his hands, yanking you into a nearby alley, away from the night’s few prying eyes. 

“Stop, stop.” He grunted when you landed another smack to his head, finally pinning you up against the nearby brick wall by your wrists. “Stop.”

“I hate you.” You spat.

“No, you don’t.”

You continued to fight against his grip, but he was strong and steady, keeping you in place as you continued to tell him how much you despise him. He knew he was wrong, but he refused to say it. After all the shit that went down that night with his family, with you, he felt like he was going crazy. It was like he was abandoned in the middle of the ocean in a boat with a tiny hole. And even though the hole was small, it was so methodically cut that water was pouring in like a faucet, and the boat was sinking. So he grabbed onto the only lifeline he was certain would be there: you.

You, with the most beautiful eyes that were now filled with angry tears. You, the hero of all his dreams and the victim in all his nightmares. You, whose heart was so broken, so crumbled when he met you, yet still managed to love him with all your being.

He loved you. 

It all hit him at once, and he gently pressed his lips to yours. You turned your head away from him, rasping out your hatred once more. “I hate you.”

“You don’t.” His voice was deep and rough, but the tone was soft. Was he even talking to you?

“Yes, I fucking do.”

His lips trailed across your jawline, wet kisses placed on his path. “No, you don’t.”

You hated how easily he was able to do this to you, like pushing a button. You were supposed to be angry with him. You were angry with him. But your body didn’t care about the argument. Your body slowly gave up the fight against his grip, wanting the heat that his touch produced, your emotions be damned. A few tears fell from your eyes just as a soft moan slipped past your lips, an instinctive response to the way Michael’s body pressed yours against the wall, his growing length pressed into your hip. 

He slipped a leg between yours, pushing his denim-covered thigh into your pussy. You could feel a wave of arousal soaking your panties. “You’re mean, Michael.”

“I know, baby. I know.” He admitted quietly.

He used his grip on your wrists to gently pull your hands to your breasts. He pressed your hands in before covering them with his own, helping you knead the sensitive flesh. Even beneath your layers, you could feel his touch, and it made you whimper. His deft thumb ran over your hardening nipples, and a soft groan tumbled from his lips. “Just let me make you feel good.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you noted his acknowledgement. And his lack of apology.

He kept up his movements, moving your hands to squeeze your breasts, pressing his thigh into your weeping pussy. Somewhere along the way, your hips began to rock back and forth on him. His brown eyes never left yours, even as you cried. It was strange, how your heart hurt so badly that tears fell freely down your face, but your body was pushed closer and closer to the edge.

Still, you gasped for breath as the pleasure began to creep out of your core. “Mi- Mikey,” You moaned. “Please!”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby. Let it all out.”

And it all came out at once, sobs pushing past your lips as euphoria crashed over your body in waves. You clenched around nothing, head tipping back to hit the brick wall. But you never felt the cold brick — one of Michael’s hands left your breast to cup the back of your head, the protective gesture juxtaposing the unending push of his thigh into your pussy to help ride out your orgasm.

Even as your orgasm faded away, your hips continued to buck against him. Your hands found a new home on his broad chest, trailing down, down, down until you felt the leather of his brown  belt. You wasted no time in unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans, sliding the zipper down so you could easily reach into his briefs and pull his cock out. He moaned at your firm grasp, hips bucking into your touch.

Everything moved much quicker now, more desperate than before. You stroked his cock, spreading his precum along the shaft. His forehead pressed against yours as he stared at the way your smaller hand worked him over, twisting over the head on every downward stroke. “Fuck, that’s good.” He groaned.

“Help me.” You whined needily as you thrust your hips against his thigh once more, hoping he’d get the message.

He nodded quickly, kneeling down in front of you. His big hands slide up your thighs under your jean skirt, flipping the rough fabric up over your belly. Your legs were covered by sheer black stockings, a layer of protection from the cold winter chill. But neither of you could bear to wait, to take them off properly. He tore a large hole in the crotch and pushed your panties to the side, muttering curses at how your arousal shone in the moonlight. 

“Perfect fuckin’ cunt, sweetheart.” He pushed his index finger through your swollen lips, collecting your juices before slipping into your twitching hole. “Can you take two for me?”

He didn’t bother to wait for an answer. He pushed his middle finger in on the second thrust, curving them to press on that spongy spot on your upper wall that you can never reach yourself. You cried out his name, and your back arched off the wall. His fingers were bigger than yours, thicker too, but they still didn’t fill you the way that you needed.

You whimpered when he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking firm and hard. “Want your cock, Mikey. Want- oh shit!”

Your orgasm was hard and unexpected, pulling you under before you could even tell him to fuck you. Your legs buckled, and you buried your hands in his thick, black hair to ground yourself. A muffled moan came from between your legs when you tugged on the roots, trying to pull him off your sensitive clit.

He finally relented, pulling away from you and pushing his fingers, soaked in you, into his mouth. He licked them clean without hesitation, only stopping when you tugged on his wrist. You pulled him in by his shirt, kissing him. It was deep and passionate, proving what you both knew to be true.

You didn’t hate him. Maybe you wanted to, but you didn’t. Or maybe couldn’t is the better word.

He cupped your face with both his large hands, wiping away any remnants of tears from your earlier sobs. His tongue licked into your mouth as you moaned, tasting the sweet tang of your juices in his saliva. You reached down to stroke his cock again, and he crowded you closer to the wall. “Want you inside.” You whispered.

“I know, baby.”

His open jeans impeded his efforts to get closer to you, buttons, zipper, and belt now in the way. His hands hurried to push the waistband of his open jeans down and out, ignoring how the frosty air raised goosebumps on his skin. His belt buckle jingled loudly, and something clattered to the pavement, but you could only focus on getting him inside you. His hands returned to your face, making you keep your gaze on his.

You pushed his cock through your pussy lips, let your arousal messily coat his shaft until it was all over your inner thighs. Both your panting was the only thing you could hear over the wet sounds of his length sliding between your swollen lips. You whined when the head of his dick bumped against your clit. 

“Guide me in, sweetheart.” He told you, eyes locked on yours. “Take what you want.”

His head, already weeping with precum, nudged at your entrance, and you canted your hips up until the first few inches sunk inside. You lifted your leg around his hip in an attempt to take more of him, but it wasn’t enough on your own. Finally, he pressed forward, fully sheathing his cock within your soft walls. All the while, Michael held your face between his hands, gazing deep into your eyes as you whimpered. “There you are.” He groaned softly. “My girl.”

Your heart twisted at his words. How could he even say that? After saying the most vile things to you, what made him believe that you’d still be his? He nudged his hips forward a bit, and the tip just barely kissed your cervix, shooting a strange blend of pain and pleasure up your spine. You shook your head, hands grasping at his arms to steady yourself. “No, I… I- fuck, Mikey, I hate you so much.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” You moaned pathetically, still seething, angry enough to lie through your teeth just to give him a glimpse of the pain he caused you. Your nails dug into the thick fabric of his coat as he began to move, thrusting in and out of your cunt. The alley practically echoed with squelching sounds, and anyone walking by would know what was going on in those shadows. But neither of you could bring yourselves to care, lips falling apart as your sensitive walls clamped down on his length.

“You don’t fuckin’ say that to me.” He repeated with a grunt, leaving the tiniest pat on your cheek to regain the attention of your eyes rolling in pleasure. “You love me. Know you do. ‘S — shit, you’re so tight — ‘s the only thing I’m goddamn sure of, you hear me?”

One hand left your cheek to wrap around your thigh, pulling your leg higher around his hip. He thrusted again with renewed strength before looking down to where you both connected. The sight made the pit of his stomach flip deliciously: the slightly tanned base of his cock coated with a creamy white ring, little strands of your wetness dangling between you both when he dared to pull his hips away. “Fuckin’ takin’ my dick so well, baby.” He bit his lip, his voice sounding almost entranced. “Squeezin’ like you don’t want me to leave.”

“Good thing I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He continued, groaning when your hands slid up his back and into his hair. You pulled hard, and his thrusts faltered ever so slightly. His other hand left your cheek to brace himself against the wall, and his head fell into the crook of your neck, puffs of his hot breath warming your skin.

“You can’t keep doing this shit, M-Mikey. Can’t take your shit out on me.” You mewled as he adjusted his grip on you, pushing you closer to the wall. He left you no space to squirm when his hips started to move faster, his cock bullying its way in and out of your soft, puffy folds to nudge against the spongy spot on your upper wall. You cried out as that unique sensation shot pleasure to every nerve ending in your body, “Fuck, right there!”

“I got you, sweetheart, that’s it.” He responded in kind, adjusting his stance just right so he could drag the notch of his cockhead along your G-spot with every thrust. “Right there, yeah?”

“Oh my god, don’t stop. You’re gonna make me come!”

Michael lifted his head from your neck, meeting your eyes again. They were dark, glazed over, as he slowed his hips, still moving but not enough to finish you off. You felt his cock twitch inside you, and he knew it wouldn’t be long until he flooded your insides with his release, but he wanted to hear you say it: he wanted you to take back your words. “Say you don’t mean it.”

Your pussy fluttered around him in tandem with the whine spilling past your lips. “Mikey—”

“You don’t hate me. You love me. Say it.” He punctuated each sentence with a nudge against your G-spot, soft and tempting.

“N-no, you,” You heaved out a shuddering breath when his fingertips met your swollen clit, rubbing in tight, slow, torturous circles. “You’re being unfair. You- oh my god, yes - you can’t be n-nasty to me and—” 

“Just say it for me, baby.” He mumbled against your lips. He was practically begging you to take it back, but, of course, Michael Berzatto would never stoop to such lengths. So, he kept rubbing your clit and nudging your G-spot, punching the breath out of you with his thick cock. “Promise I’ll make you come. I’ll make it so fuckin’ good for you. Just need to hear it.”

And, of course, as you always did, you gave in. “I didn’t mean it.” You admitted breathlessly. “I love you.”

The tension visibly rolled off his shoulders as his head dropped to your breasts, pounding your cunt as you moaned beneath him. “Fuck, I love you, too, baby. Love you so fuckin’ much, it hurts.” He groaned into your skin.

“Mikey, ‘m close!” You gasped, the assault on your cunt and clit too much to bear. 

“Wanna feel you squeeze my cock, sweetheart.” He huffed, nails digging into your thighs, your stockings providing no refuge from the dull pain. “Show me how much you love me, c’mon.”

And then, white-hot, earth-shattering pleasure. You nearly blacked out as you clenched around him, stars burning into supernovas behind your eyelids. Your fluttering walls begged him to stay buried deep inside you. Back arched against the wall, your breasts pushed closer to his face, and he didn’t bother lifting up, resting his cheek on the soft fabric that covered your warm flesh as he fell over the edge with you. He groaned out your name as he shot thick spurts of his warm, sticky come inside you. He knew he’d never come so much in his life, only lifting his head when he heard louder squelching noises from where you both connected. 

As he thrusted, slow and deep, the white creamy juices that once only circled the base of his cock dribbled out of your pussy, around the sides of his length. A bit slid down your thigh, and his eyes rolled back, reveling in how his balls pulsed with pleasure at the sight.

His whole body relaxed as you both rode out the waves of pleasure. As you came down from your orgasm, your head lolled to the side. Your eyes fluttered closed as you cherished his weight on top of you. When your eyes opened, your vision was still a tad blurry, but you blinked through the fog. 

There was something bright on the ground. It was small, cylindrical, and… red? No — it was orange.

“What’s that?”

Michael hummed in response, his speech a bit slurred. “What’s what?”

He lifted his head from your breasts, following your gaze. And he froze, eyes stuck on the tiny bottle of painkillers he’d swiped from his mother’s medicine cabinet after you left. It must have fallen from his pocket when he opened his jeans.

“Are you high right now?”

Michael almost cringed at your whisper. It was different from all your yelling and slapping and arguing before. You were just mad then, and he knew that he could win you over like he had a million times before. This time, it was sad. Cold. Disappointed. 

He wasn’t sure if he could come back from that.

You wriggled beneath him until you could push him away, watching him stumble a bit. He was no longer standing tall, a bit slouched, and he swayed aimlessly from side to side. With the way he was fucking you, his blood was pumping, so they must just now be kicking in at full force. You knew — you were certain of the answer, but you wanted to hear it from him.

“Michael. Are you high?”

He had just enough of his wits left to take a step toward you with remorse in his voice, “Baby, I—”

You held up a hand, taking a step away from him. “I… I’ll call Richie. You can stay with him tonight. Or your mother, I don’t….” He called your name again as you fixed your panties and pulled your skirt back down over your ass. “I can’t do this with you right now, Michael.”

You waited for a moment. For what, you weren’t sure. An apology? An explanation? An unremorseful tirade? Part of you would have even been okay with a fight.

But he just leaned against the brick wall, unable to support himself on his own any longer. He clumsily tucked his softening length back into his pants and mumbled his short reply, a correction. “‘S Mikey.”

Snow began to fall in time with your tears. You drew your coat closer, and turned your back to him. “I’m going home.”

—

“Besides work, how’ve you been feeling?”

“I don’t know, just extremely tired all the time. But what else is new, y’know?”

“And how’s your love life?”

“This is your way of asking if I’m still sleeping with Michael.”

“Well, are you?”

You let out a scoff as you adjusted your position on the couch. Your therapist, Deborah, watched you with knowing eyes as you sat against the arm of the couch, offhandedly pulling a throw pillow into your lap. Your index finger wrapped endlessly around the fringe as you carefully mulled over your words. “Well, I haven’t relapsed in almost a year and a half.”

“That’s good.” She smiled. “Also not what I asked.”

“Okay, I’m still seeing him. Or, sleeping with him.”

“So, it’s not a relationship?”

“No.”

“Do you want it to be?”

You paused. You thought about the possibilities of what could have been — of what once had been. Dates, family dinners, shared apartment. Maybe you’d have gotten married and had kids. You’d have brought them up to be better, to break the cycle of whatever crazy shit made you both the way you were. But you also had to accept who he was. 

You replied, “No.” It was a lie, and Deborah knew that, but you played it off anyway.

She leaned forward, setting her notepad down and resting her elbows on her knees. “Is he still using?”

You nodded reluctantly, “He says he’s not. And he hasn't been high around me since the, uh, Christmas dinner thing last year. But I’ve seen it… pill bottles lying around. Prescriptions that aren’t his.”

You trail off, once again running through what might have been. Would Michael still be sober if you stayed with him? Were you the only thing keeping him from losing his mind? Were you to blame? Your finger slowed around the fringe, heart aching in your chest. 

Deborah gave you a cautionary look, like she could read your mind. “Stop it.”

You sighed, “But what if—”

“Michael is a grown man. His sobriety is his responsibility, and his alone. Just like yours.” She repeated the same words that she did almost every session, reminding you that you were not at fault. “I know it hurts, and it’s okay to let it, but you cannot blame yourself for his decisions.”

“I just- I miss him. How he used to be. But if this is all I can get…” You feel pathetic for even admitting it, but it was the truth.

Deborah watched you carefully, knowing that there wasn’t much she could do but advise you. You were going to see Michael whether it was a good idea or not. So she figured you should know what you’re really getting into. She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “Do you know what codependency is?”

Your brow furrowed, “No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“It’s when two people depend on each other in an unhealthy way. Usually, one person learns to placate the other, keep them calm, while the other person continues unhealthy behaviors because they know their partner will be there to help them when it gets too bad.”

“Okay, I see where you’re going here. It’s not healthy for me—”

“It’s not healthy for either of you.” She clarified. “I know you love Michael. And I’m sure he loves you as much as he can. But I think the best way for you to help him and yourself — if that’s what you want to do — is to stop enabling him.”

Stop enabling him. 

That’s all you could think about for the rest of the session. Those three words terrified you. How would he react if you put your foot down, if you said this needed to stop? What if he never spoke to you again? You loved him, the man that put your heart back together when it was in a million shattered pieces. You were lost, unsure of how to handle the situation.

Twenty minutes later, when you left your therapist’s office, your phone dinged with a text. It was Michael, as usual;

u busy tonight? wanna see u. 

And of course, you gave in. But not without thinking up a plan. You took a deep breath and typed out your reply:

meet me in the parking lot off fourth street at 7:30. wanna take u somewhere.

And you tried to hold out, you really did. But no sooner than you arrived, Michael’s lips were on your neck, sucking and licking, making it hard to think. Before you could even remember Deborah’s warning, you were in the backseat of his car, fogging up the windows as you bounced up and down on his cock. “‘M gonna come!” You warned him.

“Go on, sweetheart.” He encouraged with a groan, strong hands plastered flat against your sweaty back. “Tight cunt’s gonna pull the come right outta me.”

“Fuck, ‘m coming, Mikey!” You whimpered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. His hands gripped your hips, grinding you down on his cock to ride out your orgasm. Your clit bumped deliciously against his pubic bone, and your walls clamped down even tighter, throwing Michael headfirst into his own orgasm.

“Holy- oh my god, don’t fuckin’ stop, baby.” He moaned, throwing his head back. His hips pushed up of their own accord, his thick cock twitching inside you as he shot his come as deep as he could go. He brought one hand down on your ass as you thrusted weakly against him. “That’s it, sweetheart, get every drop.”

You rested your weight on him, your sweaty forehead against the leather headrest. You both took a silent moment to catch your breath, regroup after the explosive sex you always seem to have. Turns out, even with all your disagreements, the attraction never stopped. His hands rubbed up and down your back, almost lulling you to sleep until he pressed his fingertips a little harder, and a moan passed through your lips, eyes shooting open. Michael chuckled deeply and kneaded at that spot, “What was that?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.” You admitted, tension rolling away as he worked at the knot. “My back has been killing me lately.”

“Work?”

“Maybe, but ‘m not sure. Just hurts sometimes.”

“Lucky for you, you got your own personal masseuse.”

You snorted, “My hero.”

His hand smacked against your backside playfully, making you jolt on his lap with a giggle. He laughed along with you, “Watch that tone, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, laughter dying down as your eyes haphazardly scanned the ledge of the back window. And next to an empty cup, you saw a piece of paper. A prescription made for Natalie Berzatto.

And it hit you like a train. You couldn’t keep doing this. It wasn’t fair to either of you. You couldn’t keep taking the best parts of him and ignoring the fact that he needed help. And he couldn’t expect you to be around at his beck and call forever. The time for playing pretend was over — you needed to take a real step for the both of you. 

You swung your leg over his lap and sat next to him, scanning the car floor for your panties. “Get dressed. I still have somewhere to take you.”

“You kidnappin’ me, baby?”

“It’s only kidnapping if you don’t go willingly.”

Minutes later, you were walking into a nearby building. The entire walk, he asked and asked where you were taking him, but you never answered, merely saying it was a surprise. When he walked in, and his eyes fell on the folded chairs set in a circle, his smile dropped. Without another word, he turned around and walked out.

“Michael, wait!” You were close behind, following him back outside into the hot, sticky summer night. “Just listen to me, okay?”

“So- so you think ‘cause you’re sober now you can do whatever the fuck you want, is that it?” He asked, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

“I’m just trying to help—”

“I told you I wasn’t fuckin’ using anymore!” He yelled at you.

“And I know that you are!” You snapped back. “I’ve seen the empty pill bottles, Michael. All the prescriptions that are never in your own fucking name. I’m not stupid!”

“Stupid enough to keep comin’ back!” He spat at you. “W-what changed, huh? Is it the therapist? ‘Cause before her, you were happy to just fuck me and leave, pills be damned.”

“Oh, fuck that, Michael.” You laughed humorlessly, pushing at his chest. “You are not doing that anymore, being a dick to me because you can’t accept the truth.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And what would the truth be, sweetheart? Fuckin’ enlighten me.”

“That you’re gonna fucking destroy yourself if you don’t get help!” You shouted. Tears were filling your eyes at the thought, and you realized you weren’t even angry. You were desperate — desperate for him to do something, anything to help himself. “You- you push everyone that loves you away! Me, Richie, Carm—”

“You leave Carmen outta this.” He grumbled, looking away to avoid seeing the tears that fell down your face.

“Everyone that cares, everyone that tries to help, you just treat them like complete and utter shit because you don’t know how to ask for help! But you don’t have to fucking ask, Mikey — we’re offering! You just have to take it and do something before it’s too late!”

Michael was quiet, eerily so. There was a time when you would’ve been able to read him like a book, to say exactly what he needed to hear. But you couldn’t anymore. And that scared you.

You stepped forward with a sniffle, placing your hands on his biceps. You rubbed up and down in a way that you hoped was comforting. “Just one meeting. That’s all I’m asking.”

When he finally looked back at you, his chest tightened at the sight. Your beautiful eyes, filled with tears and a shimmer of hope that he might agree. And part of him wanted to. Some inkling deep down inside of him wanted to wipe your tears, take your hand, and march into that meeting determined to stay sober for the rest of his life. If only to settle down and make a life with you, one that he could be proud of.

But, as always, something stopped him. A small doubt creeping in, telling him he couldn’t do it. That he wasn’t capable of normality, that it wasn’t in his blood. He was drowning in sorrow and pity, and he was willing to accept that darkness — welcomed it, even. But what kind of man would he be if he dragged you under with him? He cupped your face in his hands, shaking his head. Your hands slid up his forearms and stopped on his wrists with a desperate iron grip. His voice was barely a whisper, “I’m not going to that meeting, baby.”

“Mikey, please.” You begged. “I love you.”

“You can’t fix me.” He hoped you heard what he meant to say: I love you, too.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and responded in kind. It was gentle, melancholic, but it was his way of saying goodbye. His way of expressing the love that he could never quite show you in the way you deserved. But the love was there nonetheless, tearing at his heart until his chest was hollow, nothing left but the memory of you.

When he pulled away, he had to pry your hands off him and take a step back. He gave you a sad smile, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Enjoy your meeting, sweetheart.”

He turned around and walked away. A few tears escaped his eyes when he heard a heart-wrenching sob pass through your lips. He wiped them away quickly and tried to walk faster. 

He was gone the next month.

—

“We’re closed!”

“Maybe you should lock the door then.”

You were still in your black dress and heels when you arrived at The Beef. No one knew where Carmy was, but you’d had an idea in the back of your head. You weren’t sure if you were right, but it only made sense that he’d be at his brother’s restaurant. 

Well, at the restaurant his brother left him. 

When Carmy emerged from the back, he stared, his eyes red from crying. “How’d you know I was here?”

You shrugged, “This is usually where I’d find him too.”

“Yo, please, please don’t come in here with that sentimental bullshit, alright?” He said, his tone sharp and mean. “If I wanted to hear about how great he was, I would’ve gone to the funeral.”

“You should’ve been there anyway. He was your brother.” 

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, Carmen, I didn’t come here to pick a fight.”

He turned on his heel, stomping back to the kitchen, and you followed close behind. “What did you come for then?”

“We’re going to a meeting.”

Carmy kneeled on the floor, next to a bucket of soapy water and a wet rag. He picked it up and wrung it out with a grunt. “What are you talking about?”

“Would you prefer NA or AA?”

He was scrubbing at the same dirty spot that he had for the last hour and a half, but your question made him pause. He looked up at you in disbelief, letting out a scoff. “Excuse me?”

“There are two NA groups I know of, but only one AA, and it starts soon so—”

“Y’know, you’re the addict here, not me.”

“Which is exactly how I know you need to go to a meeting.”

He was seething, an angry red steadily creeping from his neck to his face, one prominent vein bulging in his forehead as he shouted at you. “Goddamnit, I don’t need to go to a fuckin’ Al-Anon meeting! I’m just grieving, alright?!”

“Carm—”

“No, fuck that. The whole reason I didn’t go to the funeral is so I wouldn’t be around that bullshit! You know how Ma gets, and without Mikey here to fix it…”

“Michael was never gonna fix your mother.”

“Right, ‘cause he was too busy trying to fix you.” Carmen let out a harsh chuckle. “‘I’ll call you back, my girl needs me. Hold on, my girl is on the other line.’ Instead of fixing his restaurant, or-or helping his mother, he was making sure you were on the right track. Making sure you don’t relapse.”

Your heart stopped. Your blood burned. You wanted to let loose on him then and there. Yell and shout and cry about how Michael could barely fix himself, let alone you. You wanted to tell Carmen that it was you who desperately tried to fix Michael, make him sober, turn him into the man you knew he could be. Or at least, the one you believed he could be. The man Carm thought he was.

It baffled you how the entire family managed to hide the fact that Michael was an addict from Carmy. But it was a group effort, a last ditch effort to give him the big brother he’d always wanted, the one he remembered from his childhood. He was truly blind to Michael’s true nature, but you knew it was partially because Carmy had his own thing going on. You could see it behind his eyes — it was the same look Michael got before he did something self-destructive. 

Instead of yelling or screaming like you wanted to, tears filled your eyes. You knew from experience the Berzatto men could be mean, especially under pressure, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Unlike earlier in the day, you couldn’t hold them back. Tears fell freely down your cheeks. 

But unlike when his older brother spat unkind words your way, Carmy didn’t try to distract you from it or talk his way out of it. No, his face dropped when he realized the severity of his words. He watched as your knees buckled beneath you, moving across the floor to catch you once an ugly sob wretched its way past your lips. He held you as your body shook with the emotions that you’d been ignoring all day. One of his hands rested on the back of your head, stroking your hair with his thumb. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, okay?”

You don’t know how long you cried. You just sobbed and sobbed until there was nothing left, until you felt completely and utterly empty. Luckily, Carmy helped you sit on the floor. He sat next to you, both your backs against the dishwasher. It creaked loudly under your combined weight, and you sat up. “Sorry,” You croaked out. “Should I not lean on that?”

Carmy chuckled quietly and drew his knees up, resting his forearms atop them. “Piece of shit doesn’t work, don’t worry about it.”

The tiniest smile tugged at your lips as you leaned back and wiped away your tears. “Good. For me, I mean. Sucks for business though.”

His smile faded away as he watched you wipe your tears. His stomach turned uncomfortably at the fact that he’d been so mean, that he’d made you cry. He knew, of course, that he wasn’t the only reason you broke down, but he didn’t like that he piled on. He called your name softly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you.”

“Carm, it’s ok—”

“It’s not.” He shook his head, blue eyes piercing into yours. “You were right. Michael couldn’t fix Ma’s problems. And you didn’t need him to fix yours. He was lucky to have you.”

A sigh passed through your lips, and for the first time in a long time, tension rolled off your shoulders. “He loved you, Carmen.”

He fought back a sad smile, “He loved you, too.”

You paused, tears of grief filling your eyes before you remembered what you came for. You took a deep breath and wiped at your cheeks. “I need to show you something.”

His brow furrowed, turning a bit to face you, resting one leg on the ground. “What?”

You grabbed your phone from your pocket and pulled off the case. You lifted the strip of film from your rubber case, handing it to him. “This is why I need to go to an NA meeting tonight. Figured you could go with me.”

A hand over his mouth and tears in his eyes, Carmy let out a single quiet sob as he stared at the two black and white ultrasounds. “Is it…?”

You nodded, “They are.”

“They?”

“Turns out, you can’t forget to take birth control for even one day. I thought taking two the next day might help, but here we are.” Chuckling quietly, you wiped away the tears that were threatening to fall once more. “I’m not… I’m not asking you to replace Mikey or be their dad or anything. It would… y’know, just be nice not to do this by my—”

“Woah, hey,” He stopped you with a shake of his head, not even wanting you to think like that. “You’re family, period. Have been since Michael brought you home. And always will be. Alright?”

Finally, a sliver of hope. You smiled, “Yeah.”

“Good.” He handed the photos back to you gently, as if one wrong move would ruin them. Then, he stood on his feet, wiping a hand over his face and taking a deep breath. He offered his hand. “Now, come on. I’m taking you to your meeting.”

#michael berzatto x reader #michael berzatto fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear fx fanfiction #the bear fx #the bear smut #sorry in advance for this one lol

[esmedelacroix]

"Even worse when you make me cry"

husband!miguel x f!reader ♡

10 Things I Hate About You ← mini-series masterlist

"I hate it when you make me laugh," ← previous part

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You and Miguel ended up going out to eat together for lunch. It was there he explained why Justine acted the way she did.

In her universe, Justine told her best friend that she was Spiderwoman. Her best friend went ahead and told media networks for money. The police found out and her dad came home furious. He was about to get promoted to chief of police and now that was ruined because he was getting fired.

He exploded on her and she ended up jumping into the portal when Miguel tried to leave after defeating an anomaly. He was originally just going to take her back to the go-home machine seeing that the Spider Society had no use for her.

She begged him to stay just until her dad calmed down. And her whole universe calmed down. Everyone in her universe hated her, she felt like everyone was against her. The way she acted was only because all she had known for the past week was hate and sadness. She trusted Miguel because he was the first person to treat her like a human since the news got out.

Miguel assumed that she clung to him for that reason alone. "Well thanks for making me feel like a bitch for hating her," you sighed.

"How could you have known," he chuckled.

"So what happened last night?" you asked.

"Well she tried to go back to her universe that night and came back hysterical because she got arrested the second her dad found her in her room," he explained.

"You're saying that like it's the most casual thing ever," you chuckled.

"Well, when you deal with this many Spider-people nothing surprises you. But she needed a pick-me-up and kept asking me to stay. It was kind of hard to say no," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"No," you said simply.

"Okay c'mon, you didn’t have a crying kid in front of you," he said.

"Her grown ass is like 24 at most," you replied.

"She was crying, what was I supposed to do? Leave her?" he asked.

"You have therapists at the Spider Society for a reason. Miguel, she's a grown woman acting like a child," you complained.

"I could say the same about you right now," he replied under his breath.

That was enough to make you go silent. You ate in silence for a while. "Look I'm sorry about that, and for lying to you, I should have just told you the truth right away," he apologized.

"Th-" you started before being cut off by ringing on his gizmo. He got up and picked up the phone. Of course, he's answering work calls on a date, you thought to yourself.

"Hey, there's an emergency at HQ I need to take care of," he said as he got his coat from the chair.

"I thought you said you took the day off," you replied.

"I did but there's an emergency I need to take care of this quick emergency,"

"What kind of emergency? A Justine emergency?" you asked. His silence followed.

"Meet me at our favorite place for dinner, I'll make it up to you," he said, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead before rushing away.

. . .

You sat at your and Miguel's favorite place to go out for dinner. A quaint little family-owned Italian restaurant. It was close to closing time. He called you apologizing saying that there was another emergency. The cannon had been broken in Justine's universe and he had to try and fix it. "Are you going to choose her over me again?" you sobbed outside.

"I'm not choosing her, I just- I don't know can we talk later?" he asked hopefully. You hung up. The owner's wife Donna offered to sit with you after you figured Miguel wouldn't show up for dinner either. Tears spilled uncontrollably for the second time in the day. The first time had been when you had gotten home after being left alone at a Panera.

You told her about recent events. About Miguel and Justine and your argument at lunch. "Oh dear, arguments are the most normal things ever in marriage, just because you and Miguel don't argue as often and me and Nico doesn't make it abnormal," she reassured.

"I know but I don't even know why I'm acting like this," you sighed.

"Cara mia[my love/in Italian], you're jealous. You want to know why?" she asked.

"Why?" you replied.

"Because you love him so much. Comparison is the thief of joy. Instead of comparing yourself to Justine and villainizing her, try to understand things from her point of view," Donna said.

As you lay on his side of the bed, in his shirt crying into his pillow, you heard the door open and close followed by a sigh and the sound of his keys hitting the counter.

You quickly moved to your side of the bed and turned away from him pretending to be asleep. The door to your room swung open. Miguel expected to see you waiting for him like usual at your desk working on your new book.

He was surprised to see you already in bed at 11:00 pm. You could hear him change and toss his clothes in the hamper. You felt part of the bed depress as Miguel got under the sheets with you. A warm hand was rubbing your shoulder. "Querida[Beloved], I'm sorry Querida," Miguel whispered as he peppered kisses onto your shoulder.

You shrugged your shoulder away from him and stayed silent. “Can we talk this out please?” he asked. The only answer he got was a sniffle.

Miguel observed the goosebumps on your skin and spooned you. He knew you were cold even if you acted like you didn’t want him to hold you. Stroking your hair slowly he began to speak, "I love you. So much that sometimes thinking about it makes my heart hurt in the best way possible. My intention was never to hurt you," he started. He waited for a response but still nothing.

"It's hard for me to not care about the cannon, and it was broken big time today," he continued. Call him crazy but he could hear your eyes roll.

"The last thing I would want you to think is that I'm choosing work or another woman over you, I promise I'll make it up to you. It'll probably take you a while to forgive me, I'll give you your space but please just let me hold you?" he asked softly.

You turned around slowly and snuggled into his chest. He tenderly kissed your forehead and the tear stains on your cheeks. "I'm so sorry my love," he finally whispered as his melancholy heartbeat lulled you to sleep.

. . .

next part → "I hate it when you're not around,"

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taglist: @lilscast @lazyjellyfish300 @safixiovi @saaaaaaaaaaaamiiiiiiiiiiira @aktenati @vera4luv @skylertully @boringpersonality @straw-berry-ghoul @holachaoholachoa

#miguel o hara #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x you #astv miguel #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #spider man atsv #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #astv x reader #miguel fanfic #miguel o #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o hara fluff #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel imagine #spiderman 2099 #miguel o hara x reader #miguel fluff

[joelsgreys]

lost on you l a safe gaven drabble

series masterlist

summary: You’re missing Joel and a certain mare seems to be picking up on your sadness—or at least that’s what you think is happening when there’s a sudden change in her behavior. Why else would Stella be acting so strange around you?

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. angst, horses, and a lil more angst. reader’s pregnancy is lightly being implied, but it has not been explicitly stated yet, only hinted at. no Joel, he is only mentioned in this one. Dina makes an appearance, i threw in some comedic moments to try and balance out the angst. ends with a horsey hug.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: so this is meant to be as a bit of a filler fic before chapter 9 is posted and shit hits the fan. i knew i wanted to do a short drabble that touches on how reader is doing after the confrontation she had with Joel. i also asked people to send in short prompts for the series to do some no pressure writing exercises, and this particular prompt that was sent in was just incredible and i decided to incorporate it. It makes me nervous to post a fic with no Joel in it, but my heart wanted to write it so fuck it, I just wrote it. chapter 9 is almost done and will be posted soon. @eyesneverbeensoblue i hope it’s okay to tag you in this and tell you thank you so much for the idea!

Lately, I’m getting lost on you

I tore your world apart like it was nothing new

every day I’m a slave to the heartache…

Summer slowly, but surely comes to an end.

The days are long, but the nights without Joel?

They’re even longer, at least, that’s how it feels.

You miss him. Oh God, how you fucking miss Joel Miller.

He’s all you can ever think about.

Every second of every minute of every single day.

You miss Joel so much that it physically hurts. Every part of you just aches for him. Aches. 

Your insides feel like they’re on fire, and you can't put it out.

The heartache is agonizing, almost unbearable—it’s unlike anything you have ever felt before.

In front of others, you hold it together pretty well. But when you’re alone, behind closed doors? 

That’s when you fall apart. Crumble into pieces.

Losing Joel is something you will never heal from. Never.

Traces of himself he’d left behind—would you ever be able to wipe yourself clean of them? Of him? Or would you have to spend the rest of your damn life trying to get over the man who fucking adored the hell out of you and who loved you so unconditionally?

“He misses you, you know,” Ellie says, quietly. She stands beside you and diligently runs a hard, bristled hand brush along Jasper’s side to clear his golden coat of dirt and debris. The palomino is just one of several horses that needed tending to after that morning’s patrol shift. Realizing you’re too busy jotting down notes in Jasper’s handwritten file you keep for him—you kept a file for every single horse in the commune—Ellie clears her throat and then speaks again, louder this time. “He misses you.”

You wince and stop mid scribble.

“Ellie—” you trail off, your throat going dry.

Even though you’d asked her about a hundred and one times not to talk about Joel, Ellie was hellbent on bringing him up to you as often as she could. At first, it seemed innocent enough. She stuck to just letting you know how his recovery was going.

“His shoulder’s healing really well.” 

“Donna came over to help with physical therapy.” 

“He’ll be back on patrol in a couple of weeks.” 

So you’d given her a pass. Besides, you would be a liar if you said you didn’t want to know how he was healing after his injury.

However, Ellie then began to wander into more sensitive and dangerous territory.

“He asked me about you.” 

“He was drinking again last night.” 

“He looks so fucking miserable.” 

You know why she’s doing it.

It’s not to make you feel guilty for hurting Joel.

Hell, she knows that you’re hurting just as badly. She loves you and she loves Joel—the two people Ellie cares about more than anything are suffering without each other.

You hate that she’s essentially been pulled right into the middle of this mess that you’ve created.

Ellie is collateral damage. This is all hurting her too.

“He misses you a lot,” she adds after a minute.

You exhale sharply. Her words feel like a punch to the gut and they knock the wind out of your lungs.

Finally, you look up from your clipboard, turning to her. “Ellie,” you say her name warningly. “Stop it. We’re not going to do this today. Okay?”

“I’m just saying,” she mumbles, placing a hand on Jasper’s side. “If someone was missing me, I think I would want to fucking know.”

You feel the lump steadily rising in your throat.

“Ellie, please don’t—”

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here!”

The sound of Dina’s voice fills the horse stables.

The teenager whips herself into Jasper’s stall, skidding to a stop in front of you, sweaty and breathless, as if she had just run across the settlement.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” She apologizes, setting her bag down on the ground. Pulling a scrunchie from the back pocket of her jeans, she throws her long, black hair into a messy bun as she explains herself. “Talia asked me to help her out in the library this morning and I totally lost track of time. And then on the way over here, I bumped into Mrs. Miller as she was walking home from the market and I mean, I could not just let a pregnant lady carry all those heavy bags across town—”

“Dina, breathe, sweetheart.” You hold up a hand to stop her. “It’s okay. As long as you show up, that’s all I care about. Especially since Tommy and Maria moved Logan to patrol duty. That’s another stable hand gone, so I need all the help I can possibly get around here.” Slipping your clipboard under your arm, you glance from Dina to Ellie. The emotions from what had happened just seconds before your niece had run in are bubbling, threatening to boil over. “Listen, I have to go do a routine examination on Stella. Finish up with grooming Jasper. I have a couple of horses that are due for baths—Luna and Bandit. Then it’s feeding time. Got it?”

Dina smiles brightly. “We’ll take care of it, won’t we, El?”

Sensing your urgency to leave, Ellie gives a subtle, small nod of her head. “Yeah. We will.”

“Good. I’ll come check on you girls when I’m done with Stella.” Spinning around on the muck caked heel of your boot, you hastily leave Jasper’s stall and nearly fly all the way down the stables and into Stella’s.

You rush inside, closing the top and bottom half of the Dutch door before sagging back against the wood. You toss your clipboard aside on the floor of the stall and lift both your hands, covering your face as you choke back sobs of pure agony.

He misses you. 

As you will yourself to keep yourself from falling apart, you feel a warm muzzle dig lightly into your lower stomach. Dropping your hands from your face, you glance up only to see Stella peering at you with clear and unmistakable curiosity in her big brown eyes.

“Hi there, my gorgeous girl,” you murmur softly to the pregnant mare. A tear slips out from the corner of your eye and you quickly wipe it away with the back of your hand.

Stella lowers her head and sniffs at your stomach, right where she had dug into you. Her ears prick forward and she nuzzles the same spot again.

You shoot her a strange look. You’ve never seen her exhibit this type of behavior before.

“Stella, what are you doing?” you ask, almost as if you expect her to speak and give you an answer. “Why are you being so weird?”

Stella sniffs you again, then nips at the hem of your tank top.

“Hey! Cut that out.” You can’t help but let out a watery giggle as you carefully pull the fabric out of her mouth. Realizing the strange behavior must have something to do with the mare sensing the intensity of your negative emotions, you gently place both of your hands on either side of her muzzle. Inhaling a deep breath through your nose, you slowly exhale it through your mouth before touching your forehead to hers. “I’ll be okay, girl. I’ll be okay. There’s no other choice—I have to be okay.”

An hour later, you’d finished the examination.

Stella had continued to act oddly around you, her behavior becoming more and more peculiar as time went on. You were bonded to her of course—you were bonded to just about every single horse in the commune—and so it didn’t really surprise you that the mare was so in tune with your emotions and could feel that something was off. She was extremely attentive to you as you worked, her eyes never leaving you, not even for a second.

Stella also continued to sniff you, nuzzling you in the stomach any chance she had. For as bizarre as it was, it brought you an off sense of comfort and it made you feel less alone.

“Hey auntie.” Dina opens the stall door, poking her head inside. “Can we come in?”

“Of course.”

She pushes the door open further and walks into the stall with Ellie on her heels. Both of them are almost completely soaked from head to toe. 

Your eyes widen. “Um, girls, I’m pretty sure I told you to bathe the horses—not yourselves.”

Ellie lets out a small scoff. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

“Bandit wasn’t having it,” Dina chuckles. “But he’s all clean, and so is Luna. We just came in to tell you we’re going to go dry off and change our clothes. We’ll be back for feeding time.” She glances at the mare. “How’s our sweet mama-to-be doing?”

“Good. She’s as healthy as a horse.”

The teenagers roll their eyes, but laugh.

“You’re so lame, auntie.”

“Just a little equine veterinarian humor. My dad used that one on me all the time.” You grin at the memory. “Stella’s doing really well. In about seven or eight months, we’ll have our new baby.”

“Well then, I think someone deserves a little treat since she’s doing so good.” Dina reaches into the bag she has slung over her shoulder and pulls out a crisp, red apple. She walks over, holding the fruit out in the palm of her hand for the horse. “Here you go, girl.”

Stella gives the apple a sniff, then takes it from her. 

Usually, she wolfs it down in just a few chomps—but what she does next surprises all three of you. Apple still between her teeth, the mare turns and pushes her muzzle into your stomach.

“Oh shit,” Ellie cackles. “No fucking way!”

“Oh my god,” Dina grins. “Is she—she’s giving it to you?”

Shocked, you lift a hand and delicately take the apple from between her teeth. “Stella, you silly girl! What are you doing?” You hold it out for her. “This apple is for you, sweetheart. Here, take it.”

She tosses her head in the air.

Dina snorts into her hand. “She just told you no!”

“She wants you to have it.” Ellie shoots you a teasing look. “Come on, princess. Take a bite.”

You look at her, then down at the apple, which is covered completely in Stella’s slobber.

“Um, no thanks. I think I’ll pass,” you mutter. 

“Auntie, don’t be rude,” Dina jokes. “It’s bad manners to refuse her offer.”

Rolling your eyes at your niece, you turn back to Stella and tell her, “I’ll eat it later. When it’s washed.”

“We’re starting to smell like wet horse,” Ellie makes a gagging noise as she takes a whiff of her shirt.

Dina lifts the collar of her blouse to her nose. “Oh, gross. We are starting to smell like wet horse.” She reaches out with her opposite hand, grabbing one of Ellie’s. She laces their fingers together. “Come on, let’s go change.”

You can’t help but notice the way Dina looks at Ellie—with the sweetest, most adoring little smile.

You raise an eyebrow, cocking your head slightly.

Ellie’s eyes meet yours and she blushes deeply.

If you ever had a chance to give Ellie Williams shit, this was it—but instead, you just give her a subtle wink from where you stand. Her face instantly goes from red to maroon.

“Be sure to be back in an hour for feeding time!” you call as Dina pulls her out of the stall. “I’m not feeding all these horses alone!”

“We will!”

Once the girls are gone, you turn to Stella and wrap your arms around her neck. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up today, pretty girl.”

She rests her head on your shoulder.

You feel more tears coming and hug her harder.

lyrics: Lost on You - Lewis Capaldi

#fic: a safe haven #fic: ash #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller series #queued to post

[spctrsgf]

Hello :3

Could you write something where it’s Steven’s birthday, but he rather not think much about it because he doesn’t have anyone to celebrate it with and it kind of makes him sad. However, as he’s stocking up some shelves at the shop one of his coworkers, the curator of the Egyptian exhibition, approaches him to wish him a happy birthday and she gifts him a small cake she baked (she definitely has a crush on him, but is as timid as him). And Steven just melts because he only mentioned his birthday once and here is his crush showering him with attention.

cake

word count: 1.4k

warnings: language (I think), just floof, no use of y/n, steven being lonely (not for long dw), reader and steven being oblivious lovestruck idiots

Steven never liked birthdays. 

Well, that’s a lie. He loved other people’s birthdays. He is a giver at heart; he always wants to shower people with attention and gifts in appreciation. With the few people he’d been close enough to call a friend, he was a ball of excitement when the day came along. He provided the “happy birthday”s and corny gifts he’d spent the whole year brainstorming on.

But his birthday? The energy seeps out of him.

What was there to celebrate? He was just another year older, and another year passed without so much of a happy birthday from anyone else. Why celebrate something, like a birthday, if you had no one to celebrate it with? Steven had seen all the balloons, happy faces, cake, and the countless other things that represented a birthday on the television. Though he yearned to experience it, he felt like all hope had been lost.

What did it matter if he celebrated it anymore? He could get by without it.

Even he knew that he was lying to himself. As he woke up on the day he dreaded all the other 364 days in a year, he found the daunting facts hovering over his head: no one would remember. When he strolled into the museum, on time for once in a while, Greg, yet to remember his name, the thought hit him again. All throughout the day, he shuffled about his day in a sort of haze, ready to be off of work so that he could buy himself a box of chocolates to eat while watching some sort of sappy romance movie and wallow in his sadness. 

But, no, the universe seemed to be against him. Donna decided to put him on inventory again. It was the third day this week, and it was as if she knew herself and was just out to make his life even worse than it was. So there he stood, the last soul in the museum other than the cleaners, spending away the last of his birthday at work. How miserable of him. 

He shook his head out of his stupor. Steven, don’t sit around and pity yourself! He scolded himself for what felt like the millionth time that day. So much for not thinking about it. Sighing, he put his brain to thinking about the newest documentary he’d found to watch when he got home. It was on the Greeks, which were admittedly less interesting than the Egyptians, but still good nonetheless. 

“Steven?” he perked up at the sound of his name, nearly dropping the plush Taweret he was holding. When the sweet voice didn’t call again, he chuckled lowly to himself. Look at you, imagining things. Bloody hell, mate, pull yourself together. The door opened before he could move to scan the Taweret, his grip on it tightening in automatic response. Then a head popped in, looking left and right, and his body immediately relaxed.

You.

You, the curator of the Egyptian exhibit he cherished so much. He’d been by it so much, in fact, that he could remember every bit of information that was there, but he still found himself back there again and again, always in awe of the sweat and tears he could tell you shed while crafting it. On the one occasion that you’d been by while he was there, you’d shuffled over to him when he timidly called you over and met his gaze with a slightly shy yet informed one as you answered his question, honeyed voice like music to his ears. He appreciated the determination set into your eyes as you argued with Donna to keep the exhibit up, appreciated the humbleness as you were met with yet another compliment on your work. 

You were perfect, and Steven couldn’t help but fall hopelessly for you, even though he could barely get words out when you stood in front of him in all your glory.

“Steven, hey! What’re you still doing here?” You smiled softly at him, still hovering by the door. “Uh, well, Donna decided to put me on inventory.” Steven took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heartbeat.

You frowned. “Huh, that’s funny. I told her not to do that.”

“Well, Donna doesn’t really listen to anyone who isn’t controlling her paycheck, does she?” He cringed as soon as the words left his mouth, too stunned by the fact that you’d asked Donna not to put him on inventory to form any coherent thoughts at the moment. Gods, he was down so bad if that was making him flustered.

You snorted, much to his surprise. “You have a point.”

“Is everything okay? Why are you still here?” He asked, taking in the way that you still hovered by the door, most of your body hidden. 

“Well, um,” you looked down, seemingly shy. “I brought you something.”

He furrowed his brows. “Why?”

You tilted your head. “For your birthday. Today is your birthday, right?”

And that, that right there, was the type of thing that would make his knees buckle. The fact that you, out of all people, remembered his birthday when he’d told you a grand total of once. It was an offhand comment, you were talking about your mother’s birthday and he’d shot in that your mother and he had the same birth week, to which you’d asked which day and wished him an early birthday before you’d been dragged away by Donna. The fact that you had gone out of your way to buy him something, that you’d spent time and money on something for him. 

He was sure you could hear the way his jaw clambered to the floor, could see the way his hands gripped the countertop and he leaned onto it for support. “For– for me?” He fumbled. You nodded. “For you.” With that, you came out from behind the door and into the room fully. In your hands you held a paper plate, and sitting atop it was nothing other than a birthday cake. You placed it on the counter in front of him, and he could see the little egyptian hieroglyphics you’d drawn onto it with navy blue frosting. 

Steven couldn’t function. It was like you’d fried his motherboards, like you’d just produced the key that unlocked his heart. He all but melted at the gesture now more than ever. 

“Aww, Steven, don’t cry.” Your voice brought him out of his head, and he brought his hand up to his eyes to wipe the tears that slipped out. “I’m sorry, it’s just–” he sniffled. “No one’s ever done this for me before.”

“You’ve never had a birthday cake?”

“Not one that someone else has made me, no, not for a very long time.”

“Steven Grant,” you rounded the countertop to stand next to him, your stern face slightly terrifying. “That is a very big problem. I'm glad I've cured you of that.”

He smiled earnestly. “Yeah, I am too.”

“Also,” you grabbed the edge of the plate, dragging it closer. “I hope you like vanilla cake. I actually couldn’t go out and get more cocoa powder, so… also, the frosting might be a bit strong– I put some cinnamon in it.”

“Yeah, that’s better than alright. I bloody love cinnamon. How’d you know?”

“I saw you when you found those cinnamon rolls at the cafeteria… and I supposed you liked cinnamon a lot. And then I found some at the store, so I picked it up.”

“You are amazing.” He was sure that sounded sappy and that he had a stupidly wide grin on his face, but he couldn’t even bring himself to care anymore. 

“Says you.” you shot back.

Steven chuckled, turning back to his cake and swiping a bit of frosting off in an attempt to save himself from turning into a blushing mess. 

“Listen,” you cracked into the silence, twisting your hands together impossibly tight. “If you don’t otherwise have plans, would you like to come back to my place? We could get pizza, watch some movies, but only if you want, of course. I don’t want to intrude–”

“I would love to.” the words were out of his mouth before he could even put together a coherent thought about it. 

“Cool, alright,” You beamed. “Grab your coat and let’s go, Grant.”

Oh, how he loved his birthday.

a/n: thank you for this, lovely anon, i enjoyed writing it! and also thank you to @themistwithinthemystery for proofing this! feel free to pop by my inbox anytime, everyone, and leave a request or just a thought :)

#i love my silly lil british giftshopist #he's so boyfriend #moon knight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #marvel #moon knight tv #jake lockley #marc spector #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x you #jake lockley x you #moon boys #moon knight imagine #oscar issac #oscar issac hernandez estrada #oscar issac x reader #oscar issac imagine #oscar isaac x you

[eletricheart]

First Valentine

(Donna Beneviento x Reader)

*pinterest

Word count: 1395 (ish)

So...I kind of felt bad for my last story being extremely sad. This is mostly fluff there's like one second of angst but i promise it's a happy story😭

ps: i wrote this way too fast pls lmk any mistakes

----------------------------------------------------

You met Donna by deciding to pick flowers for your catalog and consequently getting lost. The dollmaker noticed your good intentions so made a flower path back into the village. She thought that would be the end of it, but you kept coming back, going further each day, knowing a path would eventually show so you could find your way home.

It was a fun game for you, however things were different for Donna. She was beyond stressed not only over why you kept coming back but also how dangerous the path was, especially if you left only at night.

One day, you wandered too far, completely ignoring the flower path. You reached her house near nightfall, leaving your catalog by her doorstep and sprinting back home to not arrive too late.

Safe to say Donna was worried you wouldn't show up the next day due to getting eaten by a lycan. She appreciated the catalog but did not understand why it was drawn since you took the flowers home everyday.

You did go the next day, this time with a cart because you simply could not carry a box the entire way to her house.

Angie was ready to scare you off once you arrived, but to the Lady of the house surprise, you didn't even flinch. Instead you spent the day talking to Angie about your catalog and showing the box full of vases with each flower you picked. You felt like you should give it back, since they belonged to Lady Beneviento.

Donna never went too far away from her Manor, afraid of running into someone even though it was her territory. But she opened an exception for you. The catalog was too much for her, she spiraled the entire day, and then you not only saved the flowers but was also so nice to Angie. She wanted, needed, you gone.

She stopped you a few steps into her dominion, shaking her head and pointing for the way back into the village.

You stared at her wide eyed, momentarily frozen. Once you regained your senses you nodded and went back home thinking that maybe it was just a bad day.

You went back the other day, and she sent you away, so you went back again and she sent you away again. It was like that for a whole month until she gave up and allowed you in. It took another month for her to stay in the same room as you.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Your first date came as a surprise to both of you. Apparently Angie had enough of you dancing around each other and locked you in a closet with a cereal box and a note saying "kiss".

Donna was frozen on spot while you were blushing furiously.

After an hour of knocking and begging Angie to let you out, you decided to open the cereal and accept your fate.

You were quick to offer to the silent woman in the room who accepted and sat beside you.

Donna was the first to break the silence. "I'm sorry about her. She's impulsive sometimes."

You chuckled and nodded. "Once she almost cut off my finger because she said i was taking too long to cut a carrot."

The dollmaker laughed and gave you a mischievous smile. "It was too long, you were there for ten minutes."

You faked an expression of betrayal and gasped. "Even you?! In my defense, there was something wrong with the knife."

"There wasn't, I had just sharpened it."

You pouted in response. "If I could, I'd walk out of here in outrage."

She giggled and lightly pushed your shoulder. "I'll stop then."

You rolled your eyes and looked back at the note. "How would she know if we kissed?"

Before Donna could even answer, you heard Angie yelling from the other side of the door. "I'm all knowing!"

Donna slightly jumped. "I raised a psychopath."

You looked at her with a solemnly. "Yes. Yes, you did."

The dollmaker threw a handfull of cereal at you right after. "I'm sorry again, she hates it when I keep a secret."

You shrugged. "Don't worry about it, I like spending time with you."

Donna blushed furiously, picking on her sleeve to slow her heart beat. "I like spending time with you too."

You nodded in understanding. "And...what if I said I liked you?"

"I'd say I like you too."

You were both smiling at each other when Angie made herself known again. "Cute but I haven't seen a kiss yet!"

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not letting her play with knives for the next decades." You said, looking over at Donna who was strangely serious. "You okay?" You asked, holding her hand.

The dollmaker nodded and stared down at your joined hands. "Can I do something impulsive?"

"Knock yourself out."

And that was your first kiss. Well...on the cheek.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Now, a year later, you were rushing around the village trying to find the perfect Valentine gift for Donna. You were both new relationship wise, at first you thought of a handmade gift but one call to Alcina and you were convinced you had to buy something expensive. Hence you head first into a tree waiting for the Duke to be over with his daily sales so he could help you.

It was almost nightfall when you returned to the Manor defeated. You didn't want to disappoint Donna, you knew how much she was secretly hoping for a gift, that was her love language after all.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

You were standing in the kitchen one hour before sunrise, you had tried countless recipes going from full meals to simple desserts, none of them seemed worth showing to Donna, how could you give a badly cooked pasta to an italian, practically a death wish.

The dollmaker was worried, she noticed you arriving late from town and leaving the bed early in the night.

She couldn't help but second guess your entire relationship, Valentine’s day was coming and you were only together for a year, this would be the first. What if you realized you didn't like her anymore? What if you're bored of her routine?

Donna wanted to go after you or at least spy through her dolls, but she was too scared of a heartbreak. So she stayed in bed, silently crying.

You went back to bed after cleaning the kitchen, leaving no evidence of your probable criminal offense to her nation. You were confused by Donna still in bed but too tired to give much thought, choosing to bury your head in the pillow.

You were almost sleeping when you heard Donna speak.

“Are you gonna leave me?”

You quickly lifted your body and turned your head towards her hidden form. “What?”

The dollmaker pulled the covers more against her face. “It’s okay, just say it and leave…please.”

You had never felt more awake than now. Your mouth was left open, stuttering a few words before properly speaking. “Donna, I-no, I-I wouldn't leave. Do you want me to leave?”

You could see her shaking her head and pulling her body even closer to herself.

You sat down next to her and gently touched her shoulder. “Okay. Can you tell me what happened?”

Donna shrugged and tried to stop from sobbing. “You spent the whole day and night out, right before Valentine’s day. I just…I know that being with me isn’t exciting or fun.”

You took a deep breath, regretting not being honest with her. "I was with the Duke, trying to find a gift for you. It was pointless so I tried to cook all night and well…nothing was very edible. I’m sorry, I got too caught up in making this perfect that I didn't pay attention to you.” You said, pouting softly and resting your chin on her shoulder. “I’m really sorry. Will you forgive me?”

Donna slowly removed the cover, wiping her tears. “I’m sorry too.”

You gave her a comprehensive smile. “It’s okay. I still don't have a gift though.”

She chuckled. “We can make something together.”

You nodded. “That sounds perfect. Just not in the kitchen, I threw a lot of products there to hide the smell.”

She looked at you wide eyed trying to fight a smile. “What on earth did you do?”

You laughed and shook your head. “Trust me, you don't wanna know.”

----------------------------------------------------

requests are open: my masterlist

#resident evil village #re8 #donna beneviento #resident evil #donna beneviento x reader #lady beneviento #re8 donna #resident evil donna beneviento x reader #resident evil donna #lady beneviento x reader #lady angie #resident evil 8 #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fandom #re8 fanfiction #re8 fic #resident evil fluff #pure fluff

[billpottsismygf]

There's so much to process that I don't even know where to start. Just off the bat, it was a very fun and very campy episode. I imagine there will be a lot of people annoyed at some of the goofier elements (eg. lava erupting just under the streets, then knitting right back together), but I don't mind a bit of goofiness and it felt enjoyable the whole way through.

All the moments between Donna and the Doctor were so great. I love how much Donna is still just Donna at heart, even if she's forgotten things. The little quiet moment after she says she wanted to "be like him" was especially effective.

Rose is great, too. I love that her first instinct was to hide and help the Meep. I also love that her transness is important to her character, and that the show isn't shying away from unapologetically depicting a trans teenager. I do think some of the stuff that comes later is a little clumsy, however.

Onto that, I'm fine with the idea that Donna having a child has diluted the metacrisis enough for them both to survive a little longer with it. The weird parts were:

1) The suggestion that it works because the DoctorDonna is binary (a man and a woman), while Rose is non-binary. Is that suggesting that she's trans because of the metacrisis? That the metacrisis is only safe because she's trans? Both of those seem weird. Why is gender at all relevant to how safe/balanced the metacrisis is? I need to rewatch it and see if it's more coherent on second view, but on first viewing it just seemed like a dumb way to make Donna's "binary binary binary" breakdown have more meaning than it does.

2) The whole bit about them being able to just let the metacrisis go. How come they can just let it go? Again, why the focus on the Doctor being "male presenting"? Why the bit about only women knowing how to let things go?

I want to be really clear that I very much appreciate RTD putting trans themes so front and centre in Doctor Who, and I will be vehemently defending it against anyone who tries to be transphobic about it. Unfortunately, I just think it's a little clumsy in parts of this episode.

Small things:

Beep the Meep was adorable, and then adorably evil. We love the Meep.

Shirley's weapons-firing wheelchair was amazing, and I like her character so far. Is she Osgood's replacement? She feels like the deliberate antithesis of Osgood, who was such a fangirl of the Doctor, while Shirley pointedly doesn't care. I do actually love Osgood, so I'll be sad if she's not around anymore, but hey ho.

I like that Donna is in such a stable and loving relationship with Shaun. After all her troubles with men in previous series, it's nice seeing her loved and appreciated.

What the hell was going on with the sonic this episode? I don't like the sonic being too overpowered generally, and suddenly the Doctor is capable of creating bullet proof shields out of thin air with it? And crumbling brick walls in seconds? It's not a magic wand!

That new TARDIS interior is absolutely huge. I love the classic design, but I'm not sure that such a stark look works when it's so enormous. If it's going to be that big, I'd rather it had a little more going on. I do like the colour-changing lights, though!

Meep said they were going to tell "the Boss", which immediately made me think of the Toymaker, which then immediately made me realise that Rose is also a toymaker. Is that going to be relevant? It's definitely deliberate. (Sidenote, her cyberman and ood are adorable and I would absolutely buy them.)

#doctor who #the star beast #donna noble #rose temple noble #beep the meep #I know I'm going to have more thoughts but there's just too much to put in one post #mine #dw #dwmine #reactions #dw60 #doctor who spoilers

[kittyofalltrades]

The Moon and The Sorcerer

Steven finally gets the courage to ask you out, in a rather unconventional way.

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader, Eventual Marc Spector x Reader, Jake Lockly x Reader

Word: 7219

Rating: Explicit MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ ONLY

Beta: @welcometostayingawake (ILY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Warnings: Show canon DID, PinV, Unprotected sex, Oral (M and F rec), Steven says a dirty word, caught looking at the booty

“I have DID,” Steven blurted out to you. 

You turned to look at him fully after the sudden confession, a confession that you had never expected out of him, at least not right now. Raising your eyebrow at him, he felt compelled to repeat himself. 

“I’m sorry, but I kind of already knew. I can see your souls,” you admit with a sheepish smile. 

You hadn’t meant to peek into his personal life but his hand shake had left you feeling a slight sense of deja vu. That’s when you’d peered at him and found the shadow of three souls lurking. You hadn’t remarked on it, because it wasn’t your place to, so you never mentioned it again. There’s also the possibility that he wasn’t even aware about the extra souls he carried. 

“Souls? More than one?” Steven asked in confusion. Wasn’t he just a splinter off of Marc? Why should he have his own soul?

“Three, to be exact,” you explained. “Did you not know?”

“Even though I- we have DID, I was still expecting only one soul,” Steven explained. He shouldn’t have been surprised after the events of the Duat, when Tawaret had to weigh both his and Marc’s hearts. 

Steven, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t do your best impression of Gus, Marc chided him. He could understand and accept the shock of finding out they had multiple souls but if he was going to ask this girl out, flapping his jaw wasn’t gonna work. 

Steven closed his mouth with a click and watched you shelve several more plushies before he tried again. 

“I like you. I have ever since I came back only to find out Donna had given you my job,” He started again. “You’re always so kind to me and never treat me differently, despite the rumors that Donna and JB spread. And! And you don’t think I’m strange when I ramble on about different topics and I like that about you. I’d like to take you on a date? Only if you want.”

You nodded at the mention of rumors, you’d heard about the destruction of the toilets and when you went to investigate, you discovered exactly what happened. But he didn’t seem dangerous, even after you played the echo of the attack over and over. At first he seemed scared, until he steeled himself to defend himself. Well, the second man had defended them. The glowing white eyes in the suit had shown that he was not ordinary, just like you, and you didn’t mind that at all. 

Shut up and give her a chance to answer, Marc groaned. At the rate Steven was going he was likely to talk over her answer. And Marc wasn’t sure he could fix this particular rejection if she said no.

Steven snapped his mouth shut and waited for an answer, anything. Just words instead of her nodding serenely at him. When a few more seconds passed Steven realised with a heavy heart that she was just being nice to him and was going to say no. 

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” he told her softly. “Just forget I asked.”

“What? No. I was going to say yes,” you tell him in surprise after the withdrawal of the offer. “I was just thinking about the other things you mentioned.”

“No, it's okay, really, you don’t have to be nice about it.”

“No! Steven, I really want to go out with you.”

You watched as Steven’s face blossomed into a bright happy smile in an instant. The smile lit up his features and made him look almost angelic, in direct contrast to the look of sadness he’d had just a moment ago.

“You sure? Tomorrow night, yeah? That way we can spend the day after together?” Steven suggested. 

You gave Steven a bright smile. “Sounds great!”

You studied the text exchange between you and Steven with a small frown. Since finding out you were a vegetarian, he’d wanted to go somewhere you liked, despite the possibility of not having many options for himself. You wanted to go to a place he liked so that he wouldn’t have to fuss with the menu. That led to a minor argument. He wanted to make things easier on you and you wanted to do the same. Neither of you wanted to give an inch until finally a text had come in saying that a vegan restaurant was perfect and sending you the address.

Steven glared at his phone looking at the text Marc had sent. He was trying to be a gentleman about the whole food thing, trying to take her to her favorite place but it just evolved into a small argument. A small argument that Marc had squashed by sending the address of a neutral restaurant with vegan and vegetarian options. He wasn’t mad about the back and forth, rather he was more upset that Marc had stepped in and interfered. But it needed to be done. 

When you arrived at the restaurant, you smoothed down your purple sundress, hoping it would keep you cool during this unseasonably warm night. Part of you also hoped that Steven would like it. You wanted to say you didn’t dress with him in mind but that felt too close to a lie for you. 

“Wow, you look beautiful, love,” Steven’s voice said, pulling you out of your thoughts about whether or not he’d like the dress. The admiration in his voice assured you that he did and it made your stomach flutter.

Steven was dressed nicer than you’d ever seen him, wearing a dark long sleeve dress shirt and a white tie, done in an Eldridge knot, notoriously hard but still beautiful. As he led you into the restaurant, you risked a glance down at his ass, noticing he kept his too-tight pants on. When you finally dragged your eyes away from his backside, you could have sworn his reflection smirked at you for a second, which was impossible since Steven was talking to the hostess. 

You glanced at his reflection one more time before turning your full attention back to the hostess and Steven. The hostess seemed charmed by Steven and vaguely amused by your presence with him, but she grabbed two of the menus and led you to a cozy candle lit table near the back of the restaurant. She gave Steven another small smile before sliding the menus onto the table and leaving.

You sat in the chair furthest away from the walkway and gave Steven a small smile. 

“I’m sorry about earlier, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t have to pick at the menu,” you told him in apology.

“It’s alright, love. I might have been a little stubborn,” Steven stated softly. “I just wanted to make sure our date was a good one, so you’d want to go out again.”

“Well that was a rubbish start,” you laughed. “But I think things can always go up from there.”

At the word rubbish, Steven sagged in his chair a little, but when you laughed he straightened up again. His sweet smile was quickly back in place and the little tension that hovered between the two of you disappeared. He was worried that he’d ruined things before they even got started. Maybe Marc’s intervention was just what was needed.

After placing your orders, you launched into discussion with Steven about Greek versus Egyptian Gods.

“Artemis was much kinder than what I’ve heard of Khonshu,” you told Steven with a smile.

“Khonshu does have a history of doing some very unsavory things,” Steven agreed. “But kind is subjective when it comes to the gods.”

You laughed at the discussion, you never expected the man that worked in the gift shop to sound so much like a tour guide.

“You sound like you know some good Khonshu stories,” you said with a smile on your face. 

Steven took that as permission to start telling all the myths of Khonshu, carefully leaving out the god’s recent exploits with Ammit. He did include the tale of the affair between Hathor and Khonshu, making you laugh. 

“Khonshu doesn’t seem like the type for love,” you pointed out between giggles.

“No, he doesn’t, eh? But when you are a god, you have to do something with your free time, and apparently messing with mortals only occupies so much time,” Steven answered with a grin. 

Steven you can't talk about mythology all night. It’s gonna get boring, Marc chided Steven. Besides, you don’t want to accidentally summon him here on your date. I don’t think ‘sorry Khonshu, I was telling this cute girl about your personal life’ is going to go well.

Marc’s words made Steven close his mouth with a click. He wasn’t surprised that Marc would think mythology was boring, but he’d expected you to stop him if he was carrying on too much. He dropped his eyes feeling a pang of hurt at the idea that you’d just let him carry on embarrassing himself. 

“What happened? You were just getting to the best part, you were just about to explain why Khonshu was eating the hearts,” you told him wondering what was going on in his head between one breath and the next.

“I– um he was eating them to gain the strengths of the owners,” Steven said softly. “I’m sorry, Marc told me I was being boring.”

“Marc?”

“He’s the host, he said I was boring you with the stories,” Steven said softly.

“I was enjoying the stories, I’ve never heard these before. Greek mythology is more my speed.”

You reached across the table and grasped his hand giving it a reassuring squeeze. When his face brightened again you knew all would be well. You just hadn’t expected this Marc person to be whispering in his ear during your date, it was strange to you but not for him, apparently. You hoped Marc might keep his own counsel about what was boring after being assured that you had enjoyed the animated stories Steven had been telling you.

When the two steaming dishes of food arrived, you found yourselves tucking in with matching hums of delight at the taste. You hadn’t expected a restaurant that served both vegan and vegetarian food to be this delicious. You were pleasantly surprised and so was Steven. You worked through half your food, even trying each other’s plates, before Steven started talking again.

“So… you said you saw our souls? How? That's not really a normal thing to be able to do,” Steven wondered out loud. “Not that I’m saying you’re not normal!”

“I’m a sorcerer, just not an active one you could say. I stopped my study of magic for now,” you explained to him. “I used to train with some of the best but after the last Sorcerer Supreme died, I sort of quit.”

“Wow, that’s brilliant,” Steven gushed excitedly. “Can you give a demonstration? I mean you don’t have to, but I’d love it if you did.”

You reached for the bright purple napkin on the empty table next to you and gave it a quick shake. When you did it turned into a pure white moonflower. Once the small bloom sat in your hand you passed it to Steven.

“A moonflower for the gentlemen,” you told him with a smile. He took the bloom tentatively from your fingers, surprised to find that it was a real fragrant flower he held between his fingers. He looked at you in awe.

“Why this flower?”

“It’s the only night blooming one I could think of that most people might not have seen,” you replied happy with his reaction. “The last time I did that I got called a charlatan. But how could I have done that if I was?”

“I don’t know? That seems like a hard thing to fake,” Steven said while he fingered the petals. “Can you do it again without the napkin?”

With a flick of your wrist and a soft smile you summoned a pink Camellia blossom. He probably didn’t know the meaning behind the blossom that you passed him but he still accepted it with a happy smile. 

Steven, why did she give you a moon flower? I know not everything moon related has to do with Khonshu but really, a moon flower? Does she know we are Avatars or was the flower just a fluke? Marc demanded, this date was leaving him with questions he didn’t know and he needed answers. 

Steven tried to listen to the story that you were telling about the time your teacher forced your astral form out of your physical form but Marc was distracting him. It was hard to listen to both and he was afraid he was going to ruin the evening by being inattentive. Thankfully, the waitress came over with complimentary ice cream.

“Vanilla almond milk ice cream for the small magic show,” she’d said with a smile at you.

“Oh thank you,” you said with a laugh as your cheeks heated. You had thought your small show of power might have gone unnoticed, but it hadn’t and Steven was beaming at you proudly as he dug into the frozen treat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so flashy.”

“It’s bloody brilliant is what it was,” Steven told you brightly. “I’ve never seen magic like this before.”

We are literally the avatars of a god.

“Thanks,” you busied yourself in your ice cream not talking again until the bill was paid and Steven was pulling you out of the building. 

“Tonight out with you was amazing, I’d like to do it again sometime,” Steven told you while he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. The squeeze sent butterflies through you at how easily he touched you.

“I don’t want tonight to end,” you confessed softly. 

Steven glanced around the street trying to regain his bearings. They weren’t that far from his flat, maybe she could spend a few more hours with him. “We could keep the night going. My flat isn’t too far from here, maybe come for a coffee, yeah?”

You’ve basically invited her back to the apartment for sex, Marc pointed out snidely. 

Your cheeks flamed at the offer. The invitation was delivered innocently enough but you weren’t completely sure. Before you could ask, his cheeks glowed red as well and he started to stammer. What you could make out of his hasty words was a mixture of apology and misunderstanding.

Steven hadn’t been trying to imply he wanted to get you home for sex. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. Well sex crossed his mind, quite frequently sometimes, but not this time. This time, he really just wanted to spend time with you. And what was he going to do? He was a virgin, the only person he’d ever made cum was himself, with the help of porn, his imagination or his hand. He couldn’t just bring a woman home and then disappoint her so badly that she never spoke to him again.

STEVEN! Shut up and calm down! She didn’t shut you down immediately, you still have a shot. Just don’t blow it by making it seem like you don’t want her to come over by babbling. Now kiss her, that’ll tell you where you’re at, Marc coached from the restaurant window reflection. 

Steven stopped his stammered apology and took a deep breath. He reached out and angled your face upward to his, your eyes widened slightly at his actions but he pushed through the nervousness. “Can I kiss you?” he asked in a husky whisper.

Your tongue darted out to moisten your lips before you answer his inquiry. “Yes please,” you answered just as softly.

The first kiss was a gentle brush of lips, what you’d expect from Steven. But it didn’t last, as a moment later he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you flush with his body working his tongue into your mouth. He kissed you like he was desperate for oxygen and you were the source. He licked into your mouth tasting the remains of the ice cream and it made him desperate for more. You pulled away from him for air and he gave a small whine as chased your lips with his.

“Your flat Steven, how far?” you asked, desperate to have his hands and lips on you again.

Steven released you and took your hand, gently leading you on the five minute walk back to his flat. The walk was short but by the time he buzzed the two of you into his building, he was breathing heavily. He pulled you in the lift, standing near him, while he was tapping his foot, impatient for the slow moving compartment. You squeezed his hand reassuringly again and he gave you a small smile.

Once the lift arrived, he aggressively jabbed the button for his floor and turned to you. Once the doors shut, he was on you again, all lips and hands. The slow moving lift gave him time to knead your breasts eagerly with his hands and to tweak your hardened nipples through the thin fabric. You fisted your hands in his curls, causing him to moan harshly and thrust his hips against yours. You marveled at the size of his cock and he thrust against you again.

Steven get out of the elevator, you can’t fuck your girl here.

Steven pulls you out of the lift with his lips still firmly attached to yours. He found his door with his lips never leaving yours, drawing fevered moans as his hands wavered between your ass and your tits. Each tweak of your nipples set you on fire while you stood pressed between him and his door, feeling the cool metal of the number digging into your back. 

Steven you need to get her inside you can’t fuck her against the door either, Marc told Steven who was lost in the kisses and the woman in front of him. After another minute, Marc snatched control to at least get them inside.

The desperate kisses paused while Marc worked his keys out of his pocket and into the door spilling you into the flat. Letting Steven front again, his lips lingered on yours for a few soft kisses before he pulled away fully with shame covering his features.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” you asked Steven with concern. He was perfectly fine just a minute ago. “We can stop if you want to. Just watch a movie or actually have that coffee.”

“No! I don’t want to stop,” Steven practically shouted. “It’s just–it’s embarrassing.”

“You can tell me, I promise I won’t judge.”

“I’m a virgin,” Steven mumbled to his shoes.

Steven looked down ashamed for the first time that he was a virgin. Usually, it didn’t bother him but now that he had a beautiful woman that wanted him and had expectations of him, he wasn’t sure he could meet them.

“Everybody has a first time. If you want, we can stop here." You didn't want to press him to do anything he didn't want to do but you couldn't deny that you were extremely aroused.

"No, no. I want to. Please, love," he pleaded with you, his cheeks heated and tears pricked at his eyes at the idea of her saying no. 

Steven’s blood had completely drained from his brain and was pooling in his throbbing cock while you pushed him onto the sofa and straddled him. He didn't know where to put his hands for fear of doing something wrong. 

You made quick work of undoing his pants and freeing his cock from its cloth prison. You marveled at just how large his cock was, wondering if you’d even be able to take all of him, climbing off his lap and kneeling between his legs. 

“This is gonna be fun,” you assured him, licking from the base of his cock to the tip.

Steven’s brain flat lined as you licked up his cock. He gripped the sofa arm to steady himself while gasping at the pleasurable sensation as his body let out a small shudder. He tried to count to ten to reign himself in while you ran your tongue over his cock and around the tip. He was worried that he was going to cum too quickly and disappoint you. You placed a quick kiss on the head of his cock before working it into your mouth. Once his cock hit the back of your throat, you pulled off slowly and leaned back. You laughed when you saw Steven gripping the sofa arm with white knuckles.

“Relax, you're in good hands." you kissed the head of his cock, hoping for him to relax a little before you took him back in your mouth. 

The wet cavern of your mouth felt incredible and Steven's grip only tightened.

“Fuckin' hell," he groaned. 

He couldn't stop the small bucking of his hips as you took him deeper into your mouth, and he felt bad when you gagged around him, though his cock twitched at the sound. 

You pulled his cock from your mouth with a small pop. “Relax, darling.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t want it to be over too quickly,” he told you, loosening his grip on the sofa arm slightly.

"I don't expect you to keep it together," she told him while she slowly stroked him. He sounded  beautiful and completely wrecked, whimpering and moaning under your skilled touch.

Even your hand felt incredible, just any contact in general was perfect to him.  You licked the pre-cum from his tip and took him back into your mouth. You bobbed up and down, hollowing your cheeks as you worked. Steven’s occasional hip thrust that made you gag left you smiling around his cock, some spit dribbling out around your curved lips. You were surprised that he'd held out from cumming this long when you'd pulled out every trick to push him over the edge. You bobbed your head on his cock faster trying to make him cum.

"Cum for me, show me how good I make you feel," you ordered between licks.

He'd barely been holding on but finally with your permission, he let go, cumming in your mouth with a loud cry. This was so much better than when he touched himself. Steven was shaking a little as you worked him to overstimulation, still sucking him to make sure you didn’t miss a drop. Tears prickled his eyes while you sucked the soul out of him. 

“Well, how was that for your first blow job?” you asked Steven with a dazzling smile. You didn’t need an answer; you could see the answer written all over his face with the slightly dazed look he gave you. 

Steven leaned back on the sofa, breathing heavily as he came down from his high. His deflated cock sat between you two until he tucked himself back in. After his breathing returned to normal, he turned his attention to you, still kneeling between his legs, rubbing his thighs soothingly. 

“I want to make you feel good like you made me feel,” He told you, sounding close to tears at the idea of not pleasing you. 

“I can teach you or you can learn yourself,” you offered with a smile.

“I-I think I’d like to try, love. Only proper way to learn, yeah?” he said, offering you a smile.

Steven pulled you to your feet and toward his bed, not sure where to start until you gave him the whispered command. 

“Undress me.”

Steven swallowed thickly and turned you around by your shoulders, fumbling with the zipper of your dress, pushing the material to the floor. He pinched the clasp of your bra between two fingers and pushed it off your shoulders, as well. Steven’s hands ghosted over the bare skin of your back for a minute while he marveled at the softness of your skin. 

“Panties, too,” you told him.

“Uh–right, sorry love,” he stammered, embarrassed. He hooked his fingers in the lacy material and pushed them down going to his knees as he went. 

You kicked off your shoes and turned to face him. You looked down at him, his features contorted with need and desire, and smiled. You stepped backward, sitting yourself on the edge of his bed, spreading your legs for him. Steven inched forward on his knees closing the distance between you two.

“Touch me,” you pleaded with him.

“I–um I’m not sure how,” Steven said softly casting his eyes downward.

“You said you wanted to learn. It’s time to learn,” you told him softly.

Steven nodded and took a deep breath to steady himself. He started with running his hands up your calves and thighs noticing the way you shivered under his touch. Since you didn’t stop him he figured it was okay. And Marc was oddly quiet offering him no advice. He took a deep breath and pushed his hands forward, finally meeting at the junction between your legs. He looked up at your face for any indication of what he should do, finally dragging his fingers over your pussy.

The awkwardness of the motion dragged you out of the bliss that his touch on your thighs had brought and you looked at him in confusion. He repeated the motion dragging his fingers over your pussy almost like he was petting a cat. After the third awkward stroke, he finally looked up at you helplessly.

“This isn’t quite right, is it?” He asked softly while heat rose to his cheeks.

“Try again, baby, just two fingers this time?”

Steven nodded quickly and dragged two fingers over your pussy. He brushed his fingers over your clit drawing a pleased sigh from you, making him do it again, this time with a smirk on lips. He ran his fingers from your clit downward across your wet folds. He was surprised at your slick coating his fingers and pulled his hand away holding them up to the light to examine them.

“You’re so wet… that’s good, yeah?” He questioned. He pressed his fingers together then apart, smiling at the string of arousal that connected them. 

“Very good,” You told him while you watched him. When he guided his fingers to his mouth you almost moaned out loud, he looked so innocent and so sexy sucking your juices off his fingers. It was hard for you to be patient when he went and did that.

The taste of you exploded in his mouth and distracted Steven for a few moments until your whine of his name caught his attention. The look of desperation on your face had his hand between your legs again in an instant. He dragged his fingers through your folds again, this time searching for your entrance and pushing one finger in and working it slowly in and out of your wet heat. 

“More, please,” you whine at him. You angled your hips toward him in invitation and to get more of his touch where you needed it the most. His touch wove a trail of blistering heat though you and you were going to embrace every second of it while you could.

“You need my fingers in your pretty little cunt?” He asked softly.

You whipped your head down to look at him, shocked at the filthy word he’d just uttered. “You wanna run that by me again?”

Steven gave you a wide grin then. “I said ‘do you need my fingers in your pretty little cunt?’.”

Steven slipped a second finger into you then and punctuated each word with a thrust of his fingers. The sounds that dragged from your throat had his cock twitching against the pants he still wore. He wasn’t sure where the confidence in his words came from but your frantic nodding spurred him on. He kept working his fingers into you until your hand dropped between your legs circling your sensitive clit. He watched for a minute before pushing your hand away, making you whimper softly. Steven focused his attention on your clit, licking and sucking on the small bundle of nerves while you moaned and trembled against him.

When Steven curled his fingers into you, the gooey spot at your core, you came with a loud moan and closed your legs around his head keeping him in place. He didn’t seem to mind as he kept sucking your clit through every wave of your orgasm and didn’t stop. He worked you to a second orgasm with ease before he finally stopped, letting you slump backward against his bed. 

“Fucking fuck,” you whimpered completely out of breath.

“So I take it I did alright, love?” He asked, suddenly shy.

You took his face in your hands and dragged him up your body to kiss him. You hummed against his mouth at the taste of yourself. You’d never been eaten out that thoroughly before let alone by somebody claiming to be a virgin. You wondered briefly for a second if he’d be able to continue after his blow job, but his cock pressing between your legs told you otherwise.

“Steven, I want you to fuck me,” you told him, point blank, when you pulled away from his lips.

“Are you sure, love? I— I don’t want to disappoint you by uh –you know,” he told you, visibly shrinking into himself. 

“Cumming too soon? You didn’t when I gave you the blowjob,” you pointed out softly. “And even if you do, you can find other ways to make me finish. I’m not expecting a marathon for your first time.”

Steven nodded his agreement with the terms but made no move to climb off you to undress. You smoothed your hands through his mess curls and over his back before grabbing his ass. You gave a firm squeeze and moaned when his hips arched forward pressing his cock into you.

“You’re wearing too much,” you told him softly. “I wanna see you.”

Your words spurred Steven into motion, undressing quickly. You pulled your lip between your teeth as every inch of golden skin was revealed to your eyes. You let your eyes linger on the sight of his cock hanging hard and heavy between his legs. When Steven started to squirm under your lust filled gaze, you scooted backwards on the bed and spread your legs wider.

“Come fuck me, Steven.”

He must have died and gone to heaven. Steven let out a tortured sound at your words, but climbed up the bed anyway, lining up with your entrance. He paused to look at you before slowly pushing inside. He was a whimpering mess just at the feeling of your pussy walls hugging his cock perfectly. You watched Steven’s face as he worked his cock into you slowly,  moaning as you felt him go deeper.

“You feel good inside me,” you told him gently. “Faster, please.”

Steven grunted in compliance, he had reached a point where he was certain he wouldn’t cum too early. He started a faster pace, gripping your hips hard. He was desperate for praise, to hear how good of a job he was doing. You lifted your hips to meet Steven’s harsh strokes. You could feel your orgasm building quickly again, like a tightly coiled spring ready to snap. You pulled his face down to you kissing him hard.

“So good for me, Steven, good boy,” you murmured against his lips. “Gonna cum.”

Steven had been teetering on the edge of his second orgasm but didn’t  want to have to slow down and ruin yours or not make you cum again. Although the praise did almost make him cum again, Steven reached between your bodies and rubbed your clit to help get you off quicker, as he wasn’t sure he could hold his orgasm back much longer.

You arched into his touch, every profanity you knew mixed with Steven’s name fell from your lips as you were pushed over the edge again. You dimly realised he was probably close, too, and pulled his face down crushing your lips against his in a desperate kiss. When he felt you clench around him, Steven couldn't hold back anymore and was cumming with you and all he could do was moan into your lips as he filled you with ropes of hot cum. The orgasm was powerful enough to take his breath away and once both of you were spent, he collapsed beside you, trying to get his breath back. A huge grin spread across his face, knowing his first time had gone incredibly well and with someone so caring.

You rolled into Steven throwing your arm and a leg over him. “That was incredible. Are you sure that was your first time?” 

“Pretty sure. I’m glad I didn’t disappoint you,” Steven whispered, dropping a kiss on your forehead as he laid a hand on your waist. 

“Baby, if that’s how you fuck during your first time and things only get better from here, I don’t think you’ll ever disappoint me,” you told him with a laugh.

Steven thought about it for a few seconds and agreed. There was only going up from here, he couldn’t wait to get a chance to explore your body more thoroughly. His cock twitched weakly at the idea, making you lift your head to look at him. 

“No fucking way you’re almost ready to go again,” you said in disbelief. The fact that he’d been able to go after the blow job surprised you, but the fact that he had a semi under your leg made your jaw drop.

“I’d apologise but I don’t think I’m in charge of little Steven,” he laughed, giving you another kiss. 

You laughed again and pulled yourself tight to him holding him close. You’d been imagining this moment for months, the beautiful, shy gift shop assistant. It had taken you weeks to convince Donna to put you on shift with him permanently. 

“Why’d you wanna be around Stevie he’s not right in the head. Wrecked the toilets and still ends up with his job back,” Donna had sneered. “Fine, since nobody else wants the bloody shift, but don’t come crying to me when he goes all weird on you.”

That very next day you’d started shifts with Steven. Since then, you’d been waiting for him to ask you out. You’d brought him his favorite vegan snacks, even surprising him with a pack of oreos that he didn’t know were vegan. 

“You look like you’re thinking hard, love, what’s wrong?” Steven asked softly.

“Just thinking about the day I brought you oreos.”

“You know I’d been having a rubbish day before that, and you presented me with the package telling me they were vegan,” He sighed happily. “I thought my heart was going to explode out of my chest.”

You smiled sweetly at his memory. “I remembered you mentioned missing them.”

“You know Marc teased me for days.”

“He didn’t,” You said aghast. 

“He bloody did. Said that if you kept being sweet and I didn’t make a move he’d ask you out himself and then you could be his sweet girlfriend.”

You laughed again, curiously thinking about what you would have done if Marc had been the one to ask you out. Probably wondered where Steven got the confidence. You lay in bed cuddling him until your stomach growled loudly, alerting you that dinner had been ages ago and you’d just worked off all those calories.

“Shower and snacks?” Steven offered sweetly. He didn’t want to let you go but he knew you would probably feel uncomfortable, with both your spend leaking out of you. 

“Probably for the best.”

Steven untangled his limbs from yours and helped you off the bed. He led you to his small bathroom and heated the water for you. “As much as I’d like to join you, I don't think we’d both fit.”

Steven left you to shower and started gathering snacks, set up a movie, deciding on The Mummy because it was one of his favorites. Once everything was ready, he grabbed a towel and your clothes to return to the bathroom.

Give her your shirt. She’d appreciate that more than her clothes, Marc offered helpfully. 

“And where the bloody hell have you been?” Steven hissed softly. 

I was out. Did you really want me intruding on you having sex for the first time?

“No, but I could have used some help at one point,” Steven confessed, while he turned the shirt he’d been wearing right-side out.

You did well. I'm proud of you. I never doubted you for a second, Marc said happily. And you couldn’t have lost your virginity to a prettier girl.

Steven rolled his eyes and returned to the bathroom with the towel and his shirt. When you pulled the shower curtain back, his words died in his throat as he watched the water droplets slide down your body, following a path he’d very much like to take with his tongue. 

“Steven?” you asked, pulling his attention up to your face.

“Sorry, love, got distracted.”

“I can tell,” You said with a smug laugh. You pulled the towel out of his hand and wrapped it around you. You dragged your eyes over his still naked body leisurely before meeting his eyes again. “I completely understand.”

Steven had the grace to blush before he stepped around you into the shower. After you pulled on his shirt you spotted the movie playing and the snacks laid out on the coffee table, including a pack of oreos, and it made your heart warm. Since things had gone so well, oreos might just be your thing now. You settled in and restarted the movie when you heard the water turn off. Steven left the bathroom with his curls in damp disarray and wearing a pair of loose pajama pants.

“You didn’t have to start it over, I’ve seen this film more times than I can count,” he told you with a goofy expression. “I can recite the whole movie, word for word. It irritates Marc.”

You shrugged and patted the seat next to you. When he sat next to you, you settled against him with a happy sigh. True to his word, he recited all of Rick’s parts in your ear. You had to admit Rick O’Connell was sexy, but when Steven said all the heroic lines it made you melt into a puddle. When Rick and Evie kissed, he tipped your face up to his own, kissing you thoroughly. The kiss sent a flutter to your heart and made you realise that you liked this man a lot more than you’d originally thought. Before you knew it the movie was over, and Steven was pulling away from your lips to yawn into his palm. 

“Bed?” He asked around his hand. 

“Bed.” You agreed. 

What you hadn’t expected when he stood up was for him to hoist you up in his arms and carry you to his bed in the single sexiest move you’d ever seen. You knew he was strong, with the way he manhandled pallets during inventory, but feeling the strength in his arms as he carried you was something else entirely. 

Once you were settled in, Steven climbed in after you with a soft smile. He pressed a kiss to your lips and pulled you to his body holding you tight. Within minutes, you were both asleep. So deeply asleep that you missed the moonbeam spread over you both like it was watching. 

You woke to the bright sun shining into Steven’s window. You patted the bed, surprised to find the space next to you empty, but Steven couldn’t have ditched you right? This was his flat. You padded back to the living room, still dressed in his dress shirt from last night and found him in the kitchen. He was dressed unlike you’d seen him before, dishing out breakfast onto plates. He turned to you with a wide smile and you immediately could tell that the aura around him was completely different than the one Steven had.

“Sorry, I know you meant to spend the day with Steven but I figured we should talk,” the American accent made you stop on your way over to the plates.

“Marc?” You asked, tentatively.

“Marc Spector, at your service,” he said before gesturing at the plated food. “I got you breakfast, vegetarian means no meat, right?”

You sat at the table and looked at the spread. Fruit, a scone, and clotted cream graced your plate, while his held turkey bacon, eggs and pancakes. The different food confirmed that this was not your Steven, but you were willing to hear out the man that sat before you. 

“What did you want to talk about?” You asked while you smeared cream on your scone.

“You, Steven and myself. I know things went well last night. I’d rather not be dragged around like a voyeur watching from the outside while you and Steven get close, so I figured maybe we can feel out our compatibility as well?” Marc finished on a high note, posing it as a question without beating around the bush.

Marc wasn’t usually this open with people but with Steven’s encouragement, he wanted to make this work. It sucked, especially since she was looking at him like he’d grown a second head.

“You want to woo me as well? Is that what I’m hearing? What does Steven think?” you asked before setting down your scone.

Tell her I think the idea isn’t without merit, that way you aren’t alone and she doesn’t have to worry about the shared body ‘cheating’ on her, Steven explained.

“Steven has a lot of thoughts but he doesn’t think it’s a bad idea, if you’re willing,” he offered. 

You thought about it for a minute while Marc ate his breakfast. What was the worst that could happen? Famous last words, you thought to yourself. 

 

“Okay, but you have to genuinely try with me, you can’t just act like you already have me just because Steven might,” You told him firmly. “You have to actually ask questions and get to know me.”

Marc smiled at you widely; he was glad you agreed to this, strange as it was. He was going to do his damnedest to win you over and keep you for himself and Steven. They’d been alone long enough. 

Once you finished your breakfast, you grabbed your clothes and pulled your sling ring out of your pocket. Feeling equipped, you summoned a portal into your living room. The ring of gold sparks seemed like a bad idea with all of Steven’s books but if any ended up damaged you could repair them. You stepped through and gestured for Marc to follow with a smile.

“Can you wait here for a bit while I change?” you asked the speechless man. You knew the portal was the ultimate display of your power, further proving you weren’t a charlatan. 

Marc dropped onto the sofa while you flounced away to change somewhat shocked. He’d still believed the magic was sleight of hand, but this was undoubtedly not that. “You couldn’t have fallen for a nice normal girl, Steven? You had to pick the one with powers?”

I regret nothing, Steven countered.

Part 2

#The moon and the sorcerer #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader

[ctitan98official]

@sparklingnight02 : Okay but how about this for Donna angst? Donna finds a note written by Y/N recalling how they met and fell in love and their love story from then onward from their pov, talking about how much they love her, only when she gets to the end she reads the heartbreaking news that the reader actually has terminal cancer so this letter is actually serving as a goodbye note and as a reminder of everything they went through together and to let her know of just how much they truly love her.

Whoa, sad! I love the idea, but I’m going to change the part about cancer (It’s triggering for me). I’m going to do headcanons for Y/N getting drafted into a war and they couldn’t bring themself to tell Donna in person… Let’s get into it!

It wasn’t unusual for you to leave little notes around the house for Donna to find.

She loved these small acts of affection that were just for her.

Usually, you would just scrawl out little smileys and simple I love you’s.

When Donna wakes up one morning to find that you are not in bed, she goes looking for you.

She starts getting panicked because she can’t find you, but when she finds a note on the kitchen table she calms down a bit.

You must have gone out to run an errand.

This note, however, is decidedly longer than ones you have left in the past.

She sits down and starts reading the message you left her.

You start out by telling Donna good morning which makes her softly smile.

You surprise Donna by telling her one of your favorite memories together.

You had recently started dating and planned a romantic picnic for her in the sprawling gardens of Beneviento manor. When you lifted up the lid to the picnic basket, you were shocked to find Angie in there eating all of the food you worked so hard to make!

Donna was a bit angry and embarrassed by Angie’s actions, but you just laughed and shrugged it off. You told Angie that you were glad she enjoyed the food.

Donna paused her reading for a moment as she remembered that’s when she truly felt connected to you. She had loved how accepting you were of Angie and the other dolls. It made her heart feel warm and fuzzy to think about it.

She soon continued reading but felt a sharp stab of anxiety as you went on to tell her that you hoped to be back soon and that something had happened.

What could you mean?

You went on to say that you had been too afraid to tell Donna in person that you had been drafted into war.

Donna held a hand to her mouth as she sobbed.

She felt scared for your safety, but she was also furious that you hadn’t told her. It wasn’t fair for her to find out like this.

As she kept reading, you apologized profusely for your cowardice in not telling her. You just couldn’t stand to see her cry.

You also told her how much you loved her and that you promised to come home to her.

Donna knew how seriously you took making a promise. You had never broken a single promise you made to her while you were together.

This declaration of your intent to come home eased Donna’s nerves somewhat.

She knew that you were strong and capable and would do everything in your power to come back to her.

Donna waited nervously for weeks to hear any news about your safety and whereabouts.

When she got an unexpected knock on the front door one day, she was sure it was you.

She hurriedly ran to open the door only to find two military officers standing in front of her looking quite somber.

They told her that you had fought valiantly and saved many of your platoon members from certain death before being caught in enemy crossfire. You had died a hero.

Donna fell to her knees and sobbed. You couldn’t be gone. You were larger than life. You were her life. Her reason for being.

The officers gave their condolences and left after giving Donna your medals and dog tags.

Donna never again opened herself up to the idea of falling in love.

She loved you. She kept on loving you long after you were gone.

She would never love anyone else.

Note: Holy smokes that was sad! I love writing for Donna, though!

Masterlist

#donna beneviento #re8 #re8 village #donna beneviento x reader #donna beneviento x y/n #angie beneviento #resident evil village #resident evil imagines #resident evil 8 #resident evil #angst drabble #angst

[cianmars]

Learning to stay still.

(A Doctor Who fanfic)

AO3

The Doctor watched as the Tardis wheezed then dematerialised. 

That was new.

All of this was. 

He didn’t realise that he’d been simply staring into the space left behind… he’d been left behind too, in a way. He knew it wouldn’t have worked out well, him and the Doctor, neither of them were made to be companions, this version of him especially seemed to be unsuitable for the job of being the Doctor's Wrangler. 

He tried to hide his jump when he felt a nudge on his shoulder. He covered it up with a quick smile, just a small one, at Donna who was looking up at him in concern. 

“You alright?” 

She’d asked him that so many times, to this face, and the same face on his younger self. He didn’t lie to Donna, as a general rule, but he had never been good at admitting that he wasn’t okay, actually.

He had been working on it. 

“You know me.” 

He looked down at his bare feet, bi-generation had left him with only half of their clothes, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d come out as better considering he was now shoe-less and commando. 

“Yeah. I do.”

Her firm tone forced him to look back at his best friend. If he didn’t think she’d hit him he would have pointed out that when she looked at him like she was now, she reminded him a bit too much of Sylvia. 

He tilted his head to the side, lowering his voice so only Donna could hear him. “I guess I just… kind of expected him to have popped back by now. Not to stay,” he added quickly, “just… y’know.” 

He felt her hand take hold of his and squeeze, so he squeezed back. 

“I’m sure he’ll be back to visit, some day. I mean, I kept getting to see this old face, didn’t I?”

He glanced at Kate and Shirley, who were talking about something, he should probably help them, should probably figure out a way to fix the human race again. But he just couldn’t. He felt a lump in his throat, and squeezed Donna’s hand again. “You were one of the few… I should have… you were different.” 

There was silence and understanding between the two of them for a minute or two. 

“I think he was right, that version of you, you need to work on yourself first. I mean… you’re kind of a mess.”

The Doctor barked out a laugh, feeling some of the weight lift off of his shoulders. 

“Yeah, I guess…. I guess he’s right.” he thought back to the hug from his older self, he wished it had been longer, it had been stabilising, but now he was cast adrift. He didn’t know what came next. 

So he did what he always did. 

He put on a smile, and raised his voice, adding levity, and an easy smile.

“I should probably help Kate, and Shirley, y’know fix this mess your lot have got yourselves into this time.” 

Apparently Kate Lethbridge Stewart had been polite in pretending not to listen to his and Donna’s conversation, as she immediately turned to him, holding a screen in her hands, starting to hold it out to him. 

“We have-”

“No.” Donna’s voice silenced Kate immediately, The Doctor still didn’t know how she did that, he supposed he could do it too, but Donna managed to even shut himself up, and he’d always sucked at getting himself to shut up.

“I-”

“No,” Donna repeated, glaring at the Doctor now, even though it had been Shirley who had tried to interrupt that time. “You heard him, you heard you. You’re not doing anything other than coming home with me, eating whatever my mum’s cooked, and having a kip.”

He had the decency to look away from her, down at the floor again, as he tried to stretch the truth a little, “I’ll be okay, I’ll do that, but I’ll help here first.” He looked at Donna again, begging her to understand, as she always did, he needed to do something, to not feel useless. 

To prove he could still be The Doctor.

She just shook her head with a sad smile on her face, “Not this time Doctor.” She squeezed his upper arm, looking not at him now but at Kate. “I’ll be taking him home, you lot can handle this. He’s grounded, Doctor’s orders.” 

“Donna, “ he grumbled, “I can’t be grounded, I’m a billion years old and a Timelord with a Tardis, and a million more lives to live.”

She just rolled her eyes at him. 

He loved her but she couldn’t half annoy him sometimes, it was clear to her that she disagreed with him being ‘unable to be grounded’. Kate just nodded at Donna, not looking at him, whereas Shirley kind of smirked at him. She was trouble, good trouble, he’d have to take her on an adventure, if she would go. 

Donna was talking to Kate about something, The Doctor wasn’t paying attention, and she still had hold of him, as though he was about to jump in his box and run away… he supposed she might have a point with that one. 

“C’mon, martian,” she pulled him fondly as she started to walk away from the Tardis, “We’ll catch a lift off this lot, the Tardis will follow us, or go where she goes when she ditches you. We’ll get you well, and then we can go on some adventures.”

He looked back at the Tardis, as though she’d be able to intercede on his behalf, she didn’t. Traitor. So he followed after Donna, trusting her to find the way out of this place. 

“Oh,” Donna called over her shoulder at the leader at Unit, “and send me the contract, I’m sure you have all my details, 150K a year we said, right, and 6 weeks holiday?”

The Doctor smiled faintly, he didn’t know the details she’d worked out, but he was almost certain that she had just given herself a promotion. 

The first challenge he faced was a seatbelt, refusing to put it on until Donna had glared at him and told him he’d be walking soon, still without shoes. He’d clicked the belt on, grumbling under his breath. 

Donna chatted to the Unit soldier who was driving them, something about the time Atmos nearly filled the world with gas to prepare the world for the Sontaruns, about his trick with the tennis ball, and nearly sacrificing himself. The Doctor didn’t join in, he just zoned out, knowing he was safe to do so when Donna was with him. 

He had shuffled into Donna’s home, still shoeless, he should acquire some shoes soon, or at least some socks. He was quiet as Donna announced to her family that he’d be staying in their spare room for a while, until he was ‘better’ in her words. He kind of hoped one of them would protest, give him an excuse to stay in the Tardis, he wouldn’t go away, but he’d be able to keep his distance. 

But none of them bothered: Shaun seemed pretty easy going, genuinely nice, saying ‘Y’right mate?” with an easy smile. Sylvia looked apprehensive, just ever so slightly, but she was clearly trying, she knew now that him being there wouldn’t actively kill Donna, still she sent him a smile, before excusing herself to the kitchen to cook him a ‘proper meal’, he guessed he wasn’t sure the last time he had eaten. Rose, Donna’s Rose, smiled at him, before Donna quickly made it very very clear to her, and to the Doctor, that neither of them, or anyone at all, would be using the Tardis until she said so. 

He’d find a way around that, but maybe not right now, he wouldn’t push it yet. 

He was led upstairs to the spare room, sparsely decorated; with a bed, a wardrobe, and a bedside table. The walls were blue, not Tardis blue, but blue enough that he knew some part of Donna had remembered. 

He let himself drop onto the bed. 

“Doctor…. Are you okay?” 

Her voice was so soft, and he was so lost, he tried to swallow the lump in his throat again, but this time it didn’t work. “I don’t know…. I don’t know anything, what to do, who I am… What I am…. I just,” he let out a breath feeling tears in his eyes. Before he knew it she had her arms around him, sitting on the bed beside him, holding him close. 

He clung to her, his best friend, his lifeboat. 

“I don’t… I’m not okay, Donna.”

“I know,” she soothed him, no trace of the teasing they often had between them. “It’s going to be okay though, it’ll just take a while, and a lot of work. But you have me, you have a family Doctor, you’re not alone. You can breathe now, you can stop, you don’t need to worry about anything right now.” 

“I’m so tired,” he admitted, feeling each and every year of his life he’d lived since he had last had this old face. 

“You can tell me about it, when you’re ready, about it all.” 

“Is this what I do now?” he pulled away from her, but didn’t move from sitting beside her, their knees both touching, grounding him still, “Just sit here and cry.”

“Sure. That’s what I did, a lot, when I forgot you, I mean I didn’t know why obviously. It was hard, really hard, but I had my mum, and my grandad, they let me be sad, and then they helped me move on. They’re experts at this, and I’m the world expert in The Doctor, “ she smirked at that, “Between us all we can figure it out.”

He smiled back at her, it wasn’t a huge beaming energetic smile, but it was full of his heart. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve her, if he did deserve her of course, which right then he wasn’t sure he was. 

“First things first, you need some clothes, Shauns will be big on you, but considering you two split the clothes between you and he was wearing the pants….”

The Doctor groaned, throwing himself back to lie on the bed, covering his eyes with his hands, “Don’t. Why’d… I mean couldn’t the universe have just given us both clothes?”

Donna snorted, “She’s got a sense of humour, the universe.”

The Doctor couldn’t help but agree, uncovering his eyes as he watched Donna leave the room. 

He let his eyes fall shut, taking in a deep breath. 

Then another.

And another. 

#dw fic #doctor who fic #fourteenth doctor #14th doctor #doctordonna #doctor donna fic #14th doctor fic #my fic #anyway my hyperfixation is back and I can actually kinda write again #send me prompts please and thank you <3

[marsti]

the feedback i've gotten in calling the 14th doctor age regression is mostly people agreeing with me but also a few people saying "wouldn't it make more sense if it was 11? he's more childlike than 10" so i feel like i have to clarify my thoughts a little more here. get ready for some genuine analysis to justify a joke i made.

i specified that i think this is time lord age regression, because i don't think it'd manifest in the same way for them. their stages of life simply don't go baby -> child -> teen -> adult, each regeneration is functionally a different person with their own thought processes and dominant personality traits and that's their stages of life.

i don't think it would make sense for 13 to regress to 11 because 11 is a fakey fake fake. his whimsy is performative. 11 is a man who's done the work, understands his feelings, but refuses to process them so he's still a little mentally ill with it. that's why everyone who is or has ever been a lol so random emo groks him. if anything he WISHES he could be an age regressor, he doesn't like that he has to have the complicated mind of an adult. but he fully drops it at the end and reveals he's always been a grumpy old man underneath it all, and then literally regenerates into a grumpy old man.

that's decidedly not the mental framework 13 was working off of at the end of her life. she was confused and crushed by guilt. what was supposed to be a new start for the doctor after 12 finally worked through their feelings and re-discovered what being The Doctor means and took responsibility for their actions? tough luck sucker. everything you thought you knew about yourself was a lie. half of the universe is dead. it's your fault.

to me this is very close to the mental framework that underpins everything about 10. a man who had lost his main coping mechanism (rage) and was now forced to actually confront the guilt he felt, a man who was just so so so very sad. someone who was just so... lost, and alone, and fucked up in the head. desperate for someone to understand what he was going through. and genuinely a little silly with it too! it's all very teenage-like, to me.

14 has a lot of that, and especially in wild blue yonder you can really see how much he wants donna to remember what it's like to be him. he wants someone to LITERALLY read his thoughts, because he craves understanding but doesn't wanna talk about it. the words wouldn't come out anyway. i also think that the ways 14 differs from 10 are interesting, because he's not an exact copy. it really feels like the doctor wanted to go back to before all of this happened, they don't want to be changed. they don't want to be affected. but they were, and the only way they can cope with it is to pretend to be 10 again.

#shut up sender #doctor who #dr who #dw #doctor who spoilers #fourteenth doctor #14th doctor #wild blue yonder #keeping this entirely 10-13 because this is all very contextually dependent on the emotional fallout from 9 letting go of his anger #also see what i did there at the end im kinda clever sometimes #long post

[3lostyears]

i hope this is the last post i’m gonna write about this but one of the reasons the 60th specials upset me is that it felt like rtd cheapened his own legacy. his initial run, especially season 4, was so meaningful to me as a kid, so influential to me as a writer and even the way i love and engage with tv to this day. that’s not to say he or his run was ever perfect, the most obvious issue being the terrible choices with martha and mickey, and others.

but it’s still upsetting to know that he doesn’t get what made his own series special. which i kind of knew when i read in the writer’s tale that, had catherine not come back as donna for season 4, the companion would have been romantically interested in the doctor. again. the thing he most consistently got right was how his run had stakes; how you could feel the heavy weight of death. tentoo works because it IS bittersweet, because it does come at a cost to both the tenth doctor and donna.

and now? he just gives us another tennant clone and it means nothing. if it had been 13, if david had just come back as tentoo to remind his former self that resting, living, is still an adventure. that despite what it might feel like, it’s an option. and after all the horror 13 faced it could have felt like a catharsis, especially if she’d reunited with the fam in addition to tentoo reuniting with donna. maintaining the biregeneration would still have undercut ncuti’s debut but not the way having david as TWO different doctors did (plus i was never expecting rtd to have improved on race because i watched years & years and wow yikes).

but it still sucks that someone who has written genuinely meaningful things to me hasn’t learned anything in the intervening years. that perhaps next time i revisit s4 it’s going to shine a little less brightly because of what he’s now written, to me the sign of truly bad writing and something i’ve already experienced from another doctor who showrunner, and that makes me sad. a real “you either die the hero or live long enough to become the villain” moment.

#before you come for me rtd was never actually a hero #even as a kid there were episodes i thought were Bad #but his character work was good (except when it wasn’t lol) #i really hope ncuti’s era feels and aims for something properly different #but i’ve literally spent the past year seeing things being like you’ve! done! this! #anti rtd #and also #pro rtd #please prove me wrong

[orionsangel86]

I find it so infinitely funny that the Doctor Who creators were like "well its inevitable that David Tennant will return again at some point so lets just make it easy for him" and wrote it so that 14 gets to go on and live a happy ending but still keep his own Tardis and have adventures if he wants to whilst knowing that The Doctor is still out there saving the universe like... part of me is so mad about it for being such an obvious way to keep David Tennant around because they know he's the golden nugget that boosts the ratings everytime (sorry but he is) but the other part of me is that David Tennant obsessed bitch who squeels with joy everytime he is on my screen and the thought that he may just come back to Doctor Who every now and again fills me with so much joy and has healed some of my trauma from having to say goodbye to him 15 years ago.

At the same time this is ridiculous and as wonderful as Ncuti was (he was seriously brilliant) there will be a subsection of Who fans just itching to see what David Tennant is up to and that makes me feel a bit sad for Ncuti and his Doctor.

I also feel a bit robbed of the emotional moment I was fully anticipating throughout the specials. I was fully expecting to have to watch DT regenerate again and relive some of the pain and sadness I felt saying goodbye to him 15 years ago, and honestly I was sort of looking forward to that because its rare that a show makes me feel that way about a character and DTs Doctor is one of very few that I do feel that way about. Part of me really WANTED to see that regeneration and feel those feelings again.

Also funny that there are now TWO former Doctors with David Tennants face out in the universe somewhere separate from The Doctor. The one with Donna, and the one with Rose. I always figured if DT returned he would play TenTwo. I was hoping at some point to see what became of them but this new canon makes that seem less likely idk.

So I am very split on my feelings over the 60th specials. I love them and am annoyed at the same time. I have already seen grumblings about David Tennant favouritism and well, yeah, I agree, its super blatant, but I also totally am on the side of David Tennant as he's the only Doctor I've ever loved and will continue to love so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I dunno. It was joyful. It was so joyful. I shouldnt complain. It means we could potentially see more of DT in DW again in the future and I will never complain about that. But I can recognise that this is an attempt to revise the popularity of a show that had long since passed its golden age by bringing back its golden boy and there is something a bit cheap and disengenuous about that if you pick at it too much.

So I'll leave it there. I loved it regardless. I am looking forward to 15s era and hope it can recapture my attention the way 11, 12, and 13 never could. But we shall see.

#doctor who #david tennant #doctor who spoilers #doctor who 60th anniversary

[team-avia]

Theres some spoilers ahead😔✌ also this is super long im so so sorry i wanted to praise all of u and then it got a lot of asks and long texts by me i swear im just trying to be nice😭

Soo, ive done all routes except Angie (im gonna do it later) and i wanted to talk about it so sorry for being annoying😭

I've got two Bela endings, one was happy lovey traveled lets save the fam and all that. Loved the story, mia trying to kill me was so not a girl girls move. The other ending I didn't support her and went to Miranda (snitch? yes but mira liked it so...), sad part was that bela got sent to a hospital (i hope???) but fun to see the difference. Bela was a mean girl but with reasons (no heart lol) so i didnt click with the romance because i like the evilness with conscious.

I got two alcinas ending too, talked about the "happy" one before and im still upset dani got mad for me dating her mother, i really value friendships ( also mira died?????) Soo i tried a different ending without romancing her, i guess i questioned too much because guess who got turned into a sculpture🤪 (also how will mira recover my body to start it all over again? girlie is gonna have a hard time).

I got one Cassandra ending and one Dani ending, both were happy. I liked Cass more because it felt more like paths i would take in my life. However character wise i loved how both were written, Dani was so adorable i wanted to hug her forever and giver her all the praise (lets be fr her family was not doing it).

And to finish, the loves of my life Donna and Miranda. Both of their stories made me all aaaaaaaaaaa, ive loved them since re8 and it captured the image i had of them perfectly. I've played both twice and got a happy ending i simply cant not love them. It was so cool to see the foreshadowing in Donna's story, when she said Miranda was going to keep her in a tighter leash next time i was like 🤨😲😔.

I know Miranda is evil and that apparently shes keeping everyone in a loop until she gets us to be with her, but thats lowkey so sweet😍

Anywayy, loved everything, the characters were amazingly written, i also kept trying to decode the background to see if there was anything secret (blame flanagan), their expressions was so on point it was awesome to stare at it changing.

You all deserve every love and praise that exists in this world, tysm for putting this together, i really dont know how to thank you enough so that u understand how good all of this is (hence all of the asks ive sent istg sorry again😬)

LISTEN!!! WE LOVE!!! THE ASKS!! I DRINK THEM LIKE COFFEE!! And I drink coffee like water.

As to how Miranda can get you when you're a statue ... she has her ways :^) (It's Mia. Mia is breaking into the manor and steals you. hehe. Nah, I'm just kidding. Or am I.)

And right?? Dani deserves all of the hugs and affection.

Thank you for loving it so much that you send us so much love and so many asks 💙

Arla

#mail 💌 #arlamod💙 #Resident Lover Spoilers #blame flanagan 😂 you're right though

[nolspreid]

Broken Pieces - Steven Grant x Reader

You didn't like how Steven talked about himself.

warnings : none (maybe a little angst?? and also self deprecating themes ig) but mostly fluff

word count : 2.01k

author's note : i wrote this randomly in like one sitting at 3am with no plan whatsoever,, it's my first x reader fic please be indulgent,, (also i didn't even proof read it lol so enjoy my silly little spelling mistakes) i just wanted to add on to the sea of soft!steven x reader cause im a sucker for it

<>

"You alright, love ?" Steven asked you, brows furrowed in nothing but curiosity and concern, noticing you blankly staring at him as he went on and on, venting to you about his long day working at the museum - among other things.

"Uh, yeah" you answered after a little while, your mind having wandered to the depths of itself. you gave him an apologetic smile before tightening your grip on his big hands and intertwining your fingers together. "I'm alright, Steven. I'm so sorry, my mind was… elsewhere." You looked at him with mostly care and worry behind your eyes.

"What's going on ?" He slightly shifted from his previous laid back position against the backrest of the couch and was now sat up straight in front of you. Your naked legs were tangled together, covered byt the warm and fuzzy blanket Steven bought for the two of you. He gently put his hand on your thigh underneath it as his thumb drew circles on your soft skin.. He hoped that this gesture would soothe out the pain you seemed to be enduring.

You opened your mouth, only to close it again after a few seconds, leaving the silence between the two of you grow ever so daunting. What were you gonna say to him ?

While he was talking about his day, about how bored he was working at the gift-shop counter and how unnerving his boss' presence was, constantly lingering around to remind him not to "chat the visitors' ears off" despite him really wanting to, you felt a sudden sort-of-sadness washing over you. You couldn't really explain it but you felt a heaviness in your chest, weighing in a bit more with every word he spoke.

Hearing your boyfriend talk about his job like that made you sad. Hearing him talk about how he was being treated in such a casual, detached, used-to-it manner made you angry. You were angry at Donna, his boss, for giving him hell when he deserved paradise and even more. You were angry at him, for not standing up for himself and letting people walk all over him. And you were angry at yourself, for caring so much that it made you sick to your stomach.

When you met Steven, the second you laid your eyes on him, especially on his brown curls, exhausted eyes and boyish grin, as cliché as it was, you felt a million butterflies fly around in your empty stomach. You'd walked up to him, barely managing to conceal the flustered look on your face and asked him about the items he sold. You wanted to start a conversation with him and that seemed like the easiest approach. He started talking to you about the pyramid shaped key rings and about the plushies of the different gods, taking one in his big calloused hand and setting it on the counter. It was a plushie of the goddess Taweret, Egyptian deity of fertility. Soon enough, he started rambling about the origin of her cult and how exactly people worshipped her in the ancient days. While he was talking, you couldn’t help but notice how his face, previously dull and haunted by boredom, was now lit up and joyful. You could practically hear the smile in his clear, soothing voice.

Realising mid-sentence that he completely went off-track, he scolded himself mentally, already picturing Donna lecture him about how "he's not the bloody tour guide" and should stop giving people unwanted remarks about ancient egypt. He then profusely apologised to you. His eyes were looking down at the plushie that he grabbed from the table where he'd put it while his lips curved into a defeated half smile. You were amazed at how expressive that man was. You could read his face like an open book, every emotion he felt being completely obvious. Not that you were much of a stoic yourself.

"That's so interesting," You slightly squinted your eyes to read his name on the tag that you just noticed he was wearing "Steven. Could you tell me more ?"

He looked up to you, eyes open wide and mouth faintly agape. He wasn't annoying you with all these useless facts ? And even more unbelievable, you wanted to hear more ? As he blinked slowly, he let out a shaky breath that made your heart melt. He was adorable. As he continued talking, giving you little facts about the goddess, the life in egypt and whatnot, you found the way his hands caressed and handled the plushie endearing. Everything you'd seen about him so far was endearing. To the way his pretty brown eyes wandered about, shifting between timidly looking into yours and at the table, to the way he tripped over his own words, as if he was hurrying to get to the next one already. After a few minutes spent with him excitedly talking and you scrutinising his face, he stopped talking and finally made solid eye contact. "I assume you're interested in egyptology, yeah ?" His eyebrows went up an so did his voice.

"Me ? I guess you could say that yes." A little laugh escaped your pink covered lips as you tucked a piece of stray hair behind your ear. You hoped your flirtatious intentions were obvious enough for him to pick up on it.

"Stevie ?" A feminine voice called from not so far away. You both turned your heads in the direction it was coming from, you with curiosity and him with apprehension. A blond haired middle aged woman was looking at him with a severe expression on her face and her arms crossed over her chest. She looked somewhat angry, or disappointed, or both.

"Shit," You heard the man in front of you say when he turned his head back to his gift-shop counter and accesorily to gift-shopist reality. He seemed to "have forgotten that he was only here to sell useless crap" as his colleagues so well put it. "I'm so sorry miss, but I'm actually not allowed to erm… chat during my work hours." He said, the words leaving his mouth with a truly bitter taste. He enjoyed this little talk the two of you just had and the look of pure interest in your face struck him. He always tried to share his extensive knowledge of all things in regards to ancient Egypt to pretty much everyone stopping by but he wasn’t used to people actually listening and being interested.

Your hands flew to his, gently taking the plushie he was holding and inadvertently brushing against his fingertips as you did so. "It's alright, it's my fault, I distracted you from your job. I'm gonna buy that, yeah ?" You smiled at him, truly sorry for monopolising his attention for so long.

"Great, awesome, good." He said, a huge smile stretching his pink lips, relieved that this was probably gonna save him from being torn apart by his boss later on. After you paid for it, you looked at him earnestly. "It was really nice meeting you, Steven." You finally said before walking away, not without waving him a little goodbye with your free hand. He waved back at you, still amazed by what just happened. It took him time to fully register the way you looked genuinely fascinated by what he had to say, the way your fingers touched his for a split second when you took the plushie from his hands, and the way you said his name twice. It rolled out of your lips so naturally and casually that he felt a little sting in his chest. This feels nice, he thought, unfamiliar but nice.

Ever since that day, you kept coming back to the museum and eventually, you got yourself a nice little collection of plushies since you made sure to never leave without buying one. Soon enough, he asked you for your name, then you asked him out on a date, then you became a couple.

The more things you discovered of him along the way, the more you liked him and the more you wanted to know. He was devastatingly beautiful, funny, smart, passionate, gentle, sweet, caring, and so much more. You learned all of that through the first couple of dates you've been on together and to which he made sure to bring you flowers. You could see all of that in him from the very beginning but the horrifying realisation that it was absolutely not reciprocated from his part hit you like a truck. He was a lovely and wonderful man, why couldn't he see that ?

Steven deserved the world and all the best things it had to offer. The words quit your mind as you tried to piece together the things you wanted to communicate to him. You couldn't quite find the right words or phrases to tell him how sad it made you that he didn't see himself the way you did. You wished you could tell him that you wanted to shower him with all the love pouring from your heart. You wish you could tell him how all you wanted was for him to know his beauty and his worth. Your eyes started to water as he was still looking at you, patiently waiting for you to answer. You had a dreadful week so your sensibility was heightened and your emotions were a lot stronger. You didn't have the energy - and honestly didn't really feel the need - to fight the tears running down your cheeks.

"Do you know that I love you, Steven ?. I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much that I don't know what to do with these feelings." Your voice broke with the last words you spoke. You lowered your head on his shoulder and started full-on properly crying. Before he could think about it, his arms flew over your back to take you into his warm embrace, hugging you tighter than usual. His eyes were still awestruck, due to the shock of seeing you burst into tears like that. "Shh, It's okay, babe. I'm here and I love you too." he kept saying while stroking your hair to reassure her, in the way he knew it did. He still couldn't really believe it. You were crying because of him ? Because you loved him ?

Wow. Was all he could think of. While he was heartbroken to see you cry, part of him was secretly happy because you said you loved him. You said you loved him so much that it was distressing. Wow.

Oftentimes, he wondered why you even wanted to be with him. Surely someone so gorgeous and lovely as you could date someone much better, he thought. Everytime he did, he reminded himself that he was a broken piece of man. An empty shell. He truly believed that you would be much happier with someone else - anyone else - than with his depressing, dull and odd person. You deserved someone who could care for you, protect you and make you feel appreciated everyday, not someone who would disappear for days at a time with no previous warning to fight for an Egyptian god. Nevertheless, you seemed to think that he met all the criterias. Seeing you so helpless and distressed because of your love for him, made him feel all kinds of warm inside. You loved him.

And he loved you. He loved you so very much that he didn't think he would be able to express it to its fullest extent in his lifetime. You were the light that pulled him out of his boring day routine and dark lonely nights. You were the only one that listened to what he had to say, that cared and appreciated him no matter how insufferable and deranged he thought he was. You gave him life everyday just by being around him. You were his solace of peace and quiet when all he could feel was the harshness of the world. The only moments where he felt like he was truly alive were the ones he spent watching you, touching you, kissing you. You were the best thing that could have happened to him.

Cupping your face in his hands, he slowly lifted your head so that your tear filled eyes faced his. "I. Love. You." He punctuated every word with gentle kisses on your forehead, on your cheek, and on your lips.

One thing was sure, you loved this man with everything you had and also promised yourself that you'd help him walk out the path of despair he was engaged in and into the true light of happiness, holding, kissing, loving him and his broken pieces every step along the way.

#steven grant fanfiction #steven grant #steven grant fluff #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #khonshu #moon knight imagine #moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight series #moonknight #moonknight marvel #marc spector

[spoodersrus]

Songs I think would be good fits for s5 and why (mostly byler edition):

Hot Stuff- Donna Summer (1979)

I'd just love this as a Nancy/ronance song🥰 It's got power, intensity, and it would sound good layered over an action scene of some kind. Any point in the song it has that iconic groove that anyone will immediately nod their heads to.

Here Comes The Rain Again- Eurythmics (1984)

More of a lowkey solemn moment song. Full of water/ocean-centered lyrics which has been associated with Stranger Things and specifically Mike & Will. Also would be a rain fight callback.

Here comes the rain again

Raining in my hand like a tragedy

Tearing me apart like a new emotion

I want to breathe in the open wind

I want to kiss like lovers do

Want to dive into your ocean

Is it raining with you?"

^^^ does that not scream a sad gays awakening?? "Is it raining with you?" is a way of asking if the other person is feeling the same, and if they're also battling this drowning feeling.

Hold The Line- Toto (1978)

We already got Africa by Toto, but this would be a fitting Mike song. The main hook is

Hold the line, love isn't always on time

Who has a running theme of not being on time? Mike. Who messed things up with the person he's in love with because of trying to love someone else? Mike. Who has miscommunication surrounding phone calls? Mike & Will. Who needs some time to figure himself out? Miiiike! Hold the line for this poor guy, love isn't always aligned when you want it to be and he needs some time to catch up. He wants it, but he needs Will to hold on for him for a minute while he sorts it out.

I Knew You Were Waiting (For Me)- George Michael & Aretha Franklin (1987)

A must-listen for bylers. It talks of being engulfed in darkness but keeping your chin up and not letting the highs or lows make you stop believing in love.

It's about finally coming together with someone you've pined over for a longgg time, and feeling that you two were truly destined to be together despite life trying to rip you apart. Looking back on the hard times and being able to laugh now.

Sure in time our eyes would meet, one touch and you set me free

Alone - Heart (1987)

If this song doesn't give you goosebumps you are a different species than me.

This song also has themes aligned with time and Mikes failure to communicate via phone.

I hear the ticking of the clock

No answer on the telephone

And the main chorus

'Til now I always got by on my own

^ explains his home life & how he never felt emotionally supported by his parents, always left to process his emotions alone

I never really cared until I met you

We see how apathetic Mike acts at home, and how Mike clear as day expressed that meeting Will was "the best thing he's ever done". Meeting Will changed Mikes life profoundly. S1 & 2 shows just how much Will has made Mike care.

And now it chills me to the bone

How do I get you alone?

Mike feels Will in his bones. It's unignorable. He needs to connect with Will alone to figure it out, but as we've seen, in s4 he was almost exclusively interrupted whenever trying to get a minute alone with Will.

You don't know how long i've wanted to touch your lips and hold you tight

You don't know how long i've waited and I was gonna tell you tonight

But the secret is still my own and my love for you is still unknown

No but really not including this song would be criminal & shoutout to whoever on here brought it up first, bc there is no better mike wheeler song.

#part 1 of my S5 playlist lol #i need to find more action songs bc as many fitting songs as there are.. it won't be a fluffy season y'know? #byler #stranger things 5 #st5 #stranger things predictions #st music #mike wheeler #ronance