#like I think surely the worst has happened

[1d1195]

Traditional - Extra VII

Read Traditional here | ~4.1k words

Warnings: smut. 18+ only. oral (m), sex, maybe public if you believe enough. Otherwise, it's kinda fluffy

From me: idk I think Harry can be a little TOO self-loathing. And he is really so sweet and nice overall. I think he deserves some TRADITIONAL sugar-daddy CEO treatment.

Summary: Harry is a lot calmer now that the client fiasco is over. But he's still on edge. Fortunately, she has an idea to take the edge off.

Harry was much more pleased with the direction of his company now that the biggest crisis of his career was finally in the rearview mirror. Now that her arm was healed and his clients were stable, everything was much better.

Except Harry didn’t fully accept it.

It was like there was a little worm in his brain that ate at him and whispered directly into the auditorial processing space that something, at any moment, would go wrong. The other shoe would drop and he would be back at square one.

“Baby?” She interrupted his thoughts of worthlessness and impostor syndrome. God he needed to see someone. But when was there time? “I asked about dinner, it’s Monday,” she reminded him gently. His mind reeling but he wanted to focus on her.

He wasn’t angry. For the first time in months. It felt like that for everyone around him. It created an entirely different vibe in the office. People weren’t scared during meetings. He didn’t slam his phone down when something was late.

But she noticed how withdrawn he was because she knew him.

“Are you alright?” Her voice wasn’t accusatory. It was still quiet. Like she was a little afraid she would set him off. But he hadn’t bought new electronics in months. The accounting department joked they would get to decrease the furniture budget this quarter as it closed. Harry couldn’t do anything but laugh because it was true. It was the first time he felt at ease since the mess happened.

It was awful.

“M’fine,” he smiled gently at her. It was their daily meeting. The one Harry didn’t even know they had until he saw it written on her calendar back when her cramps made her sleep through it. But he knew she didn’t believe his hand-waving denial. He wasn’t fine, she knew it.

“Okay,” she sipped her drink and eyed him suspiciously.

He was looking at the papers on his desk and every little negative number made his heart skip a beat.

This wasn’t healthy.

“Are you sure?” She asked again.

That wasn’t helping him either. How perceptive she was and knowing exactly what he was feeling. It was almost annoying that she could do it. All he wanted to do was hide his feelings from her the way he was supposed to, and she made it so difficult.

God, she was perfect.

He nodded silently, not looking up at her because if he did, she would read him like an open book. She would praise him and tell him he was perfect. He didn’t want that. It was stupid, but he needed to believe it himself. It was partially his own fault. Styles Inc. suffered very few hiccups other than getting up and running. Back when he had just graduated, and he had stuffed every penny he had into the two offices he and Niall needed to get started. It grew before his eyes. He believed he was important and doing important things. He knew he was talented and doing well.

Almost having to fire her was the worst wakeup call.

“Harry,” her voice broke his thoughts again.

“Yeah, kitten?” He hummed trying to admire the green numbers on the spreadsheet before him. They were large and lovely. The red ones amounted to next to nothing in comparison. But it didn’t matter. They were terrifying.

“Baby, I just asked you if you think I should go out for drinks with a client that keeps hitting on me so that we can get a bigger contract from him, and you said that was a good idea.”

His head snapped up. Jealousy pierced his heart and ran hot through his blood in seconds. “What client hits on you?” He scowled. They were dropping said client. Effective immediately. Not even feeling like an impostor would deter him from that kind of behavior. It wouldn’t matter if they were his biggest client either. If they were hitting on her—

“You really think a client would be stupid enough to hit on me knowing you’re my boyfriend?” She asked a slight smirk on her lips.

He ran a hand over his face. Of course they wouldn’t. Harry had a scary side, and everyone knew it. If they even tried to flirt with her Harry would probably break their neck. The little jealous monster inside of his head was more powerful than the worm that told him he wasn’t talented, and he could lose it all at a moment’s notice.

And he hated that word lately. He needed to add another reminder on his phone to remedy that immediately as well. Boyfriend. It was so childish sounding. He was a successful businessman, and he had a gorgeous girlfriend who made him feel like... well... like he deserved to own such a successful company. Fiancé. Husband. That had a nicer ring to it. He needed to fix that soon.

“Harry,” she giggled.

“What?”

“You’re staring at me,” she was blushing. Looked away as she sat in the chair across from him on the other side of the desk.

He sighed and smiled tiredly. “Course,” he really looked at her again, not just spaced out like he had been doing. The way her hair fell, the way her lip gloss coated her straw. The way her nail polish chipped—he would send her for a manicure (with Eleanor so she’d actually go) even though she preferred when Harry painted them—hence the chipping.

Harry was so captivated by her. It did seem like a crime that he hadn’t given her his full attention during their coffee break. Part of him thought she should model for offices or office furniture. It was sexist and lizard-brained of him. But she was so pretty it was the only thing he could think of in that moment. Then he considered the notion of her being a professor or a doctor—even though he knew she wasn’t qualified for it. But it didn’t matter. He suspected she could do it without training. She was too lovely. The fact that she was intelligent and beautiful and nice was unfair. He didn’t deserve something so good when he could lose the biggest reason she was in his life. “You’re so pretty, kitten.”

Her cheeks turned red again. Harry thought he would explode. “Don’t change the subject.”

“M’not,” he pouted. She did the cute little nose wrinkle that made Harry’s heart skip a beat the same way the negative numbers on spreadsheets did but this time he didn’t mind.

“Your brain has been elsewhere during this whole meeting—”

“Can y’please stop calling it a meeting, kitten?” he grumbled. It felt so wrong to call it a meeting when he was in love with her. Like he needed a corporate excuse to have her sit in his office.

“Pretenses, baby. Don’t want anyone to know I’m your second favorite.”

He grunted, running a hand over his face as the irritation sank in again because of her words. “Niall is not m’favorite.”

She smiled impishly. Her cheeks looked like little apples that Harry wanted to kiss and take bites out of. Her eyes danced with mischievousness that he thought she could only have learned from Louis.

He loved her so much.

Which was why he was so mad that he was worried. If this company suffered the thought of letting her down, of telling her that he wasn’t successful anymore. He met her only because he did well and was successful. How would she love him if that wasn’t true anymore?

“Harry, I’m going to drag you to the hospital if you don’t tell me.”

“Can we talk ‘bout it at home?”

She frowned. “Oh, it’s not work related?” She asked.

He shook his head, confused as to how she would conclude such a thing. “What do y’mean?”

“Well... if it was work-related, you would tell me now. You only tell me relationship-related things at home. Which means now I have to go back to my office and conference call Louis and Eleanor and pull Niall from his work so we can discuss where I’m going to live because you can’t take the sound of me singing in the shower anymore. What’s worse is Louis will agree and he won’t want me to live with him and Eleanor either. Then I’ll have to find my own place and it won’t have room for a porch swing and—”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kitten, shut up,” he sighed. She smiled sweetly, unperturbed by the way he said it because he sounded exhausted with her, which was almost definitely her goal. He knew she liked to annoy him—even when he was already suffering internally.

“I don’t want to say it’s your fault, baby. But if you would just tell me what—”

“I don’t feel successful.”

She tilted her head at him curiously. “You don’t?”

He shook his head feeling the nerves in every inch of his skeleton. Right down to the bone. Past the bone. Probably to the atoms or even further to each proton and neutron. Telling her made it real. Telling her anything meant he had to deal with what he was feeling because she wouldn’t let him brush it away.

She was about as bad as the worm in his head.

“Okay,” she nodded. Then there was silence.

They stared at each other for a significant moment. Harry thought it could have been ten minutes, but it might have only been ten seconds. “You’re not going t’say anything?” He asked.

She shrugged. “I could,” she smiled gently. Almost pitifully. It made Harry feel the slightest bit worse. But then she made it better. Of course she did. She made everything seem so... simple. In the best way. A point of view he hadn’t considered. “I could ask you why. Or tell you how it’s not true—all of which I do believe. But I actually think it’s kind of more serious than that. I think you went through a really difficult thing. It piled and piled and you dealt with it. More than anyone here. Because you care and love this place with everything in you,” she listed. “I think you’ll need to talk to someone more qualified than me to fully deal with it. But I will list every reason why you’re completely, totally, and simply wrong another time. When you’re not so sad looking and it won’t fall on deaf ears,” she assured him with a pointed expression that he had fallen in love with so many times over it was uncanny.

Had he mentioned he loved her so much?

“Oh,” he murmured.

She stood up, moved around his desk and leaned against the edge in front of him. Her eyes didn’t move from his and she brought a hand to his face, traced the curve of his jaw, the soft pink lips she loved so much. “Why are you worried you’re not successful?” She asked.

She really knew where to hit him where it hurt. “Y’won’t love me...if m’not successful.”

“Harry,” she cooed. “Baby—”

“I know,” he turned into her hand and kissed the center of her palm. “But I... I only met y’because m’successful. If m’not... then...”

“You know I don’t love you because you have money, right? We’ve been over this.”

“I know,” he nodded. “Really, I do. But s’like...there’s something in m’brain, kitten. I can’t turn it off and m’exhausted. After all that... I mean... y’saw. It was reallybad. Like really bad. M’still kind of worried and—what are you doing?”

“Turning your brain off,” she smiled, full of mischief once more as she slunk down to her knees. She wiggled into the space of his desk where he normally pushed his chair in. “Surely you’ve thought about this?” She asked, her hand sliding up his thigh.

Harry was suddenly illiterate. And mute. What was she talking about? Were they talking about something? The only thing he could hear was his uneven breath and the clinking sound of his belt and zipper. “Oh,” he groaned as her lips mouthed at the outline of his dick against his briefs.

“Cause I’ve thought about it. A lot.”

“You have?” He murmured dumbly.

She nodded, looking up at him from between his legs, crammed under his desk. It was a fantasy he hadn’t even imagined before thirty seconds prior and there she was: making it come true. Her lashes seemed so long, and her hand was massaging him through his underwear. His heart was pounding. All thoughts of negative numbers were gone.

She deserved a raise.

Her fingers hooked around his underwear, and she tugged on them, pulling him free. He didn’t even realize he was straining against the fabric. Within seconds her lips enveloped around him, and she sucked quickly. Hard. Everything was warm and wet instantly.

Harry had done this before with the companions he had found on the very website he found her, but he wished he never had because this was her. She was so perfect. She was everything he wanted. She was beneath his desk making him feel important and it was so ridiculous for him to feel that way but it worked. It was working.

Her mouth was meant to be around him. At least that was the way it felt. It never felt like this. She didn’t even care about herself. Which was fine because Harry would return whatever she gave him now plus interest. For the first time in a year, he felt utterly relaxed. Her head bobbing up and down the length of him. He put a hand on the back of her head, and she moaned softly sending a vibration through him and up to his chest. His cheeks felt hot. Not that he was embarrassed. But it was so much rapid blood flow. Everywhere. He was going to lose his mind.

There was a knock on the door.

She froze but didn’t remove her mouth from him. Harry grumbled a curse under his breath, carefully tucked himself further the edge of his desk without bumping her too much or crushing her. “Yeah?” He called tentatively.

Her lips focused on the tip of him making him struggle to maintain his composure.

“She’s not here?” Niall frowned from the doorway.

Harry shook his head staring at the screen trying not to let his best friend know that his girlfriend and Niall’s very favorite coworker was crammed beneath his desk and sucking him for all he was worth. Even though Niall was right there. “Ran an errand,” her tongue slid down the underside of him silently. He cleared his throat, shifted. Hoping she wouldn’t torture him in front of his best friend. When did she get so brave?

Oh. Traditional. That’s what that meant. Harry thought to himself.

“When she gets back can you ask her where the file from yesterday’s meeting is? I don’t want to mess with her organizational system,” she dug her nails into his thigh not very hard but so her presence was known. As if the thought of Niall messing with her system really was the worst thing he could do in that moment.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t,” Harry chuckled. But the movement made him shift in her mouth which nearly sent him cross-eyed. He cleared his throat again.

“You okay? She’s been worried about you.”

“M’fine,” he rolled his eyes.

She silently sucked harder as if to prove a point. Moved him further down her throat. Harry took a deep breath to maintain any semblance of control he had left over the situation. Which was very little.

“I like that she worries about you.”

“It’s unnecessary,” Harry muttered. To both of them.

“When are you going to marry her?” Niall asked.

That paused her. She released him, peered up through those sinful lashes and smiled more mischievously than he had ever seen. Harry shifted. Silently and blindly lining himself up with her mouth again to keep her from saying I knew it or just generally giving herself away in front of Niall. She obligingly took his length down her throat again and it was a miracle she didn’t make a sound with the amount of spit lodged in her mouth. “Soon,” he assured Niall.

“She left her cell in the office,” he said. “Hopefully she’s with the driver or something.”

“Yeah, I called for him,” he wanted Niall out. “What time are we teeing off tomorrow?” He asked the last bout of normalcy he had left in him. Her lips were dragging so slowly over him it felt nearly painful. The moment Niall left he was going to come.

“Nine fifteen.”

He nodded. “Alright, I’ll be by later for the new account model for—” He coughed as her fingers danced along the inside of his thighs, reaching for the space of his cock that didn’t fit in her mouth as well as underneath— “Excuse me,” he covered his mouth over the fake cough before dropping his hand to his lap—her head—and pushed ever so slightly toward the back of her throat. Fortunately, his phone rang. Niall nodded waving him off; allowing him to tend to his phone call—that he was not going to answer.

“I got it,” he assured him and closed the door.

Harry yanked from her mouth, shoved from the desk, barely pulling his pants up at all. He hurried across his office to twist the lock on his door. Once turned around, she was already there, knelt before him again and sucking him into her warm mouth again. Sucking hard. It was probably loud. Wet. Anyone that happened to be by his door at that moment would know what was happening on the other side. Maybe they would make a rumor. Maybe they would assume it was her—neither of which Harry wanted. “Not here, kitten,” he groaned quietly and lifted her begrudgingly from her knees. He pulled her toward the bathroom. He briefly thought of the first time he was in there with her, knelt himself, to take her shoe off and Louis and Eleanor assumed he was prepared to do something he loved doing to her and strongly considered doing it again. Just as he lifted her bum onto the counter she stopped him.

“Nope,” she slid down again. Knelt once more. “Said it was turning your brain off,” she reminded him. Her lips around his dick once again. Now, with an office separating them from the rest of the company, she openly slurped. Made obscene noises that would satisfy him just fine on business trips where he didn’t get to take her with him and leave him with nothing but fantasies before falling asleep in a lonely hotel room. He slammed the bathroom door shut just for further privacy.

He groaned lowly, meeting the bob of her head as gently as he could so as not to cause her to struggle but enjoying the warmth of her mouth and throat. Her lips looked so sexy around him he wasn’t going to last much longer at all. “Love,” he tilted his head back. “Y’need to—”

“Shh,” she pulled back, pressing the most chaste of kisses along his length which was an oxymoron. “Just worry about you,” she hummed. “Please?”

Harry groaned his hands gathering her hair at the back of her head as she slipped her mouth down as much of him as she could take and it felt so good it made him

“Aw fuck, kitten, s’good,” he groaned and held her in place as he released in her mouth. His breath was ragged, his hips stuttering slightly. She continued sucking even though it was sensitive. Even though it was more than he deserved.

“Do you really think I would stop loving you because you didn’t have money?” She asked, fluttering her lashes. Voice the slightest bit hoarser.

He lifted her from her knees, putting her on the counter again and shoved her dress up to her hips. Thank God she wore a dress. “This underwear is ripped,” he grumbled.

She frowned. “It is? It’s my favorite I didn’t notice a rip when I put them on this mor—”

But she didn’t realize he was predicting the future. He pulled on the nylon cotton blend with so much force her already hoarse voice died in her throat. He groaned, tossing them on the floor. He lined himself up with her entrance and brought her bum to the edge so the sharp corner dug into her flesh. It would leave a bruise and the only thought that was left in her head was that Harry would kiss it and make it better later.

His length slid inside her so effortlessly. She should have been embarrassed how turned on she was sucking him off—especially when Niall got to the office but she couldn’t help it. Now the length that had felt so good in her throat was making her core ache. He thrusted into her quickly. Hardly letting her breathe or realize what was happening, but it felt so good. She was moaning into the curve of shoulder. Clinging to him. “Baby, I—”

“S’good kitten. S’good. I love you so fucking much,” his hips were relentless. All thought escaping her mind. A fire could have broken out in the shower and she wouldn’t have moved—couldn’t have moved.

“Oh wow,” she sighed as Harry pulled her closer to him—her legs wound around his waist. Her butt barely on the counter. Her eyes fluttered with each thrust. “Oh, oh my God,” she moaned. “You’re—”

“Gonna come on m’cock, kitten,” it was a question. Or a command. She didn’t know. It was both. Neither. Part of her wondered if he even said anything.

But she did. She did come on his cock. Hard. She fluttered around him for what felt like minutes. Hours. Centuries. Color ceased to have meaning. There was no sound. That was heaven. She was sure. A blasphemous thought that she didn’t even have the strength to laugh about because she was deliriously good.

Her voice was hoarser than only moments before. Her face tucked into his shoulder and her breath shaky as he pushed her further back toward the mirror at the end of the counter behind the sink. Further from him. Her cheeks were flushed, and she could only imagine what he had done to her hair. But his pupils were massive. His lips pinker than ever. His chest heaved.

Clearing her throat, she gently tucked him back into his pants. Then tucked in his shirt too. With the same delicateness as she did with his cock. It was intoxicating. Made him want to go another thousand rounds with her. “So, in conclusion,” she whispered. “I will love you whether you have a kajillion dollars or one dollar,” she looked up at him, cheeks burning.

“That was very sexy, kitten,” his eyelids practically fluttered.

“I...” she cleared her throat. “I surprised myself, actually.”

“We should do this more often,” he pulled her skirt down and brought her closer to the edge of the counter again. She hissed at the contact against the bruise that was definitely forming. He frowned. “Oh, love m’sorry,” he cupped her face and gazed at her. “Was I too rough? I shouldn’t have—”

“Harry, if I didn’t fear for the stability of my leg muscles I would probably bend over your desk for you.” He swore under his breath. “You did bruise my butt though.”

“No good deed,” he mumbled and lifted her gently from the counter. His hand cupping her backside and gently rubbing each cheek as if it were normal. But it felt normal.

She nuzzled into his chest and sighed contentedly. “Niall’s going to see right through me,” she murmured.

“I’ll fire him again if he makes y’uncomfortable.”

She snorted and laughed, tilting her head up to look at him. “You are my favorite person Harry Styles. I love you so much. Even if you ruined my favorite pair of underwear.”

He smiled as mischievously as she had earlier in the day. “I’ll buy you more...a hundred pairs of them. Then I’ll ruin them all again,” he promised, then pressed his mouth firmly against hers. A gentle, soft kiss in comparison to all they did in the span of half an hour. “I love you too.”

She grinned. “Say it again.”

He shook his head at her, kissed her forehead, effectively turning her to mush, which was probably his plan so she couldn’t deny his next request. “Stop calling our coffee break a meeting.”

But her senses were returning. The ones that weren’t primal and horny about how massive Harry’s dick was in her mouth. She was going to say something funny; he could see it in the glint in her eye. “Well, I can’t put ‘sex’ on your calendar now can I?”

--

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[stevie-petey]

episode five: the flayed

Slowly Steve aims away, the sound trickling against another wall now, and you share a disgusted look with Robin. With a sigh, she squeezes your hand. “If we make it out of here alive, I promise I’ll throw you the best birthday party ever.” “I don’t know, I think Steve peeing five feet away from me will be pretty hard to beat.”

Summary: you have the worst birthday of your life, you almost strangle steve with your bare hands and then later get snot all over him, erica is your savior, dustin is doing his best, robin starts to suspect things, and the russians have opened a gate to the upside down. its all pretty miserable tbh. but hey ! at least steve won a fight !

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, violence, cursing

Words: 7.2k

Before you swing in: hi loves !! chapter five we get some more insight into bug and her very anxious mind. shes just a stressed out gal. bless her. anyways, bug aside im so so so excited to get to chapter 6. i have so many plans for her <3 but !!! for now pls enjoy chapter 5 and more chaotic steve n bug ;)

-

Everyone is screaming as you all fall. 

You lost your stomach about a hundred feet ago. 

Steve clings onto you, his chest sturdy behind you as your arms tighten around the kids. Their screams are deafening; you know that you’re screaming too, but the pounding in your head rings in your ears and drowns out their fear.

“We’re going down!” Steve screeches, arms now even tighter around you as he braces his back against the wall.

“No shit Harrington!” Robin is on the opposite wall.

Your nails dig into Steve’s arms, both from panic and from anger. “I fucking told you!”

As you scream at the teen, Erica and Dustin pry apart from you and run over to the vault’s buttons. They begin to argue, the rush of the room’s falling almost makes it hard to hear what they’re saying, but you know they’re freaking out just like everyone else. 

“Push the button!” You hear Erica yell at your brother, and he turns to her with pure melodrama to screech back at her, “What do you think I’m doing?”

Steve pulls you further into his chest as he screams at the kids. “Press something! Just press the button!” 

It’s a mess, the room fills with more screaming as everyone argues and pushes against one another in futile attempts to prevent the vault from plummeting even further. Your nails dig further into Steve’s arms and you close your eyes, too numb with fear to do anything else. 

Then, suddenly, everything stops. 

The room comes to a halt, you’re no longer plummeting to imminent death, and everyone crashes against the wall or ground while a giant box lands on you and Steve. 

He takes the brunt of the damage, the box having fallen from behind him, but the impact is enough to send you crashing to the ground with your elbow catching against the side of the shelf the box had come from. Groaning, your knee shoves into Steve’s body, causing him to wheeze in pain. “My groin, you’re on my groin.”

You ignore him and get up, not offering your hand to him, and make sure Dustin and everyone else is okay. Seeing your stoic manner, Steve groans. “A little help here, anyone?”

Again you ignore him and make your way further into the room and stand there, slowly coming to the realization of what’s happened. Your limbs feel heavy, your head is pounding, and you’re locked in an apparent elevator made by Russians after falling hundreds of feet below Starcourt. 

“Is everyone okay?” Robin hesitantly asks after Dustin has helped Steve up from the ground. 

“Fine,” you rasp out, body still in shock. 

Steve’s body is in its own state of shock as he starts to freak out yet again. “Yeah, I’m great, now that I know that Russians can’t design elevators!”

He shoves past Dustin and starts to jab at the buttons once more, but it’s no use. Robin tries to stop him, but Steve continues to press the buttons repeatedly anyways. He’s frantic, his eyes wide an wild with fear, and you stand in the corner as watch as he starts to realize himself just how fucked the five of you are in the current situation. 

After days of ignoring the possible danger, it’s now glaring in his face, and Steve becomes even more frantic when he notices that you’re still standing behind everyone, silent. 

He’s fucked up. 

“It’s an electronic lock.” Robin starts to explain, and you listen silently. “Same as the loading dock door. If we don’t have a keycard, it won’t operate, meaning–”

“We’re stuck in here.” Dustin announces, already having figured it out himself. 

The pounding in your head intensifies at your brother’s words as fear claws its way into your throat. You’ve spent the last two days pleading with everyone to listen to you, to be cautious and not go in over your heads about the Russians, and yet here you are: locked in a fucking elevator with Steve looking at you with utter guilt. 

You had been right the entire time. 

And yet no one bothered to believe you. 

As Erica announces to the group that if she isn’t back by uncle Jack’s party tomorrow then her mom will ransack the town to find her and Steve yells at her about how he doesn’t care about the party if you all end up dead in the Russian elevator, a defeated and deranged laugh begins to swell from your chest before it forms into complete hysterics. 

The laughs fall from your mouth in a frantic manner, and everyone slowly turns to look at you. Erica doesn’t understand what’s going on, though Steve, Dustin, and Robin share horrified looks; they all know that you’ve officially crossed the line that separates anger from insanity.

“Dead in a Russian elevator, huh?” You manage to bitterly spit out in between bouts of laughter. There are tears in your eyes, though no one is sure if they’re from laughing or anger or despair. “God, Harrington, you really fucked up.”

You’re practically wheezing now from laughing so hard, hunched over as the action takes over your entire body. You had been right, and yet you’re now stuck in an elevator with Lucas’ little sister and your own brother, responsible for their lives even though you’ve never asked to be. Ever. 

Steve tugs at his hair, just as overwhelmed as you are. He’s terrified of what he’s dragged you into, and he’s even more terrified that he was the asshole who refused to listen to you. Defensive, he throws his hands up in the air in defeat. “Why would you even listen to me? I mean, I’ve never been right a day in my life!”

“Oh, so this is all my fault?” Your body manages to move towards him, now standing toe to toe as you sneer in his face.

The laughter is now gone. 

“You’re the one who let me continue this stupid Russian adventure–”

“I begged you to listen to me, but you refused to!”

Steve lets out his own deranged laugh. “How was I supposed to know we’d end up in a goddamn elevator of death?”

“God, how hard is it for you to admit that I was right?” Your fists shake as they clench against your side, your voice is raw from screaming. “Would it fucking kill you to admit that maybe I’m not just some pathetic people pleaser and that I actually know what I’m talking about–”

“Guys!” Dustin shoves the two of you apart, afraid that you’ll tear Steve’s eyes out any second. He points up, gathering everyone’s attention again, and reveals an opening in the elevator’s ceiling. “What if we climbed out?”

Hope sparks in your chest when you see the opening and you’re the first to shove past Steve and the others and start climbing up the boxes to get to it. Dustin follows, then Steve, and when the three of you climb up and out of the elevator, the small spark of hope in your chest quickly vanishes when you look up and see the hundreds of feet the elevator has fallen. 

“What were you saying about climbing?” Steve’s voice echoes off of the walls surrounding the elevator. They’re smooth, pure metal and infrastructure, and you swallow down tears. 

There’s no way any of you can possibly climb up them. You’re stuck. 

Admittedly, Dustin handles this realization a lot better than you do. He immediately starts to come up with another plan, he has his radio, he can call for help, and as he comes up with new ways to reignite the hope with Steve, you wordlessly descend back down into the elevator. You don’t spare the two boys another glance as you leave, too emotionally exhausted and still shaking from the waves of guilt and anxiety that plague you. 

After you’ve silently left, Dustin turns to Steve. He feels just as awful as the teen, they both failed to listen to you, and now they’re left with your stoic anger that leaves them both feeling raw. “We fucked up, man.”

“She needs us right now,” Steve claps his hand against the boy’s back, his words strong but voice frail. “Let’s go.”

They climb back down into the elevator as well and find you, Robin, and Erica all sitting against the walls, silent. You must’ve already told the girls what the three of you found above. There’s nothing you guys can do now besides wait for whatever comes next, even Dustin can recognize that.

Your knees are drawn into your chest, your chin rests against them as you sit alone at one wall, and Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so small before. Sighing, he looks at Dustin, who gives him a nod to wish him luck, before he makes his way over to you and sits down. You don’t react to Steve’s presence besides allowing your head to fall against his shoulder, and it’s enough to calm the relentless remorse he feels within him. 

No one speaks for a while.

The hours pass, the room silent as you all realize what the fuck you’ve gotten yourselves into. 

– 

You’re not sure how much time passes by, the walls within the elevator block out all possible sunlight, but eventually you figure it’s well into the night. After the initial shock had worn off, Dustin, Robin, and Erica had sat closer together and tried distracting themselves with sleep while you sat against the wall with Steve; your head never leaves his shoulder, and neither of you talk.

However, by what you figure is hour five, you desperately need air. You can’t sleep, the walls have started to close in around you once more, so you stand up, side step your sleeping brother, and climb up to the top of the elevator once more. 

Steve follows you; he always follows. 

He finds you sitting at the edge of the elevator, feet dangling over the ledge with your shoulders drawn in. Slowly he approaches you and sits down next to you, shoulder to shoulder, thigh pressed against thigh. You don’t say anything, and Steve again feels horrible for not listening to you earlier; he knows that for once it has to be him that is strong enough for the two of you.

“Talk to me,” Steve breathes out, pleading. It’s just you and him now, one one else, away from prying eyes. You’re safe with him, you will always be safe with him, but he needs to hear your voice and bring color back to your cheeks. “Please.”

Hearing the desperation in his voice, knowing that Steve has never once meant you any harm, that he’s just as scared and alone as you are, you finally break.

You throw yourself into Steve’s arms and sob. The tears come all at once, there is no build up. The moment you are in his embrace, the moment your ear presses against his chest and you hear his heartbeat, the tears come.

“I hate that I always end up here,” you cry into his chest, all that you’ve swallowed down now comes spiraling out of you. “I’m just–I’m so fucking frustrated. I–I keep doing this to Dustin, he’s always in danger because of me.”

Your voice hitches as your breath stutters. There’s more that you want to say, the guilt that has haunted you since Will biked home that fateful night swells within you, but your tears prevent you from voicing any of it. “I–I’m supposed to keep everyone safe but–God, it’s hard when no one listens to me. No one ever listens to me.”

You were supposed to listen to me.

Though you don’t say it, Steve hears it anyway. 

He’s silent through it all, frightened and aching, knowing you keep so much within you. Steve has never seen you cry before, he’s never seen you break like this, and he despises himself for being the reason why. 

Another miserable sob escapes you and all Steve can do is pull you in closer, furious at the world for the fact that he cannot fit you into his chest where he can keep you safe behind his ribcage, next to his heart.

You cling onto Steve and allow the last few years you’ve carried on your shoulders to finally crush you. “I just feel so useless–how can I…” you sniffle, try to steady your breathing as the words on your tongue terrify you. “How–how can I love if I can’t–I have to protect everyone.”

Your voice breaks once more and Steve allows you to take all the time you need. He continues to hold you through it, he presses soft kisses to your face, lips wet from your tears, he plays with your hair, he does whatever he can to engrave his apology into your body.

“I’m so stupid,” you pull away now, the tears slowing and embarrassment creeping through. You’re overwhelmed with your debilitating need to protect the ones you love, as if you cannot love someone if you cannot save them, and you know it’s stupid and immature to believe such things. As the exhaustion sinks into your body, you realize with a start what day has creeped upon you while in the elevator.

It’s July third. 

With Steve looking down at you with a sinful guilt in his eyes, you wipe your own eyes and laugh pathetically at your realization. “This entire situation is stupid. It’s my seventeenth birthday and I’m stuck in a fucking death elevator.”

Steve’s arms tighten around you and he draws in a quick breath at your words. It’s your birthday. He had thought he couldn’t feel worse about what he dragged you into, but he had been wrong. You should be in your room right now, tucked away from danger, celebrating the first moments of your birthday with Steve crawling through your window with the gift he worked so hard to convince the party to help with. 

Instead, you’re crying in Steve’s arms with imminent death looming over you because of him, and he thinks he’s never felt tears as heavy as yours. 

“I’m sorry,” he gently lifts your chin with the same finger that has caressed your face a million times. The soft gesture makes you weak, and when your eyes meet Steve’s, he brings his lips down upon your forehead. He lingers, his lips are rough but familiar, and there’s more he wants to say. The words build within him, all the apologies, but he knows they’d fall on deaf ears. You’re exhausted, you’ve revealed more to him tonight than you ever have before, and he knows the vulnerability stabs at you viciously,

Instead, Steve kisses your cheek next, then your other cheek, then the tip of your nose, your chin, your eyebrows, anywhere his lips can reach, and the action causes a small giggle to blossom within you. Hearing the sound he loves so much, Steve smiles. “Happy birthday, angel.”

Your hand comes up to his face, and though a part of you warms at what Steve has said, another part of you aches. Jonathan has always been the first person to wish you a happy birthday, a tradition from when you were kids and snuck into each other’s windows the second the clock struck midnight. Now Jonathan is gone and Nancy is angry and you’re tired of it all. With a bittersweet smile, you cup Steve’s cheek in the palm of your hand. “Thank you, honey.”

The world stills between the two of you for a brief moment, his face in your hand and your heart in his arms. It’s reminiscent of earlier in the breakroom, the uncertainty that drapes over you and Steve while the certainty secures you both to each other. 

It isn’t perfect, Steve’s uncertainty has hurt you, but he holds you with a certainty that makes you believe that somehow the two of you will make it out of this alive, together. He nuzzles his face into your palm as if he physically needs to be closer to you, and it settles something that stirs in your chest.

Exhaling, you rest your head in the crook of Steve’s neck and curl into him. He pulls you in closer, as he’s always done, and eventually you fall asleep, exhausted from everything.

Steve isn’t sure how long you sleep in his arms, his muscles ache from holding you, but he accepts the burn as punishment for the hurt he’s caused you. He sits there, staring at the metal walls, and falls asleep himself.

– 

You wake up to Dustin trying to contact someone on his radio. His annoyingly loud voice causes you to groan in annoyance, you’re warm, comfortable, and had been dreaming about something that left your chest feeling light. 

“Code red, I repeat, code red. Does anyone copy?”

Rolling over, a pair of arms hold you near a sturdy body, and you remember now that you fell asleep in Steve’s arms. Burying your face deeper into his chest, you groan again. “Make him shut up.”

“Good morning to you too, Y/N.” Dustin kicks your sneaker before going back to his radio. “This is a code red, I repeat, a code red. Does anyone copy?”

Steve sighs, sounding just as tired as you feel. “The kid has been at this for the last hour or so. Woke me up, too.”

You hear Dustin’s footsteps as he paces. “We are innocent children and we are trapped under Starcourt Mall. The Red Army has infiltrated Hawkins.”

“‘The Red Army’ is dramatic.” You mumble, still mourning that you’ve been woken up.

Dustin ignores you. “If we are found, they will torture and kill us.”

“How peachy.”

Steve snaps his fingers at your brother, motioning for him to shut up. “Hey, you gotta take it easy on that thing. Gonna drain the battery.”

“That’s what we’re worried about right now?”

“Go back to sleep, Y/N.” Dustin kicks your sneaker again with a scoff. “The mall just opened, so someone could be in range.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “What, you think Petey the Mall Cop is gonna rappel down here and save the day?”

You give a thumbs up to what the teen has just said. “‘Rappel’, good word choice there.”

“Alright, why are you two such cranky pants after getting to spend the night together?” Dustin asks, off put by your snarkiness. He knows you’ve never really been a morning person, but your face is still buried in Steve’s chest and you haven’t looked at Dustin since waking up. 

“Shut up, Dustin.” You and Steve say at the same time, both too drained to entertain his usual teasing.

Your brother sighs and changes the subject. “I heard you guys talking all night, did you at least figure out a way out of here?” 

You shift in Steve’s arms, now uncomfortable. Neither of you had talked about what to do next, for once you had been selfish and put yourself first, allowing yourself to cry. Sensing the brewing guilt, Steve covers for you both. “No, we’re still exactly nowhere, which is, ya know, probably just a little bit of the reason why we’re feeling just a tad cranky.”

“What he said,” you hide a smile in Steve’s chest, but he feels it anyways.

Then, because he’s Steve and is physically incapable of allowing you a moment of peace, he taps your shoulder. “Hey, uh. Not to ruin this, but can you get up so I can pee?” 

“Here?” You and Dustin exclaim in unison, both of you equally disgusted. 

“Well where else am I supposed to go?”

“Ugh,” you wrinkle your nose and get up, hating that Steve has a point. However, rather than stay and watch the guy pee, you decide to leave and check up on Erica and Robin. You’ve been up here long enough, anyways. “Keep your body fluids away from me.”

As you climb down, you hear Steve screaming at Dustin to turn away as your brother wishes you a happy birthday. 

They’re such idiots sometimes. 

“Did I just hear Dustin screech about someone’s birthday?” Robin asks you as you jump down the last box and join her side. She’s in front of the elevator’s panel, inspecting the buttons.

You wince, not liking the reminder of what today is. “It’s… my birthday.”

Robin gasps and grabs at your hand. “Is it actually? Oh my God–” She’s cut off by the sound of liquid splattering against a wall, and with horror the two of you realize that it’s Steve’s piss. Making a face, the girl calls out, “Can you redirect your stream, please?”

Slowly Steve aims away, the sound trickling against another wall now, and you share a disgusted look with Robin. With a sigh, she squeezes your hand. “If we make it out of here alive, I promise I’ll throw you the best birthday party ever.”

“I don’t know, I think Steve peeing five feet away from me will be pretty hard to beat.”

Robin laughs and you feel okay for a moment, enjoying the small respite, before the sound of glass banging against metal catches your attention. Turning around, you find Erica slamming one of the vials of liquid against the bars, and immediately you and Robin run to stop her. 

“Hey, be careful!” Robin snatches the cylinder from the girl and tosses it to you for safekeeping. “We don’t even know what that is.”

“Exactly, it could be useful.” Erica argues. 

You hold the vial up high so that she can’t reach; you know the Sinclairs, they’re speedy little devils. “Please elaborate.”

“We can survive down here a long time without food,” Erica jumps and tries to grab what you’ve taken, but you only hold the liquid further out of her reach. “But if the human body doesn’t get water, it will die.”

You’re momentarily impressed by the girl’s survival knowledge, but Robin is undeterred. “I hate to break it to you, but this is not water.”

“No, but it’s a liquid, and if it comes down to me drinking that shit or dying of thirst, I drink.”

“You are fascinating,” you breathe out, both terrified and in awe. As you stare at Erica in wonder, Robin seems to hear something and leaves your side to press her ear against the opposite wall. Frowning, you join her. “What is it?”

“Listen.”

You do as you’re told and press your own ear against the wall, and it only takes you a second to hear it too. Mechanical whirling, the same sound that you heard last night before all the walls in the elevator came crashing down and trapped you. “Shit.”

Robin nods grimly. “You get Erica while I warn the boys.”

Within a minute you’ve helped Erica climb the top of the elevator as you all hide up there. No sooner than when you’ve closed the roof’s opening, one side of the metal wall begins to open and the footsteps of men can be heard. 

Through the grates, you and Steve hunch over as you watch two men walk into the elevator. They’re big, dressed in a bizarre uniform, and one of them is smoking. They talk about something, their words are terse, and for a moment you worry they’ve figured out that you’re hidden above, but eventually they grab a few boxes and make their way outside. 

As the men move back and forth below you, grabbing more and more boxes, you look up at Steve and find him staring at the green liquid you still have in your hands. During the frantic rush to get Erica to safety, you had forgotten to set the chemicals down. His eyes narrow slightly, as if asking you if you’re thinking what he is, and distantly you remember how much force the cylinder seemed to be able to withstand when Erica was slamming it.

If you truly are on the same page as Steve, then it’s a fucking risky plan, but it’s the only chance you have. 

You hand the vial to him and nod, silently urging him to be safe. Then, you turn to the others and risk whispering what you and Steve have thought of. He keeps watch, hand on the small of your back to indicate to you when to stop talking, and soon the plan is formed. 

The moment the Russian men have left the elevator, Steve quickly jumps down from the roof and slides the chemicals underneath the rapidly closing door. You watch nervously, and when the cylinder miraculously holds up against the metal door, you exhale in relief. Steve waves for you and everyone else to jump down as well. “Let’s go!”

You jump down first and slide Erica’s backpack over to Steve before helping her down. Once she successfully slides under the door, you help Dustin down next. The glass starts to splinter under the pressure, the sound of it creaking fills you with dread, but you push the fear down and help Robin next. “Go, go, go!”

When it’s your turn, you hold your breath and will yourself to slide underneath the door to join the others. As you go under, you see the glass start to splinter even more, and you quickly roll onto your stomach and frantically wave at Steve. “Steve, you need to hurry!”

He scrambles underneath the door and only just manages to narrowly escape as the door comes slamming down. Steve instinctively covers you with his body as the glass from the vial shatters, and when you look up and see the green liquid now sizzling as it burns through the concrete floor, you shudder. “You guys see that too, right?”

“Jesus Christ.” Steve stands up and offers you his hand as he inspects the liquid’s damage.

Erica, Robin, and Dustin step forward now too, and the five of you peer over the liquid as it oozes and bubbles, melting everything it touches. You shudder again, you can’t believe that there were boxes full of it surrounding you earlier. 

“You still wanna drink that?” Robin turns Erica, smirking. 

“You guys think it’d be like drinking lava?” You ask the group, and everyone shakes their heads at you. Adrenaline is still coursing through you, your head feels woozy from lack of sleep and water, and you think you’re slowly losing your mind. 

Meanwhile Dustin turns away from you, and when he sees what surrounds you all, his heart drops. “Holy mother of God.”

Turning around, your heart drops as well. There’s a giant hallway that faces you, blue lights illuminating it, and it stretches deep into the abyss. You realize, now, that the elevator had been only the beginning. As you stare down the endless hallway, its length reminiscent of the tunnels you almost died in last year, it hits you that you’ve truly stumbled upon something horrible. 

The Russians have been here a long, long time if they were able to build such a vast and complex underground facility. 

And now you’re trapped within it, with nothing but your knives to keep you and everyone else safe. 

“Well, hope you guys are in good shape.” Steve’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. He pats Dustin’s shoulder and starts to lead the way. “Looking at you, roast beef.”

Unamused with the insult directed at your brother and still angry at the teen for dragging you into this mess in the first place, you trip Steve. He stumbles and only just barely manages to catch himself, which everyone snickers at and Dustin high fives you.

With a sigh, Steve grabs your hand and beckons for everyone to follow. “Let’s go, guys.”

– 

It’s a goddamn long walk. 

You’re miserable. 

It’s hot, you’re covered in sweat and grime, you're starving, and this is officially the worst birthday ever. Sure, you’ve never really liked your birthday, but holy fuck you didn’t think it’d be this bad. 

You’re snappier than usual with everyone, which a part of you feels guilty for. Robin tried making conversation in the beginning, but you only responded with curt, one word answers. It truly isn’t her fault, none of this is anyone’s fault, but the anger that simmers within you threatens to boil over and you’re too tired to control it. 

Yet Steve keeps your hand within his and walks by your side, unaffected by your unusual anger. He lets you remain quiet, he doesn’t take offense to your terse responses, and he smiles apologetically at Robin for you because he knows you’d do the same if you were able to; he’s there for you. 

Steve knows how much anger resides within you, and he helps you brave it. 

You love him endlessly for it. 

“You think they built this whole mall so they could transport that green poison?” Steve asks the group as they speculate about why the Russians even built this underground system in the first place. 

“I very seriously doubt it’s something as boring as poison.” Dustin responds, and you scoff at him. 

“Yeah, because poison is boring.”

He looks at you warily and decides not to risk further exasperation. “What I mean is, it’s gotta be much more valuable, like promethium or something.”

“What the hell is promethium?” Steve looks to you, but you only shake your head. Dustin’s the science whiz, not you.

Instead Robin answers him, though her response about some guy named Victor Stone and a cyborg only confuses both you and Steve more. 

“You’re all so nerdy, it makes me physically ill.” Erica cringes with disgust, and her theatrics are hard to resist smiling at. 

“No, no.” Steve interjects. “No, don’t lump me in with them. I’m not a nerd, alright?” 

“Why so sensitive, Harrington?” Robin asks him, smiling at his offense. “Afraid of losing cool points to a ten year old child?”

“He takes his cool points very seriously, Robin.” You now speak up, a slight smile on your face. You’ll never pass up an opportunity to tease Steve. Nudging him with your shoulder, you laugh softly and glance up at him. “Admit it, you’re a nerd.”

If it were anyone else saying this, Steve would adamantly refuse such a notion, but it’s you and you’re finally smiling at him again, so instead he huffs with amusement. “Yeah, alright. Maybe I am, but I still don’t know jack shit about Prometheus.” 

“Promethium,” Dustin corrects. “Prometheus is a Greek mythological figure, but whatever. All I’m saying is, it’s probably being used to make something.” 

“Or power something?” In their eerie fashion, Robin and your brother now seem to once again be on the same page. 

“Like a nuclear weapon?”

“Totally.”

You rub the temples of your head and sigh, your previously brightened mood quickly dims again. “Cool. Nuclear weapons are cool.” 

Robin mumbles a quick sorry to you, she wishes she could change the topic, but there’s a question that’s been on her mind ever since you discovered the Russians. “But if they’re building something, why here? I mean, Hawkins. Seriously, of all places.”

As Robin continues to drone on about how bizarre of a choice Hawkins is, you, Steve, and Dustin all slow down and let her and Erica walk ahead. They don’t notice your guys’ sudden change of pace, and the three of you slowly come together; you know you’re all thinking the same thing. 

The question has been on your mind for a while, too. 

“You think the Russians know?” Dustin finally asks in a lowered voice.

Steve leans forward, his own voice lowered as well. “About–”

“They could.”

“So it’s all connected?”

While the boys whisper to one another, you feel a shiver run through you. Again you remember the sweat that had been on Billy’s brow and how pale he had been. You remember Will’s fearfulness at Weathertop hill, how he had clutched the back of his neck. You remember Mrs. Waters, Jonathan and Nancy, Mrs. Driscoll.

Something isn’t right, and now there’s Russians in Hawkins with a giant maze of high architectural design. 

“It has to be.” You say now. “There’s too much to ignore. “

Dustin frowns at you. “What do you mean? Is there something else?”

“The Upside Down, I think there’s something wrong–”

You’re interrupted by Robin. “I’m sorry, is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

The three of you turn to her, wide eyed and caught, and before you can come up with some excuse to get her off your backs’, Dustin’s radio comes to life as a Russian man’s voice speaks through it. 

“Walkie,” you, Steve, and Dustin say at the same time, running towards where it resides in Erica’s backpack. 

The Russian continues to drone through the walkie’s speakers as Dustin takes it out and Robin extends its antenna. She brings it close to her ear and listens intently, and after a few seconds she starts to speak the language as well, echoing what the man is saying. “It’s the code,” she finally says. 

“Wherever that broadcast is coming from–”

“It’s close.” Robin finishes your brother’s sentence. “And if there’s one thing we know about that signal…”

Dustin’s eyes light up. “It can reach the surface.” 

“We’ll be able to call for help,” you breathe out, hopeful yet reluctant. It’s your only way out, but you also have no idea what lies within these walls. 

“Let’s go!” Robin quickly stands up, plan already formed in her head, and all you can do is follow. 

It doesn’t take long to figure out where the broadcast is coming from. Within a few minutes of walking, the walls begin to narrow and you hear more and more voices up ahead. You can sense that you’re drawing closer to the main area of the underground complex, and the closer you get, the tighter you clutch at your knives. 

You and Steve work together on guiding everyone. He scouts for places to hide while you keep an eye out for any danger. Slowly, the six of you dodge and weave in and out from corners, avoiding Russians. In an odd sense, the routine is familiar and comforting; you and Steve have done this a million times before, the two of you know how to keep the other safe.

As Steve peers over a corner with the rest of you hiding behind him, Robin whispers into your ear. “How are the two of you so good at navigating scary dangerous situations?”

Her question is innocent enough, but you can sense that she’s piecing things together bit by bit. You try to keep your face neutral, not give anything away, and shrug at her. “We make a good team, I guess.” 

Robin gags at this, which you’re thankful for. At least your response got her mind off of things. 

Steve motions for everyone to follow after him once the coast is clear after a few guards have walked past. “Clear, come on, let’s go.”

He moves swiftly as you stay behind and make sure the rest of the group follows. Robin looks nervously at you, feeling vulnerable out in the open. “Okay, that was close.”

“Too close.” Dustin breathes out as he follows her, which you roll your eyes at. You and Steve are doing the best that you can, given the circumstances. If your brother wanted to worry about safety, he should’ve considered it twenty hours ago. 

“Relax,” Steve reassures everyone. “Nobody saw…” His voice trails off as he rounds the corner.

Your jaw drops. It’s worse than you could’ve ever imagined.

In front of you is what you can only imagine is the main hub of the complex. There’s Russians everywhere, some dressed in guard uniforms carrying shotguns, some dressed in lab coats, and others look like glorified red astronauts. 

You’re hopelessly outnumbered, there’s too many of them.

Steve curses and ducks down, pulling everyone with him as he hides behind a cart against the wall. You try to steady your breathing, you grip the back of Dustin’s shirt tightly in your hand. He looks at you in shock. “Red Dawn.”

“Not now,” you close your eyes and breathe in through your nose and exhale out your mouth. “I’m trying really hard not to lose yesterday’s lunch.”

“I saw it. First floor, northwest.” Erica urgently whispers to Steve.

“Saw what?”

“The comms room.”

You whip your head around to face the girl, making your nausea even worse, and Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You saw the comms room?”

“Correct!” Erica leans closer now, the insistence in her voice unwavering. 

Dustin frowns. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” this is the most sincere you’ve ever seen Erica. “The door was open for a second, and I saw a bunch of lights and machines and shit in there.” 

“That could be a hundred different things.” Dustin says, skeptical.

However, you believe Erica. She’s incredibly pragmatic, she wouldn’t blindly say something that she didn’t believe in. She’s a Sinclair, their morals define them, and Erica’s rant about capitalism and a free market system yesterday only solidifies your theory that she hides away most of her intelligence. “If Erica thinks she saw the comms room, then I believe her.”

She smiles at you gratefully, and Robin nods her head at the two of you. “If Y/N is on board, then I’ll take those odds.” 

Steve stares at you, studies your face and your demeanor, and when he sees the set clench of your jaw and the determination in your eyes, he knows he trusts whatever call you make. He pokes his head out from behind the cart, the five of you mimic him, and even though you’re firm in your stance to follow Erica’s gut, it still strikes terror within you when you see once again how many guards there are.

Sighing tiredly, Steve faces the group. “We’re gonna move fast, we’re gonna stay low. Okay?”

You nod at him. “Good luck.”

Steve smiles at you, nerves now calmed, and starts to guide everyone. He masterfully weaves in and out corners, ducks behind carts when someone walks past, and for a brief moment you’re in awe of him. He’s grown so much since that night at Jonathan’s, when he had run away the second things got too intense, and now he’s the one leading. 

When he opens the door to the comms room, you’re almost overwhelmed with how proud you are of Steve. Then, naturally, as soon as everyone is inside, you turn around and come face to face with a very confused Russian guard. 

And Steve has locked you in a room with him.

Everyone freezes, unsure what to do.

“Nice, Steve.” You sneer at him. 

He looks at you incredulously. “Is now really the time?”

As you mock Steve, the Russian guard starts to reach for the gun at his side. Seeing this, you whip your knives out and display them to the man, the blades glint in the room’s red light. He narrows his eyes at you and tightens his grip on his own weapon, and for a moment you fear that you really will have to use your switchblade. 

However, Robin is quick on her feet and puts her hand up to lower your knives. She starts speaking Russian in hopes of calming the guard down, and it seems to work at first, but when the guard starts speaking back to her, Robin’s plan quickly crumbles; it’s painfully obvious that she doesn’t speak the language. 

The guard reaches for his gun once more, and before you can use your knives, Steve lets out a loud yell and throws himself at the guy, taking him by surprise. 

“Steve!” You find yourself screaming, it’s instinctual. 

For a moment all you can do is stand there and watch, stunned. The two men begin to fight, fists hitting skin as they shove one another, and you have just enough awareness to keep your knives raised in case you need to step in and help. You know Steve’s track record, yet as the fight progresses, you become less and less fearful for him. He’s holding his own surprisingly well.

Steve jabs his elbow into the guard’s stomach before grabbing a nearby intercom phone and slams it into the guy’s head. He falls, hard, onto the electric panel and hits the side of his head against it even harder. 

The moment he lands on the ground, the Russian guard is out cold. 

Panting, Steve stands over him and fixes his hair. You and Dustin exchange surprised looks, both of you ecstatic; Steve won.

“Dude!” Dustin exclaims with glee in his voice. “You won a fight!”

“It’s a miracle,” you breathe out in awe, now at Steve’s side as you check for any injuries. He preens at your attention, his eyes glow, and you can’t help but kiss his check. “Good job, honey.”

“Okay, okay, break it up.” Dustin shoves you away from Steve and then crouches next to the guard’s body, unhooking the keys from his belt loop. You roll your eyes at him while Erica questions what he’s doing. Over his shoulder, he responds, “Getting us our ticket out of here.”

Erica scoffs. “You want to walk all the way back?” 

“Well, we can hang out for a little bit, relax, have a picnic maybe.”

“Have a picnic? We came here for the radio.”

The kids start to argue, but you don’t intervene. Instead, you fix Steve’s hair with your fingers and gently grab his face, moving it around to make sure he isn’t hurt. His skin is still smooth, untouched. “No bruises this time.”

He winks. “Gotta keep this face pretty for you, don’t I?”

“Yeah you do,” you pinch his cheek, laughing softly. “It’s your only redeeming quality.”

“Hey now–”

Robin suddenly appears, looking panicked. You quickly let go of Steve’s face and walk towards her, now noticing the staircase that she’s just come from. There’s blue light at the top, there’s an energy to it that makes you uneasy, yet it’s familiar. 

“What is it?” You ask her, fearing that you already know. 

“There’s something up there.”

You follow her up the stairs, and your heart drops at what you see. Steve sucks in a breath, his hand on your back. 

There’s a room at the top of the stairs, similar to the one below, and there are several men sitting at control panels. Before them is a giant machine, its circular panel spins as it shoots a beam of light into what you can only describe as an open wound within the wall. It’s narrow, long in length, as orange light spills from it. 

When Steve’s eyes meet yours, you both know. 

It’s the gate. 

The Russians have found the gate into the Upside Down.

Anger courses through you, and this anger is a familiar one. It’s the same anger you felt the day Will went missing, when El sacrificed her life to save everyone, when the men at Hawkins Lab continuously got away with ruining the lives of everyone you love. 

After everything you, the kids, and everyone else went through to close the gate, it enrages you to see these fucking idiots trying to reopen it. You had almost died last year trying to end this bullshit, but now you see it had been for nothing.

The side of your ribcage burns, the scar reignited by your fury, and Steve feels your body tense against his. His eyes meet yours again, and without saying anything, you know he understands. 

Nodding, the two of you are in agreement.

You have to stop this.

-

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#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #nya #m's writing #steve and bug are really going through it this chapter #but happy birfday bug !!!

[sugar-grigri]

How can war love ?

*public apology, gun to my head* I won't trust Fujimoto so much anymore I get it *keeps gun to her head* this is surely the worst chapter but I can't afford to shirk my duty to analyze in the face of adversity so here I am

At least let the analysis be more succinct than usual

I had to find a meaning to this chapter, I had to, because even if I, like 90% of fans, put my phone down after holding my head in my hands, I can't have analyzed Fujimoto up to this point to decide now that he should go fuck himself

So I'm here to interpret a masturbation scene, Fujimoto must be as weird and desperate an audience as he is.

So what is the meaning that I perceived in it, we'll proceed by list so as not to enumerate

1. This chapter confirms a cycle of violence and I hope Fujimoto wrote it as a depressing chapter and not just a subversive one just to titillate JUMP's limits. Cycle of violence in which Denji is trapped. Sex is something he puts a lot of hope into. It's the last need he hasn't yet fulfilled, so he throws himself through it. Not only does Denji suffer even when he wants to escape it. But above all, done in these horrible conditions, the thing having been accomplished, Denji will remain unsatisfied and will understand that unhappiness is in his bones and cannot be solved by sleeping with someone. It's the worst tragedy that could happen to him.

2. It's the worst tragedy for Asa too. She finds sex repulsive and experiences it under the worst conditions, which has the effect of deepening her fears. Asa may also be seeking intimacy with someone, but just as this moment convinces the teenager to stay away from others, this ordeal reinforces Denji's depression.

But I think everyone understands that, because everyone's depressed. What's interesting (sighs) is that this chapter shows how Yoru bound with someone. Just as war would.

There are no winners in a war, both sides suffer losses. And that's exactly what Yoru did twice. A first kiss, Asa had lost her memory to Nayuta and Denji had promised never to see her again. This chapter is yet another ordeal for Asa and Denji.

This leads to a more demanding conclusion, which also has an impact on Nayuta.

The Knights of the Apocalypse cannot physiologically, metaphysically love.

The only relationship they can establish is through each other's suffering.

It's a tragedy for them too.

A tragedy on every level.

#csm 167 #chainsaw man #csm #csm part 2 #denji #csm spoilers #asa #asa mitaka #yoru #my thoughts

[xxaraaq]

𝙎𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙨

Synopsis | Nanami finds out what he's been missing for the better part of his adult life

wc | 0.5k

cw | Infidelity, age gap, porn with a little plot

Nanami x black! Reader

A/N | Nothing really, hope you enjoy!

No one can blame him for the choices he’s made. He’s only a man, and a man has his limits.

He’s done everything he can in his life to make sure he can say he’s done what was expected of him. He has a stable nine to five, white collar job that he loathes but still performs great at, he takes care of his stay at home wife, and everything else that he’s supposed to do.

But it’s not enough.

There was something missing. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but day by day he dragged himself around until the day was done. He thought he was depressed at first, almost booking a therapy appointment, but he realized that he was lacking an essential part of life; something that every human being needs to stay sane.

Pleasure.

The realization hit him like a truck, his life was so boring because he had none – nothing to look forward to when he went home, nothing to look forward to when he woke up. Nothing. Even having sex with his wife was mediocre at best. His days were dull at best and straight up dreadful at worst, simply because he was the lacking excitement needed in one’s life.

Until he met you.

A pretty, young college student who recently started working in the cafe he frequented. All sunshine and rainbows, you never failed to greet him with a smile and a wave. He started to look forward to seeing your beaming grin every morning, even occasionally returning a smile. You were the cutest thing he’s ever seen, and he had to have you.

It was late when he came, to your surprise. He told you that he was working late in the office,

and decided to come by for a short break. You made him his usual black coffee, which you thought was weird, and the two of you talked – well, mostly you – about everything and nothing.

He was getting drunk off you, your voice lulling him into something he couldn’t describe. He didn’t know what came over him, but he leaned in and kissed you, catching the both of you off guard. 

“I- I apologize, I don’t know what came over me.” He backs up, but you pull him in by the collar, crashing your lips onto his once more. His hands grab your waist, pulling you flush against him. He knows it’s wrong, that the right thing to do is stop and pretend it never happened, but he wont; he can't. He needs this, he deserves it, and he’s not going to let a little bit of remorse stop him from fucking you until you can’t take anymore.

It’s sinful really, the way he picks you up and fucks you against the wall. He would expect this from someone like Gojo, but the thought soon leaves his mind once he hears those beautiful moans he’s dreamt so often about. 

You scratch at his back, begging him to slow down, but that only stirs to go faster. He fucks into you with a fervor he doesn’t think he’s felt before. 

He pulls out and cums on your sweaty torso, panting as he slowly lets you back on the ground. The two of you clean up without a word and he heads home after placing a kiss on your temple. For the first time in years, he walks home with something to look forward to in the morning.

-Nene

#nene #x black reader #x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x black reader #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami x black reader #nanami x black reader smut

[luvlyhyunjin]

Starlight.

words: 858 | pairing: heeseung x f!reader | genre: fluff, light angst, fwb a small thank you gift for @laceangel333 <3

The first time you meet Heeseung, -he’s not your type- is what you think. With a lithe body and a too quiet of a personality. Despite being an ethereal beauty, he is nothing enticing, nothing close to a glimpse of what could steal your attention. Even when he tilted his head to the side, amidst the loud chatter of your friends. His lips quirked up in a smile towards you.

“I’m Heeseung by the way,” with a voice doused in caramel, candied sweet he spoke, and his gentle hands enveloped yours for the first time.

“yn,” you answer.

Your heart didn’t flutter, and your breathing stayed stable.

The lights illuminated his face in a way that made his eyes sparkle. At the end of January, it was the beginning of wonderstruck tale, it all unfolds with you meeting a person who held specks of glimmer in his eyes.

So even when you wake up the next morning with a pounding head and a naked Heeseung next to you, albeit a bit surprised, your heart doesn’t flutter, and your breathing stays stable.

Even when it happens again and again, and again.

A foreboding cycle forms, and before you could stop it the sight of Heeseung mingled with your sheets adorned in nothing becomes a normality yet falling in love stays a distant thought, a forbidden one for you who’s carrying around a scratched heart and for him, too blue to ever show.

Love stays a territory you vowed not to cross, putting your heart on the frontline is a task you gave up on a long time ago. But love is tenacious, it finds its way into the cracks of your seclusion, in the way his auburn locks sprawl against your white sheets, his fingers brushing strands of hair away from your face.

He’s as gentle as ever, as if imprinting touches of starlight onto your soul. You’re not sure if he’s aware of the way it traps you.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells you.

and your heart flutters. Warbles against the walls of your ribcage. An old song that you remember every note to, every single word comes to you as if you’ve never stopped singing.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes at him, tumbling out of your bed with a burning face he doesn’t get to witness, nor do you wish him to.

The sound of you slowly cracking open fills the air, not loud enough for you to be alarmed yet roaring to have you wasting minutes of your day in front of the mirror, a foolish covet to stumble upon evidence of his words somewhere in your features.

Falling in love with Heeseung comes as tender as him, like the feeling of the warm sun on your skin after a long dreadful winter. It comes placid, like still waters. You find it in the clothes he leaves behind between yours. And you find it in his tear filled eyes when you force him to watch a movie with you.

“That sucked,” he tells you, with sadness so crystalline clear it has giggles erupting from between your lips.

“Is that why you’re crying?”

“I’m crying because it is that bad.”

“Okay Heeseung.”

“I’m serious! That was the worst movie I’ve ever seen.”

A faint grin dances upon your lips and your palm, as drowned as you are in him -like a lover waiting unbearably for the return of their destined one- reaches for him, wiping at a stray tear that had managed to escape. His hand finds solace in yours, holding it in place as he slips his fingers in the slots between yours.

“I loved it,” he whispers, so sweet you taste it on your tongue.

The tale keeps going, falling on deafening ears and you sing a song, woven with how you were lucky enough to behold stars crying.

By the infinitesimal softness that coats his every move, your breath shakes.

Falling for Heeseung comes so silently you don’t catch it until you are far too in. It inflates so much in your chest you know it is not possible to love someone this much in a singular lifetime. You only realize it when you’re at the supermarket one day, lingering by a brand of chips he likes, you almost don’t hesitate to grab it.

Falling for Heeseung comes so silently yet it unravels like a horror movie in your head. So cruel and it shakes you from within, you find yourself fumbling with your heart, not knowing what to do with your shattered promise that is staring right back at you in disappointment.

And so, you run away. Fleeing from the existence of your own emotions because maybe if you pretend not to see them, they could dissipate for a while. With trembling fingers, you attempt to stamp the ending of your tale.

It all kickstarts the moment you see him again, at the café and with those same sparkling eyes.

“Are you free tonight?” he asks with a tilt of his head, a vision of dancing starlight across his smile.

“Yeah,” you reply.

Heeseung is not your type, he’s warm and ubiquitous, it makes your heart flutter and your breath shakes.

#enhypen x reader #heeseung #heeseung x reader #enhypen scenarios #heeseung imagines #heeseung fluff #heeseung fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung angst #enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #heeseung drabbles #enhypen drabbles #enhypen imagines

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 13

part 1, prev part

There’s this feeling at the top of a roller coaster that is meant to excite, to look forward to. Where the exhilaration and adrenaline kicks in and everyone feels like the top of the world. Only for the calm to set in when the ride is over, and the line keeps growing to feel it all again.

If life were a rollercoaster, Dustin’s would be a fucked up one. Where just as the drop finishes, and everything seems to calm down, the machine starts to clink and bring you back up to the top again. Over. And Over. And Over again.

Dustin’s scared that this calm won’t be so calm tomorrow. Or in a year when life gets back to normal again, and the people in hospital are out and better, like it does. Just for it all to go to a burning pile of shitty hell. For Dustin to end up sitting in the hospital chairs again.

Never the bed.

It’s not that he’s upset that he’s healthy. It’s not that he’s upset that he’s never had to stay in the hospital for a night. It’s just the fact that while everyone else seems to get hurt, he stays perfectly fine. And he doesn’t know why.

He’s put himself in dangerous situations. Fights, tunnels, right in front of a fucking demogorgon. In all the scenarios, he should have gotten hurt. There wasn’t a book that he read where everyone walked away perfectly fine.

Frodo walked to Mordor and wasn’t fine. Neither was Samwise. Dustin’s not a Frodo or a Samwise, maybe he’s a Mary or Pippin. They didn’t walk away without a scratch either. His DnD character can’t even get out of a battle without dying.

Why is he so okay? Why have his dice always rolled so high?

And why does he seem to be more bothered that this than the people in the hospital beds?

Max is smiling and laughing right now. She’s almost like she was last summer. Making fun of them in a way that kinda stung sometimes but mostly was out of love. Not thinking about the fact that she might never ride a skateboard again. Not thinking about the fact that she won’t see the way their faces change as they grow. The way her own face will change as she grows.

Her life has changed in a way that can’t be changed back. How is she not having a bigger reaction to this?

“Hey,” Max calls out in Dustin’s direction. “Come here, I want to feel your face.”

“Huh?”

Mike groans from across the room. “She’s been doing it with everyone. It’s just an excuse to mess with you.”

Max rolls her clouded eyes. “The blind girl wants to make sure he friends are ok. There are no other ulterior motive here.”

“You’re just going to poke him in the eye or some shit.”

“My hands are my eyes now, Michael.”

Mike rolls his eyes, giving Dustin a look like “I warned you.”

Lucas gets up from the chair closest to Max to let Dustin get closer. He leans closer to the bed as Max reaches out her hands to find his face. She pokes around, finding the brim of his hat and pulls it down to his nose.

“Idiot,” Max snorts.

“Told you,” Mike says. Will smacks him in the arm.

Dustin makes a face while fixing his hat, switching seats with Lucas. And then again when El comes in. The room sounding anything like a hospital. Like Mike’s basement while they are watching movies or hanging out. Like the worst didn’t happen and just a week ago, where Max wasn’t just told she would be blind forever.

He walks out of the room and heads to Eddie’s. Eddie who’s awake, but not really. Who opens his eyes and it makes Dustin so happy. Just to see something that resembles him, but isn’t just quite it.

Happiness comes and goes so fast that Dustin almost misses it. Overshadowed by this feeling of knowing that nothing is going back to the way it was. He’ll never be the person he was before. None of them will.

That’s the worst part of this all. He’s seen the way that Will became quieter. Different in a way that none of them will really understand. Saw the way that Max shut down after Billy died. Overcome by her grief. How Steve pushes himself so hard he breaks, and Robin tries to forget it all even happened. Saw how pain can cause a person to die.

The doctors still don’t know what’s going to happen when Eddie finishes waking up. They won’t know how long he’ll still be here, or what damage is in his body. To his brain. His nerves. If he’ll be able to play guitar again. Dustin never even got to see him play a real concert. He wanted to see that.

Time keeps passing and Eddie’s missing it. Classes have restarted and he won’t catch up. Not when he’ll still be in recovery for months. He won’t be walking across that stage to get his diploma. He might not even get it at all.

Dustin takes his seat next to Wayne and just looks at Eddie. Can’t bring himself to take the book out of his bag and read. Wanting to find any sign that this was all worth it. That the painful hope that Dustin is clinging to isn’t dragging him to the bottom. That Eddie will continue to wake up tomorrow.

“You ok, Dustin?”

“Every day I come in here and wish he would say something. Anything.”

Wayne nods, as solemn as he always is. “Me too.”

“You’re back in school now, right? How’s that going?”

School is a completely different battle. The Hellfire shirt that he wore with pride is now an endless target. The insults that would already be slung his way amplified. Walking through the halls feels like shooting range. Another reminder that he knows a truth that none of them will.

“As good as you’d expect it to.”

Another nod. It’s nice to have someone listen to him without trying to fix it. Just let him talk at his own pace without trying to make it better. Make him feel any differently than he does. It brings a comfort to Dustin that he never really knew, or understands.

“Where’s that book of yours, I was starting to get invested.”

“I’m not sure I’m up for reading it today.”

Wayne shrugs. “Why don’t I then? I can’t do the voices like you or Ed do, but I can read.”

It’s like Wayne knows the real reason why Dustin’s reading the book. Makes him feel weirdly seen. Like for a moment, someone understood him more than he wanted them too.

Still, he takes the book out of his bag and hands it to Wayne. Watches as he turns to the page and messes up the character names. Take a breath each time one of the weirder ones comes up and sounds it out. Trying his best to get it all right, even though he’s still doing it a little wrong.

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#chills right to the marrow fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #dustin henderson #dustin pov #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler #will byers #el hopper #wayne munson #everyone lives/nobody dies #eddie munson #less so in a coma #he's almost out i swear #hospitals

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

I just finished a movie with a bunch of fights and stuff in it,,, and it’s got me thinking how would chifuyu, baji, ran, Rindou, any others react if their non-fighter girlfriend/partner threw themself over them and took a knife in the back for them during one of their gang fights (and let’s just say she lives for the sake of not getting too angsty….)?

Ah ok! Here's Chifuyu, Baji, Ran and Rindou after their partner takes a knife for them during a gang fight!

Chifuyu-

Chifuyu swears it happened too quickly, he always thought he was fast enough to protect you if anything happened but turns out he was wrong. He's not sure how you got there so fast.

Stands there blinking for a moment, looking at you in shock before shakily calling your name. He pleads with whatever forces are out there that this is just a dream, that this isn't real and he didn't just see you crumble to the floor for him.

The sound of the fight brings him back to reality. Quickly aiming a kick at the guy who just stabbed you, he doesn't even look to see if it took the guy out or not. All his attention is on you.

Taking off his jacket, he presses it against your wound, while screaming at someone to call an ambulance. Takemichi doesn't hesitate to call when he hears the desperation in Chifuyu's voice. Chifuyu feels like hours have gone by waiting for the ambulance when it was only a few minutes. He insists on riding in it with you too.

The hospital waiting room was the worst part, sitting there and not knowing if you're going to be ok or not. He's vaguely aware of the other toman members around him, giving him support but he can't pay attention to them.

When he does get to see you awake he practically launches himself on to you, crying and smiling and just trying to be as close to you as he can. Also says sorry a lot as he blames himself for what happened.

Baji-

He's mad, so mad. And not only at the guy who dared to stab you (though he quickly knocks him out), he's mad at you too. Yells at you "WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT!???" He knows this isn't the best time for yelling but he can't help it, he's never been so scared before.

Luckily for you Baji's always been fast at acting so it doesn't take long for him to scoop you up and run to the nearest hospital, all while yelling at Chifuyu to follow in case back up is needed if anyone else tries to follow.

He sits in the waiting room with Chifuyu for hours, both of them refusing to leave until they know you're ok. They're both thrilled when they get the good news and after that Baji sends Chifuyu home, saying he'll wait alone until he can see you.

Lectures you a whole bunch when you do wake up, he's glad you're ok but never do that again!

Ran-

He laughs at first, assumes he's taking one too many hits to the head, that this fight was wearing him down more then he assumed. Because there's no way you actually just jumped between him and knife. I mean you wasn't even supposed to be here so it's just a ridiculous thought right?

You smiling at him and saying how glad you are he's not hurt is what snaps him out of it. "What the hell?"

Swings his baton, knowing he's taken out the target without even looking. Does it even matter anymore? He has more important things to deal with. You. He knows Rindou has already called the ambulance, they always have been in good sync with each other's needs.

Crouches down next to you, stroking your cheek gently as he asks "why did you do that?"

He's not sure if he's doing this right when he strips your clothes, trying to get himself better access to to the wound, needing to see the damage and where to press. Keeps making jokes and light comments with you as he does it though. "Oh you're gonna be so mad that I had to rip this top of yours but don't worry I'll buy you another later". He doesn't dare think that there may not be a later.

Says nothing as he gets in the ambulance with you and no one dares to stop him or Rindou from tagging along. He spends the whole ride stroking your hair and softly murmuring to you while the paramedics work.

The waiting room is tense, Rindou has never seen his brother stay awake for so long before.

When you finally wake up he's immediately coming into the room to see you. At first he seems like his usual self, teasing you about how your first fight ended like this. But at one point he suddenly he get's serious. Holding you close and telling you to stay away from fights. Before he invites himself into your hospital bed and promptly falls asleep beside you, clinging onto you the whole time.

Rindou-

His eyes widen as he screams your name in a panic. Managing to catch you before you fall, he suddenly remembers the guy with the knife and looks around for him. Only to see Ran standing over him, hitting him with his baton, one sickening cruch later and Rindou knows the guy is dead, no longer a threat.

"Hey, hey look at me" he calls your name a bunch too while carefully cradling you. He just needs to hear you speak, needs to know it's going to be ok.

He can't wait for the ambulance so he carries you as fast as he can to the hospital. Ran of course manages to outrun him and get there first, telling the hospital staff to be ready when Rindou brings you in.

Rindou finds it hard to give you over to them, to let you go even though he knows he has to. He just wants to stay close to you. Ran is the one who guides him to the waiting area and sits with him.

He can't stop thinking about what will happen if he loses you, tries not to cry but s few tears end up slipping out.

When he gets the good news and gets to see you again he immediately asks how you're doing and feeling. He's prepared to get anything you might need. But he's relieved when all you ask for is a hug, he wanted to do that from the start but was worried about hurting you.

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokyo rev #matsuno chifuyu #keisuke baji #ran haitani #rindou haitani

[evanbi-ckley]

listen. about lou's scars. i'm insane about them actually and i'm so sorry and yeah i know firefighting is a job that gets you scars for sure but i'm thinking about. tommy as a chef. with hands and arms scarred from cuts and burns and buck being insane about that.

if this is bc i have the worst crush on the head chef at my work who's like twice my age, could be my dad, has no concept of personal space when teaching and is slowly killing me. then what. his arms are so scarred and it's so hot

well, anon, you did it. you inspired a head chef!tommy fic from me, so congratulations 😂 it's almost 3000 words and I haven't even gotten to the arm scars yet, but I'll get there

I was tagged by @smallandalmosthonest 💚💚

“Evan?” Tommy says quietly. Evan startles anyway, nearly dropping the stock pot he was about to place on the shelf. He seems to steel himself, and Tommy doesn’t like that at all. When he turns around, his eyes are red-rimmed. Tommy hadn’t gotten close enough earlier to be able to see, but now it’s obvious. “Yes, Chef?” Evan asks, his voice thick with whatever has him so upset. He’s also staring at a spot over Tommy’s shoulder, not making eye contact. Tommy crosses the kitchen in a few long strides and takes the pot from him, quickly putting it on the shelf before turning back. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay,” Tommy starts, “because clearly you’re not. But can you tell me what happened?” Evan looks down, still refusing to look Tommy in the eye. “Nothing, Chef. Just didn’t get much sleep, that’s all,” he mumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets and making himself look small. Evan is anything but small, both in the physical sense and certainly in personality. Tommy’s heart breaks a little at the sight.  “Evan,” he says gently. And that’s when Evan crumbles. Tommy steps forward, catching him easily and holding him upright. Evan grabs at his shoulders, his biceps, his chest, before snaking his arms under Tommy’s, grabbing handfuls of the back of his chef’s coat and holding on for dear life.

no pressure tagging @monsterrae1 @powersuitup @loveyouanyway @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess

#tease tidbit tuesday #911 abc #911 #911 wip #bucktommy #bucktommy wip #tevan #kinley #kinkley #jules writes #jules answers #anon

[latenighttalkinqwp]

hiyaaaa could u write a fic/blurb abt maybe surprising kk while she’s doing one of her lil lives?!!!!!:)

surprising kk on live !

“hey girly pops!” kk threw up a peace sign, reading the comments. ice plopped on the chair beside her, waving to the live. “kk where is your man?” ice laughed, looking over at the brunette. kk rolled her eyes, propping her phone up on a water bottle. “okay so, my ‘man’ has been busy with sports. y’all girlies already know, we the athletic couple. period.” she looked at herself through the live, ignoring the face ice was giving her.

you had been gone for a few weeks due to dance. your coach always kept you busy, but during the summer before football season, kk felt like you never had time for her. currently, you were back in your hometown, hosting an intensive that your old studio planned for you to run. it would last about a week, not including the time you would be spending home after to be back with family. it was safe to say, that kk definitely was missing you.

“yall, it’s private but not a secret.” kk laughed, motioning for ice to come stand near her. “paige was supposed to be joining but i think she had an errand to run or something..” kk rolled her eyes, trying to change the topic off of you. ice nodded, even though she knew exactly what paige was doing.

kk knew you were coming back to uconn in the next week, since that’s what you guys had discussed over the phone. however, what she didn’t know was that you actually scheduled your flight back for the week before to surprise her.

about thirty minutes had gone by, and kk was letting random people join the live, whenever she seen your name in the chat. her eyebrows raised, pointing out what you commented to ice. they both waved, trying to let you know that they seen what you commented. “yall, my ‘man’ is lurking in the chat right now.” kk pretended that she was blushing, tucking one of her twists behind her ear. ice laughed, knowing what was about to happen.

you turned off your phone, looking up at paige. you guys were standing outside of the door, waiting for the perfect moment to go in. “are you sure she’s okay with me being on the live?” you asked, knowing how kk felt about keeping the relationship between you and her. paige nodded, motioning for you to walk in. kk looked up whenever she heard the door open, expecting it to be paige walking in.

“hi kam!” you smiled, scanning the girls face for a reaction. kk’s jaw dropped, covering her mouth with her hand. “wait- what are you doing here?” she asked, running over to pull you into a tight hug. paige and ice smiled, going over to talk to the live. “i thought i would surprise you! i missed you too much to wait any longer.” you felt kk’s smile widen into your neck, pulling you even closer. “i missed you so much, im so happy you are here right now.” kk pulled back, looking you up and down. “sorry- i am just making sure this is like…totally real right now.”

you rolled your eyes, pulling her back in for another hug. you put your hands on her cheeks, looking her in the eyes. she licked her lips, leaning in closer. you closed the gap between you guys, and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. you both pulled away smiling, looking over at paige and ice who were telling the live what was happening. kk laughed, looking back over at you. “do you think it’s real now?” you raised and eyebrow, scanning your eyes over the girls face.

“i’m not sure, i might need another kiss just to be sure…”

- thank u for reading all the way through! feel me to send me more requests !!!

- i hope this was good! im so sorry this took me so long to write babe 😭 this is easily one of the worst things i’ve written….

#kk arnold #kk arnold x reader #jazzies anons💝 #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies #paige bueckers #wcbb #ice brady #jazzies asks🥳 #kk arnold headcannons

[garbinge]

Shot To The Heart

Tim Bradford x F!Nurse!Reader (turned SWAT/TEMS) 30 Day Fic Challenge (13/30)

Word Count: 1.3k A/N: Just something small for this wife reader/Tim universe I occasionally write for. Looking forward to season 7, and hopefully a Chenford reunion lol.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Mentions of violence, gunshot wounds, ptsd, wat flashbacks, hospitalization, light angst. The Rookie Taglist: @simrah1012 @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @afuckingshituniverse Other fics with this reader: Clean Cut - Tim Bradford x F!Nurse!Reader Earthquakes and Promotions - Tim Bradford x F!Nurse!Reader

“Hey I was just about to call you, I’m wrapping up my shift but the team is heading to get drinks, figured you could meet us there? We’re going to that spot that has those mojitos you like.” Tim had a smile on his face as he answered your phone call. He was walking through the station towards the men’s locker room, ready to change out of the stench of a long patrol day.

“Before you freak out, I want you to know I’m okay.” Your voice was completely opposite of his. It wasn’t shaky for what happened, but you were solemn and still in your delivery. It was honestly silly to start your conversation this way, Tim wasn’t one to freak out, but he was one to think the worst first. 

“What happened?” His voice immediately matched yours. Very typical for people that held the positions you did, to be calm under crisis. 

“I got shot on shift today. I’m at the hospital.” 

“You what?” Tim had stopped in his tracks immediately waiting for more information. 

“My thigh, it’s not a big deal. It missed my artery but protocol is for me to be here for the next couple days.” You didn’t exactly want to get into details but you knew you had to give him some information. 

“Why am I just finding this out?” Tim was now rushing to the exit doors. 

“I told them not to call you, I wanted you to hear it from me, not some random SWAT member.” 

“You do realize they’re not random, they come to all our barbecues, we’ve been to their weddings…” Tim was starting to argue with you. “Not to mention, I should’ve heard it on the radio.” 

“Really wanna argue with me right now, Bradford?” You sighed despite the smile on your face. 

“I really wanna know what happened.” 

You could hear his truck engine start in the background and from that you knew he was going to be at the hospital in minutes. 

“We got called in on some cartel tip, it was off-channel, stealth.” You explained knowing he wasn’t going to let it go. “I was applying aid to a hostage and it just happened.” 

“I really hope you didn’t write your report that way.” Annoyance was dripping off his tone. 

“Tim.” You said with the same amount of annoyance. 

“No, you don’t get to be mad at me for being mad.” He was on the highway now, you could hear the change in background noise. “I’ll be there in 5 minutes.” 

With that he hung up, and was in front of you within minutes. It made you wonder where he left his truck and who he talked to before getting to your room. 

“Jesus.” He was at the edge of the bed looking down at you. “How you holdin’ up?” 

“I’m fine, I just wanna go home.” You brushed him off. 

“What the hell happened out there?” His voice didn’t sound angry like it did on the phone, he was genuinely upset. 

“I told you, it happened fast, I was applying aid and then the next we were under fire.” You shook your head, not able to look him in the eye. 

At that motion he walked over to the side of the bed, quickly engulfing you in a hug. “I know when you’re lying to me.” He mumbled into the top of your head before placing a kiss there. 

You leaned into him, despite all his gear from his belt making it rather unpleasant to be in his embrace, it was the most comfortable you’ve felt since everything happened. You leaned into him more, gripping him closer to you when you let out a little sob. 

He gently scooted you over, making sure he didn’t aggravate or even touch the leg with the bullet wound. It was just enough so that he could sit next to you in the bed and shield you from prying eyes outside. 

“It’s alright.” He hummed as he rubbed your back up and down. A nurse had entered at one point and Tim just politely smiled and asked if the two of you could have a couple minutes. 

The tears you let escape you were some that you hadn’t shed in years. It was buried down deep, being in your field, being at war, it did that to you, it bottled everything up and left you to deal with it at another time, and each time being more inconvenient than the last left for it to overflow now. 

As you calmed down, you took a deep breath and wiped your face before looking at Tim. 

“You went back.” Tim said not needing you to say anything in explanation about what happened. 

“It was like I was right back in Afghanistan.” You nodded. 

“Protocols are different here.” Tim tilted his head to look at you, wondering if he pushed you into this too soon. 

“Yea, they got me on probation. Seeing the shrink tomorrow where they’ll figure out when I’m cleared for active duty.” 

“You know, if you wanted to go back to work at the hospital, no one would hold it against you.” Tim offered up a solution that was more for him than it was for you. 

“I was doing fine up until now, I think all the dust from the desert we were in, my hands wrist deep into this guys abdomen, brought me back to when you were bleeding out in front of me. Getting shot brought me back to the moment, it was like the shake back to reality I needed.” You shook your head as you thought through it all. 

“Yea the shrinks gonna have a ball with you.” Tim teased you before getting serious. “You’ve always been self-aware. On top of your shit, you’ll be back on active duty in no time.” 

“You sound worried.” It was obvious to notice the hesitancy in his voice. 

“Just can’t help but feel like I pushed you to this.” Tim sighed deeply. 

“I chose this.” You began to argue with him. 

“But I planted the seed.” He argued back. 

“You give yourself too much credit.” You laughed and squeezed his hand. “Remember when the Chief’s daughter came in, and I took her on as my patient, he saw how I handled everything, when they checked out, he mentioned how I might be good in TEMS. I brushed it off, but when you brought it up again, it just was harder and harder to brush it off. It just made sense.” 

Tim looked down at you shocked that you never mentioned what his boss said to you. 

“I’m just saying, don’t give yourself the credit for this.” You shrugged and teased him. 

“I just want to make sure you’re good.” Tim got serious again after letting out a laugh from your tease. 

“I’m fine, and after I see Dr. Shrink tomorrow I’ll be even better.” 

“You’re not opposed to it, which is already how I know you’re fine.” Tim joked as he brought you closer to him as both of you relaxed in the bed. 

“That’s that machismo stigma, I love talking to people about my problems. Which, speaking of, you didn’t take the trash out this morning.” 

Tim let out a belly laugh, “I’ll be sure to take it out tonight.” 

“No you won’t. You’re staying with me, Sarge.” And with that you cuddled into him as best as you could and closed your eyes so you could get as many minutes in the the most comfortable sleep you’d get while being in the hospital. 

#The Rookie #The Rookie Fanfic #The Rookie fanfiction #Tim Bradford #Tim Bradford Fanfic #Tim Bradford Fanfiction #Tim Bradford x Reader #Tim Bradford x You #SWAT #SWAT Reader #TEMS Reader #TEMS

[freyito]

ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢᴀʀᴅᴇɴ

✭ pairing(s): gallagher x ftm reader

★ summary: Gallagher has been the only one in your life to make you feel like a man. Even if you can mold and shape yourself in the Dreamscape, make yourself look and feel as Cis as you want, and yet, nothing has been able to fill the hole you feel within your very existence... aside from Gallagher. And now you can't find him. You can't find Gallagher. You can't find him.

✧ a/n: HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!!!!! im gonna be writing a lot more x male readers and especially a lot more x ftm readers... i started this blog cause wherever i looked in whatever fandom i was in i never found many male readers... and especially barely any ftm ones... and it feels like i havent written any proper x m! reader fics in a while, soooo... we'll start here. i'll still write gn reader of course!!!! but i like lowkey haven't written much that matches my identity in a bit.

🗒 cw: ftm reader, 2.2 story spoilers, dysphoria like mad dysphoria, anxiety, depression, sensory overloard, grief (?), hurt/no comfort, proofread

✎ wc: 2.2k

The Dreamscape has been quiet lately. Even Golden Hour was quiet, silent, and whenever you looked to the sky, its brilliance had begun to dim. The Dreamflux Reef had always been quiet, too, and yet now, it was uncanny. Micah had been so aloof, answering your questions curtly, and Gallagher hadn’t even sent you a text. Every time you texted him, it never went through, as if he wasn’t in an area with service. Which was normally okay, you knew he had to be out on a job or something, but it had been a whole week and he hadn’t even come back to his bar. When you had asked anyone about Gallagher, they had given you this look like they didn’t know where your lost dog was… which isn’t exactly far from the truth, you suppose. But you could see some sort of guilt behind their eyes. And that made you uneasy.

Sure, he had gone weeks at a time without being with you, but he always sent texts, and most people knew where he was, especially the locals. His last text to you was an ‘I love you babyboy.’, which isn’t abnormal, he had a habit of texting you that specifically around five times a day. He had to drill it into your head. He always made sure you knew you were loved, especially by him. You were ‘something special’, as he said, ‘the best thing that ever happened to him’, ‘his pretty boy’, and the list goes on. But your phone remains eerily silent.

You can’t help but check it every other minute, wading through the crowds of Golden Hour, the last place you wanted to be right now. No one in Dreamflux Reef would give you a definitive answer, no one had seen him, or if they had, they gave you indecisive answers. He was out on a case, he was at the lounge, anything to get you off their backs. You had to admit, you were becoming increasingly nagging, annoying, even. But who wouldn’t? Your boyfriend had been gone a whole week with no trace of him, no communication, and you were starting to think the worst.

Golden Hour makes your head spin, looking under every literal rock you can find, getting any info you can from the most lucid strangers and even mumbling drunkards. You are desperate, any little bit of information you use. Even if they had just seen a man with brown hair or a man with hazel eyes. Of course, none lead you to Gallagher. And the Bloodhounds aren’t of any help either, they all stare at you with confused looks and some even tell you to stop playing around.

You’ve already given up, the hustle and bustle of Golden Hour making you feel even more hopeless, the feel of everyone's eyes on you, not fitting in, it all sinks in once more. You were better off putting up lost dog posters at that point. Was it possible for people to go missing in the dreamscape? You had no idea, but you were holding onto the hope that perhaps this was all some twisted nightmare that had crept into your head, but each step you took disproved that thought.

Perhaps reality will have answers, and while you feel so reluctant to wake up, to be seen once more. You had never met Gallagher out of the dreamscape, and only now did you realize what you could be getting yourself into. Perhaps he had just… left? After so many years? Surely not, right?

You return to reality, unsteady. Your body feels frail, even if you had been maintaining it properly. It feels odd to be back in reality, where suddenly how you look, how you talk, and your mannerisms all mattered. You had to act masculine, you had to shut up and walk tall, hyper aware of the eyes on you. Even if it only takes only a minute to get to the front desk, even if you know the guests will never recognize you in the dreamscape. You still can’t help but feel self-conscious, being able to hide behind the veil of the dreamscape for so long, now out in reality, feeling as if you were stripped bare for all to see. Which you weren’t, but perhaps your nerves were getting to you.

When you reach the front counter, your nerves don't abate. They only grow in size, the fear quickly creeping through your system. There was no guest named Gallagher, and you didn’t even know what room he had been staying in. They can’t tell you anything considering that you yourself aren’t the customer they are looking for. But the way they look at you just as the people in Golden Hour and Dreamflux Reef do tells you all.

Reluctantly, you make it back to your room. You don’t know if you want to go back to the Dreamscape, you’re already shook up as is. If something so dire could make you resurface from the vast, blissful ocean that was the Dreamscape, why would you go back? No sign of him for a week, reality or otherwise, and not a word from those closest to him. Do you really wish to go back? Where you know your current efforts have failed. Where that sinking feeling that you know he’s gone takes hold of you?

You stare at the dreampool for a second longer, trying your best to shove down your doubts and your fears, and sink back into the sweet allure of dreams, waking up once more in the Dreamflux Reef. You stay where you are for another minute, a place you’ve called home for several years, a place that would be filled with hearty laughter, maybe even the clinking of glasses, and smell like Gallagher’s mild cologne. That scent has dimmed recently, either because he hadn’t come home, or perhaps you were… used to it. His clothes were still strewn about on the bed, what he was going to wear the day after he had disappeared. You didn’t dare move them, not once, afraid of losing all the little things about him.

When you finally exit the house, the streets feel colder. It’s even quieter than before, and most residents look… somber. Perhaps they always looked that way, and you just didn’t know. You figure you’d try your luck with Micah again, either to get closure or just wallow with someone who was close to Gallagher, you are unsure.

You had done your best to ignore the… tower that seemed to breach out of nowhere in the Reef, despite how tall it had been and just how oddly enchanting it was. You, like many of the Penacony locals, didn’t enjoy change. To have something like that just simply grow out of the ground you knew when those Trailblazers came around was jarring. That had also been the day that Gallagher had stopped coming home, and the events that followed had made you so desperate to find him once more. This beautiful dream, torn asunder by some madman’s delusion of a grander, peaceful life. You never did like the family, you never liked Sunday.

On that note, Micah was nowhere to be seen, at least where you looked. Not all the way down in the alleys or by the train station, not in the dive bar playing pool, nowhere. You had no where but to ascend those damned stairs that faced towards a false moon. You didn’t want to, not at all. It wasn’t intimidating, but every time you lingered near it for too long, you felt uneasy. It had an air to it that spoke of danger, something that told you it ‘was not for you’. And here you were, stood in front of it and the three graves that paid homage to it.

The first step you take bathes you in a stillness unlike one you’ve ever felt. Tranquility follows as you continue to walk, the world is suddenly so quiet, the hustle and bustle of the Reef fades out, and you are left with blissful nothingness. The only sound that follows you is your steps. It isn’t so bad when you think about it, it’s comforting, in a way.

Micah is tending to the plants that surround a small little courtyard. He’s relaxed, untensed, and seems genuinely at peace. It’s been rare to see someone like that in recent days. When he hears you, he lifts his head and gives you a soft smile, one that reeks of pity, as if he knows what you are going to ask him.

“Micah–”

“I have no idea where Gallagher is,” Micah sighed, his smile faltering slightly. “Not a text, not a word.”

At this point, you knew people were lying to you. Micah’s reminder only makes you realize just how much people were. “I know that. Tell me what happened to him.”

Micah is taken aback by your blunt reaction, but easily gives in. The jig is up it seems, and he doesn’t fight back any longer. With a soft huff and slump of his shoulders, he sets aside his current task, turning his full attention towards you.

“Then we’re gonna have to sit down and talk. It’s a bit of a doozy.”

.  * 　　　 ✦     .     　⁺ 　 .

Your head spins with all the details. It’s all so confusing, Gallagher, being… fictional? The man you had fallen in love with was simply just a creation, not tangible, not real. What were you supposed to do with that information? All you had been doing for the past hour or so is staring at the wall. Your room is silent, as is all things now, dark and lonely. It’s suffocating. You feel empty, devoid of whatever was there, whatever had filled the hole in your heart, as cliche as it was.

A hollow home, a hollow heart, and not a soul to mend it. Those welcoming arms are no more, or perhaps, never were. And yet, his clothes still remain, his toothbrush and cologne and shampoo and everything else stay in the bathroom as if he were. If you spaced out long enough, you could still hear his hearty laughter, if you sink a little deeper into the pillows you can smell faint traces of his shampoo. Anything to hold onto what you love. Who you love.

You need to drown yourself in something before you lose your mind. You want to cry, and yet… you can’t. It is still all catching up to you. You wander around the house mindlessly, desperate for something to happen. Anything. But there is nothing. When you stop, there is null, a terrifying distance between you and the empty kitchen. You have to get out of here, you have to leave, this home is not yours anymore. It is simply a house.

Your feet bring you away from the Reef, finally, settling you in the Reverie. You follow a familiar path, one that you had walked on a particularly bad night, that had led you to the Dreamjolt Holstery. It was unwise of you to fall in love with the mixologist, but here you were, several years in, finding out he was quite literally made up.

Slowly, you take a seat at the bar, the lounge around you empty, dead. You have no idea where the bartender is, but you don’t care. This is the same seat you had taken that night. It was something you should’ve forgotten, really, such a minor detail that now felt all too big and meaningful to your heart. You can still remember what had torn you up, it was a particularly bad day, feeling too dysphoric, and no matter what you did, even in the Dreamscape, it had done nothing to affirm your identity more. So you sought out a drink, or a few, to wash down that bitter taste that plagued your taste buds all day. And there he was, a little disheveled as always, eyebags, gravelly voice, something about him just… washed over you as if he were a dream. Which, looking back, apparently he was. You remember fighting between two thoughts; wanting to be him, or wanting him. To be a man so… masculine, gruff, big and intimidating, something like that…

Your nostalgic daydream is broken by steps, and a figure above you. You look up, hoping that you’ll see the same scene once more, that Gallagher will shoot you a smile and a chuckle, ask you what’s got you down, but instead, it’s Siobhan. She looks down at you with a sympathetic smile, as if she knows exactly what you were thinking about. You can’t tell if you feel angry or sad, or neither. You simply push those feelings down.

“What can I get you tonight?” She asks, her voice even and calm as always.

You take a minute to think, unsure if you want something strong to keep you occupied or something that could serve as a tribute. Ultimately, you settle with…

“A glass of uh… The Big Sleep,” You can’t help but chuckle lightly at the name, even if the chuckle was devoid of joy. Siobhan doesn’t mention it, simply smiles and nods.

“... To the ghosts of the past?”

“Yeah… to the ghosts of the past.”

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

#⁺◟freyito #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #gallagher x reader #gallagher hsr x reader #hsr x male reader #honkai star rail x male reader #gallagher x male reader #gallagher hsr x male reader #hsr x ftm reader #honkai star rail x ftm reader #gallagher x ftm reader #gallagher hsr x ftm reader

[ckerouac]

I am absolutely fascinated by some of the Bridgerton S3 discourse I've stumbled upon that seems to funnel into one of two arguments.

'Penelope should've married Debling because she'd be rich, left alone, and able to do exactly what she wanted because he'd be gone/dead and that's a win for her because that's what all of us really want!'

'Penelope should've never forgiven Colin for saying he'd never court her because it was cruel and indicative of what he really thought and she deserves better because in real life this happens all the time, especially to fat girls, and he's the worst!'

My friends. My dudes. Y'all.

Are you lost? Did you take a wrong turn in the library and are unsure of how you arrived in the Romance section? Because Bridgerton is not contemporary fiction. It's not even Historical Fiction. It's ROMANCE. Which has its own genre rules and traditions and I can only imagine these bad faith complaints are from someone who thinks everything has to 'defy the genre!' as if the term romance is a dirty word.

If this were contemporary fiction, sure. The HBO limited series of this where Nicole Kidman plays a brooding Portia would have Penelope learning the lesson that she's wrong to wish for a man to complete her and take her doomed husband Debling's money to girlboss her way into a gossip empire while impressing her success on Colin who realizing too late what he let get away. I've read many stories like that, loved a bunch of them. She'd move to NYC and end it overlooking her empire from her glass penthouse. Amazing.

But this is not contemporary fiction.

This is ROMANCE.

And one of the requirements of Romance is the Happily Ever After. Penelope, as our heroine in a Romance story, will get the Happily Ever After that she states she wants. And that is to have a marriage based in love and to have that love be a partner that supports her dreams. Rules of the genre guarantees that that's where we are going to end up. That's not Debling - who offers her support and freedom, but not love. Pen wants love. So she will hold out for love, and will get it.

The other nonsense with Colin who should be punished for saying one cruel thing... The other BIG ASS FANTASY EXPECTATION OF ROMANCE FICTION is that the hero will fuck up and disappoint the heroine and, here's where the romantic fantasy comes in, will recognize his mistake, sincerely apologize to the heroine, and then change his actions. Which he did. Immediately. As soon as he realized his bravado hurt Pen, he parkoured his way through everything standing in his way to apologize and beg her forgiveness.

THAT is the crux on which Romance hinges. In real life, he will make excuses and will insist he did nothing wrong. In Romance, the heroine was correct to hold out for what she wanted. In Romance, the hero recognizes his error and apologizes and changes for her. In Romance, he releases the pretenses he's been holding up because she was right to believe in him and he desires to be the man she wants and deserves. That's the fantasy this genre promises. THAT'S the Happily Ever After. He explicitly says 'you were right' and she gets what she wants.

'That's not how it happens in real life!' is the entire fucking point. Insisting that the heroine should settle or that the heroine should not receive a sincere apology which leads to her getting everything she's dreamed up is just being deliberately genre ignorant.

#bridgerton #the genre is the point here #not everything needs to defied or subverted #you can dislike it for whatever reasons #but complaining about romance tropes in a romance story #is like getting irritated when someone ends up dead in a murder mystery #what were you expecting? #’no a dragon didn’t kill him you’re in an Agatha Christie novel’

[kybercrystals94]

Neon Warfare

Read here on Ao3!

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 | Week 1 | Main Prompt: Water Gun Fight | Alt. Prompt: "It's not what it looks like."

Rated: G | Words: 3109 | Summary: Wrecker buys two little water guns. What's the worst that could happen?

“Hey, look at this?” 

“How much do you think something like that costs?” 

“They call that art? I’ve blown up things that ended up looking nicer than that!” 

“If we could get one of those, would you want red or blue? I know red is part of our colors, but blue is nice.”

Crosshair tries to ignore Wrecker’s incessant commentary as they cut through a district of novelty shops. Keeping Wrecker on task during slow paced missions is like herding wild tookas: impossible and incredibly annoying. 

“We’re not here to sightsee,” Crosshair finally snaps. “Are you even watching for our contact?” 

“I thought you were watching,” Wrecker says, “I’m just backup.” 

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “So help me…” 

Wrecker gasps, and Crosshair turns to see what has distracted his brother now. Small, neon colored, plastic pistols. “What are these?” Wrecker asks the shopkeep. 

“Water guns,” the man says. 

“What do they do?” Wrecker asks before Crosshair can haul him away. 

The man looks unimpressed with the question. “Shoot water.” 

“They’re so tiny,” Wrecker croons. “You just fill ‘em with water? Simple as that?” 

“Simple as that.” 

“Wrecker, come on,” Crosshair growls. 

“They’re on sale, two for a credit,” the man says. 

“Sold!” Wrecker whips a credit out of nowhere, drops it in the vendor’s waiting hand, and snatches up a green and a pink pistol from the basket. 

It takes every shred of patience for Crosshair to keep his mouth shut until they move away from the cart. “Put your toys away, we’re busy,” he hisses. 

“We’re always busy,” Wrecker says, ignoring him as he fiddles with the tiny orange stopper at the top of the pink pistol. Once he dislodges it, he hands the green pistol to Crosshair. “Hold this.” 

“I’m not holding your toys!” Crosshair cries, taking the pistol anyway. 

Wrecker gets out his canteen and tries to delicately dribble a stream of water into the hole at the top of the gun. Most of the water ends up in a puddle on the ground. 

“I’m not sharing my canteen with you when you’re thirsty later,” Crosshair mutters. 

Wrecker either doesn’t hear him or doesn’t care. “There!” he says, triumphantly, poking the stopper back into place. Before Crosshair can react, Wrecker points the gun at Crosshair and pulls the trigger. A spurt of water splatters harmlessly across Crosshair’s visor. 

He’s annoyed nonetheless. “Ugh! Grow up, Wrecker!” 

“Here,” Wrecker says, unperturbed, reaching for the green pistol, “let’s fill yours up.” 

“It’s not mine!” Crosshair says, thrusting it into Wrecker’s hand. 

“Sure it is! I bought it for you.” 

“I don’t want it.” 

Wrecker’s shoulders slump. “Aw, c’mon, Cross. You’re no fun.”

“We’re not here to have fun. We’re here on a mission. Now, put your kriffing toys away.” 

Crosshair starts walking, and hears Wrecker start trundling along behind him. And then he feels it. Something wet on the back of his neck.

“Ha! That was a good shot!”

Crosshair sighs. This is going to be a long patrol. 

*

Surprisingly, Wrecker seems to lose interest in the water guns the moment they come within sight of the Marauder. He shoves them in one of his pockets and goes about his chores without a word about his newfound toys that he’d been harassing Crosshair with nonstop. 

Crosshair isn’t complaining. Maybe the stupid water guns will be forgotten, lost in a crate somewhere…or found by a certain sniper and shot out the airlock while in deep space. 

However, Crosshair’s hopes are dashed when he opens his firepuncher case the next cycle and finds that someone has put a neon green water gun inside. A torn piece of flimsi is folded beside it. Crosshair picks it up and opens it. Got plan. Practice. Secret. - W. 

Shaking his head, Crosshair picks up the tiny pistol. He can tell by the subtle weight that Wrecker has already filled it with water. With a scoff, he aims idly at a bolt in the wall and shoots. The spurt of water misses by at least nine centimeters to the left. Crosshair’s jaw drops. He missed? He adjusts the pistol in his hand. Shoots. Five centimeters too low. 

Crosshair swears under his breath. 

Squirt, squirt, squirt, squirt…

Miss, miss, miss, miss…

He’s about to throw the water gun across the ship when a rumbling voice says behind him. “Harder than it looks, huh?” 

Wrecker’s pink water gun appears in his hand, comically miniscule in his massive fingers. He aims for the exact bolt Crosshair was aiming for. 

Direct hit. 

Crosshair actually chokes on his gasp of shock. He’s coughing so hard that Hunter comes back to check on them, Wrecker slapping Crosshair on the back as if that’s gonna do anything to help.

“Everything alright?” Hunter asks. 

Wrecker grins. “Yeah, he’s just fine, sarge.”

Hunter quirks an eyebrow at Crosshair, and Crosshair can only nod. With one last bewildered look, Hunter retreats back to the cockpit. 

“That’s why you gotta practice,” Wrecker says loftily. “Otherwise, I’ll just be a better shot than you with a water gun.” 

Crosshair glares at his largest brother, seeing the shameless goading for exactly what it is. And yet, he will not be outdone by Wrecker, not even with a stupid little toy water gun. “Oh, you’re on.” 

*

Echo is tracking their flight plan when he hears Wrecker start sniffling behind him. He ignores it. 

“Sure is dusty in here,” Wrecker comments offhandedly. 

“Whatever you say,” Echo mumbles. 

More sniffling. “My nose sure feels funny. It’s like a sneeze is stuck in there.” 

Echo grunts in vague sympathy. 

Then comes the shuddering breath of an attempted sneeze, loud and exaggerated…and prolonged. 

“For force sake, Wrecker, if you’re gonna sneeze, sneeze!” 

“ACHOO!” 

Wet droplets shower the back of Echo’s neck. His reaction is immediate. “Wrecker! Did you just sneeze on me?” Echo squawks, standing and whirling on the giant. 

Wrecker doesn’t look the least bit ashamed. In fact, he looks alarmed and frantic as he tries to shove something bright neon pink in his pocket. Echo is faster when he’s annoyed or angry, and it pays off now. He snatches the mystery item out of Wrecker’s hand. A tiny, cheap water pistol. 

“You shot me with this and made me think you sneezed on me?” Echo demanded. “That’s disgusting!” 

“It’s called a prank,” Wrecker says, sounding offended by Echo’s evident lack of humor. 

Echo rolls his eyes. “A childish prank.” 

“It’s called fun,” Wrecker says, holding out his hand. “Now give it back. I still need to shoot Hunter and Tech with it.”

“Do you honestly think that’s going to end well?” Echo asks, deadpan. 

Wrecker smiles. “Not sure, but I’m willing to find out.”

Echo hesitates, weighing his options. If he returns the kriffing toy and Wrecker pranks Hunter and Tech with it, Echo risks being called complicit in the crime. 

If he keeps the toy…

“C’mon, Echo,” Wrecker whines, making a grabbing motion with his outstretched hand. “It’s water. It’s not like it’s gonna hurt them.”

The manchild does have a point. 

Echo sighs. “Fine. But so help me, you shoot me again with this thing, I’ll send it out the airlock.” 

Wrecker grins almost apologetically and snatches the toy up the moment it’s placed in his hand. “Ah, it was a good prank. You can’t actually be mad.” 

He’s not, but Echo narrows his gaze anyway. “You wanna bet credits on that?” 

“Fine! I won’t shoot you with water again,” Wrecker grumbles, folding his arms, hiding the water gun from view. Echo shakes his head and turns back to finish his calculations. He chooses not to react when Wrecker mutters, “Killjoy.”

*

Hunter is on the very cusp of sleep on one of the bunks when something hits the side of his face. Something cool and wet. He jerks awake with a gasp, hand flying up to touch where the attack occurred. His glove comes away damp. Turning, he sees Crosshair, polishing his rifle. 

“What was that?” Hunter demands. 

Crosshair looks up. “What?” 

“Someone splashed me with water,” Hunter says. 

“Someone splashed you with water,” Crosshair echoes. He rolls his eyes. “Sure they did.” 

Hunter glares at him. “You did it.” 

“How?” Crosshair asks. 

“Easy. You threw water at me.” 

“Where did I get this water?”

“Your canteen.” 

“Does it look like I have a canteen on me?” Crosshair asks, glancing around himself pointedly. “Maybe you’re just imagining things.” 

“My glove is literally damp!” 

“Maybe it’s sweat. Between that mop you call hair and that bandana, you must be roasting alive.” 

“I’m not sweating!” 

Crosshair shrugs, returning to his task. “Whatever you say.” 

Hunter watches him a few more moments before he closes his eyes, keeping his head turned toward his brother, and tries to resume his nap. 

Another water strike, square in the middle of his forehead. Hunter’s eyes fly open, and Crosshair is still there, not looking at him, polishing his rifle with the same leisurely ease as before. 

“You did it again!” Hunter cries, sitting up. 

Crosshair meets his gaze. “What are you on about? I didn’t do anything!” 

“Yes you did! You’re the only one in here! There’s no other explanation!” 

“How the kriff did I do it then? Explain it to me!” 

Hunter grits his teeth. He can’t explain it. But he knows it’s true. “You’re the one doing it, so you tell me!” 

“I’m not doing anything! I’m cleaning my rifle. Maker!” 

Hunter stands up. “You know you’re the worst sometimes?” 

“So I’ve been told,” Crosshair muses, going back to his task.

Hunter starts to storm to the cockpit when something hits the back of his head. He whirls around and Crosshair is still at work, an almost imperceptible smirk twitching at the edge of his lips. Hunter growls a curse under his breath before making his retreat. 

*

“What are you doing?” 

Wrecker and Crosshair startle and look up to find Tech standing over them. The casings of two water guns are on the floor between them, taken apart, amongst a plethora of spare parts from Tech’s stash for his projects. A stash he has very deliberately told his brothers not to touch without express permission. 

And neither of the clones in front of him had any such consent.  

“It’s not what you think,” Wrecker says. He has the decency to sound guilty.

Tech frowns. “What I think is that you are modifying toy pistols using my personal collection of parts.” 

Crosshair shrugs. “Then it’s exactly what you think.” 

“Put the parts back immediately! They are meant for serious projects, not hobbies.”

“Ah, c’mon, Tech,” Wrecker complains, “this isn’t just a hobby. It’s for science.” 

“How so?” Tech asks, unimpressed. 

Crosshair holds up a data pad with crudely designed schematics. “We’re going to increase the weapons’ accuracy by approximately one hundred and five percent.” 

Tech takes the data pad and examines the modifications. “No you are not.” 

“Why?”

“Because I am not giving permission to use my parts for these modifications. Give them back.” 

“Maker, Tech, don’t be stingy,” Crosshair protests.

“It is not being stingy to say that these parts are for specific purposes. Not a single one of those purposes include water guns. Put them away.” 

“Or what? You’ll tell Hunter on us?” Crosshair snarks. 

Tech glares. “You are being immature.” 

“Fine!” Crosshair says, “We’ll put your precious parts away. We don’t need them.” 

Wrecker frowns. “Yeah, we do.” 

“No, we don’t,” Crosshair says. He scoops up the spare parts and dumps them back in their box. He hands the box over to Tech, now a jumbled mess to be sorted. 

“You are behaving like a juvenile,” Tech says irritably. 

Crosshair smiles, but there is no friendliness in the gesture. “Oh, you haven’t seen juvenile yet.” 

“Is that a threat?” Tech asks. 

“Of course not,” Crosshair says, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “Just something to think about.” 

*

Tech calls a meeting between himself, Echo, and Hunter, closing the cockpit door while Crosshair and Wrecker are distracted with cataloging inventory. At least, that is what they said they were doing when they disappeared into the upper hold. 

“Something has to be done about Wrecker and Crosshair,” Tech says. 

“What do you mean?” Hunter asks. 

“Are you talking about their stupid little water pistols?” Echo asks, rolling his eyes. 

Hunter’s jaw drops. “That’s how Crosshair got me!” 

“And Wrecker got me,” Echo says. 

“I caught them trying to modify them to have better accuracy,” Tech says. “I stopped their attempt, but it is only a matter of time before they find alternate means.” 

“I told Wrecker if he shoots me with water again, I’ll send his water gun out the airlock,” Echo says with a shrug. “I say we follow through.” 

Hunter shakes his head. “No. We should fight fire with fire.” 

“Water with water, as it were,” Tech chuckles. 

“Please no,” Echo entreats. “Let’s end this before it gets out of hand.” 

“I’ve been doing some research,” Tech says, bringing out his data pad. “I believe I have found the perfect solution.” 

****

“We have four standard hours of shore leave,” Hunter says, “That means you’re all back to the ship in three and a half. Got it?” 

“Yes, sir,” Crosshair snarks with a lazy salute. He and Wrecker saunter off, leaving Hunter, Echo and Tech without a backwards glance. 

Once they are out of earshot, Hunter turns to Tech. “You got those coordinates?” 

“Affirmative,” Tech says, pulling up the directions on his data pad. 

“Are we really going to spend hard earned credits on water guns?” Echo asks.

Tech frowns. “These are not simply water guns, Echo. They are classified as super soakers.” 

“Cross and Wrecker won’t know what hit them,” Hunter murmurs almost gleefully. 

“Do you even hear yourselves right now?” Echo cries. 

Hunter ignores him. “We need to head out. We have to be back here and in position before the targets return.” 

Echo rolls his eyes, but follows Tech and Hunter anyway. 

*

They turn more than a few heads when they walk into the toy store; however, Crosshair ignores the incredulous stares of the other patrons. He walks straight to the counter, Wrecker at his shoulder. “We had an order for pickup,” he says.

“Sure, what’s the name?” the clerk asks. 

“Crosshair.” 

The clerk disappears into the back room and returns with two packages. “Two special order water guns?” 

The burning sensation of embarrassment creeps up the back of Crosshair’s neck. “Yes,” he says. 

“Aw, yeah! I can’t wait to try ‘em out,” Wrecker crows. 

“Can you be quieter,” Crosshair hisses at him. 

The clerk rings up the order and accepts the payment before relinquishing the packages to the soldiers, fully armored sans helmets. Wrecker takes them both eagerly, tucking them under one arm. They leave the shop and nearly collide with three more armored figures about to walk in. 

“What are you doing here?” Hunter demands. 

“Nothing!” Wrecker cries, sounding panicked, shoving the packages behind his back. 

“We could ask you the same thing,” Crosshair counters. 

Hunter crosses his arms. “We were following you.”

“Why?” 

“We’re suspicious.” 

“Of what?” 

“Of what you’d be getting from a toy store.” 

“How did you know we were coming to a toy store?” 

Hunter doesn’t have a comeback for that, and changes the subject. “What did you get?” 

“Nothing,” Wrecker reiterates guiltily, “It’s a surprise.” 

Tech adjusts his goggles. “Which is it? Nothing or a surprise?” 

“How about,” Crosshair says, stepping in front of Wrecker, “none of your business.”

“This is ridiculous,” Echo grumbles.

Crosshair reaches back and grabs Wrecker’s arm. “C’mon. We’re leaving.” Dragging Wrecker behind him, he shoves through the suspicious trio. 

“See you lot back at the ship,” Hunter calls after them. 

“Not if we see you first!” Wrecker hollers back. 

“Shut up!” Crosshair growls. “This is bad enough as it is.” 

*

They watch until the suspicious duo disappear into the crowd. 

“Those packages were definitely within the dimensions of super soakers,” Tech says. 

Hunter nods. “We should have known they’d do something like this.”

“We’re doing something like this!” Echo exclaims. “I never asked to be part of this. I’m never going to be dry again!” 

“Stop whining, Echo,” Hunter says, opening the door of the shop. “It’s three versus two. We’ve got the advantage. They might have started this, but we’re going to end it.” 

*

When they return the Marauder, the ramp is down, but it is quiet. Too quiet. Hunter holds up a fist, and Echo and Tech immediately stop short. Hunter’s eyes rove over the ship’s exterior. 

“Are we within range?” he asks Tech, a whisper over his shoulder. 

“If Crosshair is positioned on top of the ship, affirmative. He will have gravity on his side.” 

Echo groans. “Need I remind you all that we are in public?”

“We split up,” Hunter says, voice low, gripping his colorful weapon and holding it in ready position. “Circle the ship.” 

Echo sighs and takes the left side while Tech goes right. Hunter bravely takes center. He barely makes it four steps forward before he is hit in the face with a stream of water. 

And that’s when all hell breaks loose. 

*

No one says anything until the Marauder is settled in a hyperspace lane. The only sound is the hum of the ship and the faint sound of water dripping off five drenched commandos. 

Until… 

“They had no right to confiscate our weapons!” Wrecker grouses. 

Echo huffs. “It was that or the city putting in an official complaint with the GAR.” 

“I find it a little extreme to be prohibited from an entire planet. No one was injured,” Tech says. 

“Crosshair shot a child point blank with a super soaker and made them cry,” Echo points out. 

Crosshair chuckles darkly. “In my defense, I thought it was Hunter. They were similar heights.” 

Hunter scoffs. “You are such a liar.”

“Wait, who was it that then shot an officer sent to investigate the disturbance?” Crosshair asks, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Oh, yes. It was Hunter. That’s what got us in real trouble.”

“Now wait a minute,” Hunter starts indignantly. 

Echo stands up. “I just want to go on the record and say I didn’t want to be involved in any of this!”

“This is true,” Tech agrees, “Although you are the one who soaked the second officer.”

“That was an accident.”

“That’s not how the officer saw it.” 

As the bickering escalates, Crosshair catches Wrecker’s eye and holds out his hand, mostly fisted, but open enough that the demolitions expert sees a glimpse of pink and green. He grins, looking back at Crosshair. Crosshair puts a finger to his lips. Wrecker nods. 

The war is far from over. 

END

Finally got my first prompt fill done for my own prompt event 😂 It's been an absolute joy and delight to see all the fills so far! I dedicate this story to @just-here-with-my-thoughts' kiddo 😉 A lot of work went into getting this prompt in the top 13 🤣

12 more weeks of Summer of Bad Batch!! Can't wait!!

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#summerofbatch2024 #week1 #water gun fight #it's not what you think #Star Wars the Bad Batch #Star Wars #The Bad Batch #SW TBB #TBB #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #humor #fluff #brotherly bonding #sibling relationships

[inlovewithregencyera]

transcript under cut : )

Thornfield House, July 7th, 1818

North: And are you in any pain my Lord?

Frederick: *coughing* It hurts when I cough. Sometimes when I breathe.

North: Yes..strictly hot milk and broth to quench the thirst and alleviate the pain.

Frederick: *quietly* Bell..?

Isabella: Yes, Frederick? I'm here.

Frederick: where is max?

Isabella: Oh, he's still slightly upset after everything that happened last night. I'm sure he'll come around.

Frederick: *coughing* Yes, well he's a fool if he thinks he'll stop me from attending that party.

Isabella: Frederick, given your condition, I think it best you don’t go. Please listen to Dr. North, you’re not stable.

Frederick: And bare the thought of Aurelia worrying about me and thinking the worst.?! No, I can't do it.

Isabella: *sniffling* Oh, Dr. North! Tell him he cannot go in the state he’s in!

North: Best we keep to my treatments, m'lord. You mustn't strain yourself. It'd be scandalous if you went to that party and fainted publicly...

Isabella: *wiping eyes* See, Frederick. You leave Aurelia for me to worry about.

Frederick: Please spare her any details of all of this.I don't want her knowing until she absolutely has to....

Isabella: Don't worry, I will. Also, don't worry about Max. I'll deal with him.You know he's extremely sensitive, this is a big blow for him...

Frederick: *coughing* Yes, yes, well. I dare say he will manage when things take a turn for the worst, he always does. He's a strong sort of fellow y know-

Isabella: *sniffling* Oh, how can you say that! You're too prideful, you know? You should've told us about this long ago and perhaps we would've had more t-

Frederick: *wheezing* And worry both of you and become the object of your pity? No thank you, I like being independent.

Isabella: *softly* You'd never worry us. We love you very much, and we wouldn't have minded you coming sooner if that meant-

Frederick: Yes. Yes, I know. I'm sorry for not telling you the whole truth, truly at first it was an infection of the pulmon-

Isabella: No need to explain yourself. I understand, you've always liked your freedom.

Frederick: A shame Max cannot see that. I do not wish to be infantilized as l grow weaker. Truly, you must try and not feel so sorry for me. Instead, feel sorry for Aurelia, for she-

Isabella: I do feel sorry for her. You've given her false hope with all of this, I mean you even kissed her Frederick! Then you referred to her as 'Aunt Aurelia' in front of your little niece, and now you wish for Max to break the news to her when time comes..?

Frederick: Please understand that my intentions were not to discompose her. They were to make her feel happiness, and happiness only. I will say, I got too carried away with kissing her, but Bell, you know my heart has yearned for her since leaving. How could I resist?

Isabella: I understand you meant well, but did you think of how she would perceive this? She probably thinks you've come back to marry her with all you've done and said! The poor girl will be more heartbroken than she already is, Frederick. What you did was selfish!

Frederick: *coughing* You’re right, perhaps it was selfish. But I cannot change the past, I'm sure she'll understand I meant well.

Isabella: And if she doesn't? Then what shall you do.

Frederick: *wheezing* Well I've already got one foot in the grave as is, I dare say it-

Isabella: *sniffling* Why have you given up all hope?

Frederick: *sitting up frantically* What hope is there with a disease such as this?! You watched what it did to Eleanor. I've already started wasting away, you see my jaw. Soon, I shall become an emaciated cripple too. There is nothing to be done, and I know this.

Isabella: Goodness me, lie back down! How could you sit here and call her a cripple before me? If Max heard you say that about her I'm sure he'd slap you!

Frederick: Forgive me, I didn't mean that. Truthfully, I didn’t, I know what she meant to you. For me to call her that wasn't right at all. What I meant to say was that there's no hope and I shall soon be an invalid.

Isabella: And that's alright, we will take care of you just as we did her. I just wish you'd tell Aurelia yourself and not put the strain on Max. You know tomorrow is also his Mama's birth-

Frederick: SHIT. *coughing* Shit, I forgot about that. Oh, and I'm forcing him to go to this ball. How wicked I am Bell, how wicked.

Isabella: Yes. *softly chuckling* very wicked. But it's good, he needs to associate with more people. More friends would be of service to him, though I still can't convince him to take a wife.

Frederick: *wheezing* Get him to cut that *shallow breathing* God awful hair. Or has he already done it like I requested? Also, for a wife then he should have Aurelia because I can't! Who else better to marry her now than him? I'll be damned if she marries that Carew fellow. I'll haunt him.

Isabella: Yes, he's already had it cut, and Frederick you know he couldn't possibl-

North: I don't mean to interrupt you Madam, but shall I put in the order for the chair.?

Isabella: Yes, thank you.

Frederick: A chair for what?

Isabella: You, you fool. You can barely breathe and you were winded going up the stairs last night. It's for your own good.

Frederick: I am not yet an invalid!

Isabella: “Yet.”

#sims 4 regency era #sims 4 regency #regency ts4 #regency sims 4 #ts4 regency #tcotd #historical sims #vintage sims #sims 4 historical story #historical sims 4 #sims 4 historical

[writingquestionsanswered]

hello! i feel like i’ve gotten worse at making a plot. i think i focus too much on creating the characters and their relationships with each other but i can’t think of a plot to write them. 2-3 years ago i was great at plots but i think i’ve kind of lost that ability(?) i write as a hobby but i still love it a lot

Focused on Characters, Struggling with Plot

It helps to remember that plot revolves around a conflict... or in other words a dilemma or problem that must be resolved.

Conflict can be internal (within the character's heart and mind) or external (in the character's situation, life, world), and many stories have both an internal and external conflict--usually related in some way.

So, if you have characters but no conflict, the first thing you want to do is decide what type of story you want to tell. Character-driven stories revolve around characters and their internal conflict. Plot-driven stories revolve around an external conflict and are less about the characters themselves. Or, you can do a story that is both character-driven and plot-driven and have your characters trying to resolve an external conflict while dealing with their own internal conflicts. This is increasingly common these days, especially for genre stories.

Once you've decided the type of story you want to tell, you will need to figure out the conflict or dilemma your characters are trying to solve. If you haven't fleshed out their world yet, now would be a good time to do that. Also, make sure you have a pretty good idea of what a normal day looks like for these characters. Who and what are important to them? What are their hopes and dreams? What would they change about their lives and world if they could?

Ultimately, you want a conflict that will shake things up for your main character/s. What could happen that would turn their lives totally upside down and give them a dilemma or problem to resolve? A question many writers find useful when trying to find a conflict is, "What is the worst thing that could happen to my character?"

Since relationships play a strong role with your character, you might look there for a source of conflict. You could even do an external conflict based on one of these relationships. For example, let's say one of the relationships you fleshed out was between Character A and Character C, who are best friends. What if Character C is blamed for a crime they didn't commit, and Character A (with the help of B) has to prove their innocence by finding the true perpetrator?

If all else fails, look for a story prompt online and plug your characters into it. Or, you could even use an online plot generator.

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

#wqaadvice

[ejtheoneandonly]

COMFORTING THEM AT THEIR WORST (or some sh*t I thought of at 3am)

Feat. Some Windbreaker characters that come in my mind

Haruka Sakura.

Haruka was bruised and normally, you would treat his wounds, he never admits it but L O V E S when you are the one doing it, as he consider your touches to be one of the most warm he has encountered in his whole life, you can even see it in his eyes, he is so mellow. When you try to talk to him about his day (before the brawl, of course) he remains strangely quiet, as if he is reflecting about something, you tilt your head "Haru-kun?", his eyes turned to you "what?" He coldly said...

"Is there something wrong?"

"Nah, nothing at all, why you keep asking?"

"Because it seems like you're going through something, do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

When you're done with your job, you both go sit somewhere outside, Sakura's face seems still at unease. You decide to try talk him out one more time

"Haru-kun-"

"Oh for f*cks sake what?!"

"How did you just talk to me..?"

"I said I'm fine! I don't need anything now!"

"If you say you're fine with that face that means you are not necessarily fine, you don't have to carry everything alone you know?"

"Ugh!" The bi-colored boy stood and groaned "I am not telling you I feel terrible just because you say-...so..." he said it himself. "And?" You were curious to hear the story. "..." Sakura grabbed his head and fell into the ground "Goddammit!!! Why can't I just feel to fit in no matter what I do!!! If I am not strong I am nothing! I really have no other things to offer!! I...I..." His voice was breaking and you didn't think twice before embracing him "You need to be patient, from what I've seen, things have been going very well in Furin for you, and you seem to have fun, I'm pretty sure your peers have already accepted you, or else, who are Nirei and Suo to you?"

Sakura is hesitant, but at the same time...he doesn't want to let you go.

Akihiko Nirei

You and Nirei were in a date, you were walking on the streets, admiring every single thing while you also see the yellow fluffball taking notes of the things you 'wow' at. Today was pretty nice, you bought some food, drinks and took some photos. The thing happened when he was walking you home, it was dusk time and some criminals arrived, threatening to harm you both, Nirei, wanting to be your hero, decided to face them himself but got outnumbered, fortunately, you knew how to fight, so you decided to help him. You both won, they left, you both went to your home, checking if there were any severe injuries. Suddenly, the yellow fluffball wailed.

"Oh no, what happened? Do your injuries hurt?" Your voice sounded so sweet and attentive, you were always like this, main reason he fell in love with you.

"It's just..." *sob* "Just..."

"You can tell me anything."

"I'm tired of being useless, I always wonder, how did I even get to enter Furin if I don't even know how to fight! Even if Suo-san trained me, I will still never be as cool as him or Sakura-san! I am so useless!! I am so useless!!" Nirei was 😭

"No! Don't say that! I love you just how you are! I chose you for you, I could have chosen Sakura or Suo as you say but no, want to know why I chose you?" You said getting closer to him

"🥺?" He looked to your direction

You kissed him in the cheek "Because you always have good intentions, even in the things you are not good at, you always give it all and that's what made me fall in love with you, you are the strongest in my eyes and heart, and always will"

Nirei just kept crying (lol) but it was okay, crybaby and all you still loved him.

Hayato Suo

Hayato Suo is someone who you rarely see sad, this patched person always kept in control of his emotions and thoughts, you were always certain he always had everything under control, but what would happen if those restraints...

...snapped...?

You and the patched guy were drinking tea at a chinese market, both enjoying the view as you enjoyed each other's company, even if you didn't spoke much, the silence was already good enough, but you decided to now check on him, you could feel it, there was stuff he has hiding, you sensed his mind was in a tempest, an unpredictable force that could break out at any moment. Hayato Suo is very good at hiding his emotions to the point it's scary, you will never know what's going on with him, unless he wants to tell you...

At last, you decide to break silence "Suo?"

He turned at you, with a tiny grin "yes?"

"I...have feeling you...you um..." You were sometimes scared that he might take your words the wrong way or worse, that a possible argument arised, but decided to take the risks. The chinese presenting guy blinked "anything you need to say?" He said as he finished his tea.

"You are going through something terrible right now and as much as you want to avoid it I know! I just know it! And I don't care if you say 'I'm fine', I know you're not but let me tell you, whatever you are going through, let me be there for you! As complex as it may be I will do until my last breath to-" You were passionately pronouncing those words you did cause a scene at the market, everyone was now staring at you "...sorry" you sat down again. He chuckled "your passion and dedication towards me is so admirable but..." his aura abruptly changed to a darker one "even if I told you, you would never be able to handle it, this is something very personal of me and I kindly beg you to leave it..."

You were speechless but mainly concerned, of course you never feared he attacked you, you knew he could never but the situation of right now, left you thinking, if he even trusted you enough, maybe not yet...

In the end, you both walked away from that place, you hoped one day, Hayato Suo would trust you and let himself be as vulnerable as ever, so you could be there for him with no doubt...

Forgive if this looks ooc, oh God T-T, also, to the 3 people that read this, you deserve the whole world ⚘️)) if you want another part then say so, I guess.

#yo there #wind breaker #haruka sakura #akihiko nirei #hayato suo