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#the outsiders angst
spikedhe4rt · 10 months
Note
can you please do a johnny smut with the reader giving johnny a hj and they keep edging him and he's really whiny and whimpers a lot? sorry if this is too specific! thank you
Sub!Johnny x Reader Smut
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Word Count: 1221
I climbed on top on Johnny, situating myself. I kiss him, enveloping his soft and plump lips. He placed his hands tightly on my hips. "Fuck!" Johnny whimpered. I let out a giggle at his desperation. "Such a pathetic baby." I ran a teasing hand down his chest, my hand slipping under his shirt. He moaned as he felt my warm on his belly. "Please, take it off!" he squeaked out.
I smiled down at him, ready to give him a order. "Sit up. Now" He immediately sat up and followed my directions. I pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his chest that was already covered in hickeys from yesterday. "Stand up for me!" He lifted himself from the bed slowly. "I love you so much, Johnny. You know that, right?"
He nodded with a whimper. I leaned into his warm body to kiss him deeply. My hands slit down to the button on his jeans, unfastening them quickly. Johnny groaned into the kiss, and brought a hand to my breasts. I pushed Johnny away from the kiss. "Take it off for me" He kicked his pants and underwear quickly, revealing his hard cock.
Johnny's cock was releasing beads of pre-cum by the second and rock hard. His cock was pulsing with need and reddish at the tip. It was begging for release and stimulation. He didn't know what was to come. Johnny the sat down on the bed, watching me as I was about to strip for him.
My hands slowly went down to the bottom of my tank top, lifting it teasingly over my head. My pink lacey bra with a pink bow in the middle to match was on display for him. Only for him. His dick twitched as he waited for me to lose my shorts next. "You're so pretty" he said to me. I smiled at him before pulling down my shorts, stepping out of them after.
I walked over to the bed and straddled Johnny, my clothed pussy rubbing against his naked cock slightly. I scooted back a little, adding more space between us. My lips found there way to his neck, peppering kisses on his neck. I bit down on the sensitive part on his neck then soothing it with my warm tongue. "Fuck. More!" he panted out.
I can already see the hickeys forming on his neck as he begged. I put my hand around his neck, pulling him towards me for a kiss. Our lips pushed together roughly. Johnnys tongue slipped into my mouth deepening the kiss. Fuck. I pulled away from him once again, eliciting a groan from him.
"Baby, please do something. Anything!" Johnny cried out. I nodded at him before grabbing his face, squishing his cheeks till his lips opened involuntarily. My other hand came up under his mouth, "Spit." I told him as I let his face go. Johnny leaned his head forward, his silky hair brushing his face to spit in my hand. My hand trailed down to his desperate cock.
The spit from my hand coated his cock that was already slightly wet from his precum. "Fuck. Feels so good, doll." I started to slowly stroke his dick at a slow, grueling pace. Johnny moaned loudly, his hips bucking up slightly into my hand. I placed a hand on his chest as I continued. "You look so handsome like this, Johnny." I whispered to him. He leaned into me, scanning over my features. "T-thank you"
The pace of my strokes picked up, making johnny cry out. "Please!" He breathed as he felt the change. I kept up my pace as he voice became more and more whiney and breathless. I knew that he would cum soon. I started to use both my hands to stroke his cock. One of my hands eventually came to add pressure to his leaky tip.
"Fuck! Im gonna cum. Please let me cum." I smirked at him, shaking my head. "No. Hold it for me!" He whimpered on what seemed like the verge of tears. "Oh fuck!" Johnny voice was raspy and soft as he begged for a release. I continued my work on his hard cock. "You sound so pretty, Johnny."
I could feel his overstimulated cock throb in my hold as I kept stroking. Sayings of " You like that don't you?" and "Not yet, baby." radiated as his "Feels so good." and "I wanna cum." filled the room. I brought a hand up to his mouth for more spit. He immediately filled my request, groaning as my hand returned to his cock. "Im getting close again! please!" I removed my hands completely from him completely. "You have to wait, baby."
He nodded, overstimulated, "Please give me your hands again!" I gave exactly what he needed. My left hand trailed down to his aching cock as my other went to his balls. I rubbed the velvety skin, increasing to his pleasure. Tears pricked his eyes as he knew he was getting edged for a third time. "Baby can I cum, please?" I shook my head with a smirk.
His whole face was tucked into my neck, tear streaming down. "Can I have kiss? Please!" I brought his head up and pressed a passionate kiss to his lips. Johnny put one of his hands on my hip and one on my throbbing clit. I got really worked up watching him beg. He began to rub slowly as I continued to stroke his overstimulated cock. "Fuck. You're such a good boy!"
My strokes began to get faster as I felt my own high building up. "Feels so good. Can I cum?" I started to kiss his neck before replying "Make me cum then I'll let you" Once Johnny heard my words, his fingers began to work faster. "You make me feel so good, Johnny. Shit!" My high was so close, about to tip over the edge. Johnny gave my puffy clit one last circle before my eye rolled back and I came all over his fingers.
"Oh fuck!" I cried out. I kissed Johnny, my tongue slipping into his mouth once again. I pulled away about to let him have his release. "Cum for me, Johnny." I told him with a nod, lip between my teeth. Johnny let out a loud moan before cumming hard on my hand. I brought my cum covered hand to my mouth, running my tongue over his release. After that, I brought him in for another kiss, making him taste himself slightly.
"Thank you, baby." he said as we began to lay down together. I looked at him in his eyes, lovingly, "I love you, Johnny." He kissed me softly "I love you more."
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A/N: Hi guys!! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. My requests are always open!! I have a request chapter on this book and my dms are opens. I love you guys!!! <3
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hii I don’t know if I’m supposed to give ya a prompt like said. But I’ve been feeling angstyyyy sooo if you can no bother my love, could ya do : all of the outsider boys reacting to you (s/o) death?
A/N: Hi anon! the post for the prompts thing is here but i’m taking requests too so dw! I’m feelin the angst rn so this was perfectly timed!
The boys if their S/O d!ed
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⚠️ TW for death, implied suicidal thoughts ⚠️
Darry
He would go on living for the most part, not because he doesn’t care about the fact that you’re gone, but he just can’t afford to shut down. if he does, he risks losing Soda and Pony too.
He’d bring flowers to your grave once a week, on Wednesdays (don’t ask why i just decided this). Your favourite flowers. When the first bunch he put down dies, he gets someone he knows, (maybe Ponyboy, i feel like he’d dig arts and crafts) to either press the flowers or dry them so he always has them, even if they bring back painful memories.
To add to the whole getting flowers thing, he’d always take one out of each bunch, just like he did before your death to make sure that he replaces them as soon as they wilt.
He most likely got the call about your passing and had to tell the guys. He tried to stay calm while telling them but he broke down before he could finish.
Ponyboy
This hurts just to think about! He, unlike Darry would shut down completely. He’d be failing class, wouldn’t get out of bed and would hardly eat. If we count it as after Johnny and Dally die, that would be 3 people he cared about that died (other than his parents)
If you two watched the sunset together often i feel like he’d never watch it again. it would be too painful for him.
Whenever he gets into an argument with Darry he runs out of the house and straight to your grave. He’d sit there and vent to you and eventually fall asleep there. the guys probably put a bench by your grave so he’d sleep there.
I think that after he was functional again, he’d get very cold and bitter, kinda like Dally. He’d get into fights all the time and would start acting out. He just doesn’t know how to cope with you gone..
Sodapop
Sodapop would go to your grave everyday after work and just talk to you about his day. he would fill you in on everything going on with the guys, any rumbles or fights with socs, stuff like that.
I honestly think that if Soda was serious about your relationship he would have given you a promise ring. I think that even after you were gone he would keep wearing it and maybe even put yours on a chain and wear that under his t-shirt, right next to his heart.
If it was a violent death? He would completely stop fighting, he would only see it as a constant reminder of what happened to you, he would realise that it really didn’t do any good.
He wouldn’t fully shut down but i think he would stop hanging out with the guys so much and would get very quiet. He wouldn’t be his laughing, wild self anymore. He knows that isn’t what you would’ve wanted but how could he keep on joking when you were gone? how could he ignore it?
Dally
Dally would go on hating and fighting more than he ever did. The world took so much from him and now it took you too? Why should he care about anyone or anything if you weren’t there anymore.
He’d spend a lot of time at your grave. No talking, he’d just sit there and smoke a cigarette. Sometimes he’d silently cry, but he hates crying out in the open.
Dally would blame himself. It doesn’t matter how you passed away, he would look at every detail of the days leading up to your death and see if there was any moment where he could’ve done something to stop it. if it was a violent death, could he have stopped you from getting into that situation in the first place? if it was an accident, could he have stopped it from happening, could he have made it so that it was him instead?
Steve
Steve would be kind of like Dally. He’d hate and fight more than ever. How could the world be so cruel that he’d take you from him?
I feel like it could be his first proper experience with loss, which is different to the others that i’ve written about so far. He really wouldn’t know how to cope. he’d try to go on living, then he would shut down for a while, then he would probably just have to get out of town for a while.
I honestly think he’d do something drastic. Rob a gas station or snap and start a fight with his dad or something. He would get very reckless too. where he would be careful when competing in drag races, now he would speed up if anything.
He is so afraid of forgetting your face. He keeps a picture of you in his jacket pocket to make sure he doesn’t forget but he realises he’s starting to forget the smaller things like how you’d make this particular face when you’re being sarcastic, and how your face would light up when someone mentioned your favourite things.
Two-Bit
Two would start drinking even more, you were lucky to see him sober. He’d stop hanging out with the guys.
He would be angry for a while. Angry that you left him here alone. Of course he knows deep down that it’s not your fault but he can’t help it. Two probably went to your grave one day, drunker than ever. He started giving out that you left him and ended up throwing his bottle of beer at your headstone. That snapped him out of it. He picked everything up and cleaned the headstone best he could.
After the angry phase is gone he would start to write you letters filling you in on everything. He couldn’t bring himself to go to your gave so he just pretended you had moved far away. He puts them in a big box under his bed. He considered burning them, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it
He sometimes forgets you’re not there though. Say if he’s doing something he might yell “Y/N could you pass me the ___” then remember you’re not there and just sits down and cries, even a few years after.
Johnny
Johnny really can’t deal with it. With his parents being so bad and you being his main support, he couldn’t take it anymore.
I honestly think that he would run away, let everyone forget him. Sometimes he would consider the ways to see you again, but luckily someone always snaps him out of it.
He hangs out with the guys more than ever, it keeps him from shutting down completely. they become his main support, but he’s even more quiet, he sits a little outside of the group when in the curtis’ house.
After a few months of grieving he remembers a list you guys wrote about all your hopes and dreams. So he decides that he’s going to complete everything on it. He lives for the two of you.
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2knightt · 11 months
Text
dallas winston and johnny cades reaction to your death 🦈
!warnings!
1.GN!reader
2.mentions of gun violence, gang violence, and suicide.
3.not proofread, as usual. LMFAO.
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Johnny Cade ;
you ran away with them at the church, you were there when johnny killed bob.
you yourself couldn’t believe it. you’re boyfriend who used to be this shy, no good greaser, became a murderer in a night.
while on the train to that church, you just stared at your hands that sat gently on your lap.
the exact moment from the stabbing to telling dally, to now, kept on replaying in your head.
you kept on thinking about how you could’ve changed this outcome, if you were just a little bit braver, a little bit more out spoken, a little more stronger.
you could’ve had ponyboy home by now with darry and sodapop hugging him while you and johnny walked to your house.
you just stared and stared until you felt johnny grab your sleeve and pull you out of the train.
you finally got a good look at him since last night. he was pale, his eyes were sunken like he hadn’t slept, and he looked scared.
not his usual scared, but he was terrified and paranoid of anyone and anything.
you stayed in the church with your boyfriend and his best friend for what seemed like weeks.
all those long and tiring days of eating just bologna, reading ‘gone with the wind’ and playing poker 24/7.
the sigh of relief you let out when you woke up to dallas was heavenly.
he took you guys out to eat dairy queen and you ate like it was your last meal. anything other than bologna was sent by the gods.
just as he pulled out, all of you saw a fire. a fire coming from the church.
in the moment, without thinking, you followed ponyboy as he rushed towards the church to save the kids trapped in there.
unfortunately for you, while you were running towards the exit, a pillar fell on your back.
johnny was the one that had to pull you out.
johnny cade was the one in the ambulance with you, holding your hand, telling you that you were gonna be alright. that everything was gonna be just fine.
but he didn’t even believe himself.
the following days you were in the hospital. he couldn’t even look at you, you had your face looking down at the floor constantly.
every time he came to see you, you were crying, crying about never being able to walk again, never being able to see him again, that you might die.
hearing you say that made him cry. johnny always said he’d never cry infront of you, but he can’t help it.
the love of his life was going to die and he could not do anything about it.
“quit your cryin’. you gon’ make it out just fine. you’re gonna be just fine.”
“stop saying that! you heard the doctors, even if i do live, i won’t walk ever again! what kind of lover will i be if i can’t walk?! huh?!”
johnny started to tear up at your words. you were injured terribly and you weren’t think about yourself.
that’s what he will always love about you, how selfless you are. he will always love you.
“i don’t want you to see me like this johnny, just go to the curtis house. i need to rest…please.”
you said in between coughs.
johnny knew what you really meant. you didn’t want him to see you like this, you were embarrassed.
this was the night of the rumble too, he couldn’t stay long anyhow.
he kissed the back of your hand and went off.
the gang thankfully won the rumble and it distracted johnny, just a little bit. just for awhile.
he, ponyboy, and even dallas went to go tell you the good news.
unfortunately, they were gonna leave with bad news to ruin the good mood the gang was in.
you told johnny to come closer as you coughed.
he grabbed your hand and you tried your very best to hold it tightly, but your efforts went to waste.
but johnny knew you were trying to hold his hand.
“ye-yeah? what is it? is everything alright, baby?”
“i love you, johnny cade. i’m so, so sorry.”
those were the last words he heard from you as your hand went limp in his own.
the whole world stopped for him, everything went silent. your heart monitor was deafening. the sounds of doctors and nurses rushing in and shoving the three of them out of the room was unheard by johnny.
johnny didn’t say a word when walking. ponyboy was crying while dallas was on the verge of tears. he knew how much it hurt johnny, and he even liked you too.
when they reached the lot, johnny didn’t say his goodbyes. he just walked to the same spot where you guys would lay and talk, laugh, cry, and sleep.
it was cold and empty. it was a burden to even lay down knowing you wouldn’t just magically appear and hold each other like you used too.
that was the first night johnny cade cried while thinking of you without you not being there.
that was the first night johnny cade became a shell of the man he used to be.
everywhere he went he was either ridiculed or was told several apologies.
he was found innocent for the death of bob, but since you were gone, he wished he was found guilty.
he’d walk the same way you would everyday to see him in hopes that he would see you walking the opposite way.
he was hoping that when he went to sleep, he’d see you sitting right next to him, smiling.
johnny lost the only love he ever knew. he lost his own angel.
he was hoping he’d see you soon, but johnny wouldn’t want your death to be in vain.
that’d be the opposite of you. that’d be selfish while you were selfless.
he wanted to remember you for the rest of his life. he wanted to remember your hugs, kisses, words, touch. anything.
he’d steal paper from ponyboy and write down what your touch felt like to him.
even thought he wasn’t good with his words on paper, each subject he wrote on you was two pages or more long.
he reads them every night crying to himself.
johnny cade will always love you, even when you’re long gone.
Dallas Winston ;
everyone knew you were in a gang, you were loud and proud about it!
people always asked you ‘well, what if it kills you one day? what then?”
and you always replied with,
“well shit! i’ll die with a smile on my face. it’ll be an honourable death, that’s for sure!”
people would’ve thought he loved having a s/o who wasn’t afraid of dying and in a gang. but, to be honest, he hated it.
he hated that everytime you were a second later than normal he’d think you were actually dead. shot, stabbed, anything.
but his worries would always wash away when you swung the door open and greeted him with open arms and a smile on your face.
but for some reason, this didn’t happen today.
he was waiting and waiting for you at bucks, but you never showed.
you did tell him you were gonna be at a meeting, but they never usually take 30 minutes longer.
dallas’s hands started to get sweating and he started shaking, he didn’t know what to do.
he knew the streets were dangerous, why would he let you out on your own?! stupid stupid stupid!!
he ran out the door, leaving the door open. he had zero time to waste when it came to you.
it’s like you were the only reason he was still breathing. he can’t lose you to some fucking gangster wannabe’s who don’t know anything about the streets!
he kept on running and running until he heard the sound of sirens. they were close enough to hear but too far to see why they were there.
dally’s heart raced and he started to pick up the pace.
once he reached the area where the cops and ambulance were, his knees buckled in fear. this is where you usually meet up.
he looks around and see’s bullets on the ground and three guys getting arrested. his eyes were darting around for any sign of you.
that’s when he saw the emergency responders over your bloody body.
before he could think he shoved one of the responders over to get to you.
you slowly looked up at him and smiled as he grabbed your face with both hands.
“oh, hey dall. fancy meetin’ you here.”
“WHAT THE FUCK Y/N?!”
you tried to giggle at his anger but all you did was cough up blood from the several gunshot wounds in your stomach.
you could see his eyes darting from yours to your stomach rapidly.
“are-are you gonna be fine?? what happened? talk to me, doll. please.”
“i always wanted to die like this, dall. don’t be too upset now.”
you said with a half-assed grin, trying to lighten the situation up.
all dally did was tear up. you didn’t want that, all you wanted him to do was smile.
“what did i just say dal?.. i wanted this death. pretty brave of me…huh?”
“goddamnit y/n.”
he mumbled to himself grabbing your hands and putting them on his forehead.
he started crying for real this time.
his whole body started shaking in anger, sadness and fear.
“he-hey. look at me, baby. it’s gonna be fine. i’m happy. an-“
you coughed, turning away from dallas’s shaken body.
“and if you do anything stupid, i’ll come back from the dead and do something about it.”
you said holding his face with your hand gently. he looked up at you, his eyes already blood shot.
you smiled one last time and your eyes shut permanently. your hand fell to the ground as dallas was still on the ground, sobbing even harder.
he hugged your body for awhile, until the responders told him to back off.
he stood up so fast he almost gave himself whiplash.
he started speed walking ‘till his legs couldn’t take it anymore.
he threw himself on something, anything that could be used as a chair and put his face in his hands.
he let it all out, every single emotion he felt.
anger, sadness, fear, disgust, but mostly fear.
fear in what the world would be like without you in it.
he was scared of what would happen without you holding him back, saving him from fights, cooking for him, bailing him out, loving him.
he kicked and punched everything he could see and get his hands on.
after an hour of crying and screaming he’d rush back to bucks house. pushing anyone out of his way to get to his room.
he’d trash his room to look for any piece of you he has left. thankfully for his own sanity, he found an old shirt of yours.
he brought it up to his chest and hugged it so hard.
dallas would put it around his pillow so it’d feel like you were with him still. that he could still feel like you were with him.
like you were still in his arms as he rants to you about something shepard did to him.
he bring his nose up to it to get the last remaining scent of you. he looks up towards the dresser he has and finds your body mist.
he sprays it everywhere to make it feel like you just left bucks.
but, if dallas took it any harder than he did with johnny’s death, he’d do the exact same thing.
the same night you’d die, he vowed he’d die too.
he’d call the curtis house and tell him the exact same thing he did in the movie.
he’d get shot with you in mind.
he’d think an apology about doing something stupid.
he’d think and hope that magically, you do come back alive and save him.
but he dies with that thought. the thought that you two can be together.
the thought that he died doing something you would hate him for, but he had to.
for you, and for himself.
author notes;
1.im on my period, so if i feel pain, everyone else does fr.
2.i am SO gonna do this with the rest of the gang so all the darry, ponyboy, steve, sodapop, and two-bit likers of the world, you aren’t SAFE.
3.i did this for the giggles ong.
4.IM REWATCHING THE GREEN MILE AND IT’S SO SAD I LOVE JOHN COFFEY SO MUCH
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may 7th, 2023. 9:24PM.
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st4rr-girrl · 5 months
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Was wondering if you could write about y/n and dally being in a toxic relationship mostly stemming from his part idc how dark it gets tbh and soda has feelings for y/n and y/n comes venting to him about it and it's in his perspective idk if this makes any sense but it does in my brain
Lmao yes honey, I got u. <3
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Warnings: Toxic relationship, domestic violence, angst, hurt & comfort.
Summary; When Dallas broke the camels back during your relationship, you found yourself running into Soda’s arms.
(Kinda short? Idk how I feel abt this one, but I hope u enjoy.)
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I will never truly understand what she sees in him.
The way she smiles, the way she blushes around him.
It should be me, making her smile and blush.
Not him. Never him.
They looked so happy together, so imagine my surprise when (Y/N) had show up on my doorstep, a bright red slap mark across her left cheek, mascara and tears running down her face as she pleaded for me to let her inside.
My heart broke at the sight of her, my eyes wide and my brows raised. I quickly ushered her inside my home, shutting and locking the door behind her.
“What happened, sweetness?” I asked softly, watching as she sat down on the couch.
“D-Dallas.” She stuttered through her tears, choking on her sobs.
I immediately knew what she meant. My blood ran cold, and my jaw clenched tightly. So tightly I thought my teeth might break.
I crossed my arms, a vicious glint swirling behind my eyes. “I’m gonna go talk to him.” I spoke, my tone cold and signaling nothing good. My tone showing that I would have more than just a friendly conversation with Dallas. I turned to walk away, but she quickly got up and grabbed my forearm.
“Wait!” She squeaked, her beautiful eyes wide and her lower lip trembling. “Please.. stay with me.” She whispered, her eyes scanning my face.
I nodded slowly, heaving a sigh as I turned around. I knew I couldn’t let Dally get away with this. He had hurt, (Y/N). He hurt my sweet girl, and I wanted to break his jaw for it. But for now, she needs me.
She wrapped her arms around my torso, and rested her cheek on my chest. With a slight frown, I wrapped my arms around her neck, pulling her closer to me. We stood in a comforting silence for a moment, before her raspy voice spoke up.
“It was always you, Soda.” She whispered.
Puzzled, and my facial expression showing it, I slowly pulled away from her to look at her face. “What?” I asked slowly, confused as to what she had meant.
“It’s always been you.” She confessed, her brows furrowing as she pulled away from the hug to stare at me. “Not Dallas.” She shook her head. “Never Dallas.”
“What do you mean, (Y/N)?” I replied, trying to confirm what I was hearing.
“I love you, Soda. I always have.” She confessed, a soft blush spreading across her nose.
My heart beat against my ribcage at an ungodly speed, and I couldn’t help the wide grin tugging at the corners of my lips. “You do?”
“Yes, Soda.” She laughed softly, reaching down and interlocking our hands together.
That damn laugh.
The one I once prayed I was the cause for.
I mentally thanked a higher power, for answering my prayers.
In some sick, and twisted way; I also thanked Dallas. His inability to treat her with common decency had caused me to receive my dream girl. I was still angry at Dally, however. No, not angry. Livid.
I would pay him a private visit some other time, though. I had a beautiful girl to comfort.
“I love you too.” I said, leaning down and locking our lips together. Passionately, but softly.
Treat your lady right, otherwise it may just be the last thing you ever have the chance to fuck up. 💕
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chillyfrys · 5 months
Text
I Wish
A short Steve x Male!Reader angst
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And there I sat, on a bench outside the DX garage. while Steve wiped oil off my face gently with an old rag, focusing as he carefully cleaned my face.
I felt my face heat up, and my palms got sweaty. I always get like this around Steve when we're alone together. If i'm being honest, i think.. no, I know that I have a crush on the boy. but the problem is just that, Steve is a boy.. and i'm a boy.
"hey- you alright man? you've been starin at me" Steve asked with a cocked eyebrow and a confused look in his eyes.
"i wish you were a girl.. Steve"
a/n: i randomly thought of this, probably could have added more to the ending but i couldn't think of what to say after that lol
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whyareyouhere66 · 1 year
Text
Darry Curtis x GN Reader- Coping Mechanism
Darry Curtis x Gender Neutral Reader
Angst, Hurt/Comfort.
CW: Implied body dysmorphia, depression/feeling of worthlessness. Angst. Reader seeing themselves as “ugly” or “chubby”. If any of these are triggering for you then I would not recommend reading this.
am I projecting a little bit/getting into my feels for this one shot? Yep, absolutely. But I need comfort and I need it now so y’all get to suffer through it with me.
x
There were many, many things y/n admired about Darry Curtis.
His hugs, his laugh, the way his muscles poked out of the tight shirts he wore. The way his greased-up bangs would fall in front of his face, or how his tongue would poke out slightly whenever he was really focused on something. From the “Good morning, sweetheart” to the “will ya tell the boys to quiet down? I’m tryna read the paper.”
Though it seemed that the line between “admiration” and “jealousy”, was beginning to blur. 
Darry was the strongest man Y/n had ever met. Working two jobs, taking care of 2 kid-brothers, rent, meals, all by the age of 20. He’d lost both his parents, given up on his dreams and his childhood, but still somehow managed to keep it up. Everyday. 
Which made it truly stand out, how pathetic Y/n truly was.
They had loving parents who raised them to the best of their abilities, a good education, and the average childhood. 
Always having a roof over their head, food on the dinner table, and friends who cared for them. They had all they needed. 
So why the hell, were they so close to breaking down?
How come anytime they looked in the mirror, the skin on their bones turned to blubber, spilling over the hem of their jeans. The bumps on their face brightening to the shade of a ripened apple, their hair getting greasy and flat only a day after showering. 
Textbooks and homework packets piled into a school bag, stretching the straps and pulling on shoulders. 
They had no right. Loving parents, loving friends, loving boyfriend. 
They had.
No right. 
The room was lonely, no one else but the h/c in the Curtis household. Sodapop and Darry had left for work hours ago, Ponyboy stuck in school. Y/n had skipped. Pathetic.
Buried under layers of blankets, wrapped in the cozy material they lay with their cheek pressed into the pillow. It was another “low” day, that’s what they had begun calling it- for they had no other way of describing it. “Low” days and “high” days, self explanatory.
Some days, such as this one, feel low like the skin of their stomach as it droops from their body. Low like their energy, any sort of motivation to even leave the comfort and warmth of Darry’s blankets.
Taking a glance at the clock across the room, y/n watched the hands ticking slowly. 
‘16 more minutes…’
A couple more ticking noises. They check again. 
‘15…’
Much like a dog awaiting its owner, y/n lay impatiently waiting for the eldest Curtis brother to arrive. It was his bed that they were all tangled in, his house. Only thing missing was him. 
14 more minutes. 
With an exasperated groan, they turn away from the clock. Maybe if they didn’t watch, it would happen faster. 
Minutes slowly pass by, y/n’s eyelids drooping to a close. A suppressed yawn rumbled in their chest, dragging them closer to sleep until a familiar sound traveled through the house. 
A front door rattling against a door frame, heavy boots creaking the floor boards. Y/n turns to the clock once more. 
4:00 sharp. 
Darry, instead of going straight to his room as y/n hoped, walks toward the shared bathroom in the house. Running water is the next sound that y/n recognizes, the tall man sighing in relief as hot water crashes onto his sweaty body. 
He tiredly washes himself, removing the dirt and grime that covered his skin. Grease slipped from his hair, letting it go flat in the small tub as muddy brown water circled the drain. Drops of water settled into the crevices of his muscles, staying there even after he turned off the water and stepped out of the tub. 
Quiet hums fill the air, following him through the hallway and down to where his impatient lover awaited him. 
He wasn’t expecting to see the bundle of blankets on his bed, let alone a face sticking out of them. “Y/n? Why aren’t you at school.”
Y/n takes a moment to answer, admiring the man’s figure through half lidded eyes. “Didn’t feel like it…” they grumble, and he sighs. 
“Ya can’t keep missing school like this…” he scolds, pulling a stray shirt over his head. Y/n groans. “Can ya really consider it school, when you’ve already graduated?”
“They’re extra classes, and they’ll help you get a job one day.” Darry responds, pulling on a fresh pair of boxers. Y/n doesn’t answer, turning their head away from him. 
Pathetic, pathetic…
The lack of response doesn’t go unnoticed, the brunette glancing at his bed through his now free strands of hair. Another sigh escapes him. 
He didn’t mean to sound condescending, truly. To him it seemed nothing less than logical to work as hard as possible, sometimes clouding his judgement towards y/n’s lazier coping mechanisms. 
They were still undeniably perfect, in his eyes. The body they saw as “odd” or “underwhelmingly too much” was like a beautifully sculpted statue of h/c and s/c colors, to him. Though he had no idea how to share that with them, he knew it was true.  
Through closed eyes, y/n hears the padding of feet approaching the bed, feeling someone hover above their figure. 
Opening their eyes just a little, the pair’s eyes meet. 
“Move over.”
The h/c does as told, rolling to the side, allowing Darry to slip under the covers and join them. His arms wrap around their tired body quickly, skin pressed against each other’s while the droplets of water cool y/n’s body down significantly, and the warmth of their body heating the brunettes’. 
Darry rests his forehead against the hair on y/n’s head, trapping said person in his toned arms. His hands run down their sides, settling on their hip, though his thumb continues to trace lines up and down y/n’s skin. 
Immediately a strong sense of comfort overwhelms them, the moment they’d been waiting for since he left that morning finally coming to embrace them. 
“Go to bed, sweetheart. I ain’t going nowhere..”
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concreteprints · 2 years
Note
Okay so reader has been friends with Soda for a long time. One day she goes to the Curtis house and finds out about Sandy being a cheating bitch. Her and Steve spend the whole day comforting Soda. Over the weekend she makes up something about needing to go out of town. Reader goes to Florida and, in a crush fueled rage, beats the shit of Sandy's car Carrie Underwood style.
On her way home, let's say an hour and a half from Tulsa, she gets arrested for driving like Dallas and calls Darry to come get her. Darry comes but Ponyboy and Sodapop are in the truck with him. When they get home everything is embarrassing, they find out about the car, and you can decide if soda does anything.
Bust the Windows Out Your Car | Sodapop Curtis x F!Reader Word Count: 1806
Warnings: N/A?
Notes: I'm sorry I'm aware this is bad but this is not usually my thing and I could not proofread it for the life of me. I hope it isn't too bad?
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You had been friends with Soda for a while now, since before he dropped out of school. You had hit it off instantly but at the time both of you wanted something purely platonic, so nothing happened and eventually he got a girlfriend. He was hot, funny, and could probably cheer a devil up if he tried hard enough. It wasn’t that you weren’t into him, you just weren’t looking for that. By the time your feelings had developed and you realized that you did, in fact, like Sodapop, he had already moved on.
It didn’t hurt you too much. You knew almost every girl he talked to was into him, everyone did. You were genuinely surprised that he was single when you two met.
Even though you were still in school and he was working a full-time job, you two still spent a lot of time together. Whenever you could you would just walk over to the Curtis’ and hang out. You always secretly hoped that Soda would be there when you went (and you were sure at least one of the guys in the gang could tell).
You had another bad day at school. One of those ones where everything that could go wrong, did. You were exhausted and all you wanted to do was cuddle up on the sofa next to him and watch some stupid movie that you had both seen at least a couple dozen times before.
Instead of seeing some boys roughhousing on the couch and nearly knocking over half of the things on the coffee table, you found Steve attempting to comfort an uncharacteristically sad Sodapop. Immediately you knew that something was wrong. Nothing could make Sodapop sad. He was like a golden retriever, even if something bad did happen to him he’d still be his cheerful, overexcited self. Almost like he didn’t understand what had happened or why it was supposed to be upsetting.
“Steve? What happened?” You set your bag down near the door and sat on the other side of Sodapop. He didn’t look like he was in the mood to explain, so Steve sounded like your best option if you wanted an actual answer.
Steve shook his head with a small sigh. It was strange seeing both of them so down, especially at once. It was almost like their emotions were connected. Sodapop was happy, so was Steve; Sodapop was angry, Steve was angrier; and apparently, if Sodapop was down about something, Steve acted almost as sad as if it had happened to him too.
He lowered his voice, perhaps attempting to say it without upsetting Sodapop too much more. “He just found out that Sandy cheated on him… real down about it right now.”
You couldn’t believe it. You were filled with rage at the same time you were almost empathetically as down as Soda was feeling. You couldn’t believe that someone – Sandy, no less – could have the nerve, the audacity, to cheat on someone like Sodapop. He was loyal, kind, and more than just attractive. He had the looks of a movie star and the charisma to go with it. He was the perfect man in your eyes.
Then again, perfect man or not, cheaters were cheaters. You just hated the fact that you had trusted Sandy, and that Sodapop had trusted her even more. You also hated the fact that, even though he had just found it, she had probably cheated on him dozens of times before now.
Of course you did your best to comfort Sodapop, you couldn’t just leave him like this, but it was hard when he was usually the one cheering up other people. You weren’t sure how to comfort someone who you had never seen this sad before. Who you had never really seen sad before at all.
“Hey Soda, I know it hurts now but it’ll get better. You know it will. You’ll go on and find other girls, but she’ll always be a cheater.” You say softly. You were still avoiding touching him though. You didn’t think it was the time, especially not now that he was newly single and you still had feelings for him. Even if he didn’t necessarily know about your feelings.
You and Steve spent nearly the entire afternoon (going late into the evening as well) attempting to comfort him. Trying nearly everything either of you could think of. You gave him some ice cream, though you didn’t think that really worked for most people; Steve put on his favorite movie; and you two spent the entire night talking and laughing. Yet he was still clearly upset.
Logically you knew that it would take him a while to get over it. He’d been with Sandy for a little over a year. You just hated feeling so helpless being able to do virtually nothing to cheer him up.
Once he fell asleep, you went home. It was nearly 12 now but you had no plans of sleeping. All you could think of was how to get Sandy back for breaking his heart. You spent the rest of the night coming up with a plan. Once morning came, you got in your car and drove a little too fast to be safe. You couldn’t think straight enough to worry about it at the moment. You hadn’t brought more than a change of clothes and some money you had stashed away from babysitting jobs.
You weren’t planning on staying for long. No, if you had any say in it you’d be gone as soon as you were finished. You just didn’t want to be unprepared.
The drive was long and tiring. You tried to distract yourself with music but it didn’t do much. All you could think about it was how angry you were at the moment. 
You felt your knuckles tighten against the leather steering wheel. One of the only things keeping you grounded as you drive. The angrier you got, the faster you went, but eventually you tired yourself out. Giving up and driving more slowly so that you wouldn’t accidentally drive yourself off of the road.
Despite how early you had left, it was still fairly late when you arrived. Running purely on rage, coffee, and not wanting to give up now, you quickly found her car. You were too exhausted to fully complete your plan. You slashed three of her tires, spilt the rest of your nearly scolding coffee on the white leather seats, and keying one side but writing no particular letters. By the time you were finished, you were coming down from that rage-fueled high. You drove yourself to an empty lot and fell asleep in your car. Driving back home now would not be a good idea.
The bright sun woke you up quickly. It was now nearly painfully hot in the car and the fact that you were only going on a few hours of sleep didn’t help you feel any better. You decided to keep on driving. If your parents hadn’t already called the cops, they sure would soon.
By the time you were nearly there, you couldn’t stand it anymore. The anxiety pounding in your head, the fact that you could barely see 10 feet in front of you in the dark, and the realization setting in that what you did was, in fact, very illegal. You weren’t like Dally, and girls didn’t go to jail. Especially not for stuff like vandalizing a car. You anxiously tapped your finger on the steering wheel as you drove. Barely realizing that you kept speeding up until you heard cop sirens from behind you.
At first you told yourself that they couldn’t be for you, but it was much too late for anyone else to be driving. You sighed and pulled over. The officer, noticing how delirious you seemed, decided to take you in.
He didn’t handcuff you and he didn’t even tell you that you were being arrested, but it was still embarrassing. Having to be driven to the police station in the back of a cop car like a common criminal.
Once you got there, he handed you the phone and told you to call someone to drive you home; he wasn’t going to let you drive like that but he didn’t want to see you spend the night in a cell either. You knew your parents would murder you if you called them late in the evening and told them that you needed to be picked up from the police station. So your best bet was calling the Curtis household and praying that Darry didn’t lecture you too awful.
You could immediately tell that Darrel was exhausted when he answered, his voice rough. “Hm? What is it?” He was always polite on the phone, even as tired as he was. He didn’t want to risk it being a social worker on the other end.
“I’m sorry for calling this late Dar but I need to… I need someone to pick me up from the station.” You kept your voice down as you spoke. Even though everyone of the cops obviously knew where you were, you were still ashamed to speak it aloud.
He groaned and you could tell that he was going to scold you later, but thankfully he agreed. Very unfortunately for you, the second they heard your name both Pony and Soda insisted that they come along. You awkwardly slid into the backseat and gave them a glare that told them not to say a word before laying your head down against the back of the seat and instantly falling asleep.
When you woke up you were laying on the couch, a warm blanket wrapped around you. Sodapop was sitting on the end of the couch near your feet. Apparently extremely anxious for you to wake up. It wasn’t like you had nearly died or anything. He just wanted to know why and how the hell you had managed to be brought to a police station.
He started talking as soon as he noticed that you were awake. “What is it? What happened? Y/N why were you out that late?!” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, it just happened.
You had to come clean eventually. If you didn’t, you knew he would just find out from someone else. “Well I… I went to Sandy’s house and… taught her a lesson.” 
Sodapop couldn’t quite believe it. You had been missing for a little over two full days and it turns out that it was all because you wanted to “teach his ex a lesson.”
“Are you kidding me Y/N?! Yeah she cheated but that doesn’t mean you should’ve done that! Sandy doesn’t deserve that shit!” He shouted before standing up and walking into his room, slamming the door behind him.
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thewulf · 2 months
Note
Hi! This is Dillo, from @rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me, and I was just wondering if you'd be interested in participating in a Valentine's themed event? There really aren't any rules, I would just make up a prompt list, just a few simple ideas that revolve around Valentine's day, and then you'd have free reign to write/draw/do whatever for any of Outsiders character you'd want to! After you make your awesome creation, you could just @ me in your post, or use a fancy tag I have yet to decide on, and then I'll reblog it to my blog so that we can hopefully create some friendships between content creators for the fandom! I think it's way important for us creators to bind together so the fandom doesn't get lost, ya know? So, yeah! Just lemme know how you feel about that!
Dillo 🤟
Ohhh this sounds so fun! I'd love to do something like this :) consider me interested!! One of my fav fandoms and it's hard to find active blogs/writers/creators!
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riality-check · 1 year
Text
This is not how Wayne was expecting to come home from work.
He had expected, as usual, that Eddie would be asleep, and he’d be free to watch the 5:00 AM news. He’d have a bowl of cereal for dinner (or was it breakfast at that point?), and then he’d be out like a light while Eddie did whatever it was he did before noon. Usually, that was sleep.
The exact opposite of what Wayne was expecting is happening right now. 
He didn’t even get his keys out of his pocket before Eddie whips the door open. He looks a mess: hair tied back loosely, pajamas off kilter, panic mixed with exhaustion on his face.
“Oh, thank Christ,” he croaks. “Wayne, I need your help. I have no idea what to do.”
Wayne can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Eddie panic like this. He shoulders past him into the trailer and is greeted with the sight of Steve Harrington standing in the middle of his living room.
“What on God’s green earth,” he murmurs. He blinks, then blinks again, but Harrington is still there, in pajamas, the tire iron Eddie still keeps under his bed in his hands. He’s breathing real heavy, and he stares out the window, stock-still.
“The hell happened?” Wayne asks, keeping his voice low.
“I don’t know,” Eddie whispers desperately. “I don’t know what happened, but he got up and grabbed the iron and just stood here-”
“How long?”
“Ten minutes, maybe.”
Wayne doesn’t like where this is going. “Has he responded to you at all?”
“No-”
Shit.
“-but I can try again?”
Wayne eyes the white-knuckled grip Harrington has on the tire iron. He’s ready to swing, and Wayne knows he’ll swing hard if given the chance.
No way he’s risking Eddie. No way he’s risking Harrington. Wayne doesn’t know him well, only met him a few times in passing, but he knows he’d never forgive himself if he hurt Eddie.
“No. Don’t try again.”
“I’m not leaving him.”
“Didn’t ask you to. All I’m saying is don’t go near.”
Eddie is very good at following instructions to the letter and to the letter only, much to Wayne’s fond annoyance. So, he doesn’t go near.
Instead, he says, voice strangely soft, “Stevie, sweetheart.”
Harrington doesn’t respond, but he turns a little in the direction of Eddie’s voice. Wayne takes that as a good sign, even if he can see the tension on his face now.
“Will you come back to sleep? Please?” Wayne hates hearing Eddie’s voice crack the way it is right now.
Harrington faces them a little better, and Wayne sees what he was expecting.
He’s staring through them, not at them. Wherever Harrington is, it sure ain’t here.
“I don’t know how much that’s gonna help, Eddie. He’s having-”
“I know he’s having a flashback, Wayne!” Eddie snaps. “I’m not stupid. It’s usually just not this bad, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Alright,” Wayne says because snapping back won’t help anyone. That and because he’s trying to process the fact that Eddie has had to deal with this before. “Let me try.”
He takes a few steps toward Harrington, keeping his hands up and his movements slow.
“Harrington,” he calls, keeping his tone light. “You’re at Eddie’s place right now. It’s almost five AM on a Friday night.”
Harrington blinks, and it looks like his eyes are coming back into focus.
“You’re safe right now. Eddie’s safe right now.”
Harrington shakes his head and lifts the tire iron a little higher. Christ, his arms must be aching by now. “No. I saw the lights flicker, and I heard a thud outside, and it got cold.”
“Stevie, the gate’s closed,” Eddie pleads. “You saw it happen. Nothing got out. You’re safe.”
Wayne doesn’t know what any of that means, but even though it was supposed to reassure Harrington, he just shakes his head again.
He hears Eddie sigh behind him, and he knows without turning around that he’s trying not to cry.
Guess he’s gotta try something different, then. “You just wake up?”
Harrington blinks, and for a minute, Wayne thinks this won’t get them anywhere. But then he whispers, just loud enough to be heard, “Yeah.”
“Okay. I just got off work.”
Harrington stares at him, confused.
“So, I think I’m a little more awake than you. I’ll take what you’ve got in your hands, and I can stay up.”
Harrington shakes his head. “It’s fine. I stay up most of the time when I’m alone.”
Alone. Wayne knows from experience, both personal and witnessing this shit, that alone is the last thing anyone should be when they’re having a flashback. Harrington says it like it’s the only thing he’s ever known.
He dismisses his questions - why is Harrington having flashbacks, why is he alone - and focuses on getting him to put down the tire iron and go to bed.
“You’re not alone this time,” Wayne says. “You’ve got Eddie here, too, and I think both of you would feel better if you were together.”
Harrington looks over Wayne’s shoulder. Wayne doesn’t turn around, but he can imagine the pleading look on Eddie’s face just fine.
Wayne holds out his hands for the tire iron, and after a minute, or maybe a month, Harrington sets it there. Immediately, he looks lighter and heavier.
Eddie walks up next to Wayne and murmurs, “Come on, sugar.”
Harrington goes to him and just rests his head on his shoulder. Eddie holds him there, just standing in the middle of the living room, sunrise just starting to peek in through the windows.
Thank you, he mouths to Wayne.
Wayne nods, but he’s got a hell of a lot more questions than answers - what the hell brought this on, what exactly is Harrington to Eddie. That can wait for morning, though.
For now, he just hopes Harrington will be okay by then.
No, not Harrington. Steve.
After something like this, Wayne has learned, you start using first names.
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hairmetal666 · 6 months
Text
Eddie Munson gets famous at fifteen, after a YouTube video goes viral.
He's the kind of famous where he can't leave his house without being mobbed; where his name is plastered across grocery store tabloids and every fifth Pop Crave post; who has to make special arrangements with stores, whose body guards have body guards, who's forgotten what it's like to be normal. He's the kind of famous with well-chronicled stints in and out of rehab
And he thinks, at thirty, why not do a reality show? Why not let everyone in the world into his life because they're there anyway?
There's this guy on the crew, beautiful as a fucking sunrise. He's all golden-tanned and chestnut-haired, with these big hazel eyes that makes Eddie stomach swoop deliciously whenever they happen to meet his.
His name is Steve.
And Eddie, well. He's learned his lesson about jumping into relationships. So, Steve is nice to look at, and that's all there is to it.
---
They're at the studio, and Eddie, he only smokes when he's recording but he's "not allowed" to do that inside. So, he steps out into the alley behind the building, eyes falling shut as he hands search his pockets for his pack of Camels and his Zippo.
"I didn't realize you smoked," a deep voice says from the darkness.
Eddie startles, eyes flying open. Steve is leaning against the brick of the building, cigarette perched between his pursed lips.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I'm Steve. With the crew."
"Eddie," he answers by instinct.
"I know," Steve chuckles. His hazel eyes are golden in the yellow streetlight.
"Oh, right." He lights his cigarette and inhales deep.
"I really like what you're doing in there." Steve nods his head towards the studio.
"You a fan?"
"Never listened to you much before. Not really a metal kinda guy, but I like it."
People aren't usually honest with Eddie. It's refreshing.
"Glad you're getting into it! How's your--uh, job going?"
Steve laughs. "First assistant camera, that's my job." Eddie's expression must read a total blank, but Steve only smiles. "I make sure everything's in focus while we film"
"Is that--hard?"
"Sometimes," Steve agrees. "How do you like being the star of a reality show?"
Eddie huffs out a breath. "It's more fun than I expected. Like, sure it's weird to have you guys follow me around, but at least I invited you, you know?"
Steve's dark eyes are fathomless in his perfect face. "You'll let me know? If anything happens that you don't like?"
Eddie nods, taken aback by the serious line of Steve's pretty mouth. Before he can respond more, the back door creaks open, Gareth's backlit shape leaning into the alley. "Eddie? They're ready for you."
"Duty calls." He smiles at Steve as he stomps out his cigarette. "See you around."
---
Eddie goes to a house party in the hills. It's just a handful of people, all of them he's known for years, no cameras in sight.
Someone asks how things are going with the band. Eddie doesn't think anything of it. Why should he, among friends? Why should he when they already know the resentment that Gareth, Jeff, and Freak have for him? Eddie got signed and not his band. The guys--they never really forgave him, think he could have tried harder.
So, he says--he says--"I wish they didn't resent me so goddamn much still. To this day! They're millionaires and they're pissed at me? Fuck that. I got them here. I got us all here."
They're filming the next day at Eddie's house. He's working on a new song, engrossed in his acoustic and his notebook.
He's so in the zone, it takes him a second to register when Gareth bursts into the house.
"Fuck you, Munson," Gareth screams. "What the fuck is this shit?" Eddie's own voice pours from Gareth's phone, and Eddie's stunned speechless for dozens of seconds as he tries to comprehend what's happening.
"I didn't--" he tires. He raises his hands placatingly, but his minds a whirlwind, thoughts a tangle, heart a mess of betrayal and hurt and fear.
"We should be fucking grateful?" Gareth yells. "You spoiled piece of shit, fuck you!" He lunges towards Eddie, but Steve darts from behind the camera, moving to block Gareth's path.
"Stop filming," Eddie shouts. He lifts his arms to block the shit. "Get out," he snaps at the crew. " Now!"
He and Gareth scuffle towards a set of double-doors, heated words low and unintelligible.
"Don't come in." He tells the crew. "Steve, I mean it. Tell them to stop."
Eddie shoves Gareth into the other room, slamming the door behind him. Still, the mics pick up the screaming fight between the two men.
Hours later, Eddie finally makes his way back to the main part of the house, finds Steve standing at the kitchen island.
"Why are you still here?" He's too exhausted from the fight to put any inflection into it.
"I was wo--I wanted to make sure everything was okay," Steve says. He relaxes against the island. "Are yo--is everything okay?"
Eddie's laugh is humorless. "Something like that."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
The tears he kept at bay with Gareth prick at his eyelids until they burn. "Not really, no."
Steve nods. "We could--you wanna watch a movie?"
This startles a laugh out of Eddie, one that has tears flooding his eyes and he has to blink fast, look down, anything so Steve doesn't notice.
"You know what I want?" he says. It's soft enough that maybe Steve, across the kitchen, wouldn't hear.
"What?"
"To have friends who won't sell me out for a couple thousand bucks." The tears start falling, his throat choked with emotion.
He wants to stop, embarrassed to be crying in front of Steve, but now that he's started, sobs shake his shoulders and he can't keep quiet.
Steve reaches for him. "Is this okay?" he whispers, hands rubbing circles against his back.
Eddie nods, cries for a while as Steve makes soothing motions against his back.
"I just wish I was normal," he mumbles when he has words again.
Steve's hold on him tightens. "I'm sorry, Eddie."
Shame hits him then, too hard to ignore, and he steps away. "I'm gonna--I'm gonna go. I--Thanks again."
He ignores the sound of Steve calling him back.
---
Eddie's playing a show. He's playing a show in a small club, something he hasn't been able to do for years, but he's doing it right now. It's electric, vibrating through his body, the crowd screaming along with every word.
So much of this is because of Steve, and Eddie can't think about it, because men like Steve aren't for guys like Eddie.
As he plays, his eyes scan the small crowd, find Steve easily. He's gazing at Eddie, lips slicked pink and parted, eyes shining. Eddie knows this look; the naked desire obvious. A heat he never lets himself feel for Steve blooms low in his abdomen, but--
He wails into his mic, forcing his thoughts away from that path. He has a show to play, one that's pumping his veins full of satisfied adrenaline. Nothing can ruin it.
When the show ends, Eddie is high, endorphins and adrenaline pounding through his bloodstream.
Eddie, the band, and the film crew make their way out the club's backdoor. There's a car idling close by, but they only get a few steps in before there's shouting; the ear-shattering click of dozens of camera shutters; overwhelming burst of flashes.
Eddie is disoriented, dizzy; the rapid shift from the best night he's had in years, to this, mobbed by paparazzi, people screaming his name, crowding their small group. He stumbles, black spots still obstructing his vision.
Arms catch around him, holding him steady. "You okay?" Steve asks.
Before he can answer, one of the paps yells, "Munson's wasted! Can't even walk!"
"C'mon, Ed, I've got you," Steve says.
"Just get into the booze, Munson, or someone had Molly too? Maybe a little coke? That used to be your thing, right? Snort a little blow and do a show?"
Eddie tenses, almost stops, but Steve keeps him going.
The crowd surges around them, more voices yelling, more flashbulbs popping, the guy saying, "He can't even stand without help! You got a real problem you know?"and he just--can't anymore. He whirls out of Steve's grasp, lunges for the guy.
"What's your fucking problem, man?" Eddie hisses. "What did I do to you, huh?"
"Real tough, Munson, huh?" The man sneers. He shoves Eddie hard, knocking him back a few steps.
Eddie's vision fuzzes out, brain buzzing. He snarls, knows he does, knows he's losing it, can't make it stop.
Strong arms wrap around his waist, pull him off his feet. He fights it until he's pressed into a wall, until cold hands cup his face.
"Baby, baby, you have to calm down," Steve murmurs. "You have to breathe, can you do that for me?"
"I want--he can't--I--"
Steve presses harder against him, bodies joined. "You're having a panic attack, yeah? Can you breathe with me, baby? Match me?"
Eddie nods, tries, wants to be good for Steve.
He calms, as much from the breathing exercise as being held by the most beautiful man he's ever seen. Pressing his face against Steve's neck he says, "why are you always around for my worst moments? I'm such a fucking mess."
"I don't think you're a mess," he says. "I think you've gotten hurt, you've gotten cornered. And your reactions are normal."
"Why do you even care?" Eddie asks.
Steve doesn't even pause. "Cause I like you, Eddie." His hold tightens for a second. "I like you a lot."
Eddie scoffs. "Yeah, you like Eddie Munson, the hot rockstar. Not the loser who cries in your arms"
Cold air hits Eddie as Steve steps away to meet Eddie's eyes. You want to know something? I didn't expect to like you at all. I admit, I bought into all the stories on the internet. But you were never anything like that, Ed. Not even once."
Steve takes a deep breath, turning away as his cheeks grow pink. "And you--you're always going out of your way for people. The day I knew I was gone for you? Three weeks into filming. There was this kid interning. You didn't know a thing about him, just some twenty-year-old, and you sat down and talked to him. Were genuinely interested in everything he said."
"Steve," Eddie's voice breaks. He has to cover his mouth, lips a wobbling mess.
"I want to give you normal, Eddie, as much as I can. If you'll let me."
The moisture tumbles free from his eyes, streaking down his cheeks. Eddie laughs. "God, Steve, you're--I like you, too."
Steve brushes the tears away. "So, you'd go on a date with me?"
"I think I would really like to go on a date with you, yeah."
Steve leans in, slow and gentle, placing a soft kiss at the corner of Eddie's mouth. It lights him up like a fresh struck match, nerve endings on fire. He thinks it's so much more than like already.
"Take me home, sweetheart," he says.
"Getting fresh with me, Munson," Steve smirks. "I won't have you using your rockstar wiles to seduce me."
Eddie's laugh echoes off the brick of the surrounding buildings. "Oh, sweetheart, my rockstar ways will destroy you."
"That a promise?"
---
Six months later, the first and only season of Welcome to Hell premieres. Instead, of chronicling a rockstar's debauched and wild lifestyle, it's a soft and charming love story. It shows Steve and Eddie growing closer, Steve working late into the night, to give Eddie the hint of normalcy he's so desperate for, to make him happy. It shows Eddie's eyes track Steve across a room, something like sadness crossing his face. It shows a concert that Steve arranged, the fight with the pap outside the venue, brief glimpses of Steve and Eddie in the aftermath, the gentle kiss.
In the last interview of the season, the producer asks Eddie if there will be a season two of Welcome to Hell.
Eddie smiles, glances off camera, which pans to find Steve in worn jeans and a Metallica hoodie, hair messy and wearing glasses. He gazes at Eddie, smiles this soft, aching thing.
"Nah, I don't think I need it anymore," Eddie answers. Throwing the camera a smile that matches Steve's.
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dearsnow · 4 months
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WE’RE BORN AT NIGHT
- in which you hold johnny cade like water, or, christ, you hold him like a knife (you’re worried that your touch brings up unpleasant memories for your boyfriend, but he feels differently. johnny cade x gn!reader, angst -> fluff but still bittersweet bc there’s nothing you can really do but hold him, yes this is based off of who we are by hozier because i am a heathen for the irish man).
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word count: 1,022
a/n - my first johnny piece and the first piece that i’ve done in actual months 🥹 this is likely not my comeback though and i’m sorry for that 😭 i will always write and i will probably post most of it, but life has been rocky for me lately and my available free time reflects that. in any case, i hope you enjoy my short return (there will inevitably be more as i work things out), and plsss talk to me about the outsiders and literally anything else because i will most definitely love to hear it.
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It’s not often that Johnny Cade comes knocking at your door, despite the fact that he’s been your boyfriend for three months now. He never wants to put you out, he says, but when he shows up with a black eye and hand-shaped bruises on his arm, you usher him inside as quickly as you can.
“What happened?” You murmur, eyes scanning over his injuries.
“Just my old man again.” He hesitates. There’s a sharp edge to his words, like they cut his mouth just to say. “Look, I shouldn’t have come.”
You cut him off, tone brimming with concern. If he doesn’t feel safe with you, with staying at your house when his is dangerous, then you need to try harder to keep his quiet heart intact. “You can always come.”
“I know. I mean, the gang’s all out at a party ‘n I guess I just didn’t know where else to go.” He shifts his stance uncomfortably as you hand him two bags of frozen vegetables. “As much as you say you want me here, I know there are some places where I ain’t welcome.”
You would kill his parents if you could. Fuck, you would send them straight to Hell without a second thought. Anyone that truly knew what was going on in that house would. All you can do, though, is take care of him as well as you’re able to.
“I promise, you’re welcome. More than anyone or anything else. I need you here, when things are rough and when they aren’t. Tell me you’ll come when you can.” You speak.
He looks so beautiful in this light, despite everything. You love him so badly that your heart aches from just the movements of his sad brown eyes. “I will.”
“Good.” You smooth down the collar of his jacket, making careful, delicate movements. You fear that if you go a hair too close, he will shatter like the glass bottles thrown at him. “Let’s go to my room, okay? My parents won’t be home until later. We can get you some rest.”
There’s a small part of Johnny that detests himself for holding you back. You could be doing greater things than pressing a wet rag to his forehead, and yet, you stay. You always stay. No matter how horrible the situation, you stay with a pinky linked around his and a warmth so hopeful he thinks he might implode every time he feels it.
You pull your thick blankets over him, uncaring of his grease and the slightly grungy clothes rubbing against your bedsheets. If he needs you, and god, does he look it, you will always be there.
You’re facing him in bed, hands outstretched to card through his hair, but they don’t make contact. His eyes are lightly closed. You wish you could just touch him, hold his hands between your fingers and warm your feet against his calves. There’s some sort of unbreakable barrier between you when you feel that your every movement could send him spiraling into memories of an unkind fist. And yet, an unconscious twitch sends your leg just a centimeter forward to touch his. If you think real, real hard about it, you might have felt him jolt.
“I’m sorry if I make you uncomfortable, Johnny.” You whisper, shifting your legs so they’re no longer against him. “I’m real sorry. I know sometimes you don’t like that kind of stuff.”
“No.” He starts, opening his eyes. The rasp in his voice makes your heart sting like a bee’s last breath. “I like it, I mean, I think I do.” His gaze turns towards yours again, brimming with a kind of beautiful emotion, and his fingers move towards your sleeve. “It kinda… it tells me a bit that fingers ain’t always gonna ball up in fists and a palm against my cheek don’t have to hurt.” He breathes. You stare at him. He likes it? Lord, he likes it, and you like it, and you will die if you cannot swathe your entire body around him like you’re trying to keep him together. “‘S like you hold me like water, or, I dunno, a knife. Real gentle and secure n’ such.”
You travel the distance between you, tenderly wrapping your arms around his midsection. He pulls you closer, and suddenly, you feel complete.
If he was being honest, Johnny thinks you saved him. His whole life, he chased and chased the peace that evaded him every second of every day. Like a dog, kicked and dark-eyed, he put his nose to the ground and simply smelled the greater things on the horizon. They were out of reach to him, the silence just barely kissing the tip of his head before dancing so far away he couldn’t reach it if he sprinted. But you, God, you gave him everything he could ever want.
When merciful you came waltzing into his life, he thought nothing could ever be quite so horrible again. You have a forgiving hand and a quiet smile, laced with words that tickle his cheeks rather than grinding him into the earth. When he can reach out to you, gripping your warm arm like a lifeline, everything makes sense. He wouldn’t give that up for the world. He drinks in the affection you give him like sand in a bone-dry desert, and the thought that you could ever be worried about how much you love sets his heart ablaze.
“I’m glad.” You whisper. He can feel your breath against his shirt, and it makes him shiver in a pleasant way. “I love you.“
His breath hitches, heart picking up its pace, as he gently buries his warming face into the top of your head. “I love you too. And… and if you’re here, I want to be here forever.”
He squeezes you just a little bit, just enough to let you know that he never wants to let you go.
“Then I’m never leaving.” You smile. He smiles back, and for the first time that night, he thinks that he might be able to do more than just survive.
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spikedhe4rt · 9 months
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Word Count: 1411
Request by: @whoreforbrownies
✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
I finished putting on my final stroke of blush before packing up my makeup container. I had a date with Soda tonight. I walked over to my closet, searching for something nice but classy to wear. I pushed all the other hangers to the side as I settled on a little black dress that i hadn't worn in a while.
I pulled out of my pajamas leaving me in just my underwear and bra. After that, I realized that the dress was tight enough to show my pantyline. I decided to just not wear any, its not like anyone could notice. Once I was dressed, I took my hair down from its ponytail, finishing my look.
I walked downstairs to grab my black flats and made sure to unlock my door for Soda. I make sure to unlock it for him all the time so he can just walk in. He was taking me to a restaurant that we've never been too. He wanted to try something new.
I was putting on my second flat when I heard my door shut and close. "Babe!" he yelled out for me. "Im in here" I replied. I heard running then felt hands around my waist. "You look so good." Soda whispered into my ear. It sent tingles down my spine.
He took me to his car aka Darry's truck that he borrowed. Soda kept his hand on my plump thigh as he drove. I just stared at him, watching him focus on the road and looking at his amazing features. "Anyone ever tell you you're a fine man, Sodapop Curtis." I giggled at my own joke. He smiled and shook his head slightly "Ive heard it couple times I think."
We arrived at the restaurant after 5 minutes of driving. Soda walked up and told them we were ready for our reservation. Fancy. He walked back over to me, grabbing my hand, walking us over to our table. A waiter came to take our drink orders, he was eyeing my figure but I chose to ignore it.
Im guessing Soda noticed because his grip on the table tightened.
I gulped because I knew he was jealous. Soda scooted his chair closer to me and leaned into my ear, "Im gonna rip that pretty dress off you later." he said as he squeezed the fat of my hip. I whimpered quietly, clearly getting worked up from just that. He scooted his chair back to his original spot, continuing on like nothing.
The waiter came back with our drinks, setting them down lightly and walking away. I sipped my lemonade as I tried to get my mind off of Sodas words. My thighs clenched in anticipation for what happening later. "What would you like, ma'am?" the waiter said to me, snapping me out of my trance. "Ill take the fettuccine pasta. T-thank you." I rush out quickly.
Soda told the waiter what he wanted, not even looking at the menu. Once the waiter left, Soda scooted his seat back over to me. "I got you all worked up, didn't I?" he said. "Soda, I want you" I whispered back to him.
He smirked, "And you can have me...after dinner." He knew what he was doing and he knew how i would react. Asshole. "Please, Soda!" I begged again. He pinched my thigh lightly right where the hem of the tight dress started. "After dinner, ok?" he said to me. I whimpered quietly once again before giving a shy nod.
By the time dinner was over, I was desperate and soaked. As we walked into my door, my back was already being pushed against a wall. Soda hot tongue ran against the soft skin of my neck as I moaned out. "Ive been waiting to do this all night, pretty girl" he mumbled between kissing my neck.
I felt his hand trail down to bottom of my dress.
The cold air hit my bare bottom half as he yanked my dress up. Soda brought his hand to my pussy, his fingers pushing through my arousal. "Fuck! Soda, please." His lips found there way to mine in a rush after that. I felt a finger push into me as we continued to makeout. The stimulation made me moan into his mouth, fueling him on even more.
I pulled away from his lips to beg for more, wanting to feel more satisfaction. "More, Soda more!" He smirked at my begging. "You're such a slut for me." I whimpered at his degrading words. Another digit found its way inside me, making me mewl from the feeling. "Shit, Soda keep fucking going!" He curled his two fingers inside, massaging my g-spot. My moans poured out, echoing in the room.
I draped my arms over Sodas shoulders, trying to maintain balance. A thumb found its way to my clit, the light circles on it making me silently scream. "You like that don't you, baby?" I nodded rapidly, "Yes, I love it! Fuck!" My pleas of "Faster" and "Just like that!" were loud. I felt my peak getting closer and closer as Soda rammed his fingers into me. I leaned forward until my head was in the crook of his neck, suddenly feeling shy.
Sodas free hand came to my chin, lifting my head up to look into his blue eyes. "Come on, don't get shy on me now. Come for me!" I cried out at his words, about to topple over the edge. "Fuck, Soda. I'm cumming!" My release gushed over finger, coating them slightly.
Soda brought his arousal coated hand up to my mouth, offering me a taste of myself. I immediately took his offer, running my tongue over the two digits. I began to pull off my dress before being stop. "You look so pretty, keep it on for me and turn around." I followed his directions with a smile.
My hands touched were braced on the cold wall, waiting in anticipation. "I cant believe you had no panties on in that nice place like a slut, sweetheart." his tone was sultry as he spoke. "Please, Soda! Fuck me." I heard a fly zip down and the buckle of his brown leather belt hit the floor.
Next thing I know, I felt the tip of Soda hard cock against my puffy cunt. I recoiled slightly at the sensation before whimpering from sensitivity. Sodas hands came to my hips, gripping them harshly as he pushed into me. We both moaned at the feeling. His thrust started at a unruly pace, making me silently scream once again.  "Soda! I love you so much. Oh!" I moaned out, already feeling breathless.
One of his hands came up to grab my breast from the back, slightly tweaking my nipple. "I love you too, pretty girl. You're so good for me!" Fuck. His other hand came up to my hair, pulling slightly. "Soda please pull harder." He let out a nod before pulling me back by my hair, my back again his bare chest. "Fuck!" he groaned out as I clenched around his cock.
He continued to thrust into me as I mewled and moaned. "F-feels so good" I whimpered out. "Yea? You like that" he responded. Soda hand cracked down on my ass, the sting only adding to the pleasure. "Yesss! I love it, Soda."
His thrusts remained steady as our bodies collided. I brought my hand down to my needy clit, making sure to get steady first. I rubbed tight  and soft circles on my clit, making myself shudder at the pleasure. "Mmmm" I moaned. My orgasm only got closer as we continued.
"Soda! M'gonna cum. I wanna cum. Please!" I felt like I was in heaven with the pleasure he was giving me. His thrusts started to become sloppier, signaling he was close. "Im right there with you sweetheart. Cum all over my cock!" Soda pushed into me a couple times before I finally came. "Oh shit! Cum inside me please. I begged.
He moaned as he released his warm cum into me, making me moan once again. He pulled out of me and turned me around. My back was once again against the wall as Soda pushed his lips onto mine. His cum was leaking down my thighs as we made out. "You're definitely wearing this dress around me 24/7" I smiled at him before giving a final kiss.
✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this! This was a request from my tumblr. Thank you guys for all the support. Its means everything to me and my request box is always open <3
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merakiui · 22 days
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Okay speaking of magical girls.... Evil villain tako that has a crush on the cute magical girl at NRC but he doesnt know shes the magical girl that's trying to thwart his evil plan of taking over sage's island mwhaha
YES YES YES. And every week he gets his ass handed to him. You're determined to keep Sage's Island safe!!!! He's trying to get to know you through the fights. The (one-sided) sexual/romantic tension is too much. Tako who flirts at every chance during your fights... you genuinely want to take him out (defeat him), but he wants to take you out (on a date). And it's so obvious he's down bad for you, but you have no idea he's Azul Ashengrotto (your fellow classmate) and he has no idea of your identity either. Azul's trying to balance his love for the magical girl he fights on weekends and his darling classmate who he sees during the week hehe. How fortuitous that they are the same person.
Please imagine that trope where the villain ensnares the hero in tentacles, but it ends up looking more erotic than threatening....... orz evil villain tako whose tentacle is holding you upside down by the ankle and he's monologuing about how he'll take over the island and you'll get to watch, powerless against him. But then he looks at you and your skirt has flipped up and he's granted a gratuitous panty shot!!!!!!! Tako who gets a nosebleed on the spot. He's such a loser pervert. <3
Omg omg or you're squirming in the tentacles and ranting about how you'll get him for this, but Azul's trying so hard not to give into the horny thoughts because the way the tentacles are looped around you and squeezing is so attractive to him.
Like that one scene where Stocking's fighting the octopus ghost LOL.
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yourmomxx · 7 months
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car’s outside (but I don’t wanna go tonight)
sam winchester x reader
summary: sam feels bad because he’s always away on hunts. you reassure him
warnings: angst, fluff, insecure sam
word count: 1.3k
requested by @fuiabarcelos
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Sam came home when the hand of the clock showed way past midnight. You would like to say you noticed, but you didn’t. Like every other night, you had waited up until late for your boyfriend to return, but as much as you missed him, you had to fall asleep at some point.
Sam was quiet when he entered the bedroom. For a moment, when he saw you, he just froze and leaned against the threshold. The lack of moonlight was no obstacle for him to make out your figure under the bedsheets, curled up toward his side of the bed, leaving space as if he was there.
Sam was careful when he lifted the covers and slid under them, like a silent breeze drifting through a window.
He shuffled closer to the warmth of your body, wrapping one arm around you. In sleep, you let out a noise and scooted closer to him, pressing against his side and resting the palm of your hand over your heartbeat, just as the two of you always did.
Just like he had never left.
You weren’t an early bird. Usually, Sam was. He went out for runs, or just left bed early to get more of his day, but whenever he was home with you – which seemed to be a lot fewer times lately – you tried your best to let him sleep in.
He barely got four hours of rest anyway while he was with Dean, so whenever you could, you let him take as much time as possible. Sam always claimed to have a sort of inner clock that woke him up at ungodly times anyways, but whenever he shared a bed with you, that clock seemed to be muted.
You were preparing breakfast when Sam came down the stairs. It didn’t matter what time it was, because you were two grown adults living in your own place, and you could very well decide at what time of day to eat what, thank you very much.
Some eggs and bacon were sizzling in the pan, as two strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind. You felt the soft tickle of Sam’s breath against your skin, and the start of a stubble, while he pressed light, whispered kisses over your naked shoulder.
“Sorry I stayed away longer than I said I would,” Sam apologized softly next to your ear, voice still rough and drunken from sleep.
You blindly raised a hand to his head behind you and began scratching his scalp. Sam hummed into the crook of your neck.
“It’s okay baby,” you reassured him quietly.
“Hm, ‘s not,” Sam mumbled. Without a warning, his hold around your body tightened, and he lifted you up, twirling you around and placing you down on top of the kitchen isle. You yelped in surprise, naked thighs unsuccessfully shying away from the cold stone plate.
The freezing feeling was fast forgotten, when Sam dashed forward, hands supported on either side of your body, pressing his lips into yours.
A surprised grunt slipped past your lips when you pushed your mouth back into his. Sam’s lips felt chapped, and dry, maybe a bit bloody. They felt like the best kiss you’d ever gotten.
“Sam, the eggs are going to burn.” You protested when he pulled back to gasp for air.
Gaze fixated on you, Sam reached behind him, grabbed the dial, and swiftly turned it from a 6 to a 0. He smiled up at you, pure mischief blinking in his eyes.
“You’re insufferable,” You said, but the grin on your lips took away all the power behind it. Sam merely hummed and leaned in closer to you again. You met him halfway.
This kiss was softer, slower. An appreciation of the other’s presence and basking in it, rather than the kiss of reunion from before. You didn’t mind.
Sam had always felt perfectly shaped for you, in any way one could imagine. From the first day, he had known your lips like he had mesmerized them from an earlier life, and when he shared a bed with you, his arms hugged your body in just the way to make you feel harbored.
“How was the hunt?” You whispered. Sam’s head was resting in the crook of your neck again, as you pressed your cheek into his hair and carded your fingers through the dark strands.
Sam grunted. “I’ll never get used to you so casually asking that.”
A soft laugh escaped your throat.
Sam shifted and looked at you. “It was good,” He answered. “Missed you, though.”
He pecked your lips. You pouted. “I missed you too, baby.”
Something dark crossed Sam’s face. The corners of his mouth fell.
“You know, it’s days like these I wish I wouldn’t have to do this,” He admitted to you.
You nodded in understanding. “I know.”
Sam furrowed his eyebrows. “How can you live with this so easily? With me? I would’ve kicked myself out months ago.”
Your thumb softly smoothed out the worried line of his eyebrow. “Sam, what you and Dean do out there is so important,” You remind him. “You save people. And you love doing it.”
Sam shook his head, unconvinced. “Why are you being so understanding about this? Why can’t we fight, and you can you just yell at me to stay?”
“Would you?”
Sam didn’t answer, just averted your eyes at the question.
“Exactly.” You smiled softly. “Sam, I know I couldn’t keep you from this. And that’s why I would never ask you to give it up. I would never make you choose.”
“But it’s not how this should be. How we should be. I.” He touched his forehead softly against yours.
“Always one foot out the door. It’s not what you deserve.”
“Maybe not. But I know how much it means to you. Being out there, saving people, being with your brother. And I would never keep you from that.” You added.
Sam’s eyes flashed with an offer. “Then come with me.”
You softly shook your head. “You know you can’t ask that of me.”
He bowed his head again. “I know, I-“ He sighed. “I’m sorry.”
You tilted his chin up to look at you. His eyes were liquid, glistening in the dim light of your kitchen like warm copper. “Hey. You didn’t let me finish before.”
Your thumbs caressed his cheek, your hands holding up his head. “Maybe it is not what I deserve. But it is what I want.” You leaned closer to him. “You are what I want, Sam Winchester.”
Sam leaned his forehead against yours. “You are what I’ll always want.”
For a moment, you closed your eyes. You felt your breathing through the silence of the kitchen, the rising and sinking of your chest, and how it accommodated to move the same as Sam’s.
You felt the beating of a heartbeat. You couldn’t say if it was Sam’s, or yours. They beat the same.
“What did I do to deserve you?” He whispered. You grinned.
“You bring me souvenirs from every town you go in.”
“That’s nothing.”
You lean back and look at him. “For me, it’s everything.”
Sam’s eyes dart in-between yours, and the look that burned in them was so sincere, it almost made his heart ache. Dean had called you a witch once, Sam just called it love.
He wrapped you into another kiss.
You spent a lot of time kissing that morning.
The eggs were already cooled down by the time you served them, and the bacon was no longer crispy, but it didn’t matter. Sam was too captivated by being back home with you, to pay that much mind to the food anyway.
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bdsmrist · 8 months
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whatever u do dont think abt kim feeling guilty over his feelings for harry. dont think abt how he dreads knowing that harry is a sensitive instrument, and that he doesnt trust the sincerity of harry’s attachment to him. dont think abt kim’s constant internal battle with himself, and withdrawing from being affectionate in fear of fulfilling the stereotype of “predatory homosexual”. dont think about how a part of him knows he met harry at his lowest, so who knows if harry would actually like him if they met when he was at his highest. just dont think about kim kitsuragi not permitting himself the simplest of joys; because hes not deserving, because he cant trust them, because they are ephemeral. the pain of being kim “if something is too good to be true, its probably because it is” kitsuragi
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victorie552 · 4 months
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I headcannon that after 3rd Kinslaying, and especially after Elrond and Elros left them in whatever fashion, Maedhros was a total dick to Maglor.
You know how sometimes old or sick people are nice to neighbours/nurses/strangers, but are horrible to their primal caretakers? That's them.
People aren't dicks to their caretakers just to be dicks - it's because they are often frustrated with themselves or their situation and don't know how else to deal with it or they can't deal with it the usual way. It also happens because, paradoxally, they feel safe around their caretakers - you can be a dick because you know they won't leave just because of that.
And boy, did Maglor cast himself in a role of caretaker (let's not kid ourselves, he wasn't qualified, and with his own problems to boot), and BOY, did Maedhros resent him for it. He did not NEED help, he did not DESERVE help, he's not another kidnapped child MAGLOR, I'M the older brother, I should take care of YOU YOU WRECK, WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO BABYSIT YOU GROW UP ALREADY and leave me Nothing is EVER your fault, even when you left me to Angband as you should Why would you care now, it amounted to NOTHING before, it's WORTHLESS
And about half the time Maglor just takes it, actually likes it even. Mostly because of his guilt complex about how he deserves it, but also because Maedhros is only like this with him - he's trying his best to pretend to be fine and be a leader to few followers they have left, because they deserve better and that's the only thing he can give them now, and their brothers are all dead and would always be Too Little to act like that around them anyway. Maedhros would behave himself even around Fingon, to make him think rescuing him was worth something. So by being a dick to Maglor, Meadhros sees him as an equal, a safe haven. Maglor basks in that.
But obviously no one could just take such abuse like it's nothing, and Maglor is a Feanorian too, is prideful and stubborn, with his own laundry list of complains about Maedhros, and also unwell, and also thought of a new insult while lying awake at night and just wants to yell too. So half the time Maglor yells back and their yelling matches would bring orcs to tears, with hate and blame dripping from every word. I don't have enough imagination to picture it realistically, and actually I don't want to, it's too heartbreaking.
And sometimes, one or the other just starts crying. They don't talk about these times.
After some time, their arguments and insults are just a noise, something to repeat endlessly to the point of boredom.
By then, what actually hurts are the words that were not meant to harm.
Example 1:
Maedhros: 'did an all-night inspection of their stores cause he couldn't sleep' I found a herb you always liked to wash your hair with.
Maglor: 'doesn't remember last time he washed his hair, no less scented them'
Maglor: 'choked up' Appreciated.
Example 2:
Maedhros: 'feels like he's dragging Maglor to damnation with him' You could go with the twins, you know.
Maglor: 'doesn't want to upset Maedhros today so decides to pretend as if that was actually an option' Vanyar would probably like my singing but you know they would get mad at you for having better battle plans than them.
Maedhros: 'now KNOWS he's dragging Maglor to damnation with him'
Maedhros: 'dying inside' Of course they would.
When love hurts, it's easier to be a dick.
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