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taintandviolent · 5 months

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morally violating ; Kai Anderson x reader

warnings: kai is the warning. okay okay, real warnings: hatefuck (surprise, surprise), female receiving, clothed sex, rough sex, spanking, aggression, choking, degrading language, unprotected sex. a/n: 2.7k words! turned out to be part 2 to my howlin' for you fic. i feel like an anon requested this, but I'll be damned if I can remember which one. if it was you -- here you go! it's late, but who cares. you guys don't care, it's Kai. was originally part of my lazy (and embarrasingly late at this point) kinktober. week two AND three; spanking, clothed sex and degradation. so uh... enjoy. sorry if it's clunky and bad and weird and rushed!

full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! /

You swept the blush brush over your cheeks and heaved a sigh. Ultimately, you were disgusted with yourself. Right? It might not have been surface-level, but somewhere, deep down, you really were. You had to be. It was sickening that you hadn’t stopped thinking about the furious fuck you two had had almost two weeks ago. You, as a proud feminist woman, found that very morally violating. Actually, you found Kai very morally violating. And yet, here you were, threading the ribbon of a Red Riding Hood costume through the faux-corset front. You knotted it tightly and gazed in the mirror.

You made a cute Red Riding Hood and your tits sat nicely in this corset. At least there was that. There was the possibility that he wasn’t even going to come, which was probably the best option. There was also the possibility that he would walk through the door with Winter. If the latter happened, you’d feel like a fool in front of your friend, and an absolute pathetic, begging whore in front of her brother.

Which is what you were. You knew Kai would make sure to tell you that.

You heard the first ding of the doorbell. Giving yourself a final once-over, you turned and bolted down the stairs. Your eyes swept over your living room, making sure it was presentable. You’d decorated modestly. Streamers of orange, black and purple hung from the ceiling, those little table top decorations were clustered on your coffee table. Carved pumpkins greeted guests at the door.

With a bright smile on your face, you swung open the door. A cluster of friends from college stood on your doorstep; hugs were exchanged before you ushered them inside. It was non-stop after that. Your guests flooded into your home, and before you knew it, you had to hold your drink above your head to navigate. Within a few hours, you had yourself, by all definitions, a successful party. You were two Red Solo cups deep, and you still hadn’t spotted either of the Anderson siblings.

Your eyes unfocused, watching the throngs of people as they undulated to music and clustered in corners of the room. Reminiscent activities of a college party, some playfully slapped each other, some made out, while others danced, feeling the beat of the song playing. Others had taken to sitting on the staircase, lounging against the wall and the bannister as they chatted.

“Hey there, little Red Riding Hood…” a voice said. Your eyes refocused onto a particular head of blue hair, wavy locks hanging on either side of his face. His dark, brown eyes penetrated — no, violated yours.

“You sure are looking good.” Song quote. Cute. Not.

Everything he said sounded so threatening, even when it was complimentary. Especially when it was complimentary. He was scanning your body like a drill sergeant examining a soldier, scrutinising every minute detail. Intentionally, you puffed your chest out, lifting your cleavage and squaring your shoulders.

“Did you let yourself into my house?” You snapped, incredulously. “Where’s Winter?”

He stiffened, obviously put off by your immediate attitude. “She’ll be here. Later. Had something I needed her to do.”

“The fuck?”

A beat.

“…did you let yourself into my fucking house, Kai?”

“Did you intentionally dress up like Little Red Riding Hood after I dressed up as a wolf?”

Your open mouth closed wordlessly, lips rolling inwards. The question was rhetorical, and answering would only humiliate you further.

“Why don’t we go discuss your choices upstairs?”

You stared at him, a vicious fire burning behind your eyes. Hoping he’d… what? Retract his statement? Run back out the door, finally realising that you weren’t one to be fucked with? Doubtful. He never backed down in front of a woman. Besides, if he did, you’d likely stop him, catching his arm at his bicep and yanking him back towards yourself — because you didn’t want him to leave. And you knew it.

With a huff and a sharp turn, you headed up the stairs, navigating around the people that sat on the steps. Every feminist cell in your body screamed perilously at you as he followed you up your carpeted steps, the heavy stomp of his boots following closely behind you.

You were in no mood to self-rationalise, you were too busy trying to calm the drooling monster between your legs. You squeezed your eyes shut, silencing the thoughts as you opened the door. The guests would entertain themselves — this wouldn’t take long. It didn’t last time.

He began surveying your room, walking it with his hands behind his back as if grading you. When he came to your bathroom, he toed open the door with his boot, and peeked his head inside. He seemed satisfied with whatever he saw — maybe his own reflection. All of this made you acutely uncomfortable. You shifted your weight, flipping the frill of one of your petticoats.

“Come here.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said… come…. Here.” He repeated, more sternly than before.

For whatever stupid reason, you obeyed him. You marched your sorry little ass over to where he was standing, staring up at him like a lost puppy. The bathroom door was still ajar, and you could see inside, courtesy of the little butterfly night light that was plugged in above the sink.

Kai reached in, flattening his hand against the wall and flipped the light switch.

“Put your hands on the counter.”

You hesitated. This didn’t sound good. But as soon as Kai jerked his head in the direction of the countertop, you hurriedly flattened your hands on the counter, keeping your eyes locked on his reflection.

“Good. Good. Now we’re getting somewhere. You’ve thought about our little encounter at Winter’s party often, haven’t you?”

You shook your head.

THWACK!

Your jaw dropped, stunned, as a burning red welt swelled on your right ass cheek, the flesh tingling with pinpricks of pain as the blood rushed to the surface. There had been no warning for the first, and there wasn’t a warning for the second, or the third.

“Let’s try that — wait. Oh. You like this.” He spat. “Don’t you?”

You shook your head again, indignantly, and Kai reared his hand back. You flinched and tightened your muscles, waiting for the impending impact. You knew it would piss him off — maybe that’s why you did it. Filling your mind with horrible things that would hopefully keep the arousal at bay wasn't working. You were failing… miserably. Spanking wasn’t something you’d explored in the past, never would have thought to. But the way that he was leaving large, burning handprints on your ass cheeks had you leaking out into your underwear. You could feel it, you knew it. Fuck, so wet… fuckfuckfuck.

As if he could hear your thoughts — a terrifying thought — Kai hooked one finger around the crotch of your panties and harshly yanked them to the side, exposing your slick folds. The tip of his middle finger explored curiously, unsurprisingly finding the beginnings of a juice-fest. Slippery, clear liquid oozed from your opening, and you heard Kai chuckle through his nose.

“Oh, no? What’s this?” He asked, knowingly. You had yet again lied to him. You personally didn’t see it as a lie but as a vicious betrayal from your own body. A wet, vicious betrayal.

“Nothing,” you rasped, ashamed, and knowing full well what was coming.

“What was that?”

“I said… nothing.” Might as well accept your fate now. You gripped the edge of the counter, bracing for impact.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! Your knees buckled in pain, a desperate whimper falling from your lips. Welts rose until your entire backside was a crimson, burning masterpiece of his hands.

“Clearly, you haven’t caught on. Allow me to explain this to you. Every time you lie to me, you’re going to be punished. And I know what you’re thinking. ‘Oh, but Kai, I like it when you spank me like the disobedient bitch I am.’ Maybe so.”

You didn’t appreciate the mockery of your voice.

Kai flattened his palm on the searing mound of flesh, caressing it tenderly as if deep in thought. Somehow though, the gentle touch made it sting more than before. You writhed away from his hand, only getting an inch or two away before he crudely yanked you back into place. Tossing you around like some sort of rag doll. “But, eventually, pleasure turns to pain. It’s up to you if you reach that point.”

Condemn yourself or liberate yourself? The answer was obvious. You sought pleasure not pain, and if Kai was willing… You met his eyes in the mirror, boring deep into them. You bent your arms at the elbows, stretching them across the counter and arching your back, pressing the curve of your juicy ass against his groin.

“Just fuck me,” You begged. Pathetically, desperately, whiningly. “That’s all we both want. It’s why we’re — why we’re here. There’s your truth, Kai.”

For a moment, Kai didn’t speak, he just stared. Just… watched you in the mirror. You drew your bottom lip in and bit down hard, hoping to entice him further. Slowly, his large hands slid up your back, going as far as the fabric would allow before dragging them back down again, his nails raking against your bare skin. Abruptly, he took hold of your ass, squeezing the soft flesh too hard, twisting your expression into one of pain. With the still warm pain of the spanks, you couldn’t help but wince at the sensation.

“Is that really wha—

“Don’t ask me if it’s what I want,” you groaned. “Don’t fucking ask me that.”

That launched him into action; his hands leaving your body. He unbuttoned his jeans, reaching in to pull his throbbing cock free. His gaze drifted from you to himself, looking down at it. Decently hard, but could be harder. The chase hadn’t been as long as last time, giving him less time to get worked up. He gave it a few angry pumps before lining it up with your slit.

This was the second time you were going to fuck Kai Anderson — and in a similar way; pissed off and completely clothed. Behind you, Kai used the tip of his cock as a toy, slapping it messily against your swollen, blushing cunt, threads of precum stringing from your clit to his head.

You shuddered. Kai dragged his cock down, pressing the bulbous tip into your pink, weeping slit. Gushy and searing hot, the spongy walls clenched, forcing it back out. Kai grit his teeth and pushed the head in harder, breaching it. Slithery warmth washed over him, gripping it tight. His cock twitched inside of you, seeking out depth. “Ohhhhh…. Fuck. Fu-”

With the head of his now rock-hard cock planted inside you, he no longer needed his hands and let go, moving them up to sweep his hair out of his face. He was embedded inside of you now, slick walls gripping his shaft, carnally begging for more. Using only the strength of his core, Kai backed out and plunged his cock back in repeatedly, popping the head in and out of your wet pussy. With one determinate thrust and a deep groan, he pushed himself all the way in, his lower abdomen bumping against the fullness of your ass cheeks.

His hands dropped heavily to your ass, taking fistfuls and pulling the cheeks apart to watch as it slid in and out, coated in your arousal. You whimpered, eyes rolling back, lids fluttering speedily. You hated him so much, but it felt so good. To turn dick down this good… would just be a waste. Not only was it long enough to hit your cervix, his cock was thick and veiny and massaged your insides in all the right spots.

“Look at yourself,” he growled, reaching one hand around to pinch your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. Your lips puckered out like a fish. “Look at what a little whore you are.”

Slowly, you lifted your eyes to the mirror. You couldn’t deny your reflection; your red and white petticoats fluffed up around your waist, your previously perfect curls knotted in his fist, and your face distorted in a whorish display. The cherry on top was every time Kai’s cock bottomed out inside you, you winced and let out the most pathetic, whimpering moan. It was like a bad porn moan, and it was coming from you. Kai’s hand retreated from your face, slithering down to your neck, where he gave a firm, warning squeeze before returning to its place on your hip.

“I bet…” He paused, thrusting hard into your cunt a few times. His words were breathy and laboured. “I bet you’ve been thinking about this since that night. You like this.”

You had — that part was true. The other part about ‘liking’ it? Up for debate. Your pussy certainly did with the way that she clenched her slick walls around his thick cock, hungrily gripping it every time he tried to slide out.

“You fuckin’,” You clenched around him, letting out a shrill moan through gritted teeth. Your voice cracked. “You fuckin’ wish, Kai.”

THWACK!

That one really hurt. Hot tears welled up before streaming down your cheeks, leaving lines in the rouge. Kai slowly leaned over you, pressing his toned stomach against your back and even through clothes, you felt the muscles tensing. He angled his lips right next to your ear, and hissed: “I don’t have to wish for anything. I get everything I want.”

His hot whisper made you shiver violently. And he didn’t — he was right. You were giving him everything he wanted, everything he asked for. Just like one of his little pathetic, whinging groupies. He started pulling you onto his cock, hard, and your entire body seized up, your walls shuddering, pulsing, quivering with the sensation. You pressed your head into the countertop, moaning loud into the sink. The wet, slapping sounds drifted into a singular dull thudding noise; your ears were ringing, your chest heaving. His pace quickened, his thrusts merciless. The taut coil in your tummy wound tighter, creating a deep pressure above your bladder. Your thighs quivered, knees feeling like jello as you tried to hold yourself up against the counter.

“Fuck, Kai - fuck-fuck-I’m gonna’ fucking—

With a winded groan, Kai tensed up, and plunged himself as deep as he could go, pulling your hips hard onto his cock. Hot, white euphoria erupted inside of you, filling you up and oozing out the sides of your cunt with each unsparing thrust he gave. Unable to hold it any longer, you arched, screaming towards the mirror. Kai leaned back and pulled out slightly, just enough to watch as your pathetic little cunt clenched through your own orgasm, fluttering desperately around the tip of his dick. He gathered your underwear again and pulled them up, before snapping them down on your ass. The strings of cum that dripped from you seeped into the fabric, sticky and warm.

Kai reached around again, lifting you up by your neck. This time, his cheek pressed against yours, rubbing it like a dog nuzzling its owner. “You’re going to spend the rest of your little gathering feeling that, understood?”

You said nothing and he gripped harder; slight pressure on your windpipe.

“Understood?” Again, nothing and Kai pressed his palm against your throat until you gasped, thrashing your head up and down in a panic. “SAY IT.”

A weird whine came from your throat as you desperately gasped for air. Your pupils dilated. Finally, you croaked: “I-I’m going to feel your c-cum between my… my-legs all night long.”

The pressure released, and Kai had turned away from you, busy stuffing his heavy, flaccid cock back into his dark jeans. Shakily, you straightened up, pulling your skirts back down where they were intended to sit. Thankfully, he hadn’t fucked up your makeup like he did last time - you could pass as just a tipsy girl who had just smeared her mascara a little.

Once you two were downstairs, you paused at the bottom of the stairs. The party thrived; nobody had noticed you were gone. You heaved a sigh of relief, knowing that now, nobody could pin it against you. No questions, no accusations. Me? Fucking Kai Anderson? Absolutely not, I’d rather die. Gag.

“We’ll have to discuss your constant lying at a later date.” And with that, he was gone. Gone to spread the good word of his weird little fucked up cult, and get more people to campaign for him, or whatever it is he did. You watched him, eyes narrowed, as he manoeuvred through the groups of people. He’d done it again. Motherfucker. You shifted your weight, feeling the sticky mess between your legs as dried into the fabric of your panties.

Coming down off the orgasm was one of the worst feelings; reality set in, and you were painfully reminded that you’d just fucked your sworn enemy. A poster boy of toxic masculinity had just filled you up with his seed. Sickening. A voice from behind jolted you out of your fuming stupor — Winter.

“You should really stop lying to him.”

You barked out a flabbergasted laugh. “That’s what I should stop, Winter? Lying to him?”

“Yeah,” she muttered lowly. “He hates liars.”

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @garykingz/ @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @demxnicprxncess / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randominstake / @throwinginmythai / @hyperharlz / @poltoreveur

#i'm literally so sorry if this is bad #i'm v insecure over this fic because the writing juices have just not been there lately folks #kai anderson #kai anderson x you #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson smut #ahs smut #myfics #lizzieslazykinktober

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euno11a · 3 months

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Tattooed Hearts VII

Genre: No one to someone Tattoo artist! Jungkook X Reader

Summary: What happened to us? Why did we end up like this? It was only a one time thing. Now it’s ruined us both.

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut, mentions of hookups, insults, arguing, blood, mentions of period, insecurities

Pt I • Pt II • Pt III • Pt IV • Pt V • Pt VI • Pt VIII *** God, she was meant to be a quick fuck and leave. Why couldn’t I get her out of my mind? I need her…

It was stupid of me to get drunk, and even stupider that I went to her apartment. She didn’t want me there, but she looked so cute in her pjs, I couldn’t help staying. I wasn’t so drunk that I couldn’t move, how’d you think I got there? It was a good excuse, even if she didn’t know it, to get her to touch me again. Her touch was intoxicating, something my body craved, yearned for, but I fucked it up. Ever heard the saying ‘drunk words are sober thoughts?’ “M’missed you…you looked s-so good in that long thing you were wearing in the flower home…”; “Baby, I know what I’m saying…miss you…miss your pussy…miss your love…”; “So pretty…su..such a good girl…my baby…” Even if some thought are more vulgar than others, they’re still true. Showing up drunk probably proved her point of how reckless and selfish I am, but you don’t know how much I miss you. I couldn’t get you out of my head, your curves, your eyes, your laugh…I need you beside me.

Playing limp body was fun, I got to hold her leg, cuddle up to her and even kiss her a little. So I have to pretend to be drunk all the time? No, no, bad idea! You’re trying to prove to her that you need her and only her. It was supposed to be a romantic gesture of some kind, but it failed…miserably. What happened to me? Every time I see her now, talking with Eloise, laughing with V, something burns inside of me. It’s an emptiness that I can’t explain, eating me from the inside out. Using other women to try and fill the hole was a shitty idea, especially since she found me with one. I think I get somewhere with her, but then I fuck it up again. She kicked me out of her apartment, “Stop coming to me when you’re high.” That one sentence haunting my mind, making me lose sleep at night. I fucked it up so bad, I need to earn her trust again, I can’t breathe without her. She doesn’t know the things she does to me, making me spend hours in my office, fucking my hand imagining it was her. My blood boils every time I see her with V, she laughs at his jokes, he gave her juice. He gave her the juice I bought for her, waiting for her to come back! Of course I had to lie to the others, saying I mixed up the flavours, no way I was telling them about the girl I was pinning over that I was also waiting for to return. God, I was whipped…

You were hard to find. I had to dig through the fucking system at work to figure out how to contact you. I swear, I wasn’t trying to be a creep, I just knew you wouldn’t willingly give me your number! And I doubt Lindsay would give it to me either. You sounded so sweet over the phone…your voice was like honey, something I’d be willing to drown in if it came from you. Yeah, you hung up on me, but I got to talk to you for a little! I’d call that a win. Another win was when you took the bouquet…I knew you’d like them. You always told me how you loved secret stories behind things, even if I could T give them to you, I’m glad Eloise could. Building that bouquet was hard! I wanted to take all the flowers you liked, but that wasn’t allowed. If I had a dime for the amount of times Eloise slapped my hand and told me to express my emotions through the flowers instead of pick what was prettiest, I’d be a millionaire. All those flowers that were strategically placed to tell you a story were working. After work, I’d come in to ask Eloise if you’d stopped by, gladly listening to her as she told me about your sweet smile and laugh, the way your nose scrunched up when you found a new flower and wanted to know what it signified. All of this will be worth it in the long run. Seeing you at the bar alone, sipping your rum and coke made me smile. The drink you ordered the first time we met. Sitting down, I expected you to leave or to tell me to leave. But you didn’t. Sure, you put up a fight, telling me to spit out what I wanted, so you could be alone and drink in peace but I wasn’t expecting you to listen. “I want you,” it just slipped out. But it sent shockwaves through me when you spoke “If you want me…like genuinely want me, you have to beg for it.” I had never been one for begging, but if that’s what it takes to have you in my life, I will beg for hours and hours, days, weeks, months. I need you in my life.

Taglist: @talyaaas-blog @cassies-cookies @junecat18@jk97bam @bluewarmsunshine @diame93 @bangtans-momma @lil0u0 @borahoe @peterstarkchrishiddleston @telepathytae @apobangpo444 @gimeow @taekritimin123 @butterymin @skzthinker @someone-1997 @kookswifesblog @jjk-1999 @bulubulubulublabla @xo79 @thesmutconnoisseur @nikkinik485 @coldcoffee2121 @jjk97091 @onlybunss @kopiosuam @nanmolla @peachtown @kopiosuam

#bts #bts army #bangtan #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook #bts smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader

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enditen · 10 months

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birds of a feather

summary: a bit of understandable anger toward your fiancé for— in your eyes— unwise decisions leads to hurt feelings and avoidance. thankfully, the two of you come back together in the most interesting of places.

word count: 4090ish.

rating: m

warnings: public sexual acts. talk of death ( rooster's, goose's and carole's ). angst. two adults being stubborn fools. talk about breasts. talk about ruining hawaiian shirts and dress whites. kind of playing around with naval deployments and what not.

pairing: bradley ( rooster ) bradshaw x female reader ( callsign vulture )

author's note: hi, first fic in this fandom that was simply supposed to be hot titty fucking with a title of a tit for a cock and then turned into 4k of angst then some titty fucking. some of you might recognize me from another fandom on here on tumblr to which if you do, hi y'all. also i feel like i missed tags and i'm sorry about that. assuming i write more for this because i've gotten over my nervousness i'll learn. and special thanks to @blurredcolour for being a little cheerleader

You’re beginning to wonder if there’s just something about Maverick that just turns everyone around him a bit stupid. You like to think that most of the team surrounding your fiancé aren’t idiots and yet there you were being proven completely wrong as you listened to Bradley explain what exactly had happened on the mission.

“That’s not what he meant when he said don’t think!” You remembered screaming into the phone, knowing fully well that while Mav was his own special brand of stupid- and deliriously lucky he wasn’t the same level of pure unadulterated idiocy Bradley was displaying.

“It worked out!” Was somehow his raspy defense and it had taken all your self control to not hang up the phone right then and there, the sheer unmitigated aggravation seeping through your pores As it stood, what you did end up doing was letting out the world’s most put upon sigh as you rolled your eyes.

“You’re just lucky Mav didn’t have to bury another bird.” At Rooster’s sharp inhale you started to speak again. “I didn’t mean it— I’m just—”

“No. I get it, Vulture,” he spat out your callsign, a definite sign that he’s pissed and you had struck a nerve you honestly shouldn’t have right in that moment before you heard something in the background. “You don’t have to come get me, I’ll get home fine.”

The silence after he hung up feels almost as all consuming as the idea of him dying was.

It’s always been a thing that when one of you comes back from deployment or from a mission or from visiting friends who are stationed somewhere else that you pick one another up. Some of your friends call it silly, but for you and Rooster it works. You’ve always wanted to be together all the time but at the same time— when opportunities present themselves you’ve never been the type to ignore them. Hell, even if you wanted to, the other one would just argue against ignoring the opportunity. That’s why you found yourself here, waiting for Rooster to come back from what should have been a mission he didn’t come back from. What was almost a mission he didn’t come back from. You wonder if this is how his mom felt with his father and if the reason she never wanted him to become a pilot like this is to avoid anyone else having her fate. You see Rooster walking with Hangman and are about to lean out of the car to tell him to get his ass in the car before he sees you through your windshield. The look he gives you is one of aggravation and hurt that you’ve so rarely seen on his face that it practically pins you to your seat in the car. You've seen those brown eyes look at you with so much love and you've made jokes comparing them to warm chocolate more than once but in this moment— all they do is remind you of a hardened and unbreakable tree.

He shakes his head before turning to keep talking to Hangman, laughing at some probable dumb joke the man said and you swear your stomach drops through the floor of the car. You hadn’t thought he was serious about not wanting you to come get him and here he was getting into someone else’s car to go— home? Maybe, or maybe he was going to crash on Hangman’s couch or find— no. No, for all that Rooster was angry with the slip of your tongue he would never cheat on you. He loves you in a way that makes other people sick and makes Maverick and Penny tell you that yeah, you kind of remind them of his dad and Carole.

Still, he’s never been this angry at you and that terrifies you in ways that you can’t put into words. You’ve flown dangerous missions that didn’t terrify you as much as the look on Rooster’s face did right in that moment. After what feels like hours, but is only really ten minutes you pull out of the area you were parked in and head home. You don’t realize Hangman hasn’t left and that Rooster watches you leave from his side of the truck.

“She couldn’t have done anything that bad, man.” Jake tries to reason as he puts the truck in reverse.

“You don’t know her like I do," he scoffs, shaking his head and slipping on his aviators. "I forgot why she’s called Vulture. Just— Just drive.”

You suppose it's a mercy that you see Rooster the next morning, making coffee as if he didn't break your tradition with one glance through a car windshield. Suppose you should be thankful he's back home and in your kitchen and not back home in a casket, but you've never been one to allow yourself simple pleasures like that when you're hurt. When your heart's twisted into the version of itself that only releases anger and toxic fumes to push away everyone you hold dear.

That anger has your mouth moving before your brain can catch up and make you see sense. All you know is that the man you love hasn't said one word to you since that phone call and he's only making one cup of coffee and not two. Another tradition broken and you can only see red.

"Are you ignoring me?" You ask the moment he turns around, sipping his coffee without seemingly a care in the world.

Bradley isn't necessarily the more verbose out of the two of you, but he's never particularly short with you. Today is the exception, much like everything about the past two days.

"No." A pause as he sets down his coffee cup and you see a bit of coffee clinging to his upper lip and that stupid little mustache you've grown to love over the years. "Maybe."

"Maybe," you parrot, moving over to where he's standing and watching as he moves just far enough away to allow you to grab your own cup and your own specific pod to make your coffee. "You nearly die, I say something stupid and now you're acting like a moody teenager. Cute, Roo."

Roo. Not even Rooster and certainly not his name because he certainly doesn't deserve it in this moment. You watches as his eyes drift over your body, noting how you're wearing one of his favorite Hawaiian shirts with the top buttons unbuttoned, revealing skin that normally he'd have covered in kisses a thousand times over since he returned last night. Instead it's unmarred by his lips and teeth and you're as vicious as can be. Two can play that game. Two can be childish.

"I'm sorry, something stupid. No— no, you didn't say something stupid. You said something cruel. That's a big difference, babe. One is normal, the other is you reminding me that I could have left you alone just like my mom was. Like that didn't go through my head. Like Maverick didn't tell me that much while we were heading back. "

A laugh erupts from deep inside your chest as you turn to look at Rooster. "Did it really go through your head? Did you think I'm throwing away my life with Vulture because I need to save someone who ruined parts of my life? Or did your brain get scrambled from the G's?"

You watch as eyes that you love start to fill with something resembling tears as his hand clenches the coffee cup. He loves you, he knows that to be a simple fact. He loves you. His father loved him and his mother. Mav loves him and loved his father and his mother. And you love him. In this moment though, that last one feels like a joke, feels like a dagger twisting in his chest. Maybe you don't love him if this is what you want to spew at him. You're a woman who should have had a callsign of Viper but only gets Vulture because you can handle things other people couldn't. You take care of things other people wouldn't or couldn't. He supposes you taking on all of those things is what makes you the way you are.

"It's what my dad would have done," he forces the words out and tries to not cry because you know what that means to him. You know know better than anyone. "I was his wingman."

"And what about my wingman, Bradley?" Your question comes out softer than you mean it to even as you slam your coffee pod into the machine. Somehow tears start to tease the edge of your eye line. "You were just going to leave me without mine. You really are your father's son. Guess I should be happy we don't have a little you running around. That's a little too on the nose."

The slam of the coffee cup startles you more than anything you've thought was possible in that moment and yet without missing a beat you turn to face Rooster once again in time for you to see angry tears falling from his eyes. "I'm not doing this. You're— I didn't leave you. You're not having to bury me and you're not having to be by my side as I bury the closest thing I have to a father now. That is what should matter. Not what I did. What I know you would have done for some people. What you'd have done for Phoenix alone. I'm here in our kitchen wearing my engagement ring and you're just wearing my shirt and not sobbing into it because it's the closest thing that smells like me. Let it go." He takes a moment to take a shaky breath and starts to move toward you. "I made a mistake but I don't regret it. Let. It. Go."

If you were younger, if you were the same girl Rooster met all those years ago you'd have taken your ring off and slammed it on the counter right next to his coffee cup in a fit of anger. You're older now, same as Bradley and you stop yourself even as your hand inches toward your ring finger. Bradley's always been taller than you unless you're in heels and it forces you to look up at him. "You forget who you're wanting to marry, Bradshaw. I'm— I'm not letting this go. Just— you know what, sleep on the couch, do whatever. I don't care— you're not sleeping in our bed. Especially if you want to act like I meant to say what I said in the first place. You want to ignore me? Fine. Then do that."

You see Bradley's jaw tense, and watch the way it moves as you normally would enjoy before he speaks. "Wasn't planning on sleeping there for a while anyway. Enjoy your coffee, Y/N."

Ever since you had started dating, you and Bradley had talked every single day. No matter the fight, no matter what happened between you two you would never let something like this drag on for so long. Life was short after all and you two were both vividly aware of that.

This time though, this time it drags on for two weeks and you have a half right mind to stand in front of Bradley until he talks until you realize from how even Phoenix looks at you while at the Hard Deck that it wouldn't help. It truthfully might make things worse. So you let him stew and he lets you stew. You miss him and you like to think he misses you but you're both very stubborn people who know how to hold grudges with the best of them.

It's strange, ignoring someone you love in your own house but sometimes you'd like to argue that you and Bradley are strange people. Normal most of the time but with those small little scars inside and out that make you do strange things. Strange things like make sure your dress whites are ready to go the day of what you think is a ceremony— honestly you hadn't paid attention for once to the notice. That's what you do with someone you love and someone you care about— not someone you're still so angry with that it hurts to talk to them.

You arrive separately to questioning looks from most of the Dagger Squad and Maverick but you both shrug and smile them off even as you stay apart most of the night. What you both don't realize is that the other is sneaking glances when one of you looks away. Your eyes take in the man who you think— you hope— is still going to be your future husband and bemoan the fact that he can't wear this uniform everywhere. There's something special about seeing him all dressed in white and looking every bit a dashing naval aviator.

His eyes? Oh, his eyes take in the woman he knows he's still going to marry if one of you would just break already. They take in you in white which you hate wearing because it shows off everything and stains and all those silly things you say. They take in how your jacket contains your chest but how the buttons strain just a little and how he knows that you're probably wearing a lace bra that he loves underneath it. He knows how that bra feels against his hands when he cups your breasts and squeezes them in his hands. Your chest is a work of art sometimes— all the time really and he hasn't touched in over two weeks.

Jake is the one who notices how Bradley's eyes haven't left you for a few minutes and notices how he's shifting in place— fidgeting in a way he's never seen him.

"She's been staring at you too," the blonde chuckles. "This is— This is every bad high school dance and military ball I've ever been to rolled into one. Go over to her, Rooster. Stop pining, man."

Bradley wants to defend himself but he turns to look at you again only to catch your eyes and how they slide down his body before stopping at his crotch and— he finds most logic and sense goes out the window. Like two magnets drawn to one another you both find yourselves by each other's sides, with hands grazing each other's hips.

"I—" He starts before you shake your head.

"I was being cruel. You've— We both know I get like that and I was terrified, Bradley. I saw our lives flashing before my eyes the second I found. It was gone in an instant. That doesn't excuse—" Your words are cut off with a soft kiss that you're both endlessly thankful no one sees.

"Babe. Trust me, I know I was an idiot and that same vision you had? Yeah, you weren't the only one. I swear I heard my mom and my dad yelling at me." His words are soft as he nuzzles his nose against yours, laughing softly when you scrunch up your nose because of his mustache. "I'm sorry."

You sniffle a little, partially to prevent a sneeze from his mustache hair and to cover up the fact that you're a little emotional. "I'm sorry too." You take a moment to look up meet his eyes only to see how his eyes are trained on your breasts. "Lieutenant Bradshaw, are you staring at my boobs in public? At a function?"

You watch as a light dusting of color reaches his cheeks before he bites his lips. "And if I am?"

A breath leaves your mouth slowly as you move the hand that's been on his hip toward the front of his dress pants, giggling softly at the slight hardness you feel. "I'd say you should stop unless you want me to take care of this in the bathroom."

His eyes dart around the room checking to see if anyone will notice you're both gone for a bit before he laughs. "Meet you there in five?"

You practically give yourself minor whiplash as you nod quickly. "Can I keep the bra on?"

His groan almost gives the two of you and your plans away.

The great thing, you think, about this bra, is that it makes it so easy to have Bradley stick his cock in between your breasts without taking it off. You know by the end he'll want it off, want to squeeze your breasts as he slides his cock in between them but in the beginning he's fine with this.

"I missed my girls," he groans as you press your arms against the side of your chest, pushing your breasts together even more. "Should— Should've gotten over myself and fucked you in my shirt that morning."

"You would have gotten come on your favorite Hawaiian shirt, Bradley," you try to reason with him even as your voice takes on an airy sort of quality the quicker your fingers move in between your legs. You should have taken off your pants but you realize it's a little too late for that now.

"We're probably getting come on our dress whites, babe." It's a joke but one that's likely very true from the way you can see his cock pulse and from the way your fingers— even through the articles of clothing you're wearing sound so obscene as they squelch and slide between your folds. "Would've made it better. Fuck, swear this bra does something to your tits."

"It's a bra? A dressy one? That's the point?" You can't help but giggle as he moves faster, his cock gilding against the soft skin of your breasts. "You getting close baby?"

"Lil bit," he grunts out, his hand moving to try and grasp at one of your nipples. "You wanna free them? Let your nipples join in on the fun?"

"You just wanna smear them with precome, Bradshaw, you're not slick." It's not a no, and your hands move to start undoing your bra even as you look up and see Bradley with the dumbest smirk you've ever seen him have. "Why are you—"

"You're slick though," he pulls his cock out from between your breasts and bends down to kiss you as your bra releases your breasts. "Bad—"

"Bad dirty dad joke," you cut him off with a fond shake of your head. "At least wait until we have a little birdy before you stoop that low."

A shrug is the only answer you get as he lines his cock up with your breasts and waits for you to press them together before saying a single phrase. "Sorry. It's in my blood."

You look up at him through your eyelashes and sigh, ignoring how your heart twists a little at the faked twinkle in those brown eyes of his. Instead you bend your head down just a little to lick a small kitten lick at the head of his cock. "Doomed to those jokes for the rest of my life as Mrs. Bradshaw. What have I done?"

A shudder ripples through him at your lick and he has to force himself to not come right then and there all over your perfectly made up face. He wants to though, wants to see you debauched like you should have been the second he came home and was alive and in your arms. He should have painted your face white. Should have made it so there was a stain on his favorite shirt that he'd wear proudly because it'd tell everyone how needy you two were for each other. It'd remind everyone that he's taken by the most vicious, intelligent, and vivacious woman he's ever met. It'd remind him that you missed him that much that you couldn't bear to be apart from some part of him for too long.

He didn't though and he can't right now but tonight when you're home and laying across your shared bed maybe he can do it then and watch as your lips try and lick bits off your face. The image he paints in his mind is something else and it has him clenching the fabric of your jacket before his own hands move to play with the tops of your breasts. The action earns a low whine from you, wanting more of his large hands on you, his thumbs playing with your nipples as he kisses you. You two have to make this quick though and it shows in how Bradley's thrusts increase in speed and how he motions for you to do something— anything— with your boobs and your hands until you finally catch onto his meaning.

"You are so boob drunk, Bradley," you mutter as your hand wraps around the part of his cock not between your breasts. With every thrust up you manage a lick or two just to tease him until you see his thrusts getting messier and less controlled.

A breathless low chuckle leaves him. "Nah, just you drunk. Fuck, babe, Y/N. I'm— let him go. Gonna—"

"Cum on them. Just cum on them. I'll wipe it off."

You look up with all the confidence in the world to see him with blown out pupils and a wet lips from where he's bitten them to keep quiet. "You su—" You cut him off with an almost violent nod that has the head of his cock brushing your chin as he does. "Okay okay."

What happens next is a flurry of limbs and grunts and low whines from you and Bradley as you chase your respective highs. Bradley comes first, hips stuttering, painting your chest with his cum, pearly white and just uncontrolled enough that some lands on your lips and chin and another bit lands on your dress shirt, narrowly avoiding your jacket. Your name falls from his lips easily as you look up at him, your fingers curling just so inside of you as he reaches out to cup your cheek his brown eyes so full of love, arousal and adoration that you come with a silent cry, your body threatening to fall forward from the sheer intensity but his strong hands are there to stop you.

You both lean back— him against the wall and you on your knees- catching your breath before he moves to grab paper towels, wetting them just enough for you to clean his release off of you. He embarrassingly lets out something close to a childish whine as he watches you lick the traces of come off your lips until you raise an eyebrow at him and his hardening cock.

"When we get home." You both manage to say at the same time before letting out matching peals of laughter. After a moment where you both can't keep a straight face Bradley starts to tuck himself inside his dress pants and you start to button your shirt back up before he pulls you up with an ease that marvels you even to this day. You feel the warmth of his large hand through your shirt as he straightens it out, making sure it's regulation ready. He winces at the slight stain of his come near your shoulder before remembering you still have to get your jacket on. His hands make quick work of the buttons and he notes with pride the only sliver of come one can see is easily explained away as water.

You can't help but bite your lip at Bradley when you see him looking down at you, inspecting his handiwork. Almost as if he realizes you're staring he meets your eyes and smiles this stupid half smile that makes his mustache look far cuter than it has any right to be and has his eyes dancing with mirth.

"Come on Lieutenant Bradshaw, they're gonna notice if we stay here," he tries to school his face into something resembling a serious look before he chuckles softly.

"Aye aye, Lieutenant Bradshaw." A pause. "You can't call me by your last name yet, you know."

He shrugs, unlocking the door as he wraps his arm around your waist. "I almost died. I can do it if I want. Besides, saw your thighs tense up."

You tamp down on the urge to slap his arm playfully as your own arm moves to snake around his waist. "You're lucky I love you."

"Yeah,' he stops right before you reach the door to reenter the hall and presses you just lightly against the wall. "I love you too."

#bradley bradsaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw angst #rooster smut #rooster angst #bradley bradshaw fic

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pascalsbby · 8 months

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Hot Single Dad of The Neighborhood

Summary: It used to be benzos to take off the sharp pain of the day, this life- now it’s Joel fucking Miller.

Warnings: mdni, 18+, eventual smut (c’mon…wouldn’t be a celebration without it)

This is satire. Kinda. It’s me laughing at myself & my love for this fictional man. But you’re laughing along, because you get it. Let me know what you think!!

This is a part of my 700 follower’s celebration. Read the detailed description here 🩷

It all started with this:

Let me set the scene:

It’s 9:45pm on a Friday, and this is better than having the house to yourself. This is the time of week where we tuck our children (and husbands) in, and we gather around this shitty glass table as the tales are whispered through. It starts off with your usual: sugar-salted peach margaritas turned to two, a joint, and then the riveting conversation of, “now who would leave that dick?”

We call ourselves ‘Joel Miller’s Neighborhood Wives’. It’s a mouthful. But we like a mouthful. So- sit down, have a smoke, a wee little drink, and listen to the goss.

The neighborhood wives (Kat, Kali, Chloe on the right of you, Kit, Vic, Bug & Angela to the left) are all cuddled around Kat’s patio, enacting a dramatic retelling of ‘who the fuck is Joel Miller?’ Himself, somewhere across the street, wondering why every now and then he hears a chorus of squeals. Then, he smiles to himself and wishes he had the guts to grace y’all with his presence. He’s not invited though.

This is the first time you’ve hung out with them, and maybe the last, tbh. No way this Miller guy is worth all this fuss.

And, action.

It used to be benzos to take off the sharp pain of the day, this life- now it’s Joel fucking Miller. We take whatever we can get from him, between when we hear his truck two streets over, lightly running across the hollow wooden floors to put on our slippers. The low growl from his truck pipes (or yours) grows louder as he turns the corner onto the street. We watch as he drops out of the truck and thuds against the concrete, slamming that damn door closed. Probably how he lets all his ladies know he’s home. Our eyes follow his form, tapping all the way up to his front door before he takes those goddamn cowboy boots off. We stumble out of the front door and check the mail. Well, only for the third time that morning. What? We are all always expecting something, alright? You catch what you can before his shoulders disappear through the blue-chipped front door, right back into his house. We close the mailboxes simultaneously and sadly drip back to our front doors. No hello’s today.

Sometimes later in the night before supper, you’ll see the door shaped hole widen in the darkness, warmth boasting from behind as Joel’s form takes up the light, smiling as he pats Tommy on his way inside. Tommy usually drinks too much and stays the night, so we sit back and tend to the family. We ride our delusions in the meantime. Then, the cycle continues. It’s like… the cycle of life. You know?

He seems like your typical gentleman, Joel. A Southern-raised man, one who would let you be his nuclear-family sweetheart. Cook for him, clean for him, spread *it open for him, let his massive fucking hands feel any part of you they wanted. Especially if that meant they were to explore more under the stiff shirtwaist dresses. Or in. We would all rather him in.

Spread, what, exactly? Oh yeah dude, sorry. I meant: *Cunt, asshole, any part of you he wanted to look down the middle of and split open, really. We aren’t shy about it when it comes to talking to each other. Obviously.

The aforementioned Tommy?

That’s his brother, probably about seven or eight years younger. He is a beau too, but he doesn’t seem the type to really fuck it out of ya. I mean sure, he has done his fair share of fucking around with the moms’ of the neighborhood, too. Bug even whispered a tale of Tommy going after those mom’s college daughters, swooping in to help clean the pool before setting them gently on the concrete and swiping their panties to the side as he buried his face in them. He always made sure they were at least 22. This is only moments after the pretty younger girls make their way back into the pretty, white iron gates afront their parents' houses.

Fair enough, he has the same curls wrapping down the base of his neck, kissing the skin beneath them. He has the ‘Miller Smirk’ - what the town wives call it. The Miller brothers are known throughout the neighborhood for their distinct brand of charm. Both possess an effortless charisma that begs you to get on your knees. But they never let us. Sad. Their shared features aren’t few, but none are as similar and charming as their half-smiles. Grins always slightly tilted, as if they were sharing an inside joke with each other but not the rest of the world.

So of course Tommy is desired to an extent, physically, of course. Emotionally? Probably not. But shit, you’d have both if you could. Paris looks great this time of year. Anyways.

He wasn’t the Miller we all grappled over and wanted so deeply, despite a metal band around our fingers (or not). His competency and willingness. They way he looks at his daughter. Oh yeah…girl dad. The way he looks in the Texas heat. His back, flexed and sweating through his too-tight shirt. “The day that man wears a white shirt and it’s over 90 degrees- I will drop fucking dead. Someone take care of the kid for me,” Kat.

There’s been one story about Joel that is retold over and over like it’s fuckin’ Genesis Chapter 3, creation and all. The story on how, why, we all got here to begin with. No one can agree who first told it. Angela or Bug, shit…was it Chloe? Okay, okay, it really doesn’t matter at the moment. Just listen.

It was late August, three years ago. Hot and dripping with the dead-end heat of summer. Almost as if it was giving all it could before the last of it sputtered out and away, knowing Fall was right around the corner to take its place- happy to finally have a rest. A for sale sign that had been smiling at you for months was suddenly gone, the dirt still fresh from where it had been happily ripped. Joel Miller, Mr. Texas cowboy himself showed up one day as the crickets started singing, he kissed the cicadas goodbye for the season, unloaded the Miller Construction van and then he never left. A few weeks later after he and his brother fixed up the place, a little girl was running up the concrete to the front door. But there was no wife.

When he moved into the neighborhood, a new era dawned. It was one where the wives would rather mow the lawn, take the trash cans out on Wednesday nights, and tend to the long-forgotten garden. No really, all of our gardens are pristine now. Because somewhere not too far away there was a beautiful, muscular man with a mustache you wanted to wet, and God, his nose. A nose that was prominent even a few houses down, sun setting behind as it sat there strong and just uh- you knew a nose like that would be tickling your clit while he used his tongue other places. Or the other way around, whichever way you were sitting. Whatever way he wanted you to sit.

It was something about that deep navy cotton shirt his chest and shoulders grace about once or twice a week. The other is some form of a Lakers’ tee, yellow or purple, love-worn but scrunched up and stretched in the right places. You’ll see. Maybe that in itself, how it wraps around his sun-bathed/loved/kissed skin is the reason for everyone’s fever induced fluster. Maybe it’s the drawl, and the fact he absolutely drips of sex.

Most interactions end with deep breaths leaning against the door, knocking on your chest. Or texting the group message (we’ll add you in a minute, it’s called JMW)((Joel Miller’s Whores)). He always has something to say, something to coo at you while you in turn try not to purr back… at least with your mouth. Although no, because you would purr around him with your mouth if he’d only ask for it.

But you? Metaphorically, denoting us all. No, he would never look down upon you, between his eyelashes and brooding smile, dark, tanned skin smelling of the day- “want you to pull the pretty dress up and get on your knees. I’m tired from the day, workin’ so hard for this family. Leas’ you could do is suck my cock, no?” And he didn’t know it, but he was right. He did work so hard for this family. He was your maladaptive daydreaming, he’s what you giggle at during fake conversations, he was the cock slipping between your hungry folds at night.

Instead, it was half-baked smiles and short waves in the drop off line in the morning. He walks Sarah in, every single day. She’s getting to the age where she seems like she’d deter the sweet action, but she doesn’t- she loves him that much. We never see him in the afternoon, his barely-present wife (he has to have a wife, right? Like Bug says, “I mean look at him”), was probably the one picking up Sarah. Probably taking her to some even bigger house on the richer side of town because it's her turn to watch her. How the hell could you leave someone like Joel?

But regardless, we never see her. Never have the entire time we’ve peeked out of our blinds, running to turn off the lamp so no one can see the strip of light coming from the window.

He has never brought a woman inside of that house, let alone has anyone left it. Once, Tommy brought a girl to their Thanksgiving dinner and Vic told Kit she had come alone, first, and hugged Joel. That “Joel was extra smiley to her.” Moral of the story, we don’t know for sure if he’s still married or he’s just somehow keeping that dick to himself.

Jesus, Kat retold that story for three fucking weeks. But, we don’t really blame her. It was how it all began.

Don’t get me wrong, Joel Miller is available- if that pesky little wasp hive directly atop your living room window is getting out of hand, and you just happen to be a single mom who so desperately needs a man’s touch. Not like that. Well, yeah like that. Then, you could count on Joel Miller to back up his old blue truck bed into your driveway, set up his ladder, and allow you to spend the next hour watching through the window as his shirt pulls up his stomach as he does his diligent work.

His v-lines kissed by veins and tufted black hair towards his middle, peeking up and saying hello every time his jeans got a little too low. Musta forgot his usual belt. Or maybe his work belt was a tad too heavy today. Uh, to take that pressure off of his back for him, and into your hands.

But him owing you? That’s a different kind of available. It was a week later, the morning before the mom gathering, and you had only seen Joel once. Yes… peaking through your blinds. Then you heard his voice.

“Hi ma’am,” he waved, turning your attention from where you were setting your bags in the car. “Sarah, ask the pretty lady what you wanted, don’t make her wait any longer in this heat.” He was loading his work tools into the bed of his pickup. Another bed of his you’d like to grace.

Shit. Maybe this Miller was worth the fuss.

Part 2 later this week babes <3 It will be an actual fic, hehe.

@justagalwhowrites @cool-iguana @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @netherfeildren @chloeangelic

#700 followers #celebration #pedro pascal #joel miller #tlou #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pascalsbby #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal memes #carnal #tdahb #joel miller x reader #neighbor!joel #singledad!joel

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ltbarnes · 4 months

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‘Tis the Damn Season

Stark U #6

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve, you’re too drunk, you’ve basically avoided Bucky and Steve for six months and the last person you’d want to meet at this party just happens to be yelling in your face. The panic attack is inevitable, really.

Pairing: college!Steve Rogers x reader, college!Bucky Barnes x reader, college!Sam Wilson x reader, college!Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: so much angst, past SA, alcohol, talk about violence, Christmas celebrations, things finally start to happen, kissing :)

A/N: Happy holidays to anyone who celebrates and to those who don’t, I hope you have a good few days anyways <3 This is the first I’ve posted since July which is awful of me so sorry

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You didn't see them all summer. The day after your last exam was over, you bolted back to your hometown and spent the entire summer selectively ignoring messages from Bucky and Natasha and Steve and Sam asking what you were doing and how your summer was going and maybe you could all meet up and go somewhere and—

It's December now, and every goddamn day since June you have been trying to figure out if what Bucky said to you when you were sick was a fever-induced hallucination or if he really, actually, said that he wanted you to take his last name someday. It made you panic, because the entire spring term you tried to convince yourself that your feelings towards them were batshit crazy and any inkling to them feeling the same was a delusional reach, grasping for crumbs that in reality were just friendly gestures. And then he says that.

"She's just practicing her future last name, Stevie."

So, yeah...things have been weird. Three months have passed since classes started and none of you want to mention what happened right before summer break. Actually, with each day passing you feel more like maybe it was just a hallucination or a very vivid dream, because both Bucky and Steve act like it never even happened. Bucky even had his mouth latched onto some blonde sophomore at a dumb, stupid frat party on Halloween. You went home right after and cried for two hours. But it's not hard to conclude that even if there was some spark or connection or anything beyond friendship with either of them before summer, it has died out completely.

The subject will probably never be broached. You're too scared of confrontation and definitely too scared of revealing unreciprocated feelings for that to happen. The slightly tense atmosphere in the loft is entirely your fault—your lack of communication with anyone in the group during the summer has made them a little confused, you guess. You mostly spend time in your room, giving excuses of studying and talking with parents on the phone and 'I'm just tired, sorry'.

Spending too much time with Natasha scares you too, because she reads you so well and you don't want her to know how hurt and unhappily in love you are. She'll try to do something about it and then Steve and Bucky will catch on and then you will end up rejected and labeled as crazy, because who the fuck falls in love with two people?

That doesn't mean you've managed to avoid her. Living in the same apartment as her definitely makes that hard, but just the fact that she won't let you makes it impossible. Last week she even broke into your room when you had it locked, because apparently she knows how to pick a lock open in under ten seconds. She absolutely knows something is off, but so far she hasn't brought it up.

Natasha is the sole reason why you're now standing in the backyard of some rich kid's house just off campus, surrounded by smoke from cheap cigarettes and fairy lights hung up between the trees and one too many shots of vodka in your blood. It's December utterly and thoroughly—there's snow on the ground but people still haven't accepted the fact that wearing their short dresses and tank tops without jackets does not work anymore. Ice drops hangs from the tree where you stand, listening to Natasha talk with a drunken girl looking for her phone.

It's fun, sure. Not the worst party you've been to and not the best either. You talked to the girl you've been sitting next to in History class earlier for almost twenty minutes. Got free vodka. It's Friday and you don't have any exams to study for. None of that makes you forget that things aren't the same.

"Nat. Nat." You poke her shoulder repeatedly, obnoxiously probably, until she glances over her shoulder with a slight glare.

"What is it?"

"I'm gonna get 'nother drink. Inside," you tell her, pointing with your thumb towards a hedge even though it was meant to be the door. Natasha seems to understand anyway.

"Okay. Don't wander off too long. And come back here right after."

"Yes, ma'am." You give her a half-assed salute before turning around, swaying slightly in your step. It's the uneven and slippery surface of the snow-covered ground, you tell yourself.

There's a lot of people here, is what you note as you push yourself through the seemingly endless crowds of the living room. You kind of hate that they haven't played a single song you like and if Steve was here he would agree, because he doesn't listen to any music made after the internet was born. Bucky would then make fun of Steve and you would laugh and everything would be right in the world. Instead you're pressed to kitchen drawers of a dark kitchen, cheap vodka mixed with soda running down your throat.

The kitchen is crowded too, but either way it's a respite from whatever the hell's going on in the living room. Jumping up and down and calling it dancing (you were doing the same the hour before). You're too drunk to be miserable about everything happening in your life this entire term and much too drunk to feel the absolute atrocious taste of your drink.

In half an hour you will probably throw up and tomorrow will be spent nursing a horrible hangover, but those consequences seem insignificant right now. You just keep thinking about the image of Bucky shoving his tongue down someone's throat that wasn't yours. It was heartbreaking. That he's not here is a good thing, because you'd either witness the same thing again or actually bring it up to him, and that's much worse. God knows it's only a matter of time before Steve does the same thing.

Someone pushes into you, forcing the liquid from your cup to spill from the confines of the red plastic onto your dress. It's black, so it doesn't really matter, but the alcohol still seeps through the fabric until it reaches your skin.

"Shit, fuck—"

Your hand tries to somehow dry your dress by fanning the fabric, which obviously doesn't help very much, and the paper towels placed on the counter in front of you escape your drunken mind completely.

Fresh air and icy winter winds are the only options, so you push through and stumble into people on your way outside. It takes a lot longer than it should. You can't really see much considering the dizziness and darkness inside, but somehow, magically, you are eventually dragging your way towards Natasha who stands in the same place as before.

"Nat. Natty—I spilled. Look."

The black dress with the now wet patch is lifted towards her by your hands, highlighted for her to see. You sway as you tell her.

"Jesus, you can barely stand straight," Natasha answers with a stabling hand to your shoulder, shaking her head to herself instead of focusing on the very urgent fact that you spilled on yourself.

Natasha turns to the girl she's talking to, saying something you can't bother to decipher, before stepping aside with a guiding arm around you.

"We gotta get you home before you embarrass yourself for real," she mumbles underneath her breath.

"I heard that," you whisper, a loud hiccup following. Whoops.

She rolls her eyes, fishing her phone up from her pocket.

"Who—who you writing? To?" you ask, slightly aware that your sentences lack correct structure but not really caring. As long as the message comes across, right?

"I'm texting Steve. I can't drive and you sure as hell can't."

Even in your state, panic instantly sets in over the mention of his name even though you live in the same goddamn apartment.

"Nooo. No Steve."

Your hand grasps for her phone. Nat pulls it away from your reach much quicker than you can comprehend.

"Yes Steve. You're a mess and he's the only one with the patience to take care of this level of drunk. I don't care that you're avoiding them for some stupid goddamn reason," she tells you.

"Nat," you whine. "He can't see me. I spilled!"

She just glares at you. "I swear to god, Y/n...nobody cares that you spilled your drink. I can't even see it."

"I'm so drunk!"

"Yeah, I know. Just—just stay here, okay? I'm going to get you some water so you can sober up by the time your precious Steve comes for us."

Natasha is heading inside before you can process her words. Waiting in place for a few minutes turns into an eternity in your mind. She should know better than to leave you unattended and then expect you to stay—really, it's her own fault. You will accept no blame if Nat gets mad at you for going inside again. It's cold and you need to go to the bathroom. Also, you're mad at her. Telling Steve to come get you? That's just...embarrassing.

Once again you're shouldering your way past people on about the same level of intoxication as you. There's a bad remix of a Christmas song playing loudly. Makes you wanna punch whoever's phone is connected to the speaker. The bathroom is so, so far away. It's something the architect of this house should've thought of before he put it at the very end of this long hallway you're currently making your way through, but clearly he didn't have you in mind.

"Fuck! Watch where you're going, asshole," some girl seethes at you as your shoulder nudges against hers. A nudge is an exaggeration—you brushed against it at most. She's probably an aggressive drunk, that's all.

You don't answer, instead fumbling for the door handle to what you believe might be the bathroom. Some couple is making out in here, the girl with her ass planted on the edge of the bathtub and the guy nearly devouring her face. Doesn't look very pleasant, if you're honest.

"Out. I need to pee."

Your hands find their way to their shoulders, ushering the lovesick pair out of the room without much protest from either of them. They're still making out as they walk out.

Despite your less than sober state, you manage to remember to lock the door after they leave. Some of the mascara that previously inhabited your lashes has moved down to rest under your eyes. You rub it away, smudging it slightly, but it just makes you look a little more like one of those cool girls you always see on campus. It will do.

You kind of want to throw up, but decide against it. That hasn't happened since you were a freshman, and you'd like to keep it that way. Staring at yourself in the mirror occupies your time in the bathroom instead, swaying slightly with your hands placed on the cold sink. If Steve saw you now he would be so disappointed. At least you imagine he would be—that fatherly look on his face as he tells you how you need to be more mindful with your alcohol consumption. Did you even watch who poured your drink? Never go anywhere alone at a party. Especially not a frat one. You know better than this, Y/n.

Steve's imaginary voice is interrupted by someone banging on the door, shouting for you to hurry the fuck up. It's been over ten minutes, but to you it just feels like three, and Natasha has been looking for you ever since she returned to the garden with a glass of water in her hand and no one to give it to. It's not her banging on the door, unfortunately, but instead a dickhead guy who has no patience. Can't a girl spend some time alone in the bathroom doing nothing anymore?

The guy glares at you as you push the door open, stumbling out into the crowded hallway while paying him no mind. It's dark save for the red LED-lights plastered on the walls, making it feel like a seedy dive bar instead of a seedy house. You don't see much.

"Hey! Hey, you—the girl with the black dress!"

Someone pushes their way past the people talking and making out and leaning against the walls, shoving through them as he searches for your attention. Of course, you don't really think it's you he's after. Half of the people at this party are wearing black dresses.

A clammy hand finds purchase on your shoulder, halting you in your less than gracious steps and turning you around with ease. Head tilted back, gaze running upwards until they settle on the face of a quite attractive guy. He doesn't look pretty happy to see you. You're not very happy to see him either.

The blood drains from your face, stealing away all that alcohol-induced heat within a second as his curly hair and green eyes look down at you with that same contempt he had when Sam dragged him away from the kitchen almost a year ago. You had hoped you never had to see him again. It was a naive thing to wish for.

"Y/n, right?" he asks bitterly. You don't answer, but he takes your silence as a yes. It was probably a rhetorical question anyway. His slightly crooked nose was perfectly straight the last time you saw him. His face is committed to your memory, burned in to taunt you on sleepless nights and everytime an unknown man walks a little too closely when you're out alone. "Your little boyfriend broke my fucking nose. You know that?"

Another rhetorical question. Definitely more threatening. Might be the tight grip he has on your arm too. Either way, his mere presence has apparently stripped away your ability to breathe normally. It feels like you've been running to the point of nausea, dark spots dancing before your eyes as he shakes you in attempt to get an answer.

"You ruined my fucking reputation. For what? I barely touched you. Such a sensitive fucking bitch, going around telling everyone that..." His voice trails off, ushering you into a quiet corner when he realizes people are staring. "Got nothing to say now, huh? Been so good at running your fucking mouth before, haven't you?"

"Let me go," you whisper, voice wavering. You don't sound assertive at all, instead weak and fearful. It's what you feel, as an upbeat, slightly bad cover rendition of "All I Want For Christmas" booms through the house. Girls shrieking in excitement over in the living room reaches your ears. You would have joined them if you weren't currently cornered by the guy who assaulted you in your own kitchen a year ago.

"No, we're going to fucking talk. What the fuck were you doing, going around saying shit like that about me to everyone?"

"I...I didn't..." Your lips part between words, breathing out shakily, trying to articulate sentences long enough to make sense. Why can't you speak? Why can't you even think?

"You didn't what?" he seethes. "You're such a fucking bitch, you know that? Acts all innocent and hides behind her friends. My nose is fucking crooked forever because of that fuckhead you sent after me."

Is it the alcohol that renders you this goddamn useless? There's just tears springing to your eyes, unable to say anything in defense of yourself. Can't even walk away.

He pushes you against the wall, knocking the breath out of you. To other people it probably looks like you're hooking up. At least that's what you hope they think, because otherwise you want to wonder why no one is intervening.

"Joshua, please let me go," you tell him again, even more pathetic this time. You're crying now, curled in on yourself in attempt to make yourself as small as possible.

"Fuck, you're so—"

"She told you to let her go."

The assertive, familiar tone booms through the hallway. It doesn't really, can probably only be heard by the people around you, but it feels like it when Steve's tall figure pushes through with hasty steps towards where you and Joshua stand, followed by a glaring Bucky with his jaw clenched so fucking tightly. A sob of relief is drawn from your lips, muffled by the back of your hand.

Joshua steps back instantly. Kind of funny to think that he's so scared of those two, and sad to think that he only respects a 'no' when it comes from men.

"Nice nose job," Bucky speaks up, pointing at his own nose as he stares at Joshua's crooked one, courtesy of the damn good punch he managed to land with his left fist all those months ago.

"Fuck you," Joshua growls, taking a step forward in attempt to appear more threatening or something. He doesn't really succeed—both Bucky and Steve towers over him in both length and build, unrelenting in their stance. As if they're stone walls keeping out the enemy.

Steve rolls his his eyes, shaking his head with a sigh. "Just get out of here. Don't go near her ever again, you hear me? Bucky's glad to fix your nose otherwise. Break it right back. Can't promise the result will be very good, though."

Bucky stands slightly behind Steve, raising an eyebrow in Joshua's direction that tells him there's not even a trace of a lie in the blonde giant's statement.

"You—fuck this." Joshua throws his hands in the air, aiming the most distasteful glare over his shoulder in your direction, before pushing past Steve and Bucky with a shove.

Your body instantly deflates, the tension melting off your limbs as you close your eyes and lean back against the wall. Gentle, firm hands instantly reach your cheeks, your arms, searching for any trace Joshua might have left behind on your body.

"Hey, hey. Y/n, are you okay? Did he touch you? Sweetheart, look at me."

Bucky's voice draws you out of the anxious, panicked state you slipped into, fluttering your eyelids open to see his worried frown and an equally worried Steve looming behind him. Wet cheeks and red-rimmed eyes greet them, pupils dilated from the alcohol.

"Y/n, are you hurt? How long have you two been talking?" Steve adds, looming over you in such a way that his large frame blocks out any of the colorful lights plastered on the walls.

They already know you're drunk—Natasha was the one to call them here to get you, after all. Maybe your silence and obvious intoxication makes it clear to them after a couple of seconds that an answer from you is a few minutes away, a few miles of distance from this foggy, packed house. Nothing more is said or requested from you. Instead your trembling form is led away and out into the biting cold by gentle hands belonging to your friends. Even your slight shock can't shield you from freezing your ass off as soon as you get out into the fresh air again, teeth beginning to chatter within the second step on tightly packed snow.

"What the—where the hell have you been? I swear to god, Y/n, I was gone for two minutes! I've been looking for you everywhere!" an angry Natasha yells, running perfectly towards the three of you down the slippery lawn to where Steve is currently helping you into the backseat of his car.

"Nat," Steve says, giving her a pleading look that silently tells her it's not the time for a scolding.

"What? I told her to stay put when I went to get her a glass of water and she just disappeared out of nowhere. Slippery motherfucker while drunk, I swear she'll be the death of me—"

"Nat," he repeats, sternly this time. In that tone only he masters, silencing even the most eager tongues with a single exhale. "She met Joshua. And she's not okay. So please, leave your yelling for tomorrow and get in the car."

Steve holds the passenger door open, gesturing for the seat beside Bucky. He's turning the key, letting the car warm up properly while he clutches the wheel tightly. Natasha's irritated frown turns into a concerned one, nodding silently before slipping inside. Steve closes the door shut behind her.

You lean your head against the frost-covered window, fogged up by your breath two inches away from it, and close your eyes. Steve leans over you, reaching for the belt and fastens it over your torso. You forgot. He never does.

It's no surprise, doesn't startle you despite your absentminded state, when his warm hand cups your cheek, turns your head to face him. Soft, blue gaze and ridiculously long lashes. It's nothing but contrasting against the clouds released from your mouths with each breath—warm, concerned...loving? Maybe.

"Are you okay?" he whispers, thumb rubbing over your cheek.

You nod. "Yes. I am now."

Bucky puts his foot on the gas, turns on the blinker, and pulls away from the curb, out onto the streets. It's nearly soundless. The usual rumble from wheels against road is cushioned by the snow.

"This was a mistake. Sorry, I can't—" Sam gags, moving his head out of the bathroom before returning his presence within a few seconds. "You're a real shitty guard, Nat. Why'd you let her drink this much?"

All four of your roommates are gathered in the bathroom, surrounding you as if you're a newly born lion cub in a zoo, while you puke your guts out into the toilet. Steve is kneeling on the floor beside you, a comforting hand rubbing your back, while Bucky sits a few feet away with a glass of water in hand, ready for whenever you need it.

"Fuck you. You weren't there—she was like a goddamn ghost, just slipping away everytime I blinked. Looked fucking everywhere for her. 'S not my fault," Nat answers, residing on the floor of the shower in lack of space.

"Not true," you murmur in answer, your voice echoing off the ceramic surrounding you.

You're pretty much done throwing up, it's just the exhaustion following that's keeping you slumped over on the bathroom tile. Your hand stretches out in Bucky's direction, reaching for the glass of water that's gulped down within a few seconds.

"Careful. Gonna get sick again if you do it this fast," Bucky says, unable to help himself from brushing away the stray drops of water running down your chin.

The gesture is nothing new from him. He did it when you were sick all those months ago too, and you haven't forgotten it at all. His thumb gently rubbing over your skin as if you're precious, something deserving of gentleness, is engraved into your mind. You're thankful for getting most of the alcohol out of your system, because you might not have remembered this moment in the morning if not. Fuck it if you forgot the way his pupils widen just slightly, as if he didn't mean to, as if he couldn't help himself.

"I'm fine," you whisper in answer, clearing your throat. "Got it all out."

"Good." Steve's hand moves up from your back to your head, stroking it for just a second before withdrawing his touch. "Let's get you to the couch."

"I don't wanna go to the couch. Wanna be in my bed." You're pouting. Maybe there is some trace of alcohol left in you.

"Steve and Buck will feel much less like creepy stalkers if they stare at you sleeping on the couch instead of hovering around your bedroom all night like a bunch of pervs," Natasha speaks up. A snort follows after, as if it was a joke and not a statement. Definitely tipsy too, despite unwilling to admit such a weakness.

Steve raises a reprimanding eyebrow Natasha's way, telling her to shut her mouth with just his gaze. She smirks in answer.

"Don't listen to her. A fucking liar," Bucky remarks, but there's still some form of amusement in his expression. He can't even deny the statement—he is going to watch over you. Doesn't really matter if it's in the living room or in your bedroom. "Now let's get you up. C'mon."

With a push from your arms against the cold tile, you're standing on two legs again. Steve is hovering his hand near your back, ready to support if the vodka decides to topple you over. But you're fine—just tired now.

For ten minutes it feels things are back to normal again. On the living room couch, nestled in between them, your head leaning on Steve's shoulder as a stupid Hallmark Christmas movie plays on the tv. Sam and Natasha are in their rooms sleeping, and for a few moments you forget why you kept your distance. Everything would have been good if this is how the night would end. If Steve didn't have to address the past six months.

"I've missed this. With us," Steve whispers as he strokes your shoulder absentmindedly, like it's second nature to him to have his hands on your skin. "You've been so distant lately. For months, Y/n."

The room instantly becomes tense enough to make you nauseous. A clearing of your throat, an attempt to sit up out of Steve's hold and away from this conversation that you'd much rather avoid is futile—it's instantly stopped by Bucky's hand on your chest that pushes you right back.

"No," he says sternly. "You're gonna sit right here, sweetheart, and tell us why you've barely let us see you since fall term started. 'Cause it's sure as fuck not something I take lightly. Why have you avoided us?"

You look away, shaking your head to yourself as you try to talk yourself down. You will not break. You will not confess a single thing. You are going to act like everything is fine and you are not currently freaking out being sandwiched between the only two men you would gladly be sandwiched between under different circumstances than this.

"What are you even talking about?" you answer meekly. It's clear as soon as the words come out of your mouth that no one is falling for your innocent act, not even sweet, naive Steve. Then again, you're doing a particularly bad job. "Both of you think I've been distant?"

"Cut the bullshit, Y/n. If we've done something wrong, just say so." Bucky bites his cheek, glancing down for just a second, but it's enough to let his vulnerability slip. He's hurt.

A wave of guilt instantly washes over your body, an unusual feeling. During all these months of avoiding any interaction with Bucky and Steve besides the necessary ones, you didn't think that they'd actually mind your absence that much. They might not be hopelessly in love with you like you are with them, but they're still your friends. Friends miss each other.

"Or if it's something personal, you can tell us, you know? Is it anxiety, or are you feeling generally low, or...?" Steve chips in, trying to drown out Bucky's accusatory tone.

"No, no...I'm not depressed, Steve. And none of you have done anything wrong, I promise," you say hastily, shutting down their concerns as quickly as possible while trying to buy yourself time to come up with an excuse. "I just...needed some alone time."

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Sassy man. "Bullshit again. You've spent a bunch of time with Natasha. Sam, too. It's us you're avoiding." He points to himself and Steve with his hand. "It's been almost six months, Y/n. What the hell's your problem?" He pushes himself off the couch, standing up and blocking your view of the tv. It's as if his frustration is all contained while sitting down.

"Bucky," Steve scolds, glaring up at his friend. He's not appreciating the tone at all, that's for sure.

"There's no problem, Bucky," you tell him, shaking your head. Trying to dismiss this entire conversation before you reveal too much.

"No! Y/n, I'm going fucking crazy! This is the first time you've even let me touch you in half a year!" Bucky yells, a pleading tone in his voice that breaks your heart just a little. Because it's true. You have barely even hugged since June. You've barely talked for more than five minutes at a time.

"Don't yell at her, for god's sake, Bucky," Steve adds, his hands on your shoulders and ready to get up from the couch any second.

"What the hell's going on with you, huh?!" Bucky continues, ignoring Steve's statement. His eyes are solely focused on you, void of the usual softness. There's just anger. "Cause if you can't stand us, then tough fucking luck. I can have your fucking things moved out by tomorrow for all I care. Can move right into Walker's dorm. Bet he'd accept you with open fucking arms if you get to your knees and—“

The drop of your heart down to your stomach can almost be heard, an echoing, hollow sound. You're sure of it. Bucky shuts his mouth, as if he realizes what exactly was about to come out of it. What is not even a second of silence feels like a whole minute, before Steve shoots up from his seat beside you and grabs Bucky by the collar, rattling the whole room with the force in which he nearly tackles Bucky against the wall with. The tangy taste of iron starts to fill your mouth, your teeth biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood. There's tears lingering in your eyes but you can't hold them back, not anymore.

"You don't fucking talk to her like that, you bast—"

"I love you! It’s ‘cause I fucking love you guys!” you yell, a pathetic sob marring the words. “So I’m fucking sorry that I’ve avoided you two but I’m trying to get over these goddamn—these feelings, but I can’t, okay! I can’t!”

The bitter delivery is punctuated by the sleeve of your sweater wiping away the tears furiously, cutting Steve off and drawing both of their wild eyes towards your figure now standing up, just a minute away from a complete breakdown. You don't even process the fact that Steve cursed. It would've been teased about endlessly in any other situation.

"I will go. I'll leave if that's what you want," you seethe with a voice so unsteady that it's almost unbearable to listen to. "But I don’t hate any of you. I don’t, and I get why you’re mad. But fuck you, Bucky. Fuck you for saying that.”

More tears fall. It's futile to wipe them away when they'll be replaced the second after. You want to say more, hit Bucky where it hurts, but you cannot get the goddamn words to form on your lips. Opening your mouth and closing it again, shaking your head, comes before hastily walking towards your room and locking yourself inside without giving them a chance to answer.

As soon as the door is slammed shut, your hand comes up to your mouth to muffle the sobs. Sinking down to the floor as if you’re in a movie, forehead resting against your knees. The rate of your heartbeats could be considered dangerously high, but you just blurted out a whole love confession for two of your roommates in the midst of a fight. How the hell could everything turn to shit so quickly? Half an hour ago all of you were joking around in the bathroom, and now you're not sure you have the courage to face any of them again.

It's a rash, impulsive decision fueled by anger and betrayal and shame, but you rush over to your closet and pull out an overnight bag that's soon filled to the brim with enough things to last you a few days. You're crying the entire time.

When you pass the living room again, Bucky isn't there anymore. But Steve is. Barely a glance his way is spared, with hasty steps heading towards the hallway. You remind yourself of a furious toddler when you angrily put on your jacket, stick your feet into your winter boots. The bag is slung over your shoulder, hand resting on the door handle.

"Don't go. Y/n, please don't leave."

Steve stands at the other side of the hallway, a broken down expression on his pretty face.

"Bucky went out of line, but he didn't mean it, I swear. He's just too prideful to admit it," he continues. You shake your head, biting down on your bottom lip. "Please, honey. It’s Christmas Eve. It won’t be the same if you’re not here tomorrow.”

"I just need some space," you whisper, brushing away a stray tear with the sleeve of your jacket. You’re so embarrassed and hurt that you can barely look him in the eye. "I can't be in the same apartment as him right now."

Steve sighs, looking about ready to just throw you over his shoulder to get you to stay. But he won't do that. That's not Steve. So instead he glances down to the floor, shaking his head to himself.

“Did you mean it?” he asks softly. “The thing about—you said you loved us. Did you mean it?”

It takes a few seconds before you nod tentatively, sniffling and keeping your gaze on a spot past Steve. He doesn’t say anything.

Steve gathers courage enough to walk up to where you stand by the door, grabbing your cheeks with his hands, thumb running over the tear-stained skin gently. For a few moments, he just looks at you. Loud thoughts running amok in that perfect head of his.

“Nothing I say right now will do my feelings any justice, so I’m gonna save any big speeches for tomorrow. But just…stay. It’s 2 am, it’s freezing out and you’re still drunk. I don’t want you out there on the streets alone. I need you to stay, even if it’s only for your own safety. Don’t have to talk to any of us if you don’t want to.”

His words makes you nod automatically. All it took was his hands on your skin and the flicker of hope his words ignite in your chest, and you conceded within a second. No hesitation left in that exhausted body of yours. He‘s not saying outright that your feelings are requited, but it doesn’t feel like a rejection either. He doesn’t seem disgusted by your confession, by the knowledge that you’re in love with both him and his best friend.

“Good girl. Let’s just—let’s get you to bed, okay?”Steve tells you, squeezing your shoulder gently. With your confirmation in form of another silent nod, he nestles the bag out of your grip and takes off the jacket from your torso.

The bed feels so soft and warm and comforting when you lie down. Steve tucks you in. It’s achingly sweet and you don’t really deserve it after avoiding him and Bucky like that for so long, but he looks out for you nonetheless.

“Steve,” you whisper, drawing his gaze up to meet yours. “I’m sorry. For being so distant.”

He shakes his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You were scared,” Steve answers. “Don’t worry about anything, okay? Get some sleep. You’ve had a tough night, Y/n.”

The softest of smiles grazes your lips, puppy eyes gazing up at Steve. Your wonderful, caring, perfect Steve.

“Are you alright? It must’ve been hard meeting Joshua again. And what Bucky said, it…it was far from okay.”

“I will be,” you whisper.

He nods, observes your face for a few seconds. Leans down to press a kiss to your forehead—what kind of college guy even does that? And then he leaves the room, turning the light off behind him.

You’re woken up by a red headed, crazy woman sitting on top of you over the sheets, shaking your shoulders.

“Wake up, fuckhead. You’re gonna open the presents I got you,” Natasha urges, grinning down at you as you blink your eyes open, groaning.

“Fuckhead?” you ask, a tired chuckle from your lips as Natasha climbs off the bed.

“Yes. Don’t like it, huh?” she teases. “C’mon. The guys are already waiting.”

With slow steps and a loud yawn, the slightest trace of a hangover plaguing your body, you drag yourself out into the living room. Around the ugly, little tree that Sam insisted on cutting down from the campus gardens last week (he almost got arrested by the security guards) the three boys sit. Your gaze falls to the floor, scratching the skin right above your lip nervously, once Bucky looks up at you. Can’t really read his expression, but you figure you’ll lay the fight aside for the day. It’s Christmas, after all.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Steve says, urging you to sit down next to him right there on the carpet. You offer a soft smile, and an even softer ‘Merry Christmas’ back. You’re still unsure about yesterday. Despite there being no rejection from either of them, the uncertainty is kind of killing you. A pit of anxiety rests in your stomach, an uneasy feeling corrupting every cell as you sit down on the floor next to Steve.

Not even ten minutes later, the living room is drowning in a sea of wrapping paper. Natasha went overboard with the gift shopping this year, it seems like, but her absent father is also some kind of Russian oligarch or something so she tends to use up as much of his money as she can. You’re not complaining.

The special edition of The Hobbit, signed by the director of the movie, that you managed to get on eBay and cost you a fucking fortune is received with a whispered ‘thank you’ from Bucky. He holds it in his hands tightly, staring down at the book without a word, and you don’t know if he’s happy for it. Maybe he’s not happy with anything touched by you at this moment. He hasn’t gotten you a gift, it seems like, or maybe he threw it in the trash and burned it yesterday.

Steve got you three books that he’d heard you say you wanted months ago, and a dainty silver necklace with a bee pendant hanging from it. “You know, uh, I usually call you ‘honey’ and I thought it was a little funny, maybe. But I can exchange it if you don’t like it. It’s no problem,” he had said, even though there were tears of gratitude in your eyes. Your arms were thrown around him a second later, hugging him tightly as you thanked him profusely for the most thoughtful gift.

Now you’re leaning your back against the couch, still on the floor, watching as Sam and Natasha are tinkering with his new Nintendo Switch that he got from her (overboard with the gifts, as previously mentioned). He’s so happy it almost makes you zoned out as you watch his childlike excitement. It’s nice to see the two of them so calm and sweet with each other too. Usually bickering and getting on each other’s nerves all the time otherwise.

“Y/n, can we talk?”

Your head tilts back, looking up at Bucky standing nervously in front of you, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. There’s a deep hesitation within you, a pride that wants to say no and remain in your angry state forever without confrontation. But it’s Bucky. You hate this animosity between the two of you, the tension. Despite being pissed off and hurt and afraid that he doesn’t want you, you can’t say no, so you nod and push yourself up to a stand.

Bucky closes the door to his room behind him gently, clearing his throat and looking at anything but you. A sigh comes out of his mouth, shaking his head, before he parts his lips to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. What I said was disgusting and unforgivable and so fucking out of line. You didn’t deserve that at all. So out of proportion to what I was mad at you for,” Bucky says, running the palm of his calloused hand over his face.

“It was,” you answer honestly. There’s no use in denying that what Bucky said was stupidly hurtful. He nods, looking away from your gaze.

“It made me angry thinking that you ignored me, because at first I didn’t know what I had done, you know? And then I thought for a few months that me and Steve had been too overbearing and that you tried to keep your distance because you thought we were annoying or something. But that’s not the case. I should’ve known better by now than to think that you would do anything to purposely hurt us.”

You gulp, nodding, looking down to the floor. “I’m sorry too,” you whisper. “I didn’t know that you guys thought I had something against you until last night. Obviously, you…you know now that’s not the case,” you tell him, embracing yourself with your arms. “But last night, Bucky, I…you hurt me. I know you were angry, but saying those kind of things isn’t okay.”

“I know that. God, I know, Y/n. I’m so sorry. It was fucking childish of me, retorting to saying that Jo—“ Bucky shakes his head, hands coming up to tug at the roots of his hair. “And it felt stupid giving you that present in front of everyone, so now you think I didn’t get you anything, too, and—“

“You got me a present?”

“Yes. Of course I did, Y/n. But I saw how much Natasha had bought and that necklace Steve gave you and my gift felt stupid in comparison to that. Just didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone,” he says, a little awkwardly. A little boy giving his mother a drawing he made in kindergarten, he reminds you of.

“Bucky…that doesn’t matter. I don’t care what you have gotten me. I’ll like it no matter what if it’s from you.”

He shifts in his place, contemplating something, before picking up a sweater on his bed, revealing a wrapped present hidden underneath. Bucky took the gift from the pile without anyone noticing before, throwing it into his room so no one would see.

With a tentative hand, he reaches it out to you. Doesn’t watch as you unwrap it, instead biting on his thumbnail. You reprimand him for it, and the hand returns to his side.

“Is it a book?” You run your fingers over the cover, a hardcover with nothing on it. Blank.

“It’s a photo album. Shit, it’s stupid. I don’t know,” Bucky answers, looking about ready to snatch it back, but you open the first page up before he has a chance to.

A picture of you, Natasha, Sam and Steve on the first page. It was taken last year in November. You’re all running after one of Sam’s model planes, fall leaves singling down from the sky. It’s a beautiful picture.

“4 grown idiots running after a kid’s toy - November 12th, 2022”

“It’s just pics I’ve taken with my phone, so it’s nothing artsy or anything, but…uhm.” Bucky runs his hand through his short, brown hair.

You flip the page. You’re looking out through the kitchen window, the sun shining through and casting shadows over the room and your figure curled up on the chair.

“Angel in the sun - March 25th, 2023”

A soft chuckle is drawn from your lips, resisting the urge to run your finger over the photo, but you don’t want to smudge the blank paper. On the same page there’s another picture of you with your arms around Natasha’s shoulders, nearly wrestling her to the ground with the force of your hug. You look so happy.

Bucky looks nervous as you glance up from the photo album at him. “Know it’s not much, but…yeah.”

A loud huff of hair escapes Bucky as you throw your arms around him. It takes a second or two for him to hug you back, but he soon has his chin resting on top of your head, arms around your waist.

“I love it,” you whisper, holding onto him tightly enough to constrict his breathing.

“You do? I can take it back if you don’t like it.”

Your grip around him releases, arms coming down to your sides so you can take a step back and look him in the eyes. “This is everything, Bucky,” you say softly, feeling a lump in your throat that can turn into tears any second. “The fact that you took the time to make this for me is just…it’s the most thoughtful thing ever. And these pictures are so beautiful, Bucky, and just the thought of you sitting down and glueing them onto the page and writing captions and—“

His lips against yours. Oh god. Oh my god, Bucky has his lips pressed against yours. Gentle hands hold your jaw, his head leaning down to compensate for the height difference, and Bucky Barnes is kissing you with urgency and desperation.

The shock is enough to make you unable to return the kiss. He seems to take your surprise as rejection despite the fact that you literally yelled ‘I love you’ in his face last night. Bucky steps away and takes his hands off your skin, running his hand over his mouth, shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry, don’t know what the hell came over me, I—“

On your tiptoes, fingers grabbing his sweatshirt to pull him closer, and you nearly smash your lips against his to shut up any of that doubt he carries. It’s not a graceful or very romantic kiss, but by the sound akin to a very mild growl that comes from Bucky and his hands sliding down to your waist to pull you closer, you guess he likes it anyway.

It doesn’t last more than 20 seconds. A harsh knock on the door to Bucky’s room interrupts it, forcing you part from his lips and get down from your tiptoes again.

“What the hell are you doing in there? C’mon! I’ve made goddamn Christmas brunch!” Sam yells, drawing a soft chuckle from your lips as your forehead meets Bucky’s chest.

With a soft smile, nothing said, you back away from Bucky. Slipping out of his room and leaving him there all flustered and semi-hard from a 20 second make-out session. The first ever between you, though. He thinks it’s pretty understandable.

As Bucky follows you into the kitchen, sitting down at the table by Steve, he leans towards his best friend and whispers into his ear low enough to make anyone else unable to hear.

“I kissed her, Stevie,” Bucky says with a shit eating grin on his face. “I finally fucking kissed her.”

The blond man turns his head enough to look over at Bucky, the red flush of his cheeks and ears enough to tell anyone what’s been said.

“Are you serious?” Steve asks.

“I kissed her and she kissed me back, I swear. I gave her that photo album I’ve worked on for weeks. She said she loved it, Steve.”

“I guess it’s my turn then, isn’t it?” Steve answers, a shy smile on his lips as the two of them watch you sit down opposite of them at the table, glancing through the window out at the heavy snowfall. Natasha puts a newly toasted bagel on your plate.

“Go get our girl, Stevie.”

#stark u #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes angst #sam wilson x reader #natasha romanoff x reader

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cheegu3 · 1 year

Note

hi do you think maybe you can do a yandere bully fanfic with all of enhypen and could you base it off the bully scenes from the glory like the curling iron scene? i was thinking this was a really good idea but if you haven’t seen it you can look up clips on youtube! ty 💓

hi, thank you for requesting! this is one of my favorite kdramas so I love you for this - this is not one of my best works as it's not very '' yandere '' but I hope you like it regardless :c <3

genre; yandere

wc; 2.5k

pairing; ot7!bully - enha x f.m reader

tw / trigger warning: yandere themes, severe/graphic bullying, burn marks, torture, SA (forced kissing) + mentions of potential non-con sex

Enhypen - as bullies (the glory themed)

The gym hall looked eerie in its emptiness, only the sunset shining through the tall windows gave some light to the room. A lone basketball laid close to the old hoop by the wall, you could practically hear the squeaking from Heeseung's shoes as he stood by it - making shot after shot while the others tortured you.

Dread had started to fill up in your body. At the end of the day when the school-bells rang to signal it was time to go home, an arm was laid around your shoulders. It was one of the two more flirty ones of the group, Jake. He was accompanied by their scary leader, Jungwon who joined your other side shortly after.

Panic flared up, an instinct your body had after all the torture it had endured; so you immediately tried to wriggle out of their grasp, but to no avail. Jake's hand snaked down around your waist instead, and he pulled you harshly towards his body.

To onlookers you might look like a sweet couple, walking each other home at the end of a long school day. But the truth was far from that.

'' Meet us in the gym in fifteen. '' Jungwon said.

That was all they said before walking in front of you and disappearing somewhere down the halls. You released a breath you didn't know you were holding in, feeling light-headed as you found a quiet spot to calm yourself down.

Fifteen minutes was still some alone time before you had to meet them. You could either spend those preparing for the worst or escaping, but the latter would likely have very grave consequences.

There was a problem though - you very much wanted to escape. Not because of the likely torment you'd be put through if you obeyed and went there. But because you had promised your mom you would pick her up from the hospital.

It was a horrible dilemma. Either keep your promise and suffer the consequences of their wrath once they realise you won't show up - or, show up, suffer, and betray your mom.

After a few moments of thinking, you had made up your mind. The recurring teary-eyed face you kept imagining if you didn't show up at the hospital, was enough for you to gather your things and exit the quiet area.

You scanned both directions before bolting for the front door, and you ran all the way to the bike rack; throwing yourself on the bike and leaving without looking behind you.

Unknown to you, there stood Sunoo on the top of the stairs to the entrance. He had been asked to guard it in case you would try to escape, but clearly hadn't been quick enough as you went past him and were gone in the blink of an eye. The usual cheery one of the group, nicknamed sunshine didn't look very happy now. A pout formed on his lips as he thought of the scolding he'd get for letting you slip past him.

'' Sunoo? ''

He forced his eyes shut and took a deep breath before turning around to the owner of the voice.

'' Yes, Ni-ki? '' he answered the taller male, who had probably been sent to fetch him.

The two guys who had practically been attached to the hip during the early days of joining the school knew each other so well, that the younger - Ni-ki, immediately knew something was wrong by the look on Sunoo's face.

'' Did she escape? ''

Sunoo sighed again and his head hung low, but the other simply gave him a hug while patting his back slightly.

'' It's okay, I'll make sure they won't be too mad. ''

They smiled at each other before heading in together. What you hadn't anticipated was that while Jungwon was very mad at Sunoo, he was even madder at you - and as a result of this, the group conjoined a very sinister revenge plan to show you to never disobey them again.

*******

The next day you walked to school with a hoodie on, hair covering most of your face and keeping your head low. There was about a 0% chance that the group would neither terrorize you or see you, yet the low profile still provided some relief.

The first class was art, one that you shared with Ni-ki, Jungwon and Sunghoon. Purposefully you got in late, taking the last place available which was at the back.

Throughout the whole lesson you could feel eyes on you, but to your surprise none of them came up or talked to you. Not even your painting was ruined in revenge, nor a childish note passed your way.

The bell rang again, and you held your breath. The room quickly emptied out but you could almost feel their presence still being there. Silence filled up the space. Then you heard the scraping of chairs being pushed away, and heard the footsteps getting nearer.

Finally you put on a somewhat brave face and looked up. You met eyes with Jungwon, and immediately your brave face fell. He had never looked this angry before, his eyebrow was almost twitching, and his eyes were burning with fury.

You stood up in an attempt to make the height difference from you sitting while he stood less, because it seemed to only intimidate you more. He still looked down at you unfortunately.

'' Where did you go yesterday? '' he spat out bitterly.

Taking too long to answer, or avoiding to all together felt like a death sentence in that moment so you hurriedly blurted out, all slurred. '' I had to go. ''

You saw Sunghoon and Ni-ki chuckle at your distressed state being so bad, you could barely speak. But Jungwon didn't find it the slightest amusing, his lips formed a thin line.

'' I thought we told you to meet us in the gym. ''

What were you supposed to say? Whatever you did, it would end the same way anyway. You bit your lip and nodded shamefully. He scoffed, making you look up again. It was the first time he had shown any emotion except for anger in the conversation - only now, something else was behind the smirk and glint in his eye.

Revenge

'' You're coming with us now, and this time you can't run away. '' Sunghoon said, coming up to you to hold you around the waist, the same way Jake had done.

He started moving you out of the door while Jungwon and Ni-ki followed close behind. Your heart sunk with every step you took towards the familiar place.

You could hear the slight clinking of the gym-keys that Jungwon held and were once again, painfully reminded of how powerless you were in this situation - no one was going to save you this time either.

But then you finally reached the destination, despite you relentlessly praying that someone would intervene or for some miracle thing to happen. Ni-ki had been given the key as you neared the gym and he unlocked it swiftly, being too used to it by now.

Inside were the others - Heeseung, Sunoo, Jake and Jay, all smiling wide as soon as you came through the doors. You heard them close behind you and the familiar heart-dropping sound of the keys turning again.

Heeseung was the first of the group to get up. He casually strolled over to the basketball hoop like he always did, smirking as he knew all attention was on him.

You almost started to feel sick when you noticed in the corner of your eye while looking at Heeseung, that Jake was moving towards you. No amount of repetition could ever brace you for his hands roaming over your body, as one of them forced you in place so he could sloppily kiss you.

The boy in front of you rolled his eyes and groaned as he was interrupted before it went to far, like always. He gave you one last look before both him and Jay lead you to the plinth.

Jay's cold and harsh hands hooked under your thighs to lift you up and you complied, almost too tired already to fight back.

You closed your eyes and mentally prepared for the slaps you'd get as they would line up in front of you; almost like a game.

But...it never came.

You opened your eyes again, just as you heard snickers scattered across the gym. Sunoo was in front of you with Jungwon to his side, meanwhile Jake and Jay were still standing on either sides of you to hold you down.

Their fingers took an iron-grip around your wrists as you instinctively started trying to get out of their hold. Sunoo looked a bit sorry for you as he stepped up, his eyes were practically begging for mercy which was unusual. The boy usually looked embarrassingly excited to kiss you every time he was glad to be the one to do that to you, rather than hurt you. That one time he was forced to, he cried so he never had to do it after.

You gave him a questioning look before he smashed his lips against you, knocking the breath out of your lungs. As you were about to pull away to gasp for air, something boiling hot was pressed firmly against your forearm.

The sound of skin sizzling combined with your blood-curling scream echoed in the empty gym.

You continued to scream out in pain until your throat was hoarse while your whole body was squirming to get away from the fire-like sensation.

The object was removed but it continued to burn. It was a pain you'd never felt before; as if your skin was on fire. Sunoo pulled away and you had the chance to look down at the injury.

An ugly red mark had already been left after the thing, and you almost felt like crying.

Meeting his sad eyes, yours traveled down to his hand. Eyes widening upon discovering he was holding a curling iron.

'' We got it from one of the girls. '' Jay said before you felt him release his grip on you.

You immediately fought back even harder against the irritated Jake; but Jungwon quickly took over Jay's previous spot, his eyes boring into yours being enough for you to quiet down.

The item was handed over to Jay who stepped closer, it must've been his turn. Unlike Sunoo, he looked very excited; like he had been waiting for this moment for a long time and would relish the pain you'd feel. His lips curved up into a smirk as he saw you panic the closer the curling iron got to you.

'' No, please! '' you begged, despite your pride.

Tears were freely falling down your face as you struggled to breathe. They weren't holding you down entirely but it felt like they were pressing your chest down.

Your bullies just watched amusedly as you started hyperventilating, pleas spilling out of your mouth.

'' Please- please...don't do this. ''

He was now so close that your legs were on either side of his body.

'' Do you know why we're doing this? ''

You were quiet, whimpering as you racked your brain trying to come up with an explanation for the most excruciating thing they'd put you through so far.

Jay was getting impatient. The only thing that could be heard in the vast hall for seconds was the basketball bouncing, a sound you'd grown familiar with. It was like a ticking clock, the faster it bounced the more impatient the bullies got.

'' I-I didn't show up yesterday. '' you hurried to blurt out when noticing his hand carrying the curling-iron hovering closer to your arm.

He smiled again, although it didn't quite reach his eyes which sent alarm-bells ringing inside you. This was the biggest mistake of your life. You could really tell as you turned your head and stared into Jungwon's dark eyes, that they were not going to let you go until you had suffered, much more.

And then without warning he pressed the item onto your skin again. You screamed louder than before as he pushed it even deeper into your skin than Sunoo had.

Jungwon and Jake had to use all of their strength to hold you down, as your back arched and you had almost successfully gotten out of their grasp.

Finally, after seconds he removed it. But yet again it didn't prove to be much better. The two wounds burned and itched tremendously. You had the urge to scratch them until you'd see blood, however; all you could do was cry and cry, and cry. Their taunting laughs rang in your head which made you get louder.

The sobbing turned into wailing, mixed with screaming as you continued to fight against your bullies that were holding you down. Jake grimaced, a look of both fascination and annoyance painted on his face.

'' You're so fucking loud. '' he spat.

'' Heeseung, shut her up! '' you heard Ni-ki shout.

And the sound of the basketball bouncing stopped. So did your crying as you felt nauseous at the new sound of their footsteps nearing you.

This time, you knew what was coming. Sunghoon was following him behind, and you were sure they would take turns while mocking you and smirking.

'' No..No- stop! '' you were letting out panicked whimpers now as you thrashed around even more than before.

It annoyed Jake and Jungwon, who now had to push you down from the front as tried your hardest to fight them off.

'' Please...Jungwon '' you pleaded.

'' Jake? ''

'' Sunoo? ''

But it fell to deaf ears, and before you knew it - they had arrived much faster than you would've hoped for. Ni-ki picked up the ball in the background and the younger guys left to go play as Jay took back his old spot.

Ni-ki, Jungwon and Sunoo were scary, but the older ones were much more terrifying. They tortured you in such a personal and violating, psychological way.

And it was so bad, to the point that you started to hyperventilate as soon as you got eye-contact with one of them.

'' Missed me? '' Heeseung cockily asks as he gets closer to you, eying your lips like a hungry predator.

'' Stop! Get off of m- ''

He shut you up by pressing his lips against yours. When you tried to turn your head, he forcefully grabbed your chin and kissed you even harder.

Then he pulled back and you took a deep breath, shaking in fear. The soles of your shoes dug into the plinth as Jay and Jake dragged you up so you were laying on the stage.

Sunghoon crawled on top of you and gave you an evil smile as he went for a kiss much nastier than Heeseung's. Your fingers curled as your nails tried digging into thin-air.

Muffled laughs of Jake were heard in the background as he put his whole bodyweight on top of your arm so Sunghoon could kiss you without you moving one millimeter.

Jay followed suit; and then you were immobile, only your legs kicked in protest as Sunghoon's tongue explored the inside of your mouth.

You were struggling to breathe, and you weren't sure how long you were gonna last until you'd pass out.

The thought of them being alone with you like that - terrified you.

#yandere kpop #yandere enha #yandere enhypen #bully kpop #bully enhypen #kpop the glory #enha x reader #tw bullying #trigger warning

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bucknastysbabe · 5 months

Text

Let’s Face the Music and Dance - B. Barnes

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Angsty smutty blurb, 40’s setting, subby bucky makes an appearance, takes place night before he’s shipped off to war, Missus wants her boy well fed OKAY, so sappy and soft, he’s just kitty okay? lil kitty big kitty Murder kitty, pnv!sex, cowgirl, man tears

A/N: I don’t proofread I cry and call it a day

His lips stuttered words against your pulsing neck. You held on to his wide shoulders harder than you thought possible— like if you dug in a little more he wouldn’t have to leave tomorrow. Go fight in a war on unfamiliar territory. The cocky Brooklyn boy somewhere in Italy, Germany, hell he probably didn’t know either. Bucky leaned onto his forearms, dark sweaty hair plastered to his broad forehead.

He frowned a bit, soft pink lips pouting, smooth cheeks still puffed with residual baby fat. Too skinny for your tastes. Bucky was meant to be soft, sturdy, cuddly on the outside as he was on the inside. You kissed him gently, lapping at those pouting lips. Bucky murmured, long lashes brushing skin, “Don’t look all sad like that baby, I’m gonna come home to ya’. My pretty wife.”

You nodded, wrapping your thighs around a too-trim waist. Breathing into him you sighed, “Y-you better, then we can do all those stupid couple things we always talked about, ha, and m’gonna get some meat on your bones again.” Bucky softly smiled, eyes crinkling and cheeks dimpled— he couldn’t hide the tears very well.

He stifled a sob, tucking his head between your chin and shoulder, breath ragged and sharp. Cooing and squeezing his flagging length, you rubbed at your husbands shaking back. “Awe kitten, s’okay baby, you’re with me, just me.” He curled tighter into your softer flesh, a hand coming to rest on your cheek. He jerked his hips a little with a whimper, softening cock swelling some.

“Kitten baby, talk to me,” you whispered gently, carding manicured fingers through his dark hair. It was a secret name between the two of you. Always drove Buck a lil’ mad, made his pretty face grow flushed and tongue soft. But your husband earned his nickname— he was a sweet kitten, those big blue eyes and soft lips, always looking for pets and a treat. Flashing irresistible sad orbs and little whines just like one.

The brunette burrowed a little, muffled voice vibrating your flesh. He croaked, “Babydoll, m’so scared.” Your throat tightened and instinctively swallowed down a sob. It was up to you to be the bear now, the protector. It always had fallen to Bucky— he took care of his ma and sis, then Steve, now you.

Tilting his face up, reddened blue eyes met your own. Buck hoarsely joked, “I know, I’m not being very Sarge right now.” A couple of beats and he sobbed again, moaning, “I don’t know what to do.” You held him tighter and sighed, “Don’t need to do a damn thing. You’re strong and capable, smart, a damn fine provider. They’ll look to you on the field I know it.” He sniffled and calmed some, whispering thanks between sweet little kisses.

“Kitten, lemme take care of you, love on my pretty baby,” you cooed, “S’that okay? Just relax yeah?”

He nodded, throat bobbing as he slid out of you and laid on his back, wide blues staring like you’d hung the moon and stars. Sweet boy. Climbing atop his strong thighs and feeling for his half-hard cock, your slick core took Buck in like a thousand times before. Made for you. Bucky’s chest hitched and he whimpered softly, big hands wrapping around your waist. Kitty’s cock was beginning to plump up again, throbbing against your tight walls.

Petting his sensitive nipples and neck you cooed, “There we go, good kitten, don’t think bout’ nothing. Just how much I love you, how blessed I am to meet my handsome husband,” you flexed, “To have and to hold.”

He whined, long and low, thighs jumping beneath you. Bucky stammered, “Mm- oh- I love you so much, love you baby doll, fuck!” He writhed a bit when your soft thighs and ass rhythmically slapped against his pale skin. You moaned and milked him at that same leisurely pace, the brunette’s hands groping weakly at your heavy tits.

Your husband babbled, “Ahhh- Ah- I’ll write you every chance, take l-lots of pictures, be a good little soldier and k-keep my head down! Mmmmm god!” He cried out sharply, cute nose scrunching up, cock spitting a bit. Rolling your hips and leaning forward to press the length of your body to his own, the changing of angle eliciting a moan from both of you. His big hands massaged at your ass, thumbing shakily where you were joined together.

Nuzzling at his delicate nose you purred, “Good kitty, I’ll send you plenty of sweets and updates on ah! Everyone! Right there James, right there!,” you had to pause for the string of helpless whined and curses, “Be that-that good soldier so you can come home fill me up with babies and be fat and happy, yeah kitten?” His eyes flew open, limbs clamping down on your smaller frame as Buck emptied his seed with a desperate cry.

He mouthed dumbly at your skin, balls still pumping, your own climax sneaking up in return, pussy pulling and milking his overtaxed cock. You shivered and mewled, “Oh! James!” Your kitten was a little mushy, smiley and kissing sloppily at your lips, reluctant to let you move one inch. He sighed, “Wan’ that so so bad, oh honey.”

Petting his hair back again you chuckled, “Me too, lemme over so my girls aren’t being squished anymore.” Bucky’s blues lit up in recognition, apologizing and petting your tits as he tucked your frame into his, spooning now. You sniffed at the feeling of his hot seed slipping out of your sore hole— but there’s worse going on.

Bucky puffed, “Thank you babydoll. Sure know how to make a guy feel one hundred percent. Didn’t mean to get all weepy earlier.” You turned to give him a sharp look, stating, “No. It’s okay to feel. Don’t ever forget that Mister James Buchanan Barnes. This is a scary situation, feeling like this is valid.”

He nodded slowly, tears welling back up. Bucky kissed and loved on you most of the night, whispering, “love you, m’gonna come home, I promise, I promise.” You believed him. Buck was a strong boy. He’d make it home— sooner or later. Intertwining your hands within his own you kissed scarred knuckles, asking for some saint’s intercession.

Bring him home to me, to Becs, Winnie, Steve. Please.

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #40’s Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #subby bucky

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stevesworld96 · 8 months

Text

look at me now (part one)

--- steve harrington x fem!reader

childhood friends to strangers to lovers. this is a more realistic look at developing a relationship with steve, set in canon while you know nothing about the monsters, or the nightmares, or all of his scars.

a fic about knowing steve before, during, and after the events of the upside down. including all the ways your friendship with him grows, wilts, then grows again - to blossom into something he probably doesn’t deserve.

tags: fem reader, no use of y/n, childhood friends, typical king steve meanness, yes there is an allusion to steve being icarus, kissing, fighting and making up, cliches, a lot of emotions, depression and suffering etc, reader has an aunt, mentions of death and injuries, codependent steve and robin, steve is so so so so so so so sad. hawkins doesn't get destroyed after the vecna fight - everything else follows canon

please read both parts, i worked so hard on this fic and i'm really proud of it :)

part two!!!

word count: 14878

You knew Steve Harrington better than you knew anybody. At least, you liked to think so.

You were five when you moved to Hawkins into the house right next door to Steve’s, and as things go when you’re a kid, that automatically made you best friends. At that age you didn’t have to try to be friends with somebody - as long as they lived nearby and had a bike, that sealed the deal.

He was only knee high to his mother, hiding behind her legs when she brought him over to introduce themselves. “We’re the Harrington's,” she said, then with a tight laugh, “minus one - my husband. This is our son. Steve - say hi, Stevie.”

He didn’t. Your mothers started a polite conversation and your eyes darted between the tall woman and her son. She was dressed like she had somewhere important to be, with red lipstick painted on her lips and pearls hung around her neck. She was pretty.

Her son didn’t stand with the same pride she had - he was peeking at you, tugging the hem of his mother’s dress and looking down at his feet. You could hardly get a good look at him, and he didn’t even wave back at you. His haircut was prim and proper; the button up shirt he wore was swallowing him.

They came inside for lemonade, and you led Steve into your living room, and by the end of the hour you had instantly become friends, bonding over your toy car collection that Steve loved.

You were kids - of course things were so easy.

To see him, all you had to do was walk over to his front door and knock, and you could spend as much time together as you wanted. Or just wait until his parents needed a babysitter - after they learned how much you and Steve loved spending time together, they started to drop him off at your house and you’d have sleepovers for days.

It was when Mr. Harrington had gotten a big promotion that they’d leave Steve with your family nearly once a week.

“I’m sorry, Stevie, I know me and Dad haven’t been home much lately. But next month isn’t as busy for us,” his mom would tell him.

“It’s okay, Mom,” he’d reply. “Don’t worry, I like staying here, so I’m alright.”

At your age you didn’t see the irony in a seven year old telling his mother that things were okay - shouldn’t it be the other way around? - but those apologies from his mother wouldn’t last very long. And the promises she always made were never kept. Soon enough, she stopped making them altogether.

Sometimes he’d just show up at your door, and your parents didn’t have to ask questions because they already knew more than you did, and you didn’t understand that he was more comfortable in your bedroom than in his own.

The routine of your friendship felt like the foundation of your life. Everything you did was with Steve by your side, like you were tied together with an invisible string that couldn’t be broken. Snacks after school were a must; movie nights every other weekend were your safe haven. The last day of school every year you camped out in his backyard under the stars and then woke up early for a big breakfast and a day spent at the arcade. Even as you got older, those things stayed the same.

You had busier schedules to work around in high school but you still made it work. After-school lunch turned into midnight snacks, and you moved from the arcade to the lake, but you were still intertwined with child-like joy and ease.

Steve’s other friends were another story. Tommy H was a thorn in your side that you couldn’t pick out, but Steve didn’t get why you hated him so much. At first, you didn’t get it either - you just did.

Until one day early in your junior year, Tommy H gave you a good enough reason for your disposition.

Like always, Steve was waiting for you outside of your last class of the day, and you were just about to turn the corner when you heard Tommy’s loud, boisterous, annoying voice.

“Steve, my boy, what’cha standing around here for?”

Steve laughed, even though Tommy had said nothing funny.

“Waiting on your favorite girl so I can get outta here - what’s up, dude?”

“Come on,” Tommy said, dragging the words out. “We got shit to do, ditch her and let’s get a roll on, if you catch my drift.”

You could see his stupid face in your head as he spoke - you just wanted him to go away so you could leave. But you’d wait there forever if it meant you didn’t have to have a conversation with him.

You were hardly paying any mind to their words.

“Can’t, dude, I’m her ride home. Tomorrow though, for sure.”

“She’s holding you back, man.”

But that caught your attention. They were both laughing even though, again, no one had said anything funny.

“Y’think so?”

“She even put out?”

Your eyes rolled so far back to your head they could’ve gotten stuck.

“It’s not like that with her.”

“Oh, that’s not what Kimmy thinks.”

“What? What do you mean - did she say something?”

You knew Kimmy to be the new flavor of the week, Steve’s new eye candy. It’d be someone new in a matter of days - and this was one brand new trait of his you were struggling to overlook.

“Just saying, most of the chicks think you’re taken by Miss Bitch -”

You call Tommy H a dickhead to his face one time and he gives you a nickname that sticks for three years.

“- and that’s why you’re not getting any action, dude. Gotta shake off the fleas, man.”

And then Steve laughed. Loud.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to do. You hoped he would defend you even a little bit, but he didn’t. He just laughed, and said, “I’ll think about it, man,” as if he was in on this joke, and then Tommy left.

And you didn’t know how you felt.

It’s not like Steve said it. But he had no problem listening to Tommy H talk about you that way. He thought it was funny.

Or, he was just saving face - did that make a difference?

You knew Tommy’s words were complete bullshit, and you didn’t care about him enough to let it affect you. Maybe Steve felt the same - maybe he just went along with it because it was easier.

You hoped so, because that’s what you chose to do. You brushed it off and walked out of the room and acted as if nothing happened.

“Hey - about time.”

You didn’t reply; he continued talking as you walked together.

“You hungry?”

“Thought you were coming over,” you said. “Told you I wanted to build a blanket fort. Remember?”

He huffed out a scoff, “A blanket fort? Are you six?” The glare you gave him made him reel his judgment back in. “Fine. Let’s go.”

…

As soon as basketball season was over and you had your weekends back to yourself, you were ready to get through your watch list of movies as quickly as possible. You’d never tell Steve that cheering for him at his games was your least favorite part of your friendship with him - you would always keep that selfishness to yourself.

And if you weren’t so wrapped up in your own mind, lost in planning your movie night, you may have been able to see your next conversation with Steve coming.

“There she is, been lookin’ all over for you.”

A heavy arm slung around your shoulders as you walked down the school hall. You didn’t have to question who it was.

“What do you want, Steve?”

“Just want to see my best friend in the whole world, is there something wrong with that?”

You rolled your eyes. Obviously he’s up to something.

“I’m going to choose to ignore you,” you said, shaking off his arm and stopping at your locker. His back fell into the metal next to you.

“What’s up?” he asked, and he was trying too hard to be inconspicuous, but you ignored it.

“Nothing. Oh, I think I finally have a cookie recipe we’ll like. Mrs. Jenkins gave it to me but she made me swear I wouldn’t share her secrets. Gonna pick up the stuff after school - have you picked your movie yet?”

Then his eyes widened, a bit too much to look genuine. “Oh, shit, is that tonight?”

“It’s Friday, isn’t it?”

“I completely forgot about that, shit. I made other plans without thinking.”

“Well, cancel them,” you said with a straight face.

“Well… what if you join in on my plans instead?”

You closed your locker and didn’t even consider entertaining Steve’s idea. “My mom’s already planning to make dinner for you. Are you ready to face her wrath?”

“Well - no,” he said. “It’s just - y’know, I was supposed to see Nancy tonight, and…”

“Oh, I get it, you wanna cancel so you can get laid. Is that it?”

“No, Christ - I’ll be there, alright? But next time, I’m getting my way.”

You laughed at him, and the bell rang and ended your conversation.

You didn’t think the night would go any differently than your normal hangouts. Maybe if you were expecting it, the disappointment wouldn’t have stung so bad.

He called you early.

“Hello?”

“Hey -”

“Hey, have you picked up the movies yet? I forgot to get popcorn, so…”

“No, I haven’t. Listen, um…” There was static on the line for a moment before he continued. “Sorry, but - can we - are you sure we can’t reschedule? Like, tomorrow night?”

You groaned, you were annoyed. But even when he argued with you, Steve never ditched your valued traditions - he may act bothered sometimes, but he would always come around. Even if he did gripe about it being childish the entire time.

That’s what you thought this would be.

“No, Steve, I have book club and tutoring and dinner with my aunt tomorrow. You know this.”

“Right. I guess I forgot about that. Okay, well…”

“...Well?”

Once again, he was quiet, and you weren’t sure if he was hesitating because he didn’t know what to say, or because he was nervous.

“Well - I think it’d be really fun if we hung out at my place tonight!”

“I guess I can bring all the ingredients for the cookies over. You do have a nicer oven…” you said.

“No, like, you can come over with everyone else I invited and we could -”

“I thought you canceled that?”

“I was going to, but… Tommy wouldn’t take no for an answer! And we already got the booze, and Nance finally said yes and - and I’d be really happy if you were here too!”

“...Okay.”

“Okay…?”

You thought for a moment, then decided to ask him the question you were asking yourself.

“Would you be happy if I was there, or would you be happy if I’m not mad at you for canceling?”

“Uh - either one.”

“Right.”

That answer was good enough for you, even though it wasn’t the one you wanted. You weren’t getting anything you wanted that night, and you weren’t going to fight for it with someone who already had their mind made up.

“Then have fun,” you said.

“Really? We can cancel?”

The excitement in his voice caused an angry laugh. “Yeah. Bye.” And you hung up.

And you made your cookies, and you watched the movies you already had on tape, and you didn’t miss the popcorn but you wished you had Steve’s lap to put your feet on - and it was fine.

You were sure he was having fun. And maybe he didn’t care at all about your canceled plans - because he was too busy with people who didn’t like you, doing something more exciting than what the two of you did as kids.

It was selfish to be angry. Maybe it was wrong. But you let it boil over anyway.

…

You didn’t talk to him for a week after that. Because you didn’t want to, and you wanted to teach him a lesson, and you hoped it would make him sorry.

Maybe you were being immature, but at this point, you were committed.

You were afraid that you were setting the wrong example - that, maybe, he thought you were angry about him making his own plans, when the problem was how he’d canceled yours so last minute. Or perhaps it was both. But now you had dragged it out too long and you were stuck giving Steve the cold shoulder until he finally caved in and apologized.

That’s all you wanted, really: an apology. And a bribe or two, just to get the most out of this argument. That’s how things usually went: you give him the silent treatment and he shows up at your door with your favorite snacks and a new book, and things would go back to normal.

But not this time.

You’d managed to bike to school without being caught by Steve all week, but you’d underestimated him waiting for you at the bike racks at the end of the day on Thursday.

He stood with his arms crossed and his brows drawn together. The moment you saw him you stopped in your tracks, like if you stayed still he wouldn’t see you, but his gaze was locked on. It didn’t look kind.

So you prepared yourself for this fight.

“What are you doing?” he asked, but his tone said something different - it said, I’m sick of your shit.

“What are you doing?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Just wondering how long you’re going to keep dragging this out.”

You kept darting around his words and moved to get your bike as if he’d let you leave so easily. “I’m not dragging anything out. Don’t know what you mean.”

His arms flung out to his sides as his voice raised, “You’re acting like a fucking kid!”

And your volume matched his, “You hurt my feelings!”

“Well - grow up!”

The short silence that followed felt heavy, but he didn’t let it sit for long.

“I mean - come on - I ditch you one time and all of a sudden we’re not friends anymore? Really?”

“A sorry would be nice, Steve.”

“I’ve said sorry.” Both of you knew that he hadn’t, but it didn’t matter now. “But sorry isn’t enough, is it? You’re just mad that I have new friends. Because I don’t want to just - sit around and fucking - watch movies in your living room like we’re kids -”

“Like we’re kids,” you said, laughing. “Yeah - right, because that’s really what this is about, isn’t it, Steve?”

He looked confused, and you didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“Because I’m holding you back. Right? Tommy H said it so it must be true. I’m a bitch and I’m keeping you down and you need to shake me off if you ever want to get any action - that’s what it is. Just say it, Steve.”

“Where is this coming from?” He ran a hand through his hair and his voice sounded desperate, but you weren’t sure what for. Maybe to salvage the remnants of a wounded friendship, to turn this conversation around. But your anger wouldn’t let him.

“You know where it’s coming from. I heard it, Steve, and you - you agreed with him! I’m your best friend but you can’t even defend me to your shitty fucking friends - so just say it! You’re the one who doesn’t want me around -”

“That’s not what happened -”

You were so angry, and he was lying, and Steve never lied to you, and he’d filled you with so much venom that you couldn’t help spitting it out as you stepped closer to him. “It is. And you’re turning it on me when you’re the shitty friend. Stop lying to me and just say it.”

“Yeah, maybe that is what it is - and I was just too fucking stupid to see it before now. That you’re so fucking clingy I can’t even have one night with a girl without you getting jealous. He was right. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Yeah, it was,” and you pulled your bike free and your foot hit the kickstand so hard that it hurt, and you told yourself the pain was the reason tears were flooding your eyes.

“Maybe I’m better off without you - have you ever thought about that? Is that your fucking problem?”

“Whatever! I don’t care anymore! You never have to watch another fucking movie with me again, alright? We won’t go to the arcade or build stupid fucking blanket forts or any of the other childish shit you hate so much!”

“Good - fucking - good!”

“And I hope you have fun playing King, and I hope when all your friends turn on you and Nancy dumps your ass - because you’re an asshole - that I’m the last person you run to for help, and I hope your dad is real fucking proud of you, because you’re turning out to be just fucking like him.”

It all fell out like you were pushing rocks off of a cliff - fast and angry and hard. You knew what those words would do to him. You knew you were hurting his feelings more than he had ever hurt yours - that you were putting the knife in too deep to pull out. You knew and you said it anyway, because you were mad and he was being a dick and lashing out felt good. Especially when you could hop on your bike and ride away from him, fast enough to avoid watching the blood pooling at his feet.

The worst part is that you were being honest.

Steve stood there alone and didn’t even turn to watch you ride away. He felt like hitting something, or screaming until his lungs were empty and tired.

And he didn’t even have time for any of this. He was finally making decisions for himself, for once, and who were you to get mad at him for that? He was popular, he had a girlfriend who was actually into him, his parents had finally gotten off his back. Things were going fantastic for him and he wasn’t going to let you mess it up because you were… jealous, or selfish, or whatever it was - Steve didn’t care.

He wasn’t going to lose sleep over you refusing to grow up and give him space. He was on top of the world, and you were trying to tear him down.

He didn’t need you, anyway.

…

Months passed.

And, like you had put a hex on him, all of your words came true - and then some. It didn’t take very long for things to crumble around him, and Steve almost thought it was funny how quickly his wings had melted to send him hurling into the ground.

No matter how hard he tried patching the holes, everyone knows you can’t fly with wings made of wax.

The fall hurt. But it was what came after that brought the real pain - a stinging, striking ache that was impossible to ignore. It felt like he was the last person on earth and he deserved it; like he shouldn’t be allowed to be around other people because he was no good.

And every time he tried putting the pieces back together, things only got more broken - all starting at Jonathan Byers’ front door.

What could get worse than fighting a monster from an alternate dimension?

Or fucking things up with your girlfriend beyond repair?

Or fighting those monsters again?

He learned quickly to stop asking stupid questions like those.

And he learned that he couldn’t just close his eyes and wish it away. He couldn’t run when things got scary; he couldn’t lash out when someone was honest with him; he couldn’t sneak out of his window and into yours when the yelling got too loud. He was forced to face everything he ever hid from, cursed to have regrets and keep them.

At least he wasn’t completely alone - the company of nerdy kid genius Dustin Henderson brought most of these lessons on. And in a normal situation Steve wouldn’t recommend learning anything from a kid in junior high, but he was living anything but a normal life. He’d take friends wherever he could get them, especially during senior year.

Maybe he wanted to set a good example for the kids that suddenly came into his life. Maybe he wanted to prove to himself that he wasn’t his father - that he could do good things without getting something out of it. Or maybe, most likely, he just did it.

He wanted to feel like a superhero, wanted to look in the mirror and feel proud of what stared back at him. But he didn’t, because he wasn’t. He wasn’t brave or heroic or gallant - he was no Clark Kent. And everything he did was because he had to. Because who else would?

Sometimes he felt like only someone as careless as him would fight a man-eating creature with nothing but a baseball bat - because out of everyone he knew, he had the least to lose. Why bother making safe decisions when most days he didn’t even want to get out of bed? What was he risking when he’d already bet it all and lost?

And who would be proud of that?

But there were moments, in the time between the fall and the fight, that he could almost see it. Like a flicker of light passing by he’d see Max smiling at him, hear Dustin’s excited laughter, feel a heavy high five from Lucas and he’d think - oh. Right there, standing in front of him, were the people he had to lose. The ones he was trying to win for.

And then he’d lay in bed at night and get stuck in another sleepless round of self loathing; hatred fueled by every cruel word he’d spit and all the selfish acts he’d taken, and fuck, he was spinning and suffocating and screaming, and maybe he deserved this.

It didn’t matter that he knew how to swing a fucking bat good enough to win more time for the ones he loved, because he wouldn’t love them right, anyway. And he’d turned the best person he’d ever known into nothing more than a crumpled piece of paper on his floor - something to be tossed aside and forgotten. And even if he tried smoothing it out, those creases would always be there.

Sometimes he stared out his window and watched yours. Waited for your light to turn off so he could look away and stop wondering what you were doing and how your life was without him in it.

All he wanted was to see you again. He’d beg for that movie night he ditched on junior year. He wanted to grab you by your shoulders and show you that he’s better now, he’s changed, those last words you told him weren’t applicable anymore and everything can just go back to how it was.

But nothing was ever that easy, was it?

He was glad when graduation finally came around, until he was forced into a sailor’s uniform with an ice cream scoop on his belt like a gun in a holster.

It was one way to spend the summer. It got him out of the house he hated staying in, and put a little money in his pocket, so slinging ice cream at Scoop’s Ahoy was good enough for him.

It distracted him from the vague nightmares he kept having and the fact that he got into a total of zero universities, and the free ice cream counted as dinner on his bad days. And he was fine with his obnoxious co-worker and annoying customers.

He was just fine.

But it was Hawkins. Nothing could stay fine there - not after a little girl with super powers opened a portal to an alternate fucking dimension and turned the town into a magnet for every fucked up thing imaginable.

Steve thought it was over, and then Dustin had him and Robin translating the Russian words he heard over his radio, and they were all pulled back in.

He wasn’t expecting to fall into the Russian lair under Starcourt Mall, to trauma bond with Robin - of all people - or to get any closer to dying than he already had, but he stopped betting on his expectations a long time ago.

By the time he saw the night sky again, he couldn’t remember how many punches he’d been thrown.

His head throbbed to the beat of his heart. It felt like if he tapped his temple, his eye would pop right out. His work uniform was ruined, stained with blood and spit, but the smoke billowing from Starcourt ensured that he wouldn't be needing it anymore.

The events of the night felt like they were years away. All he remembered was running, screaming, crying; he remembered the fist coming toward his face but not the impact. He woke up to pain, and then it was gone - more running and bleeding and fighting and then, it was over.

Robin sat next to him, shivering, on the back of an ambulance. The lights from the siren were blinding, the noise around him was punching his ear drums.

“Are we alive?” Robin asked. Her voice was totally shot.

“Think so.”

“I want to lay down so bad.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Do you have someone to call?”

She sighed deep. “Not really.” She let it be quiet for only a second, then said, “I don’t really want to go home. To be honest.”

“You wanna spend the night here?”

“If I don’t have to be alone, then, yeah.”

He sighed, too, then patted her knee.

He said, “I’ll call someone, alright?” and she nodded.

The payphone was a bit of a walk, and he had to wait behind two people in line, but it was enough time for him to muster up the courage to make the call. Even still, when he had the phone in his hand, all he could do was stare at it.

He was trying to remember the exact words you said to him the last time he spoke to you. Something like, “I hope I’m the last one you call,” he was sure. It was hard to remember your phrasing now, but the memory still stung all the same.

And he knows it’s not fair to call you, but he was going to anyway. Because in all honesty, you were the only option he had.

Any other time, he’d rely on Hopper for a ride. But Hopper wasn’t around anymore.

So he dialed your number and prayed you hadn’t changed it from the one he knew by heart.

Your hand darted out of your blanket to reach your bedside telephone. The ringing killed your half asleep ears, and you hardly knew what you were doing when you put the receiver to your ear.

“Hello?”

You could barely get the word out; your voice was thick with sleep that was slowly creeping over you.

“Hey. It’s Steve.”

With your heavy eyes shut, sleep was pulling you back in. Your whole body jumped a little bit when you attempted to stay awake.

“Steve?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry for waking you up, but -”

You didn’t know what was going on, and then you heard sirens on the phone. A jolt of anxiety seared through you at the sound. That’s what got you to wake up - then you realized who you were talking to.

“Steve?”

“...Yeah.”

“What - what’s wrong?”

Your heart was pounding out of your chest as you sat up in bed, holding yourself up with one shaky arm.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you held your breath until he answered your question. “There was an, uh - accident at Starcourt, and - I don’t know who else to call. I’m sorry, I can’t drive right now and I don’t have anybody else.”

“Are you okay?”

“Barely.”

You didn’t give your answer a second thought. “I’ll be there in, like, five minutes, okay?”

You could hear his breath of relief over the phone. “Okay. Thank you.”

After stealing your mother’s car keys, you stuffed your bare feet into combat boots and ran to the car. Even though you still only had your learners permit, you absolutely floored it to the mall without a single thought in your mind. It was like you were on autopilot, simply doing what you were supposed to, because you were scared.

You saw plumes of smoke before Starcourt ever came into view, and you swallowed through your dry throat because you knew something bad happened.

You had to fight through crowds and cops before you were allowed to pass under the police tape to search for Steve, which wasn’t easy. Every face you saw wasn’t his and each second that passed dug a deeper pit in your stomach.

The second-to-last ambulance in the lineup is where you found him, sitting next to a girl whose head was on his shoulder.

And when you saw him… it wasn’t him. Your eyes glazed over him because he was hardly recognizable.

You’d seen him beat up before. He’s had his fair share of fights at school; you wiped blood off his face and helped him nurse black eyes. But it was never like this.

His left eye was swollen shut. Crimson stained from his eyebrow to his jawline. His skin was aggravated red, his clothes were blood rusted, his knuckles were ripped open.

And still, somehow, his hair looked perfectly done. That sight alone made you want to laugh and cry at the same time, because of course he managed to keep its style untouched. It was so Steve.

You ran to him; your legs carried you there on their own, shoelaces smacking against wet pavement. You weren’t thinking when you called out his name or when you flung your arms around his neck. You hugged him like it would heal him, like the scent of your perfume could cover the smoke he smelled of.

It’d been almost a year since you’d talked to him, and the jagged edges of your ended friendship still cut deep, but you didn’t care. Not when he looked the way he did; not when he was hugging you so tight; not when your tears were dripping onto his skin.

You pulled back and looked at him, and his wounds didn’t look any better up close.

“Oh my god, Steve, are you okay? What the hell happened?”

“I’m alright,” he said. He wouldn’t look at you, or couldn’t bring himself to. “I’m just glad you came. I’m sorry -”

“Don’t,” you said, and then you looked around at the scene. “Have the paramedics even seen you? Why are you just sitting here?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I - I’m fine. They said I’m fine. They’re all busy with others but - I’m fine, don’t worry.”

That’s when you noticed the girl next to him, who was looking at you like you were crazy, and you realized what you were potentially barging in on.

They sat close - too close to be friendly. They were basically cuddling when you first saw them. It was obvious what they were, so of course she was looking at you that way.

You didn’t mean to make her jealous, but a part of you didn’t care.

“Are both of you okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, answering for the two of them. The girl nodded. “This is Robin, by the way.”

You introduced yourself to her, trying to be cordial even though you were meeting in the worst of situations.

“You two can stay at my place tonight, if you want to,” you told them. Steve asked Robin if she was okay with that, and she said yes, and so you led them to your car.

You weren’t sure why you made the offer to Steve - you wanted him with you, sure. After seeing the condition he was in, you wouldn’t sleep unless you knew you were keeping him safe and sound in your own bedroom.

Old habits die hard.

But, all things considered, you should have just taken him to his own home, where he could be with Robin in peace. Without cut ties lingering in the air like flies.

You drove him home anyway.

Nobody spoke until you got to your bedroom.

“Do you need a shower?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. Robin nodded.

“Okay. Robin, you can take my bathroom. Steve can shower downstairs.”

You dug through bottom drawers to find clothes for each of them - you still had the ones Steve kept stored there, as embarrassing as it was, so it wasn’t a difficult task. And you’d let Robin choose from your pajama drawer.

And then you got back into bed, because you didn’t know what else to do for them.

Robin stood in the doorway of your bathroom, just staring into the room. When Steve opened your bedroom door, she snapped her head back to him.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

She glanced over at you. You wanted to hide from the tension in the room.

“I - I don’t know how to use this faucet.”

He showed her how, and then made for the exit, but she called for him again.

“I was just thinking - you know - if we both shower at the same time, won’t the water pressure be super low? And what if the hot water runs out before I’m done, and -”

“I’ll be quick, Robs,” he said. “It’ll be fine.”

Steve took one step into the hallway before stopping. The darkness looked like it went on forever. He didn’t remember your house being so unlit, or having so many hiding places, and suddenly his legs were shaky.

“...You’re probably right, though. I’ll just wait out here until you’re done.”

“Yeah. And I’ll keep the door cracked open, for… all the steam.”

“That’s a good idea.”

And he sat on the floor right outside of the bathroom door. When Robin was finished, they swapped places. As if they couldn’t be apart for longer than twenty minutes.

You didn’t ask them any questions.

…

The two of them slept on a pallet of old blankets on your bedroom floor. Robin made Steve sleep closest to the door. He tried not to be upset about it.

And he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, but it seemed to swallow him. He didn’t dream, or toss and turn, but he woke up unrested.

Everything still hurt just as bad as it did the night before. And Robin’s snoring was making his headache worse.

You were no longer in bed, so he decided to get up and find you.

He wasn’t sure what kind of interaction he’d be walking into when he found you in the kitchen, but he tried to keep his head high.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hey.” You had a mug in your hand. “Your eye looks better.”

“It doesn’t feel any better,” he said, and he wanted to make a joke that it actually looks worse - because when he closes his right eye, everything’s blurry - but he held that one in. He wasn’t ready for a comedic coping mechanism quite yet.

You put Tylenol on the island that separated the two of you. “Take them. I don’t know if it’ll help much, but it can’t hurt.”

The bottle said to take two, so he took three. And then the awkward quiet started washing in.

Until, “I saw what happened on the news,” and Steve almost coughed up the water he was chugging.

“What are they saying?” he asked, because he didn’t know what story he was supposed to be playing along with.

“Just talking about the fire,” you said. Your voice sounded so dim, and Steve hated it. “It’s… crazy. Hopper… he…” You couldn’t say the word.

“I know,” Steve said.

“And thirty others.”

His throat felt dry. “Thirty?”

Truly, he didn’t know that many people hadn’t survived. And now, it all felt real. Really real.

“Yeah,” you replied. “I’m just glad - you were lucky to get out, Steve.”

You had no clue how lucky he’d really been. And hopefully you would never have to know.

“I know.”

You sat your mug down, brushed your hands on your chest like you were trying to wipe off everything you knew of the accident, then blew out a loud breath.

“Let’s just think about something else.”

Almost at the same time as you, he spoke. “Thank you.”

“...What for?”

“For coming to my rescue,” he said, huffing a laugh. “I know that I… didn’t really deserve it.”

“Don’t thank me, Steve.”

“Seriously. You could’ve just told me to walk home, but you didn’t.”

“I’m just being a good friend,” you said, then shrugged. “I hope you would do it for me.”

“In a heartbeat.”

He wondered if this was his chance to say sorry.

Or if there was even a point in it.

He was afraid you’d do no more than laugh in his face, and even if he deserved it he didn’t want to succumb to it.

But he had to. Because he almost died last night. And he could be fighting those monsters again, any day now. Was he going to lose this chance? Or is he going to die without saying another word to you?

He stared down at his ripped knuckles. The wounds still looked fresh. They stung just from touching the open air.

He stared, and stared, and stared, and - he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t say a word. He couldn’t face it.

Your footsteps toward him made him jump back.

You were holding a box of band-aids.

You held out your hand, asking for his without words, and he offered both of them to you. First his right, then his left, were covered in pink, green, and yellow band-aids by you.

It was gentle and kind, the way you went about it. Like you would hurt him even more if you weren’t careful.

He still had dried blood under his nails and splinters in his palms. He watched your clean hands holding his beaten up ones and he felt bad, because your skin was too soft to bother with the cuts and calluses on his.

But you held them anyway.

He put his fingers through yours and you didn’t stop him. He wanted to cry.

“I’m just glad you're alright.”

He didn’t know what to say - there wasn’t anything to say, he guessed. Nothing to make it better or change anything.

All he could do was squeeze your hand and watch you wipe tears off your cheeks.

Until he noticed a cut on the back of your hand. He pulled it closer so he could get a better look.

“What happened?”

“I dropped a knife while I was cooking last night. It’s fine.”

It looked fine, but Steve wanted to repay your favor, so he pulled a band-aid from the near empty box and put it on your wound.

“We match,” he said.

You laughed. “We’re even now.”

He felt overwhelmed with melancholy. He needed to rest, he wanted to close his eyes and not open them for weeks.

“I should go check on Robin,” he said as he walked backwards toward the stairs. He kept his eyes to the ground, away from the look on your face. “She’ll flip if she wakes up and she’s alone.”

You said nothing.

…

The following days and weeks were a lot of checking on Robin, and Robin checking on him. Too much waking up in the middle of the night and keeping his eyes glued to his bedroom door just in case. Only feeling safe enough if he had a baseball bat hugged to his chest and Robin snoring next to him.

So - he wasn’t doing well, but it was fine. He tried not to complain about it. Robin was the only person he let himself be half honest with - but he kept the truth to himself, because she’d get anxious if he said what he really felt.

Steve was scared. And he didn’t want anyone else to know it, because all of the others acted as if their lives were perfectly back to normal. They were doing well. So he had to be doing well, too. For their sake.

Weeks after that awful night at the mall, he and Robin conned their way into getting jobs at Family Video. He was grateful, because god, he was too codependent on her.

It was a random night at his place when Robin brought you up out of nowhere.

“I just realized, I never thanked your neighbor for saving us that night.”

“You don’t need to. I’m sure she knows you’re thankful.”

“Yeah, but, I feel like I should pay her back.”

Steve shrugged at her words. He didn’t want to think about you more than he had to - it hurt just a little bit too much.

“Should I give her a gift?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “She likes cookies. Get her cookies.”

And Steve didn’t know it, but the next day, Robin rang your doorbell with a plastic box of cookies in her hands. You opened the door and she started rambling from the get.

“Hey - Steve said you like cookies, so, I decided I’d bring you some to thank you. For showing up at Starcourt in the middle of the night and practically saving our lives. And for letting us sleep on your floor. That was really nice of you.”

You didn’t know what to say. Robin seemed weird. You just went along with it.

“Oh - thanks. That’s cool. Thanks.”

She shoved them toward you, and you took them.

“Do you want to come in?” you asked.

Instead of answering, she just stepped through the door. You brought her to the kitchen.

“I hope they’re good. I just got them at the corner store. But all cookies are the same, right?”

“Well - no, but, it’s the thought that counts.”

“Oh.”

The gifted cookies didn’t look much better than the worst recipes you’d made, but you opened the crude packaging and gave them a chance.

They were fine. Maybe a little worse than fine. You gave Robin one, anyway.

“They’re good!” she said, with a mouth full.

“They are,” you lied. “They’re not homemade, but they’ll do. Thanks, Robin.”

You ate half of your cookie. Robin finished hers. It was quiet.

You figured you might as well try to get to know this girl a bit better. At least be polite and make small talk, just to be nice.

So you asked an easy question. “How long have you and Steve been together?”

But it wasn’t as simple as you thought, because she started coughing up the cookie. “What do you mean?”

“...What?”

“We’re not together,” she said with a heavy dose of sass. “God, I’ll never get over people asking me that. I am not dating Steve Harrington. Gross.”

“Oh - sorry, I just thought -”

“It’s fine,” she said. “Everyone always asks. I guess a guy and a girl can’t be friends without everyone making assumptions.”

You laughed. “Yeah. People used to do the same thing to us. Sorry, I didn’t mean to ask a weird question.”

“It’s alright. Actually, I’m supposed to be at his place in, like - well, ten minutes ago. You should come over if you're free.”

“Uh - I don’t know, me and Steve - we don’t really hang out anymore.”

You aren’t sure why you didn’t just make up an excuse. Something about Robin made you feel okay about being honest.

“It’s cool. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you. It’s kind of been just us since what happened with - the fire. The fire that happened. So - you know. It’d be nice to have someone else around. If you want.”

You were curious how this would turn out. So, “sure. I’ll come.”

“Great. You should bring a cookie for Steve.”

You brought the whole box, and decided you would accidentally forget them at his place so they wouldn’t go to waste.

Steve’s front door was yanked open from the inside before Robin could let herself in, and his wide eyes became a little less wide when he saw her.

“Where the fuck were you - you were supposed to be here half an hour ago, I thought you got fucking eaten or something.”

“Relax. I was just making a cookie delivery next door. Chill.”

Robin threw her thumb over her shoulder. You poked your head out from behind her and gave Steve a weak wave.

“Oh.”

“What exactly would she get eaten by?”

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. You noticed he was gripping his car keys in a tight, scarred fist.

“Monsters,” Robin joked. Steve didn’t laugh. You did a little bit. “I invited her over. Is that alright?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

You stuck to Robin all the way to his living room, because that was easier than making yourself comfortable. You hadn’t been in this house in ages, and you weren’t sure what to do with yourself.

“Where’s my crossword?”

“I finished it.”

“Asshole. You know I hate that. Just get your own.”

“Whatever, you suck at them, anyway.”

Robin, unlike you, had no reservations in the Harrington house. She kicked her feet up and started channel surfing as soon as she sat on the couch.

“Have a cookie,” Robin said to Steve. You reached the box out to him; he sat down next to you to take one, taking up the spot between you and Robin.

It was weird being so close to him again. His knee was touching yours, and it made your skin feel too hot. Still, you didn’t move away.

“These are shit,” he said with a full mouth.

“Hey!”

You laughed loud, because you completely agreed.

“No, seriously, these are awful.”

“I spent five dollars on those!”

You gasped. “Five? Robin.”

“You should have just given her the money instead. Or thrown it in the trash.” Steve dropped his half eaten cookie back in the box. You put the plastic lid back on and sat it on the coffee table.

“I thought they were good. You’re being so rude right now. They were a gift.”

Steve looked at you. “You didn’t tell her how bad they are?”

“I didn’t - I don’t think they’re that bad.”

“You’re lying,” Steve laughed, then he turned to Robin. “She’s lying.”

“I’m not lying!”

“I know you, and I know you’re lying.”

“It’s fine, guys, you don’t have to spare my feelings or anything.”

You sighed, defeated. “...They are pretty terrible.”

Robin scoffed loud and obnoxious.

“Whatever. I’ll enjoy them.”

…

As it turns out, Robin acted like glue between you and Steve. Neither of you would have ever made an effort to see each other again, out of embarrassment or guilt or both, but Robin didn’t have to unpack any of that baggage. She didn’t even know it existed.

Instead, she immediately saw you as a friend. And she brought you in like she had known you forever.

But Robin and Steve were a package deal. So, if you were a friend to her, you had to be a friend to him, too.

And the two of them were weird. Most of the time, they left you feeling like a third wheel on their friendship.

They could be mean to each other. Rough. They acted the exact way you knew siblings do, but that was only surface level. There was something deeper - more than anything a brother and sister had, because it wasn’t the blood in their veins that connected them. It was the roots they chose to grow into each other that kept them together.

Robin spent the night with Steve more often than she didn’t. And she bullied him for his bad cooking, and he told her when an outfit was ugly, and they stood next to each other like two puzzle pieces that didn’t match but fit together with a hard press.

Sometimes you sat on the sidelines and ached, mourning a friendship that had been buried some odd years ago. It was well beyond rotten - something decayed and unrecognizable now. Even if you dug it up, it couldn’t be the same as it was.

But you wished.

And as you sat and listened to Robin chastise Steve for saying something dumb - watched as he meddled her hair into a purposeful mess, you could only laugh and sink into yourself. You were happy and sad; you cherished your time together and dreaded it, all at the same time.

Above it all, Steve was different. Distant in the way he would never meet your eyes, or laugh too loud at your jokes, or sit too close for too long.

It all felt fleeting. Like that week you spent angry at him - stuck in a weird limbo, between friends and strangers, a frustrating purgatory. Some kind of Schrodinger’s Cat of a friendship - alive and dead at the same time.

You would have just said something, if it felt like you could. But if Steve minded, he didn’t show it. If he missed how things were, he didn’t act like it. And, as you knew him, if he wanted to he would.

And it wasn’t totally bad. It was just new. You’d get used to it with a spoonful of sugar and a hard swallow.

On a random day, you had mentioned off-hand that you had been meaning to visit your aunt’s apartment to drop off and pick up a few things. Steve offered to take you, and you agreed, and the next day, you made good on your plans.

The two of you didn’t hang out without Robin very often. Since early August, the number was hardly a handful. But with the radio turned on, it wasn’t too awkward.

Steve had visited your aunt with you several times growing up. He went to her house-warming party when she moved into her apartment. You were thirteen, and you made a game of pressing every button in the elevator before getting off it. Now, every time you’re there, you think about how you used to chase him down the halls.

Her place was the nicest there was in Hawkins, in the tallest residential building in town. Parking was a nightmare, but Steve kept his complaints under his breath, and he even carried your bag for you.

The elevator was the only thing in the apartment’s lobby. As you pressed the button, Steve spoke up.

“You wanna take the stairs instead?”

“Why?”

He shrugged. You laughed.

“You want to climb eight flights of stairs? No thanks.”

“I’m an athlete,” he mumbled under his breath, sheepish. “This thing is taking forever, anyways.”

It dinged as it finally started moving down toward the bottom floor.

“It’s on its way.”

He stepped back, looked around, and he must have spotted the stairwell. “I’ll race you,” and then he took off.

The elevator door opened as the stairway’s door closed, and you rode to the top floor alone.

He didn’t win the race - far from it, and you laughed as he tried to hide his struggling breathing.

“Been waiting for you all day, athlete. Thought you’d take ‘til Christmas.”

“Psh. Whatever. I’ll win on the way down.”

The elevator creaked and hummed as it started moving down, and Steve glared at it.

You laughed, “You’re weird,” and you left him behind to walk down the hall.

He worked fast to catch up, and called out, “The loser pays for dinner!”

“You know I’d never pass up that bet.”

Your aunt wasn’t home - she rarely was. But a key was under the mat, and as you walked inside her tuxedo cat, Webster, greeted you at the door.

“Hey, dude,” Steve said, kneeling down to pet him.

An old cardboard box sat on the dining table nearby, “Glassware” written on the side in crude permanent marker. It’s what you had been instructed to pick up and take back home - you weren’t sure what was inside.

You sat down and opened it and pulled out the first thing you saw: a white paper bag, one you knew printed photos came in.

“This what you came for?”

Steve stood next to you. He had Webster in his arms, who was purring loud and melting into his hand.

“Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. Family stuff, I’m guessing.” You pulled out a fat stack of pictures and the one on top made you bark a laugh. “Oh my god.”

You and Steve, seven years old, wearing matching cowboy costumes for Halloween - you with a white cowboy hat, him with a black one. You stood with a jack-o-lantern between you. You had your hands on your hips and a frown on your face; Steve had his chin pushed out in a wicked scowl.

You turned it to him, and he laughed just as loud as you. “Look at those two mean mugs!”

“Do you remember this?”

He sat in the chair next to you, continuing to look at the photo over your shoulder. Webster made himself comfortable in his lap.

“Yeah,” he laughed, “We fought all night because you stole my -”

“Oh my god.”

“You stole my full size Snickers.”

“I did not!”

“You did.”

“I didn’t!”

The way he looked at you told you this was still a sore subject.

“You went ahead of me to the Smith’s place while I was trying to tie my shoe and you took her last bar. That’s what happened!”

“That’s not stealing!”

“It is!”

“I didn’t mean to leave you behind! It’s not my fault you didn’t know how to tie your shoes!”

“You didn’t, either. And, I learned before you.”

You puffed a sigh and flipped the photo to the back of the stack. “Why are you still fighting over this? We shared all the candy, anyway.”

“It’s the principle. Theft is a crime, and you never apologized.”

You only laughed. No way were you giving him that apology now.

When you pulled the photos out of the box, you didn’t intend on looking through them all, but your curiosity kept you flicking through them. Most were of random family members or photos of the beach, but pictures of you and Steve were littered throughout the stack. There wasn’t a single photo of you that didn’t have him in it, too.

There were from some first days of school, birthday parties, sleepovers. They were sorted somewhat chronologically - looking through them was pure nostalgia, memories hitting you at every angle as you watched yourself grow up.

The next one to catch your eye was from a middle school dance. Neither of you wanted to attend, but your mother insisted. Your one condition was that you could wear whatever you wanted.

So you and Steve had swapped styles. You wore his way oversized Atlanta Flames jersey, a baseball cap, and sneakers that didn’t fit; he had on your purple sweater, a big pearl necklace, and white jeans.

It was cute, and it was goofy, and you wished you could jump into the picture and relive it.

At that age, the only thing you knew was that you and Steve would live forever, together. Now that you know what you know, your heart ached for the little girl in these pictures. What would she think about the space between you two now?

There were pictures from summer camp, swimming pools, and your first day of high school.

Webster meowed. Steve meowed back at him.

As you got to the bottom of the stack, pictures of the two of you were less and less. The last one - the one you didn’t know would be your last picture with him - was of you, him, and a few of your extended family members. A day spent at the lake that Steve really didn’t want to go to, for some reason only an angsty teenage boy could understand, that you dragged him to. It was the summer before your junior year.

In the photo, his arm was draped completely over your shoulder. You remembered him leaning all of his weight on you - to the point that you fell out of your seat after the picture was taken by your aunt.

And you had fun, like you always did. Steve became a member of your family out of happenstance. It was just because he was always around, really. They all saw him as much as they saw you.

You put that photo to the back of the stack and kept carding through them. You didn’t find any more pictures of you and Steve.

The rest were all more recent. Steve stopped you on one that was of you alone - sat at a dinner table, wearing a cable knit sweater.

“That’s a good one,” he said.

“Yeah. It’s from Christmas. Senior year, maybe.”

You acted like you weren’t sure, but you knew exactly when that photo was taken. You just didn’t want him to know how sad you were in it.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” and you laughed, “this was not a fun party.” He didn’t reply, and so you kept talking, sparing him a shy glance. “Everyone kept asking where you were.”

The silence was heavier this time.

“Oh,” he said, trying to bury it. “Yeah.” An awkward chuckle. “I bet that was annoying.”

You laughed and tried to make it sound real - tried to seem like you didn’t care. “Yeah, well, you know how my family always liked you better.”

He shrugged, looking like he was going to make a joke, but he didn’t. His eyes were distant as they moved down to his lap.

You shoved the picture to the back with the rest.

The one behind it was just as lonely.

Still, Steve perked up at it. “Is that from graduation?”

You wore a cap and gown, you held a bouquet of flowers, and you stood all alone.

“Yeah.”

Steve’s hand wrapped around yours holding the picture, and he tilted it toward him so he could get a better look.

“My aunt kept trying to get me to find you for a picture,” you laughed.

“You should’ve.” He smiled something big and real, and you realized with a rush that this is the closest you’d been to him in a while. If you kept looking, you could count the freckles on his cheek. His thumb pressed into the back of your hand. “I remember seeing you. You looked real cute.”

You ignored his compliment to say something snide. “I ignored you so hard.”

Another laugh, “Really?”

“Obviously.”

“Yeah. That’s fair - I would’ve, too.”

You tried not to think about how badly you wished he was standing next to you in the picture.

Steve spoke up, “I -” but you cut him off by accident.

“It’s fine.”

You didn’t mean it. He could tell.

“...Is it?”

It was honest when you replied, “I don’t know.”

He was still holding your hand.

“I never told you I’m sorry.”

“I guess I just figured you were.”

You dropped the pictures on the table, dropping his hand with them.

“Is that good enough?” It was an honest question.

“I don’t know. Maybe it is.”

And your answer was genuine, because you didn’t know. Steve had come back into your life just as easily as he left it - on a whim, without any warning. You didn’t put any roadblocks in his way.

But you stared at the photos spread out in front of you. At the story they told of your friendship that would always be unfinished.

You had to teach yourself how to do life without him. All of those lessons seemed useless, now, because here he was. And you didn’t even know if he ever missed you.

You pulled away from him, a move that was far more snappy than you meant. You did it like he’d reached out and burned you. It had Webster jumping down to the floor.

“It’s fine,” you repeated.

“I think you’re lying just to make me feel better.”

“I don’t know why I’m lying.”

“We don’t have to talk about it now,” he mumbled, and you stood up. The chair scraped the floor in a way that grated your ears. You turned your back to him.

“I thought I knew you.” Your eyes welled up, your nose started to run. You balled your hands up like you were on defense. “I thought you would say sorry, and make everything go back to normal like you always did. But you didn’t. I thought you would miss me, at least, but - but you didn’t.”

“You think I didn’t miss you?”

The shake in his voice had your fist dropping to hit your thighs, defeated.

“I miss you more than anything. I’m sorry - I’m not just saying it to make you feel better, or because I have to, I - I don’t even deserve to be saying it.” He paused, and you could imagine the way he was running his hands through his hair and pacing around with nerves. “I’m sorry for being a bad friend. For not treating you like you deserved - I hate myself for it. You were the best thing in my life, and I know that now. I was just too scared to come crawling back to you because I wasn’t worth your time.”

You breathed in deep, exhaled hard, and it felt like the first breath you had taken in two years. It was that feeling when you’ve forgotten your keys but find the door unlocked - the relief of being let in despite a mistake, it rushed through you, and it had you turning to look at him. You found him standing and staring at you, through you, with glassy eyes you would always know.

“I just miss you, Steve.”

Three steps and then he was around you. And you were safer than a child hiding under their blanket from whatever lurked in their closet - monsters weren’t real if his arms were around you. That had always, always been true.

Webster rubbed up against your leg, then Steve’s. The hug shook with both of your laughter, and he held you tighter.

…

Things didn’t go back to how they used to be after that, but it was close enough. And you were trying to settle into the differences that kept knocking you off your feet.

It started with late night phone calls.

Before, you never talked on the phone. Why would you when his house was a stone throw away? If you wanted to talk, you’d invite yourself to his place.

But the two of you were still dancing on the ripped edges of that two year old fight. Wounds were still healing - almost there, but not quite. So it was easier to take it slow, to treat this time as something brand new.

And it was brand new.

You had caught yourself grinning ear to ear over stories he’d tell you, and you had to force the smile off your face. Like you shouldn’t be acting that way over your friend - you quickly realized you just couldn’t help it.

He’d keep you up too late and tease you for it the next day. And you weren’t sure if he was trying to get a rise out of you, but that’s how you felt. He acted so smug after seeing your cheeks swell in embarrassment.

So it wasn’t going back to how it was before. In fact, it was going down an entirely different road - one that wasn’t even on the map.

You weren’t complaining, because you felt things you hadn't felt before around him. He made you feel warm, and you were addicted to it. You were addicted to him, and you had blind hope that the feeling was mutual.

He’d spend his entire lunch break visiting you, even if your breaks didn’t line up. He’d follow you around the apparel section at Roses and you’d have all your attention on him, just the way he liked it. He made sure to see you every day.

You never thought he’d make you feel so shy, but it was an emotion you couldn’t get enough of. You hardly realized what you were spiraling into until you’d catch him looking at you with a blush on his cheeks, or until you had to stop yourself from thinking about him every night before bed.

But there was something glaring, something major, something you couldn’t look at directly until it came up in conversation with Robin.

Robin and Steve always had Sundays off, so the day was designated to be stolen by their other friends - who were all in junior high.

When you asked why they were friends with junior high kids, Steve called himself their babysitter. Robin said she was their good influence. You avoided asking follow up questions.

It was a lazy autumn day, one where the warmth of fallen leaves reflected in the air - something rare for early November.

The youngest of the kids, Erica, loved putting on a nice outfit and going for a walk. Today it was yellow Chucks, a red silk and pleated maxi skirt, and a long sleeve button up with a rainbow of vertical stripes. (It would have been a tie dyed short sleeve, if Steve hadn’t told her it was too chilly for it.) She had stuck gems beside her eyes, the kind that come in the plastic packets and don’t stay on for long, and Robin packed yellow eyeshadow on her eyelids.

She was downright cute, but if you told the eleven year old that she’d aim her sass at you and shoot to kill. She much preferred receiving a refined compliment, because, “I hear that all the time.”

Today, you told her you loved the way she paired so many colors together. She grinned something beautiful and kicked her foot up behind her and agreed with you.

Steve had once described her as a menace - you didn’t understand why.

You walked with Robin a few feet behind Erica, Dustin, and Steve. Dustin had not stopped talking the whole time, except when Erica butted in. Steve had stolen the younger boy’s thinking cap hat and was wearing it backwards.

“The last time I wore this coat, I found two phone numbers in the pocket.” Robin held up two fingers and gestured to the Letterman jacket she wore. It was Steve’s. “Can you believe that? I mean, what a douche. I wouldn’t even wear this if it wasn’t so warm.”

You laughed. “Yeah, I believe it, actually. They were probably from some cheerleaders or something.”

“Yeah, well, he can’t get any numbers these days. He’s cursed to be forever lame as punishment for the jerk he was in high school.” Robin was smirking wicked and wide, like it was satisfying for her.

“He’s lost all his charm?”

“All of it. I mean, one hundred percent. I used to keep count of how many times he fell on his face in front of girls. It’s magnificent, truly.” Then, quieter, “He’ll get it back, though. One day.”

“He used to have no trouble at all.” The conversation had the gears in your head turning; it had you speaking without thinking. “I don’t know. He’s really different now.”

Robin laughed, like you were joking. “Yeah, he learned manners, for one.”

“It’s not that.” You were thinking out loud. “He’s nicer, yeah, but… it’s almost like he’s not even the same person. I’m not sure what happened.”

The Steve you knew was boisterous. He was unapologetic. He was stupidly confident, the life of the party, and he wasn’t afraid of anything. A wouldn’t take no for an answer, go with the flow, drop of the hat kind of person.

You were lucky to know him when that’s all he was. Before the halls of Hawkins High swallowed him and spit out someone ornery who cared too much but not at all.

You thought it was just Tommy and Carol’s influence. Now that he wasn’t their friend anymore, you thought he’d become who he used to be.

“He told me how close you two were before,” Robin said. She was tugging on a strand of hair that was stuck in her lip gloss. “I guess I never knew him like you did.”

“He’s so quiet now. He used to be so loud.” You meant it more than literally - you hoped Robin would understand. “I don’t know. So much changed and it’s only been a couple years.”

It seemed like she was struggling to reply, because it took her more than a few seconds to get her words out.

“I guess - I mean - I think you’ve probably changed a lot, too. Two years is a long time, right?”

Robin knew. No one could tell, but she knew.

Maybe the differences that you had described of Steve were really there. She wasn’t able to see them the way you could, but she didn’t care. It was selfish to admit that she would never change a thing about him - but one.

He was waiting.

Everyone was, she thinks.

Waiting for another fight.

It wasn’t easy to go back to normal after trudging through hell. It was like coming out the other side of trench warfare unharmed - you didn’t. When a gun fires, its bullets hit. If a bomb is dropped it doesn’t miss a fucking thing, and Starcourt Mall was goddamn ground zero.

And Robin wasn’t there for the disappearance of Will Byers. The death of Barbra Holland. The Upside Down. The Demogorgon. The Demodogs, and the lab, and the girl with psychic powers. She wasn’t there, but Steve was.

Her head hurt just thinking of the stories he’s told her. And she knew his did, too, more often than he’d admit to her.

And she felt bad when her sleeping patterns went back to normal but his didn’t. When she got used to being on edge all the time, Steve still jumped at any noise. His phone would ring and she would watch him prepare himself to answer it - to hear Dustin’s voice on the line telling him that it’s back.

So when you said that Steve’s changed, Robin didn’t know what to tell you. You were right, and she knew that, but she couldn’t tell you why. You knew everything about him besides, well - everything.

Robin wished she didn’t have to know, either. She wanted to tell you that you should be grateful you couldn’t see the shackles on his ankles. You got to know him before - and Robin would give anything for that.

But she couldn’t change a thing.

Instead, all she could do was wait.

And lie.

And pretend.

“He’s still loud,” she said, uncomfortable as all get out.

As if he heard her words, Steve busted out in a stomach hurting kind of laughter at one of Dustin’s stories.

“See what I mean?”

Your destination was in sight now. Steve turned around - letting Dustin steal his hat back - walking backwards, and reached a hand out to you.

“You coming?”

Your pace turned into a skipping sort of jog to catch up with him. When you were close enough he grabbed your hand and didn’t let go. He’d been doing that often.

The kids and Robin broke away, heading for the tiny park that was up on your right. To your left, Steve tugged you to a tiny convenience store.

“Place your orders!” he called.

Dustin and Erica shouted at the same time. Steve mumbled something about not being able to understand them, so you relayed their messages.

“You’re getting two things! No more than that!” he shouted back. “Robin?”

“7-Up.”

“What else?”

“Surprise me!”

You hung onto his arm as you walked into the store, and you weren’t even sure why. He never pulled away when you got that close, so you kept going back.

You went for the drink coolers first. He reached for the apple juice.

“She likes orange juice the best, now,” you said.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“You better be right - if she’s mad at me over this, I’ll be mad at you.”

You rounded up all the snacks everyone wanted, following Steve’s only two items rule. You laughed when he chose plain potato chips as Robin’s surprise - the blandest possible choice. And while he checked out at the counter, you wandered off into the aisles.

He acted like he didn’t want you to go, pulling you back and asking a quiet, “where’re you going?”

“To look around.”

It was straight to the candy aisle for a Blow Pop for Erica, Pop Rocks for Dustin, and sour gummy worms to share. You liked spoiling them - it helped to get on their good side.

You made a stop at the candy bars to grab a Snickers bar before going back to the counter, and Steve immediately shook his head when he saw you.

“What are you doing? What’s all that?”

“It’s all for me.” You dropped it all for the clerk to scan.

“All of it?”

“Yeah.”

“Even though you said you didn’t want anything?”

“I changed my mind!”

He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, and you watched his hand move to his back pocket.

“Don’t you dare.”

His wallet was half way out of his pocket as he laughed. “What?”

“You’re not paying. Stop.” You tried to sound mad, and felt you were doing a good job, but he kept giggling at you.

“Oh, are you my boss now?”

“Yes, Steve,” and you bumped into him, trying to push him away. “Don’t make me say your full name.”

“Just let me -”

“Take their things to them! Go!”

You were shocked when he listened, but he only made it as far as the door. He stood against the glass with his arms crossed, staring at you until you finally followed him.

“What are you looking at?”

He pushed his back into the door to open it. “Trying to figure it out.” He reached for your hand, and you swatted it away, only for him to catch you, anyway. And you let him hold your hand, all the way across the street to the park.

Your friends sat at a picnic table waiting patiently. It was actually two tables pushed together, doubling the normal length; Erica and Dustin sat opposite each other on one end, and Robin sat in the middle, crisscrossed on top of the table.

Steve divvied snacks to grabby hands, and you snuck their surprise treats in to the sound of thank yous.

You took your seat on the other end of the table across from Steve. When you sat down, he put a bottle of Coke between you.

“Are you going to share?” you asked.

“Only if you’ve got something to give me in return.”

The Snickers bar made a thud on the wooden table. Steve hummed. “I guess that’s good enough.”

You were almost happy with the trade until you realized, “No bottle opener?”

His eyes doubled their size. “Shit.” Then, he grabbed the bottle. “No, it's a twist off.” The noise he made as he tried taking off the cap was something like a squeak, and everyone at the table laughed.

“Just walk back to the store!”

“Dustin - Dustin! Do you -”

The boy slid a large key ring down the table. It was a wad of keys, keychains, and gadgets.

“It’s on there somewhere.”

There was a mini flashlight, a laser pointer, a plastic Q*bert charm, a pocket knife, keys and keys and keys, a kubaton, and, “Yes!” a bottle opener.

“This is why I keep you around, Henderson.”

“I’m the one keeping you guys around, first of all.”

You grabbed the Coke and guzzled a couple drinks worth in one go, and when you put it back down, Steve had already eaten half the candy bar in one bite.

“Steve!”

His mouth was full when he said, “What?”

“Why can’t you share? Why didn’t anyone ever teach you about sharing?” His laugh was sweeter than the chocolate he was shoving into your face. “Stop, I don’t wanna eat after you.”

“We’ve got the same germs,” he said, and he was feeding you the Snickers before you could make another argument.

The snacks were all gone much quicker than it took to walk and get them, because none of you would ever learn to savor the destination. Regardless, next Sunday, you’d all be sitting in the same spot - give or take a few others, creating a good day for yourselves.

And, if you were lucky, Steve would be holding your hand the whole time.

...

It didn’t matter who you were cheering for on the court, you hated high school basketball games.

Going to Lucas’s game brought back far too many memories than you’d care to recollect. But even though you hated it, you were still filled with pride watching the boy play the game so well.

And Steve hadn’t shut up about it all night. He spoke about Lucas shooting the buzzer beating winning basket like he was recounting a grand story - something from a movie or a comic book. Like you weren’t sitting beside him the entire time.

You stood with him in his kitchen, and the excitement had finally started to settle. You and Steve had spent far too long talking about how weird it was to be back in the high school gym, and both of you agreed that you didn’t miss it at all.

“Is Robin excited for spring break?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “She said she’s spending the entire week here so she can be as lazy as she wants, so - I guess she is.”

You threw a weak fist into his shoulder and he caught it. “What’s wrong with that?”

“She’s gonna steal all my time!” His grin was contagious as he slotted his fingers into yours. “And that means I can’t steal all of yours.”

“Does that mean I’m finally getting a break from you?” You laughed, but he didn’t.

It was weird, the way his entire demeanor changed in a snap. Before you could even take back the joke you made he was shifting his eyes and dropping his grin.

He had always worn his heart on his sleeve, even if he tried hiding it.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” It was a hand through his hair that said the opposite, but you’d never call out his tells. “I just - that reminded me there was actually something I wanted to talk to you about.” He dropped your hand to cross his arms, and it had you feeling nervous.

“What about? …Did I do something wrong?”

“No, honey.” You weren’t sure when that nickname came around, or when it started to stick, but it had a fairy fluttering its wings in your chest. He started to reach for you again, you could see it, but he stopped himself. “You could never do anything wrong.”

You laughed quiet. “Neither could you.”

You moved to stand next to him, mirroring the way his back leaned against the counter. Your arm pressed to his. He was looking at the floor; you were looking at him.

“Are you sure?” It started as a whisper but jumped into a shake, a crack in his voice that said more than he wanted to. And he looked at you, to see if you caught it, and you swore his eyes were shining. He didn’t show them to you for longer than a moment.

“Steve?”

“I just - I don’t want to fuck this up again.”

“How would that even happen?”

He looked at you like he knew something you didn’t. “I don’t know.”

You nudged his arm with your elbow, again and again, until his crossed arms dropped. Your pointer finger snaked around his, and the touch brought enough bravery out of him to link his fingers with yours.

“What do you know?”

He scoffed into a smile, one big enough to reach his eyes, and it brought him out of his funk. “I don’t know,” he said, moving closer to you as he made the joke.

“That’s what I thought,” you replied. “Not a thought going on in your head.”

Making him laugh was the key to his heart - you knew that, and it worked this time as well as it always had.

He had his head turned, cheek to shoulder, staring down at you; you were so close, you could watch his eyes move across your face and know where he was looking. They wandered, but when his gaze lingered on your lips - you noticed.

“I know one thing for sure,” he said.

When you took a loud breath, you’re sure he heard. He gave you eye contact again, and maybe you were seeing things, but you swore you saw question marks swimming in the green.

He didn’t breathe. You didn’t blink. You moved forward just a hair, and he looked back down, so you pressed on. You wanted to be closer, as close as you could get - it was curiosity or desperation, you didn’t know.

When he tilted his chin toward you, it was hardly noticeable. But you saw it, and it was enough. Your nose was just about to touch his - you watched his eyes close, right before yours did. There was nothing to do but move closer, closer, closer.

And then, when you felt just the softest graze of his skin on yours -

BAM! BAM! BAM!

You jumped back from each other like same-side magnets, gasping and jumping at the sound of loud knocks on the front door.

He moved fast, like he was looking for a way out, leaving you alone in the kitchen. “Shit.”

Steve had a good idea of who he’d see when he opened the door. The knob was jingling when he unlocked it, then pulled it open.

Sure enough, Robin. Wearing a flannel that was his, with wild bedhead that he couldn’t help laughing at.

“Did you walk here?”

“Yeah,” she croaked. “Let me in.”

It was written all over her face why she was there, and Steve felt bad.

Even though she asked to come in, she didn’t move. Her features were all scrunched up, her shoulders were hunched into her crossed arms.

“Robin -”

“I fucking hate this.” Loud, echoing into the night and through his door. “I hate it, Steve, and I swear - I swear it’s not over.” Her eyes wet her cheeks; she looked at him through tears. “It’s going to happen again. I can feel it. And I’m scared.”

He had to pull her inside, because he knew she’d stand in the same spot all night if he didn’t. She pushed into him, shoving her face into his shoulder, wiping her tears on his shirt.

“You just need to rest,” he told her.

She spoke something pitiful, not caring that her words were muffled. “The gate’s really closed, right? For sure?”

“It’s over, Robin, it was just a nightmare - you just need some good sleep, alright?”

She nodded, wiped her runny nose into her sleeve, and tried pulling her tears back in.

“I wish I could sleep anywhere else.”

“I know.” It wasn’t any sort of jab - it was just the truth. The only time she was truly afraid was when she slept alone.

She hit a fist into his chest, something playful that made things feel a little more okay, and then took herself to the stairs.

“I’ll be up in a minute to stand guard,” he joked. She barely laughed but it was enough, and he watched her until he couldn’t see her anymore.

And he hoped you hadn’t heard anything, because he wouldn’t be able to answer any questions you had. When he found you in the kitchen you looked nothing but concerned.

“Is she okay?”

All you knew was that she had nightmares about the mall fire. It was a realistic excuse, in comparison to the unbelievable truth.

“Yeah. You know how she is.”

You nodded. Steve wasn’t sure how to go back to the talk you were having before, so he avoided it.

You spoke first. “I hope she’s alright.”

“I should probably go be with her,” he said.

You were perfectly okay with it, understanding as always. “Yeah. She needs you.”

He walked you to the door, and it was too brief for his taste. But when you were there, he spoke up.

“I’m sorry. Can we finish this tomorrow, maybe? I promise - I… I really did want to talk.”

“Of course,” you said, and it was shy. “Don’t be sorry, Steve, she’s more important right now. We can talk any time.”

His arms wrapped around your shoulders for a crushing hug. “I’ll call you in the morning, okay? Before work. We can make plans then.”

And that was it - he watched you make your walk home until you walked into your front door, and that was it.

The moment was ruined, and he might not be able to make it happen again.

…

Steve didn’t call you the next morning.

part two!!!!

#my writing #perhaps the only steve fic i will ever write #if there are typos in this i. lmao i will rage #this took forever this is so fucking long if no one reads it i dont blame truly #anyway #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #fluff #angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

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stupid-sloot-headcanons · 2 months

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Jason Voorhees/F!Darling: First Love

Because Jason is triggered into killing if he sees people having sex, and because his one real positive figure is his mom Pamela, I think he'd only develop an obsession for a Darling in a very specific circumstance. Like I'm imagining her coddling him and talking about how he'll grow up into a handsome young man, and that ALL the girls will probably faint at the sight of him (ironically, she would be right). But that he shouldn't be so sinful and lustful about it! No, no. Only a woman like her can be her precious Jason's wife. Most women are rotten little harlots. He needs to look for a girl who's kind, gentle, not at all sinful, and who would make a good momma just like her.

Pamela never liked talking about Jason's father, but she did say that Jason is a million times better than he ever was. One day he came back to the house with a fistful of flowers and she just about cried from happiness (after he drowned, she kept them hung upside down in her house so that they would always last). Or when he would shuffle to try and open the door for her, she'd praise him for being such a chivalrous little man. So years later, when he sees a woman sitting by the lake one autumn, drawing or writing and enjoying the same scenery his mother loved, he can't help but stare from afar.

He stalks her throughout the day until seeing her come back to a section of the woods closer to one of the main roads leading to the ruins of the camp. These prefab cabins were originally meant to be a tasteless tourist trap for curious ghost hunters after the first set of murders, but were quickly abandoned after Jason was revealed to be very real, VERY dangerous, and the surrounding real estate becoming very unprofitable due to the high murder rate.

When he peeks inside, he sees the woman talking on a landline and listens in.

"Hey Mom, it's me. I'm back in the cabin--no, I'm alright, I swear! I told you, whatever Jason is, he won't be interested in anyone not wearing a camp counselor's uniform. I'm just here for a cheap summer vacation, some alone time, and some inspiration. Something about being somewhere so serene while knowing the brutal history behind it is...well, I hope it sparks something." She settles down on the couch and continues to chat with her mother, never noticing Jason eavesdropping as night starts to fall.

"I'm not going out there at night, I promise. I mean I'm not superstitious, but I don't want to make you worry anymore than you already are, haha...Yes, Mama, I've been locking the doors every night....YES, Mama, I brought my pepper spray and my knife...Though if a ghost-zombie was gonna come at me, I don't think it'd do much--Mama, of COURSE I'm being responsible! I can't look out for my safety and make a joke? Ok, ok, I'm sorry." She smirks and curls up on the couch. "Though I'm pretty sure he doesn't kill virgins, so I should be fine if he shows up. We can chat about everything we have in common: lack of bedroom experience, lover of the wilderness, uber-protective moms..."

She holds the phone away from her ear as a loud angry outburst comes from the speaker. Her reply is deadpan. "Yes ma'am, I'll smack myself on the head since you aren't here to do it yourself." She lightly pats her head and yawns; the sound makes Jason think of the kittens he had played with when he was younger.

"I'm gonna head to bed. I'll call you in the morning, ok? Yeah, by 10 am, I promise. And when I head out, too. Yes ma'am, and no more smartass comments until I'm back home safe...Love you too, Mama."

Jason watches her put the phone back onto the receiver and then walk into another room. He skulks around the outside and sees her in a modest bedroom, taking off her socks and the rest of her clothes.

He cocks his head and stares, breathing heavily and feeling strangely warm. Whenever he saw the other fornicators at the camp, he'd never felt anything like this. A woman's body was just a body, and those wicked women's bodies were just there to be cut down. But this one wasn't wicked, at least he didn't think so yet. This one was...lovely. He couldn't stop staring, breathing, and feeling his belt strain against--

He heard his mother shriek in his ear. "JASON VOORHEES!"

He ducked down underneath the window frame and covered the eye slits of his mask. He wasn't being lustful, Mama! He was just admiring her, like a pretty flower. Maybe he can keep her, just like the flowers Mama had kept in the house. Something pretty and pure, all for himself.

"If you look at her like that, you'll defile her," Mama hissed. "You need to make her an honest woman first, like me. You aren't to look at her like that until you've courted her, put your ring on her finger, and made her your wife. And if you even think about something as disgusting as fornicating with her before you're married, you'll both burn in Hell, young man!"

He hesitantly moved back up to check if his Flower was decent, and saw that she was thankfully now wearing a set of pajama shorts and a faded t-shirt. When his eyes wandered to her exposed thighs, he quickly forced his gaze upwards to avoid another scolding from his mother. Flower shivered from the nighttime breeze whistling through a drafty corner of the room and she slips something else on over her head. Jason's eyes widen behind the mask--a cable-knit sweater, as soft and warm as her skin must be.

Just like his Mama.

She stretched her arms and for a moment, the way they're outstretched makes Jason think she really might be an angel. Once she turned out the lights in the living room and curled up in bed with a book, Jason set off into the forest to start courting her. He's going to make Mama so proud, marrying a pretty Flower and fulfilling that wish to become a Grandma. He's gonna be a good boy, a good beau, a good husband, and a good father...

The next morning, ____ made her first phonecall check-in of the day with her mother after breakfast and headed out for a day of hiking and relaxing by the lake again. When she opened the door and stepped outside, she stopped and froze as her foot landed on something damp and she heard a strange jangling sound from the doorknob. "What the fuck?"

The entire porch had been covered with handfuls of green pine needles and flowers yanked out of the ground, some with the roots and clumps of soil still attached. She looked at the doorknob and saw a loop of fishing line with various bits and bobs tied to it: beads from other random pieces of jewelry, bottlecaps, animal teeth, bird feathers, and a pendant in the middle made of bone. A small brown heart had been smudged onto it, and ____ prayed that it was just paint or muddy water.

She immediately ran back inside and slammed the door shut, locking all three locks and trying not to hyperventilate. Her chest tightened as she racked her brain for what to do--call the police? Yes. Definitely. Even if it's just a prank from some asshole locals or something, it's worth having someone with a gun coming around to look into it.

From the bushes nearby, Jason was watching her pace back and forth in the cabin while holding the phone.

"I already told you, it's Crystalside Cabins, Number 3," Flower said irritably. "It's on an unpaved road, it's about...I don't know, a quarter of a mile from the lake? I--yes, I know that pranks are common around here, but I would really appreciate it if an officer could come here and check things out...No laws broken, are you kidding me!? What if the bones on the necklace are from a corpse or something!?" She scoffed and listened to the officer, shaking her head in disbelief. "With this kind of incompetence, I'm surprised the body count in this town isn't even higher. Maybe Jason Voorhees and his mother started this up just to see if you'd get out of your chairs for something that wasn't a pie stolen from a windowsill or a cat stuck in a tree!" She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "No, ma'am, I'm not trivializing the work of suburban police officers--yes, ok, I know that local teens like to mess with people who visit the town, but I really don't feel safe knowing some strangers know I'm in this secluded location all by myself.."

She finally huffed and held a hand up. "Fine, fine, you'll make an official report and give it to someone. Great. I'll thank you now since my severed head won't be able to say it later, you've been such a great help. Don't strain yourself, wouldn't want to waste those tax dollars."

Jason looked at the necklace and bouquets left on the porch, and then back to his Flower. She didn't like his presents? Or maybe she was just scared. Most people were afraid of him, but she wasn't most people. She was his beau, but now she was upset and calling the police.

Flower crossed her arms and stared at the front door, chewing her bottom lip and wondering what to do. "It probably is just a prank," she muttered to herself. "Just some cheeky asshole kids trying to mess with a tourist." She took a few steps forward and opened the door, preparing to sweep away all the plants and throw away the creepy necklace, but she stopped just as her fingers curled around one of the beads. It was likely just a prank, but...maybe, on the scientifically impossible off-chance that this was the undead spirit/corpse of a serial killer...throwing away his creepy present would probably make him angry.

She stared at the necklace in her hand, almost holding her breath as she thought about what to do. "Fuck it," she sighed. "I'd rather be gullible and dumb in the eyes of some high schoolers than risk pissing off...whatever he's supposed to be." Reluctantly, she put the necklace on and headed back inside to slip her pepper spray and knife into her backpack before going out.

Jason's breath hitched when he saw his Flower wearing her present. She looked so pretty with it on. She liked it. She wanted him to court her. "Of course she does," Mama cooed. "A handsome, chivalrous, strong man like you? She's lucky to have my little boy's affections. Now go on back home now, Jason, you need to get everything ready for tonight when you bring her home to meet me."

#yandere jason voorhees #.jason voorhees #.myshit #fem darling #yes this will continue but Sloot needs sleep #yandere friday the 13th #.friday the 13th

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little-cereal-draws · 9 months

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Some sad Ballister and money headcanons

pt 1? maybe?

Ballister has a very complicated relationship to money

Growing up poor, the threat of not having basic things like a home, food, or other necessities hung heavy over his head. He might not have understood the full scope of it, but he was a smart kid and understood enough to feel its affects

He didn't have nice toys, his clothes were full of holes, their meals were small. He knew other families had more, he would see them walking down the street, but knew that wasn't for him or his family

He wouldn't ask for ice cream in the summer, wouldn't complain when they ate the same stew for dinner every day for a week because that's all there was, never cried or whined the few times he asked for something and was told "no"

It bled into guilt. When his mom offered to cut his hair one summer when he was sweating up a storm, he said no. He didn't want to bother her; she already was so busy and stressed. She assured him that it would take five minutes and wouldn't cost anything but still he refused

Or one fall, he helped a neighbor fix his heater (he held the tools) and got paid $10. He was so excited; this was money all for himself! His first thought was to give it to his parents because he knew how much they needed it but this was his money. He bought himself a sandwich for $6. The rest of it he gave to his parents. They didn't want to take it from him but he insisted and eventually they gave in

That night, he cried. He wanted to help, he knew how much they needed the money and how hard his parents worked, and he had selfishly spent over half of it on a single meal. $10 would have been much more helpful than $4 but he just had to treat himself, didn't he? He knew those fancy, expensive foods weren't for him but he bought it anyway

It was around this time that he decided he wanted to be a knight. They were so brave and strong and helped so many more people than he could. And they probably got paid pretty well, their armor was always so shiny

So he would pick up any odd jobs people could give to a kid (walking someone's dog, watering their plants while they were away, sorting recycling from garbage, etc) while dreaming about being a knight. The jobs only paid somewhere between $5 - $10 but it wasn't about the money. He was a hero of the realm and they only needed the safety of their people to be satisfied

But he would go home and count every dollar before he went to bed

When the Queen offered to keep him at the Institute and train him to be a knight, neither him nor his family could believe what they were hearing. There was some back and forth about what this would mean but ultimately, they let him go. He would have food, shelter, stability and all the things they couldn't provide

Joining the Institute was very overwhelming for many reasons but Balister did have to say he did enjoy not worrying about money all the time. He never had to worry about if the lights would shut off or where his next meal would come from. He didn't have to budget his few dollars and didn't feel guilty for wanting things. The other kids had so much stuff, surely he could have some too

This... wasn't totally true. Even though his life was more stable now, he still didn't have the latest sneakers or stories about long vacations to country houses or anything else that these kids had. He tried to ignore it but it was a glaring middle finger to the face every time someone casually mentioned their new pet pony or other ridiculous bullshit

The first few years of his training were fine, they were all using fake swords with plastic armor on straw dummies. But as he reached his teen years and training got more serious, he realized he was going to be left behind again

The Institute and the Queen did provide some things for him but it turns out that most of those kids' families provided their knight equipment for them. Ballister's family would be expected to do the same and he knew there was no way that was going to happen. He had come here to make his dreams a reality but if he had to choose between his future or his family starving/being homeless because all their money went to his armor, he would go home in a heartbeat. It would kill him but, in his heart, he knew it's what he would do

So he went to class everyday with only a sword that wasn't his. Ambrosius gave him a sword when he first got to the Institute and saw he didn't have one. At the time he was thrilled but told him he couldn't accept it, Ambrosius needed it. The blond boy had simply shrugged and said "You can keep it, I have a whole bunch." He was ecstatic to finally get a real-life sword but now it was a reminder that these other kids could trade these thousand dollar weapons like baseball cards. The monetary value meant nothing to them

Despite having a sword already, he didn't have any armor and got his ass handed to him so many times. Turns out having protection against people thrusting blades at you was important. Todd and the other knights made of him mercilessly but he would just have to endure it because there was no way in hell he was going to tell his parents he needed equipment. He was going to have to deal with it himself

At first the Director wanted him to stop training until he was able to afford armor but he begged her to keep going. He got really good at blocking attacks, because if he didn't, he would get hurt, but he knew it wasn't enough

It was nearly impossible because training took all day and then left him dog-tired but he started picking up odd jobs on the weekends again. People paid much better in the wealthier neighborhoods and he could get quite a decent sum for cleaning someone's gutter or mowing their lawn. It was embarrassing that he had to do this while the other kids could relax but it was worth it to not be covered in bandages all the time

He had saved halfway to his goal when he got seriously hurt. Sparing gone wrong, he fell for a fake-out right move and got slashed across his left side. It was bleeding a lot and he was whisked away to the informatory. After he got stitched up, the Queen came to see him. He hadn't expected her but apparently the accident was big enough to reach her

She asked him how this happened and embarrassedly, he admitted he wasn't wearing armor during practice. She was shocked and asked "why in the world not???" After a moment debate, he admitted that he didn't have any. That opened the floodgates, and everything came pouring out. He was ashamed that he got hurt, he was embarrassed he didn't have armor, he was guilty that he didn't ask for help, he was stressed that his parents would help him at their own expense, he was tired from spending every second he wasn't in class working

The Queen comforted him, letting him cry on her shoulder and combing his hair. It only added to his shame, this was no way for anyone to be treating the QUEEN. He pulled away and then the unspeakable happened. She offered to buy him a suit of armor. He sputtered, trying to refuse it, or at least let him pay for the part he had money for but she refused to negotiate. It was unacceptable that one of her knight cadets was left without the basic equipment required to succeed, that the Director did nothing to fix the problem, and that the environment of the Institiute made Balister feel too ashamed to ask for help and got him seriously injured

She bought him his thick black armor and the first day he wore it to class, he couldn't stop grinning. He beat the shit out of everybody who dared spar with him

Time went on and Ballister's armor got chipped and dented but he never wanted to buy a new pair like all his classmates in their shiny chest plates. This armor was old but it was his, he was allowed to have this

#i might do a part two of this set after the moive bc i hit the character limit on this post lol #i know a lot of ppl have done analysis posts on bal class and the institute but i wanted to do more of a personal approach #also i like the hc that bals really good at fighting bc his lack of armor/poor quality of armor wouldn't protect him very well from attacks #he had to really really learn how to block and dodge which led to his victory many times #nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #the director nimona #the queen nimona #nimona headcanon #whew long post

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xreaderbooks · 11 months

Text

The Great War

Pair: JJ Maybank x Reader

Warnings: language, underage drinking, arguments

Based on THIS request

Word Count: 1.8k

a/n: This is a bit short and probably not as angsty as you might've wanted I hope you still like it...

Links: Wattpad and AO3

Navigation - JJ Maybank Masterlist

You didn’t mean to- you didn’t mean to do alot of what had already passed.

You had grown up around JJ and the pogues, you were neighbors, went to the same school, and had most of the same classes. It was inevitable that you and JJ would become close. So close in fact, your parents had set restrictions to how much time you could spend with the boy. They insisted that you could do better, be better, and have a better life when you graduated.

They even saved up enough money and coerced you into doing an essay that will grant you a scholarship to the Kook school that Sarah Cameron and the rest go to. The school you have been going to for a couple of months now.

Not much has changed, you still hung out with your usual friends, JJ was still attached to your hip but you did spare a little bit of your time for the friends you’ve made on the other side of the island.

Your best friend had not been too thrilled about this new development. Admittedly, you had lied to him about it, JJ had always been a bit dramatic when it came to Kooks. Rightfully so, they’d done him wrong too many times in the past that it was understandable where his anger came from but his anger surpassed your patience.

The moment you stepped into his house, he had a glare and a frown that you didn’t know

“So what now Y/n?” You’ve been having this conversation for almost an hour now, Luke was out on another bender, JJ was home by the sound of raging music coming from his window. “You’re one of them just like that?”

You scoff, “No, J. I’m not one of them, I’m just doing what’s best for my future. I wasn’t doing any better in public school.”

He wasn’t in a good mood when you came through the unlocked front door, the door hinges were a little loose, he must have gotten into it with his dad. You can imagine the way Luke must’ve slammed it on the way out for the millionth time. You stood in the middle of his messy room that JJ didn’t bother to clean as he was never here.

“You’re better now that you're in a fancy private school full of those dickheads, really?,” He tongue pokes through his cheek. He let out a bitter laugh, “That’s rich, Y/n. Pretending to be someone you’re not.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you are no better than me and the pogues and you playing dress up every week, going to their school- isn’t going to change that.”

“You’re trying to insult me by saying that i’m not one of them and it isn’t working JJ, I don’t want to be one of them.”

His eyes took you in from head-to-toe, “Have you looked in the mirror lately, Princess.”

“I’m trying JJ,” I exhale. “I’m trying my best not to fucking drown while i’m there, I can dress up all I want while i’m there and they still look at me the same but i’m also not gonna lie and say that part of me doesn’t enjoy it. And so what if I do? Fucking sue me.”

“Then fucking leave!” He shouted in your face, “Leave and enjoy you’re new life cause i’m not gonna be in it.”

You stared at him wide-eyed, he never spoke to you like this, ever. JJ was always cheery and joked whenever things got too tense, he never acted out of turn.

“You know what JJ, you’re really starting to sound like your dad,” Your voice was slightly above a whisper. You were teary eyed and hurt, you regretted the words the moment they left your lips but you were angry and in shock at the way he spoke to you.

He looked as if he had been slapped, he flinched as you made the comparison. You stuttered in your steps as you gave him one last glance before leaving.

~~~

You didn’t see him for days after the argument, whenever you were at the Chateau he was somewhere else and when he was around, he didn’t utter a single word in your direction. You felt guilty, you didn’t truly think he was like Luke at all, but in that moment your mouth ran faster than your brain.

Days turned into weeks, Weeks turned into months, and soon you were graduating. You hung around the Pogues often still, but without JJ you had more time to spend with your private school friends, you divided your time equally between both groups despite the on going beef.

You missed JJ, he had been an integral part of your life, you never went a day without talking to him before the argument. Now you’d become strangers, strangers and yet you knew everything that went on in his life. You lived right next to him, you heard him and his dad, you shared the same friends so you were never left out of anything. Everything you knew now just didn’t come from him, which stung.

You were both in the wrong, you knew and accepted that but JJ was set on avoiding you. You weren’t going to corner him, if he wanted to talk to you, he would come to you as he had many times before.

Summer just started, that meant another annual boneyard party.

Kie had ran up to you and gave you a hug, “You’re here!”

“Of course, did you doubt i’d come?” You giggled at her excitement.

“Well, no but your public enemy number 1 is here,” She motioned over to where JJ was shotgunning a beer.

You rolled your eyes shaking your head, “When has he ever stopped me from being around you guys?”

She walked with you to grab a drink and from there everything was a blur of dancing, talking, and drinking. You had become so inebriated to the point where John B had pointed out your slurred speech, you insisted that you were fine and took several steps back to prove that you had not taken the effects of the several cups of alcohol you consumed. On the last step you back had bumped into someone, that someone had held you by your waist to steady you.

You turned around to apologize but shut your mouth before anything could come out. It was the blond boy you had missed, at the sight of him you felt a familiar sting come from the back of your eyes.

“Can we talk?” He didn’t remove his hand from your side, you didn’t want him to.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” You murmured. You didn’t trust yourself to talk to him, seeing him made you realize you weren’t as sober as you thought. Your head spun as you looked into his blue eyes, who knew what would spill out of you, you could confess to a murder you didn’t commit if you were alone with him in this state.

“Please?” His tone was soft, it made your knees weak. You tore your gaze away from his and you nodded.

Your heart pounded rapidly, you felt like you were about to throw up, you weren’t sure if it was how much you had drank or a sign of how nervous you were. You trusted JJ to be this vulnerable- in this state- with him even after all this time. There was no doubt about it, you just didn’t trust yourself. You had been around him drunk too many times to count but there was so much time between you now and you had shed yourself of any care you might have in sharing your feelings for him.

He brought you over to the middle of where the cars were parked and the beach, trees surrounding you both.

He swallowed before he spoke, “I wanted to say that I’m sorry. You transferred out of school, we never went to separate schools and you were always around during the day, then you weren’t and you got new friends- their all still dickheads by the way- but you’re my best friend and I didn’t want that to end.”

That brought you out of your thoughts, your gaze met his and he continued. “I didn’t want us to stop being friends after that fight- I just- I was scared,” He cleared his throat. It wasn’t easy for him to share his feelings. “I missed you Y/n, more than missed you actually. I can’t even explain how weird it was not having you around me and that’s completely my fault for being such an asshole, ignoring you and shit. I was pissed at the moment, I needed time and space but not that much time and space-”

He was rambling now, hearing how much he missed you felt like a weight being lifted off your chest, you weren’t the only one that felt the absence of your friendship. Now that he started talking, he wouldn’t stop overexplaing how much he missed you.

He looked so cute when he was talking you couldn’t stop yourself, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/n,” His eyes furrowed as he stopped his rant.

“No, JJ,” You grabbed his shoulders, taking a step into his space. “I love you. I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to compare you to him, you could never be like him, ever. I was just as scared of losing and I did for a time but that doesn’t matter now because you’re here- talking to me finally. I’ll probably regret this as much as I did when I said what I said to you that day, I love you.”

His face spread into a bright grin, he let out a laugh and you almost questioned whether he thought you were joking or if he was laughing at you. You released your hold on him and took a step back only to be pulled into his chest, one of his hands on your waist, the other on your cheek as he pulled you into a kiss.

For a moment you couldn’t process what was happening, the next, your hands had tugged him closer by tangling in his hair and neck making the kiss go deeper.

You heard cheers coming from the crowded side of the party, you had pulled away from JJ with a smile and looked to where John B, Kiara, and Pope were howling at the two of you.

“The great war is over!” John B had called out. He and the others had taken to calling the fight you and JJ had ‘The Great War’ over time when he and the rest of them realized that this wasn’t just some petty fight you guys had and would eventually get over. They hated it almost as much as you two did.

JJ wrapped his arm around your shoulders looking over at your friends and gave you sweet kisses on your forehead.

“I love you.”

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apomaro-mellow · 1 year

Text

Eddie and his bats part 1

Steve didn’t always know what to make of the demobats that followed Eddie around. At first, he was certain they were just waiting for the right moment to strike and take them all out. But when it was proven that Eddie had complete control, he stopped worrying about that.

And yet, still, there were moments when it looked like the bats wanted to eat him up. There were times when it felt like they couldn’t get close enough to him. They’d rub at his sides or nestle into his hair or just peer up at him like a puppy or a baby that wanted up.

It was weird. These were supposed to be flesh eating monster bats. Not cute little pets.

Eddie had assured them that in a similar way to the Upside Down, he and the bats were connected. So whenever he got the blood to fuel him, the bats were sated as well. And after the first time he fed on Steve in lieu of blood bags, they just kept doing that. Steve was typically more readily available and could obviously replenish his own stores.

“Don’t make me sound so cheap.”

Eddie had laughed at that. “Now you’re the Slim Jim.”

Steve had rolled his eyes but noticed one of the bats rubbing against his ankle again. The world really was turning quote unquote upside down if he was finding it cute. Cute enough to swipe a drop of blood left on his neck and hold it out to the bat, who licked it up gratefully.

“You okay givin’ ‘em another taste?”, Eddie asked.

“It’s a consent thing”, Steve said.

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

When Steve finally figured out how Eddie felt about him (courtesy of Erica of all people) it was like the floodgates had opened. It was like you finally found that puzzle piece that made the picture make sense.

“I really can’t believe I didn’t see it before”, Steve said as he crumbled up some ground beef into dog bowls.

“I think I was playin’ it pretty cool”, Eddie grinned before seeing what Steve was doing. “Are you mixing in wet dog food? For the bats?”

Currently three bats were all over Steve. One clung to his leg, slowly climbing, another attached to the back of his shirt while one was perched on his shoulder, all trying to get closer to the food.

“I just saw this premium brand and thought they might like it. I know they get energy from you but it’s probably like an IV drip vs an actual meal, you know?”

“Getting the nutrients but none of the pleasure, sure. But dog food?”

Steve placed the bowls on the floor. “There’s raw meat in there.”

The bats ate ravenously, as they did with most things and Steve shot his boyfriend a smug grin.

“You know, if this gives us alone time so I can suck you off with no audience, I’m team dog food.”

“You mean my blood, right?”

Eddie just waggled his brows and started towards Steve’s room.

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

Eddie had always craved some sort of power. To have authority over others. He liked having members of Hellfire under his orders or freshman that hung on his every word. Eddie liked feeling powerful.

So right now, sitting in his DM chair, making out with a lapful of Steve Harrington, he felt on top of the world. He let his fangs graze against those soft lips and the little whimper Steve let out made him fly higher.

And if he had a bat or two standing by to keep anyone from bothering them, that was his business.

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

Steve was dead tired. He had to wake up early to open the store, then during his lunch break some demodogs got into the arcade and had to be dealt with, a woman spent an hour trying to convince him they had a movie in stock that didn’t exist in their inventory, and then after work he had to go to the grocery store and nearly got into it with that bitch Sheila on behalf of Claudia.

Needless to say, he was ready to lay down once he got home. When he opened the door, he wasn’t surprised to see a small horde of bats waiting for him. Eddie practically lived in his house now.

“Sounds like Daddy’s home~”, Eddie called out from somewhere in the house. The bats were vibrating from where they sat. At one point they had swarmed Steve and tackled him when he got home, but he had spiraled into a panic attack and they (Eddie) learned to keep themselves at bay until he said it was okay.

Eddie got the welcome kisses first and then Steve knelt down to acknowledge the demobats. Once he rose, some attached to his clothes and hung on like little koalas.

“Rough day?”

“The roughest.”

The moment he said that, Steve felt the bats lift him off his feet and carry him off to his room.

“Comfy?”, Eddie asked once the bats laid him onto his bed.

“I feel like a messed up Disney princess”, Steve said through a laugh.

Eddie began to remove Steve’s shoes. “Then allow this humble servant to serve his royal highness.”

He swore he could feel Vecna rumbling in displeasure on the other side. But he was a lump of flesh, trying to build himself back up while having sent Eddie here to stir up chaos in his absence. It was why he’d been brought from the brink and given these abilities.

But as he listened to Steve sigh in relief while he gave him a foot massage, Eddie couldn’t see a better use for himself than being right here.

Tag Team

@cherixxx69 @ajamlessbaby

For more vampire Eddie, check out Welcome to Hawkins or my Supernatural Steddie series

#apo writes #fanfiction #stranger things #steddie #kas!eddie

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headkiss · 5 months

Note

hellooo!! could i request something christmassy with joel? maybe something to do with a secret santa with the fam in jackson 🫣 thank youuu lots and lots of love <33

hiii lots of love back!!! tysm for your request baby <3 0.9k of fluff and christmas in jackson!

Christmas in Jackson feels like the closest thing to how life was before the outbreak. Feels the closest to normal you’ll ever get. Though, you suppose it’s your normal now.

There are string lights hung, wrapped around railings, and some porch light bulbs have been switched from their classic white to red and green. Wreaths hung on doors, snow on the ground.

Jackson’s been your home for some time now, but it feels the most like home in December.

There are people that feel like family in Jackson, too. Joel and Ellie and the house you share, Tommy and Maria and their place across the street. Although you don’t think you’ll ever be one hundred percent comfortable somewhere—not when things like clickers exist—here, you’re probably as close as you can be. A solid ninety on a good day, never any lower than a seventy-five on a tough one.

The people you’ve got have a lot to do with that.

Those of you that are old enough to remember what the holidays were like before the outbreak have tried to teach the younger ones about traditions. Santa Claus and Christmas morning, decorating a tree and making cookies.

This year, Secret Santa’s been added to the mix.

You’d have been happy getting anybody’s name from the hat Tommy had filled with folded pieces of paper, but you’re glad the one you got was Joel.

He’d already been in Jackson for a while when you arrived, and, because there are only so many houses built at a time, he’d let you stay with him. And you just never moved out.

He’s told you that he was different before Jackson, before meeting Ellie. Joel was colder, rougher, and he’d call himself a bad man for it, but you’ve all done bad things to survive.

Besides, living with him and getting to know what’s beneath all those layers he’s surrounded himself with, you don’t think you could ever call Joel a bad person.

You’re just finishing wrapping his present when he comes in, “you ready?”

“Don’t peek,” you say, tying a bow around his gift. “No spoilers!”

Joel shakes his head with a huff of a laugh, and comes up behind you, putting his hands on your shoulders and squeezing. “I didn’t see anything. Promise.”

The hand of yours that isn’t holding the present reaches up to hold one of his where it sits on your shoulder, and you spin to face him.

Joel’s wearing a flannel (like usual), the top buttons left undone just enough to catch a hint of his chest hair. He’s got jeans on and his boots, and though he pretty much always wears a variation of this outfit, you admire him all the same.

“‘Kay, let’s go.”

He grabs your jacket for you from where it hangs by your front door, holding it open and helping you shrug it onto your shoulders. You’ve told Joel time and time again that you can do it yourself, but you know that he likes to help whenever he can, so you let him.

Joel speaks volumes with his actions, a little love sprinkled in everything he does for you.

As you pass the garage, which is really Ellie’s apartment, you knock a pattern on the door, one that you and Ellie use for each other, like a code. She meets you and Joel outside quickly.

The walk to Tommy’s is incredibly short, his house a simple cross of the street away.

You’re greeted with smiles and a hug from Maria, a pat on the back from Tommy. They usher you into the living room, where they’ve got stockings hung above the fireplace, some that Maria must’ve knitted herself.

It’s not long before you get Secret Santa started, Ellie giving Maria a drawing of her favorite flowers, Maria giving Tommy a new mug for his collection, Tommy giving you a new pair of boots he’d found in your size.

Then, it’s Joel’s turn, who gives Ellie her very own guitar that he’d been working on late at night for weeks. You remember the way he’d come to bed, eyes tired and hands sore, the way he’d wrap his arms around you and that would be that.

He’d hidden the guitar at Tommy’s when it was done so she wouldn’t see it, and upon receiving her gift, Ellie gasps, “woah! Dude, you’re serious?”

Joel simply nods.

“This is so cool. Thanks, Joel.”

Ellie leans over from her spot on the couch to give him a hug, one that Joel reciprocates quickly, because he always does. You smile at the pair, at how they interact. It’s family.

Finally, it’s your turn, and you hand Joel the small box he’d walked in on you wrapping earlier.

“For you,” you say.

He tears the paper slowly, like he’s nervous to see what’s inside. Even though he shouldn’t be; Joel’s well aware you know him better than anybody else.

Inside, he finds a pair of work gloves, probably old, but in pretty good condition. No holes in the palm or fingertips.

“They’re for when you’re making your guitars,” you tell him. “I found ‘em on patrol a while ago and thought you’d like them. No more slivers for you, Miller.”

He sets them down in his lap and smiles that small, sweet smile of his, and it feels like a present in itself. Tossing an arm around your shoulders and tugging you close, he says, “they’re perfect, sweetheart. Thanks.”

And when everyone else is distracted by their own conversation, Joel presses a kiss to the side of your head, then your cheek, then, quick, your lips.

It’s the kind of Christmas tradition you could get used to.

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

Note

I need to know how Fe, Rooster and Dot’s Christmas was? What did he get them?

First update after Christmas. Oof—let’s get back into the swing of things shall we? As always, here’s the Series Masterlist for those looking to catch up.

Warnings Below: Smut! Mention of domestic violence.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you guys?” Jake asked one final time as you helped him carry his bags out to the taxi that was idling in the drive. “Because I can always call and say I've been asked to stay on base.” Jake was going home for the holidays, back to Texas where a large quantity of the Seresin family resided. He only really had one option, there was no way his mother was going to let him bail out of Christmas again this year–not after he’d been deployed for the last two.

“No, you go spend time with your family–” You really didn't want to be a burden on Jake anymore than you already felt like you'd become. Passing him the bags one by one as he hoisted them into the boot of the taxi. “Me and Dot will be just fine here.” Jake had invited you and your little girl to the Seresin family Christmas and it was a warm invitation you almost accepted. But being back in Texas meant running the risk of Jaidyn finding out where you had run off to. He wasn't a dumb man and if you set foot back on Texan soil he’d surely sniff you out–besides, you didn't really want the Seresin knowing you were hiding out in Miramar. They were a family who had only ever known money–and for a dollar they would out anyones dirty laundry. All except Jake and his sister Lydia. “Besides, Roosters gonna swing by and stay the night of Christmas Eve and then we’re gonna head off to Penny and Mavs place for lunch on Christmas day.”

“You two are starting to get pretty serious aren't you?” It had been a couple of weeks since Rooster had first stayed the night and a few weeks since you’d started to let your walls come down a little. Letting in the chestnut blonde who looked at you like you hung all the stars in the night sky just for him. “Not that i'm complaining, He’s a good guy–just gotta get used to seeing Bradshaw walking around the house in his boxer briefs is all.” It had been one time, Bradley had woken up in the middle of the night, skulking down stairs for a glass of water–he’d run into Jake who was doing the same thing. Only Jake was wearing pants and Braldley had decided that the few extra seconds it would have taken to put his sweats back on would have sent him into the early dehydration process. You chuckled as Jake drew you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around your waist as he issued the top of your head. “Keys are in the key bowl and I filled up the tank.”

“I should probably start looking at getting my own car huh?” You mumbled into Jake's chest before pulling away. The two of you normally carpooled to work and it hadn’t been an issue sharing. But perhaps it was time. “Still waiting to hear about staff housing, but I could look at getting a private somewhere a little more in town.”

“Let's table this for when I get back, yeah?” Jake was in absolutely no hurry to actually get you out of his house. He joked and he taunted and he teased that his humble abode had been taken over, but he would never toss you out. He’d never make you leave if you weren't ready to. You came to him for help, for protection. He was willing to play that role for the rest of his life. “Just don't burn the house down while I'm gone! And dont let Rooster in my fucking room.” He pointed into your chest before ducking into the passenger's side of the taxi. “You call me, if anything happens?”

“Roger that.” You tapped him off and stepped away, watching as you hugged yourself as Jake disappeared out of sight down the road. Leaving you somewhat alone since you first showed up on his doorstep unannounced all those months ago. It felt odd, silent. But soon enough as you stepped back into the house you shared with Jake the beaming sound of your daughter's favourite show Bluey could be heard ringing out from the living room where you left her.

“Looks like it's just you and me girly.” You sighed as you started picking up toys she’d discarded the minute her attention was drawn to the television. Crayons and pieces of paper that were scattered across the coffee table caught your attention as you noticed the unmistakable drawing of your daughter's version of a plane. “This Rooster baby?” You asked softly as you showed your daughter the drawing you were referring to. Her soft nod told you everything you needed to know. “He’s pretty cool huh?”

“He likes you mamma.” Dot smiled but her eyes never left the TV.

“Oh yeah?” Placing your hands on your hips you smirked back at your mini me. “And who told you that little miss?” Dot was still learning how to pronounce certain letters and sounds. Her R’s were still a little wonky. But you knew who she was talking about when her attention was finally drawn to you.

“Tooster did.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Bradley Bradshaw was for once, excited about Christmas. For the longest time he hadnt had a child around him to create the magic of Christmas for. He’d never been one big on it, coming from a small family that just seemed to get smaller and smaller every year that passed him by. It felt nice to know that this year would be different.

“How’ve things been without Jake here?” It had only been two days, but there was certainly a void that had ripped through the usually loud home. Without Hangman around? Things had actually been pretty quiet. He was always blaming the noise on dot and her abundance of obnoxiously loud toys. But as it turns out? He was the source of it all.

“Surprisingly okay, but we’ve been camping in the living room with all the Christmas lights on.” You explained as Bradley placed a few gifts he’d gotten for you and Dot under the tree. “Just couldn't bring myself to sleep upstairs.” Rooster just frowned at you as he stood–he wasn't blind to the bags under your eyes that looked a little darker than the ones you normally wore as a hard working single parent. “I know, super irrational.”

“You could have called me.” If Bradley had known you were having trouble, he would have come. Point blank, end of discussion. “But I get it, and it's not irrational.” It was nice to have your feelings validated. “But unfortunately we can't camp tonight, otherwise Santa won't be able to deliver all your presents. Will he Odette?” Bradley was quick to turn his attention to your daughter who'd come barrelling into the living room with her bowl of cut up apply. Scooping her up with ease as she giggled and laughed at being spun around.

“Mamma said we have to leave a cawwot out for the waindear and a glass of miwk for santa.”

“Ah, I'm pretty sure Santa drinks oat milk–he’s got a small intolerance to dairy.” You couldn't help but to stare at Bradley as he placed your daughter down. She’d gone right back to her original trajectory of the small chair by the coffee table–colouring in one of her many colouring books. “What?” He laughed as you pushed his shoulder softly, shaking your head.

“You wanna write me a list of Santa’s allergies Bradshaw?” Taunting Bradley as he followed you around the corner into the hall. You didn't want to subject your daughter to public displays of affection that might confuse her. So behind the wall that separated the living room from the hall that led up to the stairs, You pulled Rooster into you. Kissing him as his hands immediately went to your hips, pressing you against the wall as he deepened the kiss almost instantly.

“Feel like I'm back in highschool, sneaking around trying not to get caught kissing girls under the bleachers.” Bradley mumbled as one hand came up to cup your cheek, the pad of his thumb rubbed softly against your skin. “Only it's a curious toddler who will have my ass and not Mrs Rundle.”

“I don't wanna confuse her.” You whispered as your hand came down between the pair of you, palming Rooster through his jeans as he stilled and let out a breathy groan. “But after she's asleep, and Santa has helped me put out all her presents.” You cooed into Bradleys ear as you felt him growing under your touch. “I wouldn't mind being a little naughty under the tree.”

“You don't know what you do to me Y/n.” Braldys head was spinning as you continued to palm him through his jeans. “Christ I really am back in highschool, you keep doing that and I’m gonna cream my pants.” Before you could answer with some witty remark, Dot wall calling out for you.

“Back to motherhood I go–”

“I'm gonna go take a cold shower.” Rooster smirked as he left you with one final kiss, taking his bags upstairs as he adjusted himself with every step he took. “You’re killing me mamma!” Rooster cried out from the top of the staircase. You just laughed in response as you turned on your heels biting your lower lip.

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Christmas Eve at the hard deck was always a hard one to pick. Penny Benjamin never really knew what to expect when the time came every year. Last year, it had been packed to the rafters, but that had been because most of the crew that occupied Mirimar on a more permanent basis had stuck around. This yeah? Mostly everyone had gone back home to see their families. Besides you and Rooster? Everyone had left a few days ago. Leaving the Bar abandoned except for some stragglers and a handful of families that had drifted in for a cheap pub feed.

“What can I get you?” Penny sent the man sitting at her bar a quick toothy smile. He smiled back when he’d been acknowledged and shifted in his seat. Pulling his wallet out from his back pocket.

“A rum and coke thanks dear.”

“Anything specific?” Penny pressed as she turned to read out the rums she had on offer. “I've got Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Gentlmens, Morgans, Kraken–” She listed them out one by one as she flung the bar towel over her shoulder.

“Gentlemns sounds good, Thankyou.”

“What's brought you into town?” Penny was good at making lighthearted conversation as she poured the man's drink. She’d been doing it for long enough to know how to go through the motions without getting too emotionally invested in whatever answers were thrown her way.

“Uh, I just transferred here from Kingsville–Texas.” Penny widened her eyes as she passed the man his drink, taking his card in return to run it through the eftpos machine. “Don't officially start till the third but I had nothing better to do.”

“So you're in the Navy?” Passing the card back, Penny leaned on the bar. “Hate to disappoint but most of the crew have gone home for the Holidays, they’d usually be here till dawn otherwise.”

“Yes ma’am, Lietantent Jaidyn ‘Zeus’ Dolan at your service.” Jaiydn sent a thousand-watt smile Penny’s way as he took a sip of his drink. “And that's alright, in due time I guess.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Did you ever believe in Santa?” It was a beautiful sight. Rooster on his knees neatly tucking the presents you'd wrapped together under the Christmas Tree.

“I think for a while there I did.” You sighed as you crossed your legs and sat back against the back of the lounge. Matching pyjamas matching Bradley’s and Dots as she slept soundly upstairs. “But after a while I think I started to question why Santa didn’t stop at our place.” Bradley kept placing present after present under the tree, unlike yourself when you were a kid, you wanted your daughter to remember Christmas as a time for family and friends and the gift of giving and receiving. You just remembered it as a time where all the other kids in the neighbourhood got whatever it was that was on their Christmas wish list—you? You were lucky if your parents hadnt loaded themselves enough to overdose on the back porch. “I remember accidentally ruining Santa for Jake one year because he’d told me he got this new transformer he’d been begging for and I told him his mum had brought it six months prior.”

“You Christmas Grinch, you ruined Christmas for little Seresin? No wonder he’s a dick now.” Bradley chuckled as he came out from under the tree. “You’ve really spoiled her haven’t you?” Looking at the sight, it warmed your heart. You had and you weren’t ashamed of it. You were in a position to do so.

“Yep, and I’m gonna make sure I always can.” It was the glow about you that had Rooster melting into a puddle at your feet as you spoke about your daughter. “I may be projecting but I’m always gonna make sure she has everything she needs, wants, desires.” Rooster smiled, creeping closer till he was sitting beside you.

“Has anyone told you recently that you’re a really good mum?” Rooster cooed as you looked his way, the light from the Christmas tree illuminating just enough of you that to Bradley you looked like a goddess in the dim glow. “And it’s not because of the presents, although an added bonus I’m sure—but you're a really good mum because you love her so much Y/n.”

You folded completely, all your walls, all your worries about not being good enough for Bradley went out the window for just a few fleeting moments. Leaning in closer to ghost your lips against Bradley as he leaned closer into you.

“Just know if you kiss me right now I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself—“ He whispered against your lips as you moved to straddle his waist on the floor. His back against the lounge. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Rooster—“ You whispered as his hands roamed your body, slipping up the back of your Pyjama shirt.

“If you tell me you don’t want this I’ll stop.” He reminded you before softly and ever so gently placing his lips on yours for a brief moment. Pulling away seconds later. “You gotta tell me you want me Or we’re just gonna keep going around in a circle.”

“I’m scared.” You knew Rooster valued honesty, so the truth of the matter is what he got. “I’m afraid I’ll let you in and I’ll be too much trouble than what I’m really worth.” Your forehead stayed pressed against his as your hands slid down his chest, unbuttoning the small line of buttons that kept the flannel closed. “That the more you learn about me, you’ll realise that it would be easier to run than to stick around.”

“Nah, I think I’m good where I am with you.” Bradley kissed you a little harder as you removed his top, exposing him for all he’s worth. You’d seen him shirtless a million times—but in this very moment he looked otherworldly. “I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me that you don’t wanna do this.”

“I do, I do wanna do this—“ You couldn’t hold back the soft moans that escaped as Bradley started a soft assault on your neck. Leaving butterfly-like kisses up and down the junction of your neck and shoulder. “But things are complicated, you have to know that—“

“I’ll do complicated for you, fuck I’d do just about anything for you.” Against your neck Bradley moaned as you started to move your hips across his crotch. “Please Fe, just let me in?” There had been a handful of times where you'd gotten close enough with Bradley that you’d almost followed through to a home run. But it had never gone any further than third base. Until now.

Nodding before you captured Bradley lips in a feverish kiss, only pulling away so you could remove your own shirt. Setting the pace for how this was going to go—Rooster caught on immediately. You were in control.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty Y/n.” Bradley smirked as your hands went to tug at the waistband of his pyjama pants, lifting yourself up to rid yourself of yours as Bradley discarded his own. “Do you wanna, maybe—“ He was trying to ask if you wanted to mess around first, but the look in your eyes told him all he needed to know. You were ready and you wanted him now. “Are you sure?” Rooster's voice hitched in his throat as your fist wrapped around his length, palming him up and down creating a perfect friction. “Ahh, fuck Y/n—ohhh.”

“I want this Roo, I want you.” You lined his lip up with your entrance—already slick and needy just for him. “Are you sure?” Nodding frantically, Bradley’s hands helped to guide you down slowly. Taking him inch by inch as soft moans echoed off the walls around you. “Ahhh fuck, yes!” Throwing your head back as you bottomed out on Bradley, he said still beneath you while you adjusted. “God, Bradshaw how the fuck do you walk around with this thing?”

“You’ll notice the slight limp now that you’ve mentioned it.” Rooster took your lips hostage once again as his hands helped to guide your hips. Slowly, you began to ride him. Bobbing up and down along his slicked up shaft. “Oh fucking Christ you’re perfect.” Capturing one of your nipples in his mouth—Bradley reveled in the sounds you made all for him. The whimpers, the groans of pleasure, the shift gasps whenever the head of his cock pressed against the velvety walls of your dripping cunt. “So pretty, all for me.” You’d never heard such loving praise before, and it was doing something for you.

“Please keep talking—“ You begged as your hands came up to rest on Roosters shoulders for more stability. Still remaining in full control. “Please Roo.”

“You’re beautiful mamma, so beautiful while you ride me.” He wasn’t lying, he was telling the whole ass truth. “Bet you look even pretty when I do this huh?” Rooster waited for you to tell him otherwise, his hand slowly coming down from your hip to rub small soft pressure against your bundle of nerves.

Ahhhhh fuck!—“ You didn’t stop him, if anything you got just a little faster as you picked up the pace to match his rhythm. “Bradley—I—I’m.”

“I’m right with you baby, I’m here—you can let you.” Bradley sweet nothings were coaxing you closer and closer to your high, a feeling so overpowering it took control of all your senses. “You don’t have to be scared, or afraid, you—Ahhh, ohh ffgghh, you don’t have to run from me baby I got you.”

Crumbling into a pile on Bradley's chest as you came, Bradley bucked his hips as you cried out through your high, jaw slack on his shoulder as he quickly gathered himself and pumped his shaft till his own high was splattering onto his lower abdomen. He didn’t want to cum inside you, he didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. He knew just from what you’d told him that it would feel like a sense of ownership—Bradley didn’t own you nor did he ever want you to feel like that.

“Holy shit, Y/n, that was—“ Bradley cut himself off when he heard your groans turn to gentle sobs, tears against his skin soon followed. “Hey, hey what’s wrong Fe?” It came out more panicked then it probably should have, But Rooster had never had someone cry after sex with him before. “Y/n? Hey darlin what's wrong? Did I do something?”

“Nothing–” Bradley cupped your face as you rose up to meet his gaze, the slightly rough pads of his thumbs worked to wipe away the tears that streamed down your cheeks. “I just forgot what it was like before the world fell at my feet.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

The next morning, wrapped in Roosters arms, Dot had you both waking with a gasp as she screamed from her bed at whatever god awful hour it was.

“Holy shit.” Rooster groaned as you scurried off the bed to collect your very excited two year old. “I'm up, I'm awake, just give me a second.”

“Santa! Santa! Santa!” Dot jumped around as you picked her up with tied eyes. “Did he come mamma?”

“He sure did.” Rooster teased as he sat up rubbing his eyes. You sent him a look as you held Odette to your hip, settling her just enough so that she didn't break your hip. “What? I'm just telling the truth.” Rooster was quick to defend himself as he rose from his spot on the bed. All of you matched in the red striped flannel pyjamas and it was just the sweetest sight. “Come on you two, let's go see what’s under the tree yeah.”

You thought Odette’s eyes couldn't have gotten any bigger, but sure enough when she laid eyes on all the presents sitting neatly and tidy under the tree she’d helped you and uncle Jake decorate, she was screaming with pure joy and excitement.

Rooster took picture after picture for you on your phone so you didn't miss a single moment of Dots third Christmas. Her first was when she was just a newborn, born the eleventh of January. She was only just now starting to take things in, her brain starting to develop the ability to remember things long term.

When Bradley wasn’t taking pictures, he was cleaning up the sea of wrapping paper Dot had torn through. Two massive bin bags full of the stuff sat on top of the lounge. He couldn't believe just one little girl could make such a mess but here he was, trialling after her mess like every Dad ever on Christmas day ever.

“You didn't?” You beamed as you helped Dot in your lap and helped her unwrap the present Rooster had gotten her. “Bradley Bradshaw you surely didn't.” Oh he had.

“I know, I overdid it.” He ginned ear to ear as you held up the flight suit. Custom ordered for Dot. “But I couldn't help myself, she's an avid aviator already.” Holding the Normex up you couldn't help but to laugh, it was the cutest little thing. “Odette “Polkadot” Dolan reporting for duty.”

“This is just amazing, thank you–I'm definitely going to keep that even when she grows out of it.” It truly did mean the world to you. Rooster didn't have to get your daughter a single thing. But the fact he;d gone to such great lengths to make it something special just melted your heart.

“I got you something too.” Rooster crawled under the tree to fetch the box he’d snuck under the tree last night. Grabbing it out gently before passing it your way. “Here.”

“Oh–Roo you didn't have to.” You had grown up in a family where gift giving was barely non-existent. And when there was a gift involved it usually came with a but or would be thrown in your face at a later date. “Really–”

“Just open it.” Bradley huffed as he sat beside you, an arm coming to rest behind you as Dot squirmed out of your lap to investigate her newest toys. “And I know I didn't have to, but I wanted to.” Yuu didn't think arguing would lead you anywhere, so reluctantly, you opened the gift Rooster had gone out of his way to get for you.

“Oh Rooster–” You gasped when you opened the bracelet box. Speechless as Bradley kissed your shoulder.

“I've still got the receipt if it needs to get resized, the lady said the warranty should cover it.” It was the white Gold bracelet you'd been eyeing off each time you went past the jeweller in Westfields. “But I'm hoping it fits just right.”

“Can you help me put it on?” You asked just above a whisper as you held yourself together, not wanting to cry on Christmas morning. Noone had ever gotten you something so special. “It's beautiful.”

“Beautiful women deserve beautiful things.” Bradley clipped the claps together as you held out your wrist. “See, it fits perfectly.”

“Okay well, now you have to open your gift.” You sighed as you reached under the tree for Roosters present. “And don't argue that I got you something when you just did the same thing.” Calling Bradley out on his bullshit before he could even start, he held his hands up in surrender before accepting the gift.

“Oh. My. Gosh.” Bradley laughed as he unwrapped the present you had given him. “He’s gonna love these.” You couldn't help yourself after the whole boxer brief incident with Jake in the Kitchen. You'd given Bradley a few pairs of briefs with Jake's face plastered all over them. “For when I get up for water right?”

“Exactly, for when you get up for water.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Jake Seresin stood in the kitchen of his parents place on Christmas morning helping his mum peel potatoes of the potato bake she was planning to make for Christmas lunch. He’d already gotten over the festivities when he’d been asked about the possibility of a girlfriend in the future. He loved his family to death–but sometimes they were a little much. And when they all got together, they were a lot.

“I forgot to mention earlier that I ran into Jaidyn earlier in the week.” Jake recoiled at the name, he hated that the man who’d caused you so much pain behind closed doors for so many years played it off that he was an upstanding citizen.

“Who?” He pretended not to care as he peeled the russet potatoes for his mum.

“Oh you know Jacob, Jaiydn Dolan, He was dating Y/n for the longest time.”

“Ma, I haven't spoken to either of them for at least two years.” Jake had chosen to play dumb when it came to you for your own safety. He didn't even want his family knowing you were still as close as you were. “What's Jaidyn doing talking to you?”

“I ran into him at the grocery store, it turns out his reposting to North Island cone the new year.” If Jake hadn’t been paying so much attention to what he’d been doing, he was sure he would have cut his finger off with the potato peeler he was using. Gasping a sharp hiss when he slipped and nicked his finger.

“Ah fuck, Mum what do you mean he’s reposting to North Island?” Panic. Pure panic rose in the Depths of Jake's heart. This couldn't be happening.

“Well as it turns out that Y/n girl ran off with his daughter a few months back, just took off with her without a trace, he hasn't heard from her since and with nothing left for him here he decided to take up a new posting.”

“And he just told you this in the aisle of Wholefoods did he?” Jake huffed as he ran his hand under the stream of water racing out of the fossett. “Y/n probably left his bitch ass because he’s a wife beater.”

“Jacob Seresin!” Jake's mother hissed his way. “You know that girl’s no good, you always have, ever since you were kids.”

“Yeah well, not everyone can come from money ma—Y/n’s good people, she always has been—she just didn’t have good people around her, you know that.” It’s not that Jennifer Seresin disliked you. She’d taken you in more times then she could count on one hand. She’s even been the one who helped you get your driver's licence. But she had a distaste for people who could easily drag her beautiful baby boy down into the gutters. She knew with your background that wouldn’t be hard. “You know she’s a good person, heart of gold.”

“A girl with a heart of gold would run off with a man’s only child?”

“Just because you never had the guts to leave dad doesn’t mean Y/n had to tolerate the same treatment.” Jake was seething, he loved his mother with all his heart but sometimes she saw the world from a less than perspective. He couldn’t blame her all too much—it was his dad who’d reprogrammed her to believe the things she did. “If Y/n ran? She’s running from him mum.”

“What do you know, Jacob? Hmm? For someone who hasn’t seen or spoken to either of them in two years you seem to have an awful opinion on the situation?” Jake knew he had to quiet before the questions came down on him like an avalanche. He also saw just how much of a bullet you’d truly dodged forfeiting the invite he’d given you to the Seresin family Christmas. “That girl will always be family, you know that–if she's in trouble she can always come to us for help but lord have mercy on my soul if she ever corrupts my baby boy.”

“Did Jaiydn really say North Island?” Jake asked as he stood with his mother in the kitchen. Holding his finger under a cloth to dry it, stop it from bleeding.

“Sure did.” His mother confirmed as she went back to cutting her russets. Fishing his phone out of his jeans, Jake went to send Rooster an SOS message. Before he did, he noticed the text he’d missed from Penny yesterday afternoon.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

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