#went from you’re my problem to soulmates

[loveyourownsmiilee]

I’m so fucking normal about these two men

#buddie #911 spoilers #evan buckley #eddie diaz #went from you’re my problem to soulmates #the way Buck went from animosity to such love for the new guy

[ellecdc]

A Man With a Plan.6

prologue // p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7

Remus Lupin x whimsical!reader - Hogwarts Era (no Voldemort) - Soulmate AU

CW: swearing, mostly fluff, funny moments with friends, no plot just vibes [crystal dialogue prompt courtesy of keke the unstablereader 🫶]

Though Remus was undoubtedly relieved that you a) knew of his affliction, and b) forgave him for his arseholery, he was admittedly a little more than slightly disappointed that very little had changed between the two of you.

Which made no sense on account of the fact that he never planned on anything changing between the two of you to begin with; he was discontent, nevertheless. 

“Oh, good, Y/N’s here. Listen, how the hell do I stop the nargles from stealing my things?” James shouted as you approached the table. You looked like you had perhaps only been prepared to say hello and carry on, to which James was having none of it and nearly bodily forced you onto the bench next to him. 

“Hello, Jamie. Do you have your cranberry seed oil infused corks?” You asked as you obediently took your seat.

James scoffed and pulled out a lanyard from under his uniform which, lo and behold, had a cork attached to it smelling very much like cranberry seed oil. “I literally never go anywhere without it.” He said as if you had asked a particularly ridiculous question.

You hummed and Remus watched a divot appear between your eyebrows as you scrutinized what Remus assumed was James’ aura or some other such entity. “Well, I don’t see any around you, James. What makes you think you have a nargle problem?”

James groaned dejectedly and turned back towards his lunch. “All of my things are missing! It started around the time you went missing.” James stressed, still not having completely forgiven you for your disappearance at the last full moon. “It was my school tie, and some socks, a quill set my mom got me at the start of school, and now I can’t find my herbology textbook!”

You hummed again and seemed to look around the table as if you’d somehow find his belongings there. “Perhaps you should ask your friend Peter.”

Remus heard Peter choke on his pumpkin juice as James, Sirius, and Remus all turned to look at him. 

“Uh...haha, so, funny thing...” He started, cut off by an indignant squawk from James.

“You were stealing my stuff!? Why!?” He cried.

Peter’s cheeks pinked though a pleased smile graced his lips. “You were so worried about Y/N being missing and the nargles taking your things. I thought a funny prank would lighten the mood; I wouldn’t get a chance like that again!” He defended himself. 

“You are so dead.” James muttered as Peter (wisely) took off out of the Great Hall with James hot on his heels.

“Alright Y/N.” Sirius started, throwing an arm over your shoulders. “You’ve gotta tell me; how’d you know it was Petey boy?”

A shy sort of pride painted your features and Remus thought it was the most beautiful you ever looked. “Wrackspurts.”

Sirius’ smile fell slightly, but the amusement never left his eyes. “Wrackspurts?” 

You nodded in agreement. “Mhm. His head was full of them.” You said simply as you took a piece of cut strawberry from James’ abandoned plate and popped it in your mouth.

Sirius nodded with a look on his face that seemed to say ‘fair enough’. “And how’d you know about this one?” He asked, motioning towards Remus with his head.

“About his affliction, or about his soulmate bond?” You asked as if you were simply talking about the weather.

Sirius cocked his head as he considered you. “Both.”

“His aura...or I suppose Moony’s aura.”

Remus felt his eyebrows recede into his hair line. “Moony has an aura?” He asked you.

You nodded in the affirmative. “I’m assuming you’re right-handed?”

Remus nodded numbly.

“Most of the lunar cycle, Moony’s aura sits around your left shoulder. As the cycle moves closer to the full, he resides on your right. Also, sometimes when I’m near, he tries to come closer. Would you say that’s true?” Your serene tone did nothing to calm the racing of his heart.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Sirius said, interrupting Remus’ internal struggle. “There really was nothing you could do to hide from this witch, huh Moons?”

Remus chuckled self-deprecatingly and looked down into his lap in a little bit of shame. Your smile never faltered, however. 

Peter and James returned then; James with a self-satisfied grin on his face, and Peter with his hair, shirt collar, and tie in disarray. 

“What’s so funny?” James asked as he sat beside you, smacking a platonic kiss to your cheek as he winked over at Lily from her spot further down the table, whose face turned a shade of red rivaling her hair at having been caught watching James.

“Remus and his last two braincells trying to keep Y/N away from him.” Sirius snickered. Remus kicked at him under the table which caused you to jump. He apparently had missed his mark and had kicked your shin by accident. 

“Fuckin’ hells, dove. I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Oh my gods...” 

Sirius barked another laugh as Peter whispered a quiet ‘dove?’

“Oi! You really have lost your gobstones! Can’t believe Moony’s the dumbest one out of all of us now.” James said as he checked your shin for injury under the table. 

“Remus isn’t dumb.” You defended the dumb bastard. 

“Well, you can’t say he’s very smart here, dollface.” Sirius conceded.

You hummed and shooed James away from your leg. “Wisdom was chasing him; Remus was just always faster.” 

This time, poor Pete lost his pumpkin juice completely as he sputtered mid-sip. You didn’t even seem to realize you’d said something particularly funny (or devastating) as James nearly fell off the bench in a fit of laughter and Sirius pulled you into his side.

“Oh, for the love of Merlin. Remus, please, can we keep her!?” He said in between bouts of laughter, wiping away a mirthful tear from under his eye.

Remus had no objections. 

What Remus hadn’t agreed to was this.

Remus understood that allowing Moony (and...himself) to keep you around meant that he would ultimately have to share you. He knew that he’d have to share you with James, he’d have to (rather unfortunately) share you with Regulus, he’d have to share you with Pete and Sirius who seemed just as enamored with you, and he’d likely eventually have to share you with Lily, Marlene, Mary, and the rest of his friend group.

He was however not in the slightest prepared to have to share you with the likes of Barty Crouch Junior. 

Remus had, quite happily, found you studying in the library alone and asked politely if he could join you at your table. The two of you had been studying in companionable silence when Regulus showed up. No matter, Regulus was quiet and diligent in his schoolwork. 

Then, Sirius had shown up perturbed that his baby brother and his best mate were hanging out (to which both Regulus and Remus vehemently denied, seeing as they were both here studying with you, not each other), and insisted he be involved. Though Sirius struggled with the whole sitting-still-and-quietly thing, he more or less managed to join the three of you without much fuss.

But then James showed up, which sparked a long and arduous debate between he and Regulus regarding which entity was worse – wrackspurts or nargles – to which you weren’t even a part of save for each of them calling to you in need of an explanation every so often. You would look up from your book and answer them politely before returning to your schoolwork as if you weren’t surrounded by complete idiots. 

Remus was lovestruck. 

And then Barty showed up.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” Crouch screeched as he ran through the library completely ignoring the shushing from other students and string of curse words following him from the crotchety librarian. 

“Hello, Bartemus.” You greeted the banshee serenely.

“Quickly, darling.” He started before promptly dumping a large sack of tumbled rocks and gems in front of you. 

“Where’d you get all of these?” Regulus asked incredulously, reaching to pluck a small stone that had rolled over to his open book.

“Never you mind that!” Barty shouted as he swatted his hand away. “Y/N - light of my life, apple of my eye - which of these crystals will help me piss of my dad the most?!”

Once again appearing completely unperturbed by the general chaos around you, you perused the crystals set before you. 

“Well, Carnelian can invoke passion.” You said as you plucked a red stone from the pile. “Garnet can invoke intense emotions: jealousy, anger, fear. I recommend pairing it with gold – maybe place it in a gold setting for a necklace or something similar. Dravite will bring up unresolved emotions...” And soon, two red stones and a brown stone sat in your palm as you held them before Barty. 

“Pfft, figures.” Barty grumbled. “Red and gold never fail to piss me off either.” He sneered, looking pointedly at the three Gryffindor’s seated at your table. Remus was not necessarily proud of the low growl that the comment elicited from him, but he was proud of the restraint he showed when Moony was screaming in his head to tear the fuckers head clean off his scrawny body. 

“Bartemus.” You chided gently, looking up at Barty standing above you like a parent might look at a particularly troublesome child: full of love.

Remus hated it. 

“Sorry my sweets.” Barty cooed at you and ran a finger along your cheekbone. 

Remus hated that more. 

“Mr. Crouch!” The librarian called, finally having caught up to her problem student.

“Well, I must be off.” Barty called casually as if it was completely of his own volition that he now vacate the premises. “Keep the rest, beautiful angel face. Much love!” 

And he was gone. 

Thank Merlin. 

“The friends you keep.” James muttered as he shook his head in disappointment as if he wasn’t one of said friends you keep.

“Oh, Bartemus is not so bad. Perhaps just a little misunderstood, and a little more than maniacal.” You put simply. 

James was shushed loudly by the librarian for his laughter.

“I’ll go check on him.” Regulus said as he stood. He barely spared the Gryffindors a glance as he nodded politely at you. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

“Goodbye Regulus.” You sang to him, smiling brightly like he had just been anything more than sort of polite to you.

Remus once again figured that was as much affection as Regulus could ever show. 

“You boys are welcome to help yourselves to the crystals. It’s a wonderful idea to take the ones that speak most to you.”

James exclaimed gleefully as he started to browse the many stones in front of you. Sirius’ face piqued in interest as he quickly plucked the most sparkly stone on the table.

“Jamie, you should bring this one to Lily.” You said as you handed him a small, slightly translucent pink stone. James didn’t bother asking questions such as ‘why?’ or ‘what is it?’ or even ‘should I be worried?’ before he accepted it, punctuating his ‘thanks angel’ with a kiss to your hair before he was racing out of the library.

“What stone was that?” Remus asked, unable to quell his curiosity.

“Rose quartz.” You responded simply.

“What’s it do?” Sirius asked.

Your mouth quirked in thought. “Stones don’t really do anything. They just encourage what’s already possible.”

Sirius rolled his eyes earning him a defensive kick in the shin from Remus. 

“What does rose quartz encourage, dove?” Remus placated.

“Love and affection.”

Remus nodded and watched as Sirius pocketed two more shiny and sparkly stones before his expression was painted with mischief. “Say, Y/N. What crystals should our dear Moony here have?”

Remus couldn’t even bother shooting his mate an unimpressed glare when your face picked up excitedly and you began sifting through the stones. He watched just as animatedly. 

After a few moments, you proudly displayed a small palmful of stones. 

Remus placed his hand palm up beside your much smaller one and relished in the intimacy of you gently transferring the stones into his palm; your hands gently brushing in the action.

“What are those stones?” Sirius asked curiously.

Remus swore some bashfulness painted your features as you pointed the stones out in Remus’ palm. He was thankful for the continued contact as you explained them all. 

“This is amethyst, which supports calmness; rids the mind of negative thoughts, and promotes dreamless and restful sleep.” You explained, causing Remus to nod his head. That could be helpful.“This is obsidian which helps one process their emotions.” That one earned a snort of laughter from Sirius. “Jasper is supposed to provide support during stressful times. This is moonstone which...well...I suppose that’s self-explanatory.” 

Remus hummed but couldn’t help but notice you failed to discuss the last stone sitting in his palm. He wasn’t going to push it, however.

“And the pink one?” Sirius asked sharing no such qualms, lips quirked in a smirk and eyes full of mirth. 

You cleared your throat awkwardly, clearly feeling slightly self-conscious, but explained it nonetheless. “Rose quartz to encourage love and trust.” 

Remus would usually consider himself a generally skeptical person: but you may have just converted him.

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#marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #reader insert #self insert #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin #werewolf mcswearwolf #werewolf soulmate #soulmate au #hp marauders #remus lupin ficlet #remus lupin blurb #werewolf #the lupins #james potter #sirius black #peter pettigrew #lily evans #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #gryffindor #slytherin #potions class #hogwarts #whimsical!reader

[flowercrowngods]

hello i’m attempting something for steddie week too, but it'll be one large thing probably @steddie-week

day 01: pining

2 new messages

eddie The Problem munson: —steeb —esteban —stefano  —stevie —love of my life apple of my eye pls pls tell me i can call you  —i am very chill etc etc —no i’m not  —let me call youuuu  —😠🥺🙏

Steve snorts as he picks up his phone and reads Eddie’s messages that keep coming in his usual spam of consciousness, a giddy feeling spreading in his chest as he snorts and goes to answer. 

— Call me then, coward 

Not a second later, his phone rings. Steve picks up immediately, even though he considers making Eddie wait; just to be difficult. Just to calm his racing heart that is always so lively around Eddie. 

“What,” he says, attempting to sound bored and annoyed — in vain, because even he can hear the smile on his face. Traitor, he thinks to himself. 

“Steve,” Eddie sing-songs, drawing out Steve’s name like he does every time he’s happy. “Steve, Steve, Stevie.” 

“Ed, Ed, Eddie,” he sings back, relaxing into his couch and shutting the laptop. Lesson planning can wait, he decides, shuffling all the loose pages into the text book and placing his laptop on the pile, trusting that physics won’t betray him. “What’s got you so happy, hm?” 

“Why do you think I’m happy?” Damn idiot has a smile on his face as he asks that, Steve can hear it. It makes his own grin widen and he huffs into the phone. 

“I literally know you, babe.” 

Babe. His heart flutters every time he says it — and he tries not to, because it’s meaningless, it’ll never happen. But Eddie picks it back up every time, and Steve is weak. God, he is so, so weak. 

On the other end, Eddie hums and Steve basks in the sound for a moment. It’s always so contagious, Eddie’s happiness, and he wants to soak it all up. Wants to be the reason for it. Wants, wants, wants. 

“You do,” Eddie says, his voice so light and fond it makes Steve’s whole body tingle. And his heart flutter. And it fills him with such happiness that he feels like he could take on the entire world right now, just with the way Eddie’s voice went all soft on him. 

God, he’s hopeless. So, so hopeless. But he’s also weak. An addict, leeching off Eddie’s attention, getting a kick out of the smallest dose, and absolutely certain he couldn’t survive if it were taken from him. He needs it. Even if it kills him a little bit, because— 

“She said yes.” 

Steve blinks. “Huh?” 

“Chrissy. She said— She said yes, Stevie. We’re getting married.” 

He says it and he sounds so happy. So, so happy. And Steve is the world’s worst best friend for the way he freezes, the way he almost drops his phone if it weren’t for the vice grip he has on it, frozen in time and space because his heart has stopped beating. It has stopped, surely, because no beating heart can hurt this much. No beating heart can crack open and still work the way it used to three, five, seven seconds ago. 

Eddie, bless his entire soul, laughs to fill the silence, and it’s the happiest sound. A boyish one, like there is no pain in the world and not a worry on his mind. A bit hysterical, too. Like he can’t believe it himself yet. Like this is the best day of his life and saying it again has reminded him of it. At least that’s what Steve imagines it feels like when someone wants to be married to you. He wouldn’t know, of course, as the only person he would ever ask is already engaged to someone else. Apparently. 

Eddie is engaged. 

Engaged and laughing and so, so happy. 

And Steve feels nauseous. Dizzy. Breathless. His eyes begin to sting and the hand that’s holding his phone begins to tremble, his grip so tight it hurts. 

Steve feels… too much. His hands tremble and he tries hard not to cry. 

“You’re getting married.” 

“We’re getting married.” 

They’re getting married. 

Fuck. 

Someone has to tell Robin. Because in true Platonic Soulmate manner, Steve and Robin fell in love with the two people who are in love with each other. Like the chaotic mess they are. 

“Sorry I didn’t tell you about it sooner,” Eddie continues, a bit more sober now. Sounding genuine and sufficiently awkward about it, in true Eddie-manner. Like the big old softie he secretly is. “I would have, but…” 

But I know you’re in love with me and didn’t want to burden you with the love I carry for someone who isn’t you, Steve’s brain auto-fills helpfully. But you keep flirting with me and there was never room for someone else when I was with you. 

But, but, but— 

He swallows and drags in a deep breath past the pain in his throat where all the words he can never say are forming a massive lump. 

“Hey man, don’t worry about that, we all know I suck at keeping secrets,” he offers. And it’s a lie, because he has kept this one thing secret for years and years. This one thing, this huge and all-encompassing thing that he can feel in the tips of his fingers when he is texting Eddie, and on his tongue when they are talking, and in his heart even when he is sleeping. 

This one thing, this one secret, is his never-ending love for Eddie. 

And he will add another one to that, a lovely little friend for it. To keep it company. That other secret, of course, will be the way his heart has shattered into a million little pieces and will remain that way until he can’t even look at Eddie anymore. And even then will he look at Eddie and smile at him, and Eddie will smile back and the pain will flare up again.

Again and again and again, for the rest of their lives. Possibly even beyond that. 

“You do suck at that,” Eddie chuckles, though it is quieter this time, almost private. Fond. Gentle. Always, always like that. It used to mean something once. And if Steve closes his eyes, he can imagine that Eddie smiles his secret smile, the one Steve has only seen directed at himself. It almost breaks him. 

Eddie’s I have known you for a whole eternity and love you beyond words, silly, but you also make my life so much harder-smile. That’s what he has dubbed it because that is what Eddie had said the first time he smiled like that when Steve was drunk off his ass. 

But. But, but, but— 

It’s no use to think of that now, to reminisce and imagine what might have been if… Well. If Steve weren’t Steve. 

And that sure is a dark path he doesn’t want to trudge now, not in the face of the even darker path of Eddie getting married that he sure as hell will have to walk down for the rest of his life. 

He sighs and tries to think of something to say. Something good. Something that is not Please don’t marry Chrissy. Please don’t take yourself away from me. Please. Please don’t get married to anyone who isn’t me. Please open your eyes and see me, please listen to me, please understand what I say when I say I love you. Please.  

He kind of spaces out for the rest of the conversation, not really listening to Eddie’s words over the ringing in his ears and the pumping beat of his shattered heart. 

Eddie speaks softly to him, the undercurrent of happiness and contentment still in his voice, and it would give Steve life, it would be contagious, it would be so very precious if it didn’t also drive the knife of pain ever deeper into Steve’s entire soul, slicing him apart with no one around to put him back together again.  

Splitting him in half. One half that just wants Eddie to be happy, to sound like he does right now for ever and ever. And the other half, loathing that Eddie’s happiness is not inspired by him, not because of him, not in any sort of relation to him. 

It’s not fair. And Steve is torn. So he shuts himself off and lets Eddie ramble, tells him that he is tired after pulling an all-nighter again and wrangling the his difficult seventh graders that were particularly hard on him today when the other man asks him if he is all right. 

“Steve,” Eddie sighs, and a traitorous tear rolls down Steve’s cheek at the caring exasperation he hears there. “How often do I need to tell you that sleep is important? You’re gonna wear yourself out at this rate. And the kids just suck.”  

“I know,” he says, and sniffs, willing the tears to not fall. Not until Eddie has hung up on him. 

“Aww. That emotional, huh?” 

At that, Steve sobs out a laugh and gladly accepts the way out. “Well, excuse me, my bestest friend whom I love very much is getting married soon! Or, well, I hope it’s soon, nobody has time for all that suspense. Anyway, I am allowed to be emotional about this!” 

Eddie chuckles again and sighs gently. “Yes, you are. I’m glad you are. Thank you, Stevie.” 

Don’t thank me. Not for this. Not over this, please, don’t thank me. 

“Don’t thank me,” he says with a grin, and it hurts his cheeks from how forced it is. “Thank yourself for being brave enough to actually go through with the proposal! We both know you’re chicken shit.” 

Just like me, he thinks. Just like me. 

They laugh and it sounds hollow to Steve’s ears. He just wants the phone call to end, wants this to be over with. Wants them to not get married. Never, ever, in this life or the next. 

He wants… he wants Robin. No, he needs his best friend, his soulmate. He can’t cry alone, not about this. 

Eventually, Eddie hangs up, that smile still so audibly his lips, and that painful happiness still very clear in his voice. Steve wants to share it. But he can’t.

All he can do is stare at the phone in his trembling hand before he closes his eyes and lets himself cry, his head falling back against the couch until he slumps over to one side. He stares and he cries until he can’t anymore. 

Eddie. The love of his life. Is getting married. To Chrissy, the other, platonic love of his life, who is like a sister to him. Who, coincidentally, is the love of his real platonic soulmate’s life.

Fucking hell, the mess they find themselves in!

After a while of pitifully staring at the wall, all cried out and feeling thoroughly pathetic, he lifts his phone and speed-dials Robin. 

“Stevie?” 

He sniffs, and it must sound as awful as he feels, for her next words are, “I’ll be right there. Alcohol or ice cream?” 

“Both?” he whimpers after a moment, and Robin hums right back. 

“I’ve got you. I’ll be there in ten.” 

She hangs up before he can say anything more, and he is overcome with all the love he holds for her. 

As he waits for her to come over, he does not move from the awkwardly half curled-up position on his couch, the lesson plans for tomorrow forgotten completely. This is his life now. His Eddie-less life. His engaged-Eddie life. His loveless, hopeless, endlessly pitiful life. 

come back tomorrow for: bittersweet & angst | read here

#steddieweek2023 #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #dio words #listen idk if this'll be a whole thing but I hope it will (but also I've written almost the exact same premise for the Witcher once before #so if you feel like this is too familiar I swear I am not plagiarising this is just me again with a hallmark typcial trope dont yell at me #please 🤍 #it’s technically not day one for me bc it’s 3:42am but eh

[ateezscupid]

Hiiii I love your fics ! I wanted to know if you could do a fic with dom- minjoong and sub f. reader ?

𝗧𝗪𝗢'𝗦 𝗕𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗡 𝗢𝗡𝗘 ★

𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗭 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 / 𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧

plot - you planned a calm night with mingi and hongjoong recording in the studio, but it ended way differently than you thought it would.

warn - smut and fluff, dom!mingi, dom!hongjoong, sub!reader, fingering, oral (m and f), praise and some degrading if u squint LOL, pet names (baby, princess, pretty girl, love), poly!au, big dick mingi, reader's shorter than joong and min, kind of size difference mentioned BUT there is a size kink if u squint, unprotected sex, joong and mingi are pussy drunk and absolutely love the reader

w/c -

𝗧𝗔𝗚S - @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @yeolistic @jeonride @ate-ez

A/N - this has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS and i finished it. also, back from my break babes! ^^

Mingi and Hongjoong were like two peas in a pod. they did — quite literally — everything together. They went to concerts together, designed merchandise together, produced and wrote lyrics together; even going to the bathroom together seemed like something the two boys did a lot. you’ve always loved their friendship. It was so cute how Mingi would treat Hongjoong like a younger brother even though Joong was older, and he kind of just accepted it knowing he couldn’t get Mingi to stop.

When you introduced yourself to the two, you didn’t realize how easy it was for them to become attached to you. They acted like they had known you for years, and for you it felt like you had found your soulmates because of their welcoming aura. Out of all of your friends, Hongjoong and Mingi were your favorites.

Hongjoong was the friend who spent too much time at work trying to make sure whatever he was working on was perfect — and who also had a bit of a smoking problem. Hongjoong was high most of the time whenever you saw him.

Mingi was the friend who was — just like hongjoong — always high, except he didn’t spend a lot of time in the studio. He was always out at clubs or doing something stupid with the other members.

To say the least, the boys were like fully grown adult babies.

Since your schedule was always empty, you spent a lot of time with the Ateez members; specifically with Joong and Mingi. You were always hanging out at their music video sets, in their dressing rooms, or just in general in the KQ building doing god knows what. It was fun hanging out with the boys. They acted so normal around you and you loved it.

Now you were hanging out with Mingi and Hongjoong in the studio. They were song writing and producing a few songs while you sat on the couch scrolling through your phone. There was definitely silence in the studio, ignoring the music playing, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. You three were fine being in complete silence as long as it meant being in each others presence.

“Yo Hj, go over that one line again,” Mingi peeked above his computer. “Y/n, are you bored? Sorry if we’re not talking to you, we’re just really focused.”

“What?” you scoff playfully and sit up. “Don’t worry about me, I don’t really care about you guys talking to me or not, Im fine either way.”

“Cool, just makin’ sure.” Min smiled then looked back at his computer. You always found him adorable whenever he wore glasses. They fit him so well, and he didn’t seem to agree until you started complimented him. It wasn’t long after that he started wearing his glasses more often.

With or without the glasses, Mingi had a pretty face. It was the same for Hongjoong. You’ve always found the two men incredibly attractive; your eyes examining their features whenever they weren’t looking. You of course never acted upon your emotions, but there have been moments between you three that would confirm your feelings for them.

Like the time you were hanging out with the boys while they were filming Inception. As of now, you’re confused why you didn’t choose Seonghwa first. Everything about him in that music video had you drooling. As if his body being drenched in water wasn’t enough, his facial expressions and body made you horny desperate for him.

Hongjoong and Mingi both noticed how your body was reacting to Seonghwa’s movements during the dance and felt jealous. They didn’t remember you looking at them like that. You remember the boys bombarding you with questions after they made it back to their dorms.

“Do you like Seonghwa?” and “Do you have a crush on anybody?”

“Why were you looking at Seonghwa like that?”

“Do you have a crush on anybody?”

All these questions were new to you since they hadn’t bothered you like this before. You could only assume it was because of the way you looked at Seonghwa that made them jealous. But why were they jealous? They didn’t like you, at least, that’s what you thought. They never showed any signs that told you they were interested in you… Unless they did and you were too dumb to realize.

Just thinking about it now made you wonder if they actually liked you, and if they had like you this entire time, why didn’t they say anything? You thought they’d be fighting over you if they both liked you but they weren’t.

Clearly they didn’t have a problem with sharing.

You stare at your phone for a few minutes contemplating on whether or not you should ask them. Or better yet, just blurt out that you like them and see where that takes you. You glance over at Hongjoong, and to your surprise, he was already looking at you. He immediately looked away and stared at the sheet of lyrics in front of him, Mingi noticing the flushed look on his face and looking at you. They knew you knew.

“Can I ask you guys something?” you finally muster up the courage to say something. It looked as if the blood drained from their face when you said that.

“Uh, sure,” Mingi closes his laptop halfway and Hongjoong nods, taking his headphones off completely.

“Do you guys have a crush on anybody? We’ve been friends for long and we’ve talked about almost any and everything but crushes. How come you guys never told me about any crushes you guys have? Or had.”

Hongjoong looks at Mingi, mouth ajar as if he were going to speak but stayed quiet. Mingi was also quiet, fidgeting with his mouse and looking around the room. Clearly they were nervous to answer the question, and you didn’t mean to make them nervous.

“Sorry if I’m asking for too much, I just wanna know! I mean, you guys have told me your celebrity crushes but that’s not the same.”

“I mean,” Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, slightly lifting his hips. You noticed this and bit your lip, struggling to keep eye contact with him.

“We never told you because it’s complicated.”

“How is it complicated? If you don’t mind me asking,” You cris-cross your legs on the couch. “I mean, I’m pretty easy to talk to. You guys know this.”

“We know!” Mingi sighed. “If we told you, you’d freak out. And you’d probably think we were weird,”

“I won’t think you’re weird! Come on, it’s just us,” you walk over to the chair next to Mingi and sit down in it, placing a hand on his arm and tilting your head. Your small touch alone made Mingi shiver.

“Well, we…” he glances over at Hongjoong who nodded his head in approval. “we like you.”

That wasn’t what you were expecting at all. Well, you kinda did expect it but it was surprising. They said it so easily as if they weren’t scared to tell you earlier. Averting your gaze to Hongjoong, he nodded slowly as if saying what Mingi said was true. You knew the boys wouldn’t lie to you. You all made an agreement that you’d tell each other anything no matter what it was.

“Sorry if it’s so sudden,” Hongjoong sighs deeply. “I know I said I wasn’t really looking to date anyone and Mingi knew that too, but you kinda just…came into our life and changed it ever since.”

“Do you both like me? I already know the answer but I like it hearing it from you guys.” you smile and kick your feet.

“Oh my god,” Mingi chuckles. His deep voice was always so attractive. “First Joong liked you and I may or may not have teased him a bit for his stupid crush on you. But then I started understanding why he liked you and then I started liking you. We kinda had to come to an agreement since we didn’t know what to do if both of us liked you.”

“I’m not gonna say we argued, but we argued.” Hongjoong chuckles behind his desk. “We both sorta agreed to being okay with the other liking you, but we don’t know if you’re okay with…dating two people.”

“Joong, are you kidding? If it’s you two I don’t care. I’m actually kind of relieved that you guys don’t mind dating me. I thought I’d have to choose between you guys and I didn’t want to do that.”

“Well now you don’t have to since you know we both like you,” Mingi leaned back in his chair — manspreading. You thought you had better self control but you definitely didn’t. Just seeing him sit like that made you rub your legs together. You weren’t aware of the fact that the boys saw you doing this, nor were you aware of the looks they gave each other.

“So…I assume this means we’re — dating? All of us?”

“Would you like that Y/n?” Hongjoong averted his gaze, his eyes glazing over your body. He could never get over how good you looked in his and Mingi’s clothes. Being surprisingly shorter than Mingi and Hongjoong, their clothes were always baggy on your body, which made them so comfortable. He liked watching you rummage through their closets trying to find an outfit for the day since you had given up on wearing your own clothes.

“I would love that!” You say with a gummy smile, a bit too excited for your own good.

“I’m kinda surprised you didn’t say anything about us before. I mean, you said you knew we liked you,” Mingi said.

“Well I didn’t wanna say anything before because I wasn’t really sure. I only went by the things you guys were doing and you guys were doing a lot.”

“Like what?” Hongjoong tilts his head.

You didn’t think he’d ask. “Y’know, getting jealous whenever I looked or even talked to the other members, over complimenting me even when I looked bad, always staring at my body — Mingi, you liked looking at my tits. I always caught you look at them,”

“You looked at her tits?” Joong raised his eyebrow at Mingi.

“I-I did like once,” Mingi scratches the back of his head. “You’ve looked at her ass before so you can’t sit here and act like you didn’t do anything wrong!”

“You’ve looked at my ass before?” the question made them both flustered. You weren’t necessarily surprised by the behavior; more so happy they even admitted to doing it. At least they felt comfortable enough to tell you things like that.

“Well are there any more embarrassing things you guys wanna spill about each other or are you guys done?”

Hongjoong started giggling, covering his mouth with his hand and looking at Mingi. You could tell it was something stupid based off the way he sounded.

“Mingi didn’t know how to—”

“Shut up dickhead!” Mingi shouted defensively not even allowing Hongjoong to finish. Him interrupting only made Joong laugh louder. His laughing caused you to start laughing.

“Joong say it! What is it!” You lean closer, arms resting on the desk. Mingi tried covering your ears but you kept moving.

“He was scared to tell you he liked you because he thought you guys would kiss and he didn’t know how to kiss so he asked me to help him!” Hongjoong almost fell back in his chair laughing, his headphones falling off his neck and his legs kicking underneath the desk. Mingi was definitely embarrassed, though he seemed to be embarrassed because he couldn’t kiss, not because he kissed Hongjoong.

“You guys kissed? Like — on the lips? Or…” —

“On the lips, Y/n, I didn’t say he could go that far. But he did it to impress youuu! I already know how to kiss so I was fine teaching him what I knew.”

You nod and turn to Mingi. “So he taught you? You know how to kiss now?”

“I-I guess,” he cleared his throat nervously. “You want me to show you?”

“Are you guys really gonna makeout in front of me? If you’re gonna do it, let me watch.” he stands up from his seat and moves toward the couch you were just sitting on, taking a seat himself and positioning himself so he saw you two making out — if you were even going to do so.

Mingi’s eyes glazed over your features, seeming to be glued to your lips since he couldn’t take his eyes off of them. Leaning in slowly, his hand lifting and resting on your cheek while pulling your face closed, his and your eyes closing. Hongjoong sat watching in anticipation with his foot tapping on the ground, a wide smile on his face. He kept whispering the words ‘kiss her’ and ‘hurry up’ since you two were taking a bit long.

With his hand holding your cheek and your faces inching closer and closer, your lips finally attached. He captured your lips tenderly, your expression softening as you relaxed in his hood, leaning gently into the kiss to create more friction of some sort. He was enjoying it himself as well — having his arm wrapped around you pulling you deeper into the kiss and making sure you couldn’t back away. Not like you planning on it. It was crazy — a bit unbelievable how he didn’t protest when you asked him to kiss you, but you were happy he was doing it.

As the two of you kissed you felt someone behind you. The only other person in the room was Hongjoong, so you could only assume it was him. He watched closely as you two kissed, growing a bit impatient himself since he didn’t get the chance to kiss you yet.

“Mingi, hurry upp. I wanna kiss her too,” he whined behind you. Once Mingi’s lips separated from yours, Joong’s fingers curled around your neck and leaned down, attaching his own lips to yours and holding you still. Whatever you had gotten yourself into, you couldn’t possibly take yourself out. It wasn’t like you wanted to but you knew you were going to have a fun night.

In full honesty, it was a lot to take in. The both of them were kissing you, their hands all around your body overwhelming your senses. It’s not like you haven’t imagined the two in bed before but for it to happen now was so unexpected.

“She’s so pretty,” Mingi mumbles under his breath, hands gently caressing your thighs. “so gorgeous.”

Hongjoong pulls away from your lips, running a thumb across your cheek. “You think we should do it tonight? Of course, if she’s okay with it.

“Okay with what? W-What do you guys mean?”

“…” Joong looked at Mingi then back to you. “Y’know, a threesome.. If it’s too unexpected we don’t have to do it—”

“Y-Yes! Yeah, whatever you wanna do to me, do it. Please.”

They didn’t have to be told twice. As Mingi pulled you into his lap, Hongjoong stood behind you and held your hair out of your face, fingers still wrapped around your neck as Mingi pulled you into yet another kiss. Your tongues fought for dominance but Min won, making you feel like your body was going numb. They played with you as if you were putty. You began to grind your hips onto Mingi while holding onto his shoulders, moaning into his mouth because of the friction. It wasn’t a lot but it was enough to get you wet. Just as you were doing so, you felt something big rubbing against your crotch.

You knew what it was.

“Aw she’s moving on harder on you,” Joong teased, his hands moving all across your body and even groping your breasts. “You got hard that quick?”

Mingi broke away from the kiss. “Well what would you do if a girl you liked was grinding on your dick? Would you not get hard?”

“I would but still, damn.” Mingi lets go of you and allows Hongjoong to pull you away from him. He brings you over to the couch and finally settles you into his lap, hands caressing your thighs like Mingi’s did earlier, giving your clothes heat access to his own bulge. You lazily drag yourself against his length. This alone had you soaked in your panties and you were about ready to rip them off of your heated body.

“My pretty girl grinding on me like this,” Hongjoong almost growls in your ear, hugging your waist and groaning softly in your ear. “you’re such a dirty girl,”

“Mm,” you whimper. “I… know,”

Not realizing Mingi had come over, his hands reach underneath your hips and grab the hem of the bottoms you were wearing, pulling them off and discarding them onto the floor next to him. Joong tilted your head at an almost uncomfortable angle to attach his mouth onto yours and you eagerly return the kiss, tongues clashing together.

Mingi watched you grind on each other, though he’s not sure he can handle watching you two do it any longer. He pulls your hips forward and pushes your underwear to the side, hands squishing your thighs and lips enveloping your clit. You jolt and moan into your kiss with Joong while holding onto his leg, gripping for your life at this point.

“So wet,” Mingi hums. “for me?” his fingers come to play with your folds. Your body was surging with such an electric feeling you felt lightheaded. With simple touches, you were already crumbling. It wasn’t like this with your past partners in bed.

His hand slides underneath your ass and attaches his mouth to your heat. Your core was twitching so much, already overstimulated by barely anything. Hongjoong took this as his opportunity to grope your breasts, now comforting you as Mingi ate you out. His tongue moves in and out of you, spending a few seconds looking for that one spongey spot inside of you. Your thighs close around his head, and your back arched off of Joong’s chest.

You couldn’t focus on his hands on your body while Mingi ate you out like this. It was impossible.

Once his fingers enter you everything goes blank, your legs closing immediately and you having to break away from Hongjoong’s kiss to catch your breath. You came so quick and easy it was almost embarrassing.

“She’s so cute!” Hongjoong cooed as he rubbed your waist. “Came so quick from barely anything.”

“Please…” you moan softly, arching your back and trying to grind your hips on Hongjoong again. “I-I… want—”

“We’ll give it to you, baby.” Mingi spoke as he stood to his feet. Joong lifted you from the underside of your legs and placed you on your back on the sofa, Mingi now replacing him and getting between your legs. He stripped himself of his sweatpants and pushed his boxers low enough to where his cock could spring out.

It would be an understatement to say he was just big.

“M-Min…, that’s not gonna fit,”

“Then I’ll make it fit.”

As you were ready to protest, a sharp pain seethed through your body. You hadn’t realized Hongjoong slid behind you and help you lay on top of his chest, your lower body feeling numb once Mingi went inside. You were too focused on the literal intrusion that your body was going through to realize Joong’s hand moving to your clit. He delivered a sharp slap to it, making you lurch forward and cry out loud.

“Aw, poor baby can’t handle it,” Joong murmurs as Mingi began thrusting.

Your walls were contracting against his cock with every movement, hips angled so he could hit your deepest parts. He was so big, stretching your walls and making it feel like you were being ripped apart. Mingi tried going slow so you could adjust to his enormous size, but good god, he was huge. Adjusting to his size was going to take a very long time. He kept glancing at you to check your facial expressions, stopping the movement of his hips if he felt like he was hurting you.

“It’s okay, princess,” Mingi said calmly while doing slow strokes. “I know it’s a lot, just breathe.” his deep voice helped you calm down much faster. He grabs ahold of your hips and speeds up the pace of his thrusts. There was slick already sliding down your thighs.

Immediately your hands flung to his body, hips grinding against him to feel some sort of friction. Your nails dug into his skin while you tried holding on for dear life. It was so much to handle at once.

Reaching your hand back, you were desperately searching for Hongjoong’s dick, anything to hold on your hands. You felt bad since you hadn’t done anything besides kiss him yet, so this was the last you could do. Of course, he attempted to stop you saying he didn’t need you to do anything, but you weren’t listening. You were being driven by sex.

“Y/n, you don’t have to—” your hand grasps onto his clothed dick. He did want you to touch him, so he allowed you to do whatever to him. Of course, the angle at which you were laying made it difficult for you to stroke him, but you tried your best, running your thumb over his slit and spreading his pre-cum all over.

“Joong why don’t you…fuck,” Mingi cursed, head spinning from how nice you felt around his cock. “f-fuck her face. Give her something to do with her filthy little mouth,”

“I-I don’t think she can even hear us—”

“Little whore already fucked out?” Min pants and deepens his thrusts.

Hongjoong slid from underneath your now limp body and grabbed a fistful of your hair, lifting it and wiping the drool off your cheek with his thumb. Mingi held your hips with his nails digging into your body, leaving crescent moon shapes embedded in your skin, while Hongjoong was preparing to face fuck you.

He pulls his pants down to his thighs, pulling your head closer to his hips by your hair and slapping his cock on your cheek. You couldn’t handle the scene unfolding in front of you.

“Open,” Hongjoong spoke, slapping his tip against your lips. You obeyed and lazily opened your mouth. It opened more as he pushed himself inside of you.

“So warm,” he groans. “so wet, all for us.”

Joong was much bigger than you imagined, and you weren’t ashamed to say you had thought about Hongjoong naked before. It was safe to say you’ve thought about all of the members naked. The only ones you’ve thought of the most were Mingi and Hongjoong, mainly Mingi. Even seeing only his collarbone sometimes would cause you to drool. Hongjoong had you drooling whenever you saw any part of his body.

His hips moved back and forth, pushing his cock in and out of your mouth, making sure to hit the back of your throat with each thrust while also making sure you were still breathing. Though you didn’t mind if he made it hard for you to breathe. Being used like a cum dump by these two has been a dream of yours for a while.

“Fuck, baby, your mouth feels good…” Hongjoong groaned as his pace accelerated. You gagged each time his tip hit the back of your throat, but you didn’t care.

A sharp thrust from Mingi’s hips caused your body to jerk and for a string of fire to shoot down to your core. Your moans were muffled due to Joong being in your mouth, but it only fueled Min to go faster inside of you, thinking about how you’d sound if your mouth wasn’t full right now. Joong placed his hand on the back of your head and began thrusting his hips faster, droll trickling down your bottom lip and down your chin from the stimulation.

Your thighs wouldn’t stop twitching. However, how could they stop? Mingi was plowing the last amount of life out of your hole, and Hongjoong used your mouth as if you were a glory hole for him and only him for his own personal use.

How could you possibly stay still during all this?

“I think—fuck, I think she’s close.” Mingi groans and plants his hands on the couch cushions, freeing your hips from his hold and allowing his own to angle differently so he can strike into you deeper.

Your head was spinning at this point. You had no control over the noises you made or your body anymore. Everything about you belonged to them now. Knowing you were close to your release, Hongjoong pulled his member out of your mouth and slapped it on your cheek gently, allowing you to rest your head on his lap while Mingi was wrecking your hole. Your eyes rolled back, your head fell, and garbled words spilled out of your mouth. All you can do is whine and cry out in pleasure while your head spins.

Mingi brings his hand down and presses his thumb against your aching clit, rubbing in fast circles to push you further over the edge until you tipped over, curses spilling out from your swollen lips alongside Mingi's name. At the same time, Mingi held onto your thighs and bottomed out inside of you finally dumping his load inside of you. Your head falls into Hongjoong's lap. He runs his fingers through your hair, easing you through your orgasm.

"You okay, tiny?" Hongjoong caresses your cheek. It took a moment to catch your breath after everything that happened. Jesus, that was a lot.

"I..." After catching your breath, you looked at Hongjoong with puppy eyes and a pout you knew he couldn't resist. "Joongie~" you whine while reaching for his hand. Mingi couldn't help but laugh at how desperate you were. How completely fucked out you looked too.

"What is it?"

"You haven't gotten a turn yet..." you mumbled while pulling on his shirt. Mingi moved out of the way without saying a word, gesturing for Hongjoong to come over. The two men switched places with Hongjoong near your hips and Mingi behind your head caressing your cheek.

Hongjoong wasn't as big as Mingi, but his length made up for it. You knew it would hit your sweet spot easily. Hongjoong positioned himself in front of you, tip lined up with your entrance and his unoccupied hand holding onto your hip. Slowly -- achingly slow, he pushes himself into you in one go, holding onto your hips tightly to not lose balance. Mingi, on the other hand, had his hand on your breast playing with your nipple. So much was happening at once it was hard to keep up.

"It's okay," Joong coos, beginning to thrust in and out of you gently. You were still so sensitive from your orgasm with Mingi. Hongjoong had just started, and it felt good. "Fuck, you're tight."

Out of nowhere, he picks up his pace. He didn't give you enough time to adjust to his length and started pounding into you, gliding his cock in and out of your warmth and watching your juices coat his member. When he heard a whimper escape your lips, he knew he was doing a good job.

"Babe," he says in between pants. "T-Touch yourself for me, yeah? Give Mingi a show while he watches,"

Embarrassed but ultimately turned on, you complied and slithered your hand down your stomach and toward your throbbing clit, rubbing rough and fast circles on it to bring yourself closer to orgasm. Hongjoong winced as you clenched around his cock from the sensation.

"Oh, fuck please," you cried out. "I-I'm gonna cum, slow down-!"

"Already?" Mingi chuckles. "What do you think, Joong? Should we let her?"

"Dammit, if she does, then I-I just might." he shudders, both hands holding onto your hips and slamming his cock in and out of your sopping hole. "I think, fuck, she's been good. Let go, baby."

You were so so close to cumming, the speed of your fingers speeding up as the circles you were rubbing in became sloppy. Occasionally you'd lose focus and wouldn't even move your fingers due to your brain turning to mush. Their voices sounded muffled in your ears. Everything they said went through one ear and out the other.

"Fuck fuck fuck-!" the volume of your moans gradually increased until you couldn't handle it anymore and came. You arched your back and curled your toes, holding onto Hongjoong's wrists. You clenched so tightly around his cock that it pushed him over the edge. He dumped his load inside of you, moaning your name and panting heavily.

"Wow.." Mingi whistles, looking at your fucked out face. "You're so pretty when you cum."

"Shut up," you replied, embarrassed with your hands over your face.

"That was fun," Hongjoong sighs deeply. "I'd do it again." he says while looking at Mingi. Mingi nods in agreement and the two look at you, waiting for your answer.

"I...wouldn't mind."

#icupids asks and submits ♡ #ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #dom ateez #dom!ateez #dom!hongjoong #dom hongjoong #dom!mingi #dom mingi #mingi smut #hongjoong smut

[steddieas-shegoes]

Hi! I've spent hours reading your Steddie stuff when I honestly should have been sleeping because work and adulting. Gotta be some of my favorite writing! You have requests/prompts open? I have 2! If you like them :) 1. The Soulmate idea of people having a moving animal tattoo representing their Soulmate. Steve has hyperactive bat who loves to drape itself around his neck quite possessively. Eddie with a retriever pup or something that likes to curl up over his heart. 2. Always a sweetheart Steve? No King Steve era thing. He bugs Eddie to learn about D&D to understand his kids better qnd our poor metal gremlin melts :) I'm Soft Boi, so sorry for no angst.

I'm posting the 1st one here, but on the second one, I am gonna just give a rec instead. Last Man Standing by @griefabyss69 (GriefAbyss on AO3) is kind of this request but taking it to filth level 😈 But anyways, this idea is so fucking cool my dudes. I love a good soulmate AU, and when it's something super unique like this, I lose my shit. I definitely think someone could make a slow burn with this idea and if anyone does, please let me know! - Mickala ❤️

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

He used to hate it.

A bat was such a menacing and disgusting creature.

Anyone who saw it would give him a look that was equal parts apologetic and concerned.

But when Steve started getting left alone at home, when he only had surface level friends, when he cried himself to sleep because the silence wasn’t enough to drown out the negative thoughts, the bat wrapped itself around his neck, and he didn’t feel so alone.

He’d started sleeping with his hand on his shoulder just to feel closer to his soulmate.

Hoped that whoever it was wouldn’t be disappointed that he was theirs.

————-

Eddie convinced himself for his entire childhood that the golden retriever tattoo that ran up and down his arms every day was some sympathy soulmate tattoo.

There was no way his soulmate was someone this hyper.

And then Wayne explained there was usually a story behind the tattoo, something more than just the personality or energy of a person.

At night, the retriever would pace across his chest, eventually settling right over his heart.

He wondered what his tattoo representation was.

He hoped it was a bat.

————-

“Dude, it’s not a big deal. Just show us!” Tommy yelled to Steve from the pool.

Steve had managed to hide it from his friends for so long.

He wasn’t ashamed necessarily, but he definitely didn’t need Tommy and Carol or any of the rest of the basketball team to see it.

The tattoo often stayed hidden pretty well during the day, usually hid on his thigh or stomach. He got away with always wearing shirts for practice and skipped post-practice showers with excuses that he had a study group to get to.

But his pool was a problem, especially now that he was at an age where everyone wanted to come over to swim when his parents weren’t around, which was often.

He tried to make excuses, said he was just worried about the sun, worried about a creepy neighbor watching.

It only worked a couple of times.

Now it was night, so no sun.

The neighbor was on vacation.

And everyone expected him to strip down and get into the pool.

So he did.

Everyone stared in silence as the bat flew from his stomach to his back and settled on his shoulder.

It seemed like it wanted to be seen, but still wasn’t sure how it wanted to be perceived.

Steve could relate.

No one commented on it, probably too afraid that one wrong word would get them kicked out of the pool permanently.

When he went to bed that night, the bat took its place around his neck, his hand rested in its place against his shoulder, and he sighed.

“I hope you’re being seen,” he whispered into his empty room.

——————-

The golden retriever was completely still for more than eight hours the same night Starcourt exploded.

Eddie tried not to panic for the first few hours, knew it could be any number of reasons the tattoo wasn’t moving.

But after hour six, he called Wayne at work, worry carrying over the line as fireworks boomed in the background.

“It’s not moving. It- you said when it stopped it meant- they can’t be, though.”

“Eds, take a few slow breaths, son. C’mon now, you’d have known if he-”

“But what if mine’s broken? What if the connection isn’t right?” Eddie tried taking breaths, but it wasn’t working.

The more he thought about it, the more likely it was that his soulmate was gone.

By the time Wayne made it home from work, the retriever had moved from his forearm to its usual place over his heart, and Eddie was fast asleep on the couch, his hand resting on top of it.

—--------------------

Being dragged into more freaky Upside Down shit was not on Steve’s to-do list. Then again, it never really was.

He wouldn’t have even bothered coming with Dustin and Max if not for the fact that Dustin was terrified something had happened to his new best friend Eddie.

He tried to hide his terrible mood, but knew he was failing.

He woke up this morning to his bat already on his leg, seemingly asleep, though it was normally still around his neck or on his shoulder when he woke up.

It hadn’t moved all morning, and he was a little worried about what that might mean.

He was also getting more worried by the day that he’d never meet his soulmate.

He knew it was dramatic, but most people he went to school with had met theirs by now, their tattoos now permanently placed in matching spots on their bodies.

“Dustin, this is so stupid,” he reiterated for the hundredth time as they walked up to the boathouse door.

He kept thinking it to himself as they poked around looking for Eddie, as he was being held against the wall with a broken bottle to his neck by Eddie, as he felt a flutter in his stomach at the way Eddie was watching him as they told him about the Upside Down.

He didn’t take the time over the next couple of days to pay much attention to his tattoo, didn’t really consider the fact that what little time he slept, he was so out of it he didn’t even notice whether the bat was on his neck or not.

Didn’t think about it until a moment in the RV alone with Eddie, when something in his brain told him to check on the bat.

“Sorry, just. Can you wait one second?” Steve interrupted Eddie’s thought as kindly as he could.

“Uh, yeah?” Eddie responded, confused.

He slipped to the back, not bothering to close the curtain that separated it from the rest of the RV.

He lifted his shirt in hopes of seeing it, but it wasn’t there.

He groaned and unbuttoned his jeans, rushing to just check and see if the bat had moved at all.

He shoved his jeans down and frowned.

It was in the same place still.

On his inner thigh on his right leg.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, or what he thought was under his breath.

“Everything okay?” Eddie’s voice was much closer than he expected, making him jump and rush to pull his pants back up. “Shit, was that your tattoo?”

“Yeah. It hasn’t moved in a while.”

“Neither has mine.” Eddie moved in closer. “Actually, mine’s on my thigh too. Kinda makes it hard to check.”

“Which thigh?” Steve couldn’t help asking.

“Right.”

“What is it?”

“Golden retriever. Can’t really imagine who it would be,” he admitted.

Steve’s first and only pet had been a puppy. A golden retriever named Daisy.

She was his entire world for almost a year until she chewed on one of his dad’s expensive watches and ended up being given to a man who worked with him.

He cried for days after that, didn’t talk to his dad for weeks, not that that was difficult to do since he was gone more often than not.

He vowed that he would get another one the moment he was an adult.

That didn’t quite work out.

But his nannies all used to call him a retriever, his energy contagious in the best way, his playful demeanor a relief. As he grew up, it got dulled by his parents, expectations, society, but he knew inside, all of that was still there.

“What’s yours?” Eddie asked, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“A bat.”

Eddie tilted his head and looked at him, eyes squinting to take him in.

“A bat?”

“Yeah. He’s a playful guy, but kinda shy it seems like,” Steve’s smile was fond until it was sad. “At least until he stopped moving.”

“When did he stop moving?” Eddie ignored the fact that it was a he for now.

“I guess I noticed it the day we found you in the boathouse.”

They both stared at each other for a moment, possibly coming to similar conclusions.

“What about yours?” Steve asked quietly, though something told Eddie he already knew the answer.

“The day you found me in the boathouse.”

“I-”

“How-”

“Dingus, we gotta go!” Robin was suddenly yelling as the RV door slammed open.

They could figure this out later.

They would have to.

—-----------------------

As Steve sat by Eddie’s bedside in the hospital, he thought about how often the bat tattoo had been the only comfort he had, the only thing that kept him from being completely alone.

He thought about how Eddie had always done his best to include the people who didn’t belong anywhere else, how he’d put on a show to protect himself, but hated being seen.

Wayne watched him from the other side of the bed, silently judging him, probably trying to figure out how to kick him out.

But he couldn’t.

He felt the pull now.

Now that he’d been around Eddie, somewhat gotten to know him, how he was fearless when it came to the gremlins, was willing to give up his own life if it meant getting Dustin to safety, he could feel the tug on his heart.

It was inconvenient since they didn’t know when or really even if Eddie would wake up.

So he waited.

He waited for Wayne to kick him out. He waited for doctors and nurses to have answers. He waited for Eddie to wake up.

He waited to know if he’d be able to have his soulmate or not.

—-------------------

Eddie’s first word when he woke up was Steve’s name.

Steve let out an uncontrollable sob, curling down so his head rested in the sheets of the bed.

Wayne’s hand was on his back, his voice trying to speak to him and Eddie at the same time.

They’d gotten closer over the last few days, Wayne’s calm presence enough to keep Steve from completely losing his mind with worry.

But the pain meds in the IV drip seemed to catch back up to Eddie within minutes and he was asleep again.

“He woke up though. Your boy woke up,” Wayne said to him, holding his hand.

“Yeah. He did.”

—-------------------

When Eddie left the hospital, Steve insisted on pushing his wheelchair to Wayne’s truck himself.

The nurse agreed with little argument; The hospital was incredibly understaffed and overrun with patients from the “earthquake” and she had a million better things to do.

The walk down was mostly quiet, but not awkward.

“I think some of my tattoo is missing,” Eddie finally said, barely more than a whisper.

“From the bats?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. Doesn’t change anything.”

“No?” he asked, voice full of hope.

“Not a thing for me.”

—------------------------

They dated.

It was unconventional in every way.

Steve had never pictured himself with a man, but now he couldn’t picture himself with anyone but Eddie.

Eddie had to explain that they couldn’t just go out and hold hands like any of Steve’s other dates, they had to be careful.

It wasn’t always easy; Steve got frustrated and Eddie got insecure.

But they always ended their nights with soft kisses, with whispered words of comfort and promises.

They fell in love like that, the tattoos only the beginning of something that no one could have expected.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet #request #soulmate au

[jesssssssssica]

how you get the girl mv1

max verstappen was not normally someone who would go to other people for help, seeing as he deems it too embarrassing, expecting himself to be the only person that can fix his problems. 

that’s why when daniel was on the receiving end of a call with max verstappen at midnight on a tuesday, did he find himself shocked.

“i need your help”

“oh hello to you too max.”

“sorry, i just need your hel-”

“yeah, i heard you the first time. anyway you need my help? i thought you were mr independent, a lone wolf?” he chuckles slightly at the end of this question finding this whole situation quite ironic. 

“this isn’t funny dan, i really need your help, i messed up bigtime.” he whimpers, cradling his forehead with his spare hand. 

only now does daniel realise that his friend is truly being serious, having previously thought that the only help he needed was getting into his locked apartment but no it must have been much worse.

daniel quickly clears his throat before questioning,

“what happened max?”

“i broke up with her.”

silence. the air thickens on both sides of the phone, shivers running down the pair's backs. 

“why?”

that’s all daniel can say, knowing that if he were to say anything more he’d find himself getting angry at the issue at hand. in his mind a breakup between y/n and max wasn’t physically possible, they were so in love with each other it was insane. the pair were soulmates and nothing could get between the two which is why even the mention of a break up between the two leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

“i…” max slowly says, “i don’t know dan. one moment we were on the sofa just talking and then the next we were just shouting and i just got so mad and so i just broke it off and left.” 

“what were you two talking about? it must have been something if it caused such an outrage.” 

“i was talking about y/n giving up her job to join me…” he utters, embarrassed at his past self's words. he knew from previous conversations that y/n would never ever give up her career, having given up so much to put herself where she is right now. 

‘how could i ever think so selfishly?’ max thinks, pulling at his hair, fisting it and scrunching it up as he fights off the tears brewing in his eyes, waiting for daniel. 

safe to say daniel was not very impressed with his friends words, knowing that you had not liked to even think of the idea of leaving your job, it being a big part of your life. 

“max… you know how she feels about that, she’s just afraid that if you ever were to break up then she would just be stuck and as much as she does love you, she just doesn’t want to risk it and plus she loves her job!”

“i know daniel, i know! but i miss her too much and it’s not like i wouldn’t be able to support the bo-”

“max! you have to learn that y/n wants to be known as y/n not max verstappen's girlfriend, which already happens when you’re apart. what do you think would happen if she went with you hmm?”

it’s as if time has repeated itself as once again the call goes silent.

“i just love her too much to not be around her all the time. it’s as if i can only live when she’s around, and it’s probably true. y’know my mum told me that she’s never seen me as happy as she did when i was y/n, claiming that when she was in the toilet i wasn’t wearing the same smile i was when she got back. i know that she’s my future dan, my world and now i’ve gone and messed it up just like everything else. when i told her that this wasn’t going to work, i swear the look she gave me made me regret everything and yet i just stood there, looking adamant at my decision. even as she packed her things i said nothing, i watched her go and did nothing. who does that to the person they love? who just lets them go so easily and doesn’t fight for it? i need her back daniel but surely she won’t let me back into her heart when i’ve only just broken it.”

by the end of max’s ramble, daniel is sure he hears a few sniffles, though he’s not sure if it’s from him or max. 

“i’ll help you max.”

—

the very next morning, max is woken from his broken sleep by relentless knocks on his door, followed by the shouts of,

“max!” “let me in!” 

“what are you doing here daniel?”

daniel, doesn’t reply, instead reaching into his bag and tossing out a booklet. 

How to get the girl by daniel ricciardo 

“since the call last night, i’ve been making this guide on how to get y/n back and i swear if you follow these steps, then all will be good.” 

“oh really? this is what’ll take to get y/n back yeah? just a few simple steps?”

“well if you read it then you’d know what these ‘simple steps’ were.”

step one - go to her (preferably in the pouring rain)

so he does. 

‘stupid daniel’ max thinks, shivering in cold and dreary rain, waiting anxiously for you to open the door.

“hell- oh max. what are you doing here, it’s tipping down? are you insane?”

“i missed you.” is all max can say.

“you miss me? you broke up with me and then you have the audacity to say that you miss me?”

“i didn’t mean it y/n, i just really wanted you to come with me because i love you too much to live without me-”

“hang on, you’re saying that you wouldn’t be able to live without me and yet you did the only thing which meant i wasn’t in your life. max, you could’ve just let our life continue on as normal and then you would still have me but you didn’t.”

“y/n i’m a mess without you and i am so sorry for everything. i love you with my heart and without you i’m not me. i don’t know what came over me in that moment but i will never regret anything more than i did in that moment. you’re my soulmate y/n and i can’t continue living without you. i’ve lost sleep and i’m not the same person anymore. i’ve gotten snappier and i’m distancing myself from all my friends because i’m scared i’ll lose them too.”

“oh.”

step two - say nice things 

“i want you for worse or for better y/n and i would wait for thousands of years for you to come back to me and i wouldn’t regret it because it would mean i would have you again. i know i broke your heart but hopefully it means i can put it back together because i truly do love you y/n.”

“max you need to understand that it’ll take time for me to take you back because even though you regret it, i need to heal and maybe once i’ve healed i’ll let you back in. i do love you though max, always will and i thank you for loving me too.” 

“i won’t give up y/n, i’ll keep coming back.”

“i’ll be here max.”

step three - remind her how it use to be 

the second time max appeared at y/n’s, he found himself feeling much more confident than how he did during his first endeavour, daniel having given him some motivation. 

he takes a moment to breathe before knocking his fist on your door. 

“when you said you’d keep coming back i didn’t know you’d actually follow through with it.” 

“of course i would, i meant it when i said i wanted you back.”

you just stare at the man as he talks, arms crossed around your chest resting on your doorframe. 

“well… what do you have to say for yourself? or are you just gonna stand there and stare at me for half an hour?”

“well if you’re offerin-”

“max! get to the point please or i will close this door.” 

he only smiles, staring at your face, admiring you before coming to his senses and speaking once more. 

“i just wanted to remind you of the time we spent together, y'know. i mean i was just lying down on the sofa and just staring at some old photos and i was thinking of the nights where we would just stay and lay and cuddle. nights reserved just for you and i remember? or as soon as we both had time off work, then we’d just jet off to a new country and relax, tanning under the sun or skiing in the snow. we should do that soon, have a nice holiday to just relax and love each other, wouldn’t you just love that, a romantic holiday just for the pair of us?  i certainly would but we’d have to get back together first but i guess that’s why i’m here.” 

“that would be nice i guess but i could do that with any man, a man that wouldn’t selfishly try and get me to quit my job when he knows i love it so much.”

“they don’t know you like i do though y/n! they also don’t deserve someone as sweet and perfect as yo-”

“so what? that makes you the perfect man for me then?”

“yes it does as a matter of fact! i know that even though you say that you love redbull, you really wish that some other team was winning but you also love that i’m winning. you also say that you prefer dogs but jimmy and sassy are your only exceptions. i know that y/n and no other person knows that. you say that you don’t want kids but you can’t help but want them when you see luka and lio and yet you still always claim that you will forever be the cool aunt! i also know that even though you put up this strong front, i know that i hurt you and i know that i will have to fight hard for you but i promise y/n, i swear that i will fight for you, i really will.”

by the end of his speech, both yours and his ears are filled with tears.

“...max.. i don’t know what to say.”

“then don’t say anything but yes, don’t say anything but i trust you max. reassure me y/n, tell me that we still could be something, don’t give me false hope i swear. i know i messed up but i really didn’t mean it.” 

“i swear max, that if you fight for me hard enough, then i’ll let you back in.”

step four - Say more nice things!!! 

the next time you get a visit from max is a week later in the early hours of the day. 

knock. knock. knock. 

repeatedly max knocks his fist on the door, over and over. 

quickly you get up, rubbing your eyes, stretching your arms and legs as you walk across your apartment, yanking the door open. 

“max? what are you doing here? it’s…i don’t even know what time it is but it’s way too early for me to talk to you about this.”

“i couldn’t sleep y/n, you kept me awake, i couldn’t stop thinking about you and so that’s why i’m here. i’ve been losing sleep everyday anyway but tonight was just unbearable. i need you y/n, please.”

“come in max.”

so he does, walking towards the sofa when a cough breaks him out of his daydream.

“no max, if you can’t sleep then sleep in the bed.” 

max’s heart soars at the prospect of being back into your arms once more, which is why he immediately scoops you up into his arms and dumps you onto your bed, tucking the pair of you under the covers. 

it takes a few minutes of staring at the ceiling to finally break down and hold each other, you having the confidence to rest your head on his chest, that soothes you, listening to the beat of his heart. 

it’s silent before the sound of soft sobs are heard throughout the room. the sobs are then followed by shaking. it’s max. 

“i love you, so so much.” is all max can manage to get out. 

“i love you too max.” 

that’s all the reassurance he needs, both of you falling into a deep slumber holding each other, just as you always would.

and that’s how you get the girl.

a/n: so i didn't die but i've just been so unmotivated to write and i just keep coming up with new ideas but no words to go along with it but oh well! this is for 1989 tv xxx

#formula 1 imagines #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #max verstappen imagine

[rogersevans]

it’s you.

Summary; It’s always been him. You’ve just never noticed it before, until it was too late. One confession in a heated moment changes your entire relationship with Steve. 

18+ Content Below the Cut, Minors DNI.

masterlist

“Fuck, Steve.” You moaned out as his hips snapped against your ass, the salacious sound filling the outdated motel room and mixing with his short and breathy grunts, driving you to the edge.

“That’s it, fuck.” The grip on your hips tightened, knowing there’d be bruises left there in the morning, but you didn’t care. “You’re taking me so well, Peach.” He praised, his bare chest meeting your back as he leaned over you, his breath hitting the back of your neck, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear and creating a swooping feeling in the pit of your stomach, your heart practically swelling at his praise. “My good girl.” A soft, high-pitched whine fell from your lips when he punctuated his words with several hard thrusts.  

You don’t remember how this situation started, but after a particularly hard day in a new country on the hunt for his best friend and almost getting shot in the process you found yourself in Steve’s bed, the smell of whiskey on his breath clouding your judgement as he pressed himself into you for the first time. Unknowing that he would be forever imprinted on you.  

It was a mistake, two friends blowing off steam and fulfilling each other's needs. Nothing about it was romantic. You remembered how your bodies stuck together, the sweat gluing you together, his teeth scraping against your neck creating a delicious burn. It was fast and hard, both reaching your highs quickly.  

The next morning you’d snuck out, not wanting the awkward conversation. The realisation that you’d just slept with your friend of 10 years hitting you like a ton of bricks.  

You didn’t think it would happen again, just an embarrassing memory, a funny story to laugh about later down the line.  

Until the next night when he broke into your motel room in the dead of night and took you again, over and over until the sun started peeking through the curtains. Taking your body apart inch by inch with every languid stroke of his thick cock hitting your cervix, to only put it together again when he cleaned you up after and dressing you in his shirt.  

That’s how every night after the first went. No words were spoken during the aftermath, it was never discussed outside the four walls of the dingy motel rooms.  

You had no problem being his release, allowing him to blow off steam, because that’s what you were doing. No matter how rough he got during or how soft he turned after, you knew it wasn’t something that could lead to anything.  

Not right now anyway.  

When the split happened, it was no question that you’d follow Steve. You didn’t even realise your body was silently answering the unasked question of loyalty until you took his hand and followed him out of the compound, Sam and Wanda in tow. Leaving the rest of your family behind without a single thought.  

You’d watch an entire city burn if it meant keeping Steve in your life, you’d kill for him.  

You had killed for him.  

It wasn’t a love thing- well, it didn’t start off as a love thing. Steve had been in your life for 10 years and had been the one thing that remained, never leaving and never wavering. The bond you both shared was something you only read about, something the group had picked up on within five minutes of you first meeting the super solider. Tony expected you to pick Rogers, he saw it coming before he saw the split coming.  

He was your soulmate, even if you didn’t know it yet.  

“Peach,” his voice sounded strained, the snap of his hips becoming more frantic. He was close, you could tell. You felt as his calloused fingers tips ran down the column of your throat, down the valley of your breasts, along your stomach creating that swooping feeling in your stomach again and finding your sensitive nub, running through your puffy, slick folds.  

“Steve,” you whined loudly, your head lolling to the side and finding his shoulder, exposing your throat to him.  

The low growl that rumbled in his chest, making your body thrum at the feeling, was feral, animalistic. Just like his need for you. “You feel- fuck you feel incredible Peach, wrapped tightly around my cock, so fucking tight.” He gritted the last part through clenched teeth, his hips never relenting, their assault sending every nerve ending in your body into overdrive. His eyes catching your reflections in the mirror on top of the dresser, his free hand falling to your stomach. “I can feel myself, right here.” He husked into your ear, another loud whine from you. “Watch yourself Peach.” He demanded so calmly, like he wasn’t currently taking you apart with both his fingers and cock right now.  

Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt yourself racing towards your high, the way his fingers expertly plucked, flicked and strummed your clit becoming too much.  

Then, all of that was taken away from you. Steve’s hips stilling, leaving him pressed to hilt inside of you and his cock twitching. His fingers no longer strumming you.

Your eyes snapped opened within seconds and your head lifted itself to turn and look over your shoulder at the blonde, but before you could open your mouth to speak the fingers that were marked with your scent and juices gripped your chin, turning you to face the mirror. His eyes were blown with lust, just a small ring of blue remained, his upper lips snarling.  

“Steve-”

“I gave you an order, Peach.” He snapped, pulling his hips back only to snap them forward, surging you forward only for his grip to tighten and bring you back flush against his chest. “What was that order?”  

You opened your mouth to speak, but words fizzled on your tongue. Your eyes never leaving his in the reflection of the mirror.  

“Come on, don’t tell me you’ve gone dumb on me now Peach. Too full of me to remember anything but my name?”  

“St-Steve.” You whined out again, your skin feeling hot as you teetered on the edge of your release. You watched as the hands resting on your stomach moved lower, painfully slow. Your hips following his touch and arching forward.

“So responsive to me.” Thrust. “Like you were made for me, and only me.” Thrust. “You’re shaking Peach.” Another thrust, the scream that ripped through your throat had him smirking and smug. His nose trailing along your jaw line, his teeth nipping there shortly after. “My dumb baby.”  

“Oh, fuck.” You breathed out, the peak beginning to rise again.

“You like that, Peach? Being called ‘baby’?” Only humming in response, he worked his fingers on your nub again, the heel of his palm pressing your stomach back into him as the speed of his hips increased.  

He only ever called you baby when he was buried inside you, making your toes curl each time and a warmth to spread throughout your entire body. Peach had been a name he’d called you after discovering your love for the fruit. The amount of Sunday mornings you’d dragged him to the farmers market to get a fresh basket, that he’d end up carrying because you’d get distracted by the other stalls there. But baby was a new one, and it had such an effect on you, he always felt how you clenched around him when he called you it. It drove him crazy every time.  

“Who knew you were a softie.” His voice remained its normal calm and authoritative demeanour, like he wasn’t currently fucking you senseless and turning you dumb, melting your brain. “Now, be a good fucking girl and watch me take you apart.”  

Your eyes never left his, the hand gripping your chin moved down to wrap around your throat, applying slight pressure, not enough to hurt you completely but enough to dance along that fine line of pain and pleasure. His thumb reaching up and tapping your bottom lip and without word or demand you opened your mouth a little more and wrapped your lips around his thumb when he rested it against your tongue.  

“Fuck, baby.” He groaned out, his forehead resting against the side of your face, his eyes fluttering closed. “One more baby, that’s all I need.” He assured you sweetly, his fingers tapping your clit sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. “No,” he tsked when he felt you shake your head. “I know you can Peach, just one more, I know you want to.”  

Your entire body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending sensitive to a slight breeze, your nipples so hard and sensitive they could cut glass.  

“Now, fucking cum. Make everyone in this damn motel know who’s making you feel this good.” He gritted, his teeth scraping against your jawline, the grip on your throat tightening slightly. His hips quickening their pace, the headboard rattling against the wall behind you. One more pluck of your tingling bud had your body spasming, convulsing and going rigid under his hold.  

“That’s it Peach, good girl.” He whispered, his lips finding your shoulder. “See how beautiful you look when you cum? It’s a fucking work of art.” Your entire body went numb, slumping against his rock-hard chest and being held there when both hands fell to your breasts, roughly squeezing them.  

“St-Steve, I-I-”

“Sshh baby, I know.” The feeling of his hips stuttering signalled he wasn’t far behind you. “Fuckfuckfuck,” he punctuated with every thrust until his hips stilled and the most delicious sound fell from his lips, your actual name shortly followed as he rode himself through his own high.  

A loud banging on the wall behind you brought you both back to reality, out of the post sex haze you’d both created. The scent of sex lingering in the air, bodies sticking to one another.  

“Now you’re both freshly fucked, would you care to join us in jet?!” Sam’s voice boomed through the walls, your cheeks turning a deep crimson at the realisation he’d heard everything. “Hurry the fuck up!” He boomed again, followed by another loud and final bang on the wall before you both heard him laugh and then his own room door shut, indicating he’d headed down to the jet left hiding in the forrest behind the motel.  

“Oh my god.” You squeaked, scrambling off the bed, ignoring the emptiness you felt when you withdrew from Steve and grabbing your clothes in a rush.

“Something wrong, Peach?” Steve drawled still on his knees on the bed, proudly displaying every inch of himself as he watched you scramble around his room, dressing yourself.  

“Yes,” you squeaked again. “Not only have you pulled orgasm after orgasm until sunrise and my body is thoroughly wrecked, when we have an important mission. But Wilson has the biggest fucking mouth, so that means Wanda knows, not to mention everyone in his fucking contact list.” You huffed out, blowing hair that had fallen over your face out of the way.  

“I didn’t hear you complaining. In fact, I believe you were begging me for more?” He smugly quipped back, now standing to his full height and dressing himself. “And Wilson will keep his mouth shut, if he knows what’s best for him.”  

You didn’t expect the wave of hurt his words left on you, stilling your movements as you watched him continue to dress himself. Was he ashamed of you? Were you his secret? You knew Steve was a private person, especially when it came to his love life. But he trusted Sam and Wanda with his life, with you. You’d only ever spoken two words to them both when you first left with them, but he trusted them to keep you safe, and you them.  

“What’s that supposed to mean?" You couldn’t stop the question from coming out, shocking yourself at how demanding your voice sounded.  

Steve’s brows shot up, his ocean like eyes meeting yours, instantly intimidating you. “Exactly what I said.” Was all he said, but his tone had returned to its emotionless and authoritative tone, irking you.  

“So, you fuck me in the dead of night but as soon as we step out of this room it's like it never happened?” You snapped, your hands falling to your hips, your blood starting to boil as the seconds went by.  

“You got something to say, Peach? Please, don’t hold back on my account.” When you remained silent, he continued, shaking his head as he spoke. “You knew the arrangement-”

“What arrangement?! Steve, we fucked once after one too many whiskeys and I was happy to leave it at that, a way of blowing off steam in this shitty situation. But then you kept coming back. It’s like you conditioned me that way, like I’m waiting for my mouth salivate whenever I hear the click of my motel door opening.” Steve’s scoff was loud and obnoxious, your skin prickingly with irritation making you scrub your hand over your face. “You’re such a self-righteous prick. I chose to leave with you-”

“It was your choice, don’t put that on me.” He spat at you, crossing the room in a beat and coming chest to chest with you. “I didn’t force you to leave with me.”  

“Just like you didn’t force me to fall in love with you!?” Your chest was now heaving, your cheeks completely flushed and your fists balling at your sides. The air in the room suddenly becoming thick and suffocating, the realisation and heaviness of words settling in. You watched as the colour from Steve’s face drained, his eyes going wide for only a second before he regained his composure.

You hadn’t realised it until this very moment, like it had been lying dormant inside of you until now. Suddenly, everything made sense. Too blinded by your friendship and the platonic bond you shared to realise you had fallen so far, so deep that he was practically imprinted on you.  

Always convincing yourself your bond was purely platonic and nothing more, just two people who were meant to be in each other's lives. And maybe it had been just that to begin with, but somewhere between going on the run, giving up your entire life for him and becoming familiar with each other's bodies, lost in each other’s touch.  

You fell in love with him.  

He pulled you in, feeding off of your dedication to him.  

The realisation winded you, knocking the breath out of you as you stood chest to chest. “Peach,” his voice was softer now, just above a whisper as his hand reached up to cup your cheek. But you backed away from his touch, suddenly wanting to be anywhere else than here. It wasn’t until your back hit the door, the knob of the door digging into your lower back, that you stopped moving.  

“I may have chosen this part of my life.” You finally spoke after a few minutes of thick silence, your throat bobbing up and down slowly. “But you, you didn’t consider what it would do to me. Knowing I would leave with you, before I’d even made that decision. I-I put my life on the line for you, we all did.” Even though your voice sounded calm, Steve noticed how your eyes started to well up. “I let you in. I became addicted to your touch, your presence, God- even your smell! Everything about you invited me in! I would watch an entire city burn for you, and you can’t even look in my direction when we step out of this room.” You scoffed, your eyes down casting to the floor.  

His name fell from your lips, it sounded so foreign to you. Already missing how he called you Peach. His own lip trembling as he took one small step towards you, but stopped when you flinched and reached for the door knob. “I didn’t know-” He tried assure you.

“Of course, you didn’t. Why would you? You had me where you needed me, under your thumb. Ready and awaiting instruction, Captain.” With a two-finger salute you turned your back on him and twisted the knob, the sunrise beaming through the smallest crack of the open door. “I’ll see you on the jet.”  

“Mornin’.” Sam beamed at you as you walked up the ramp of the jet, your bag on your shoulders and your arms wrapped around yourself. His frown fell when you walked past him and found a corner of the jet to sit and sulk in, dropping your bag at your feet and tucking your knees against your chest, resting your forehead against them. “Everything alright?”

“Peachy.” You mumbled, never lifting your head.  

“Sam, the jet ready?” Came Steve’s deep voice, cool and calm. His thudding footsteps drawing closer to you, a flicker of hope lit up inside you, hoping he’d come over to fix it or to talk. But that light died as quickly as it came when he walked straight past you, his shadow flying past you.  

“Yeah,” Sam cautiously answered, his eyes flicking between you and the blonde super solider, Steve’s jaw set and shoulders hunched. “Wanda’s just doing a check over-”

“Now.” He boomed, sitting in the pilot’s seat with a thud, wordlessly dismissing Sam.  

“What’s got you all doom and gloom?” Came Wanda’s sweet voice, her accent still thick and demeanour soft. Her touch fell to your shoulder, her thumb stroking it slowly.  

“Nothing Wanda, I’m fine.”  

“You know I can read minds, right?” Her tone now playful, giving your shoulder a small nudge.

“Then why ask?” Finally lifting your head for the first time in an hour, your eyes looked tired, mouth dry and limbs stiff from sitting in the same position.  

“Because, everyone needs a friend once in a while.” She chirped at you, blinking as she watched you stand and stretch all your limbs, twisting your neck so it would crack before rolling your shoulders.  

“Wanda, we’re not friends. We’re just two people who shared the same opinion.” You snapped, watching her face fall and instantly regretting it. The red head stood, smoothing over her shirt before nodding. Her expression turning cold. “Wanda-”

“Understood.” Looking past you she stepped around you and moved to sit beside Steve in the cockpit.  

“Great.” You muttered under your breath, rubbing your temple with your middle finger and thumb, groaning in frustration.  

You didn’t mean to snap at Wanda, it wasn’t her that you were angry at. It was Steve. Wanda had been a good friend to you over the past year, rooming with her in the motel rooms was something that helped knock down the walls of protection you both had built. The first few nights were spent in silence, both just lying in your separate beds and staring up at the ceiling.  

Then, one night, you’d caught her watching Family Guy on the TV in a different language, her brows knitted together in frustration when she couldn’t figure out how to return it back to English. After showing her how to fix it you spent the night talking, before this point you didn’t think much of the red head, just knowing that Steve and the team brought her back after the battle with Ultron, asking you to wipe her records and accept her as one of their own. Clint spoke about the twins fondly, you remembered how he would always have a glint of something in his eyes every time.  

“With the night you had last night, you shouldn’t be as irritable as you are.” Sam teased, holding out a bottle of water to you.

Taking the bottle from him you silently maintained eye contact, your eyes never leaving his as you took a sip. But he didn’t waver or back away, signalling he wasn’t giving up. You knew Sam was a talker, always trying to help people with their problems. Hell, he jumped on Steve’s side and helped him search for a Hydra Assassin who used to be his best friend without question.

Loyal. That’s how you would describe Sam Wilson.  

Sam had come to like you over the past couple of months, you could take a joke, sometimes even joining in. You put Steve in his place when he got too demanding with the group and you took him and Wanda in as if you’d known them for years, without question. Sure, you were quiet and distant unless Steve was around, that’s when you came alive. But Sam figured it was because of how comfortable you were around one another.  

“What do you want, Wilson?” You finally asked, twisting the cap back onto the bottle.  

“Wanna talk about what happened?”

“Nope.” Popping the ‘p’ you turned on your heels, grabbing your bag.  

“Does he know?” His question had you stilling, your face falling and your heartrate increasing. “I’m taking your silence as a yes and that you didn’t get the answer you were hoping for.” When you didn’t move still, he exhaled through his nostrils. “Just because you don’t move doesn’t mean I can’t see you.”  

Finally turning to face him you hold his gaze for long before it wandered around the jet, nervously shuffling on your feet.  

“It’s so obvious, to anyone who’s watching that is. I’ve known for a couple of weeks- you're not the quietest of couple-”

“We’re not a couple.” You snapped in defence, your glance casting over your shoulder to find Steve still sat in the pilot seat, listening to Wanda talk about strategies. “Definitely not a couple.” You said quieter this time, knowing Steve would’ve been able to her every word of this conversation.  

“Listen,” he started as you turned back to face him. “He’s got a lot on his mind, he’s constantly worrying about Bucky, and finding him. Not to mention he probably misses' home, feels guilty that we’re all here with him, that it had to come to this. Not to mention, he probably misses Tony.” The last sentence made a whisper of a smile appear across your lips, making him beam with pride. “But we won’t tell him that.” His hand fell to your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Just give him time to process, maybe another chance.”  

With that Sam left you alone with your thoughts, turning to face Steve and Wanda your breath hitched when you saw him staring right back at you, his blue eyes looking worried? The unfamiliar expression had you frowning in confusion, but before you could blink his back was to you again and he continued his conversation with Wanda as if he hadn’t stopped.  

You blinked at his back, unsure of what had just happened. You felt stupid, stood in the middle of the jet, staring at your best friend of 10 years, who you’d been sleeping with for the past 4 months and who you’d just admitted your feelings to. It all felt very, high school to you. But that didn’t stop your heart from hurting whenever you remembered the look on his face back in the motel, or how your heart still swelled whenever he looked your way after.  

You were fucked.  

Two weeks. That’s how long it had been since you and Steve had spoken, you’d followed Sam’s advice, giving him time and space, but you were becoming frustrated with the new dynamic. Normally attached at the hip, it took great strengths to separate the pair of you from one another, and the distance was starting to get to you. It was like an addiction. Steve was your heroin and you found yourself craving everything about him. At night you laid awake waiting for him to come through the door of the new dingy motel and thoroughly ruin you.  

You missed his voice and out of stubbornness you’d learnt to tune him out when he spoke. But when alone you found yourself craving to hear him speak, missing the way he called you Peach or even calling you by your actual name, anything at this point for him to acknowledge you.  

You’d apologised to Wanda straight away, hating that you upset her. It took you admitting that you’d never had a female friend before, other than Natasha, for her to understand. But Wanda wasn’t that angry with you, she knew how you worked and how you didn’t talk much about feelings with anyone else apart from Steve. She could see how the distance between you both was affecting you, noticing how you would watch him from your corner of the jet, your eyes hopeful whenever he walked in your direction, only for them to fall when he walked past you.  

She’d tried to talk to him about it, causally bringing it up, but she was met with a stern look. Steve had been giving those out like they were candies recently, like he had a permanent stick up his ass. It was driving Sam and Wanda up the wall, especially when they noticed how his eyes would soften for a brief second when you fell into his eyeline.  

His mood seemed to shift when Bucky came onto the scene, finally tracking him down. You and Wanda had been the ones to find him, tracking him down to a rundown apartment building. You’d have laughed at the comical moment when he came out of his bedroom, baseball bat and dressed in boxers when he heard you and Wanda breaking in. If the situation wasn’t as serious as it was. It took hours of convincing and ten missed calls from Steve but he finally agreed, something in the way you spoke about Steve, the conviction in your voice and the sparkle in your eyes whenever you said his name convinced him.  

You remember the way Steve’s eyes lit up when you finally showed up.

“Steve. Sam.” Wanda called softly, climbing the ramp of the jet, you and Bucky hot on her trail.

His quick and heavy footsteps were the only thing you could focus on, was he running? Then they stopped when he reached the edge, making you stop midway on the ramp. “You’re back.” You didn’t miss the way the corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly at the sight of you. You couldn’t stop yourself from wincing when you saw his phone gripped tightly in his right hand, remembering the missed calls.  

It was like no one else existed in this moment, like the entire world had disappeared as he stared down at you. Like the last week didn’t matter anymore. Your heart beating erratically at the thought and your body aching for his touch, to feel his arms wrap around your waist again.  

He took one large step forward, his mouth opening like he had something to say. But that died on on his tongue when another body crashed into you, not noticing that you’d stopped in the middle of the ramp. “Sorry,” he mumbled, clutching to the bag on his shoulders tighter.  

“Bucky?” The light in his eyes that you hoped was for you diverted onto his best friend, a wide grin starting to spread. “Holy shit.” He mumbled, now storming down the ramp and straight past you to take his best friend in his arms, holding him tightly. That ache in your chest only increased when he wrapped an arm around the brunette, guiding him onto the jet and forgetting about you.

It was a Friday night and the small team had decided to celebrate a successful day of taking down another Hydra base and fighting off the government. It had been a close call for Wanda, but it didn’t take much for her knock them on their asses with a simple flick of her fingers.  

Another dingy motel room, but this time you all shared one room, the victory bringing you together almost. You all sat in a circle on the floor, except Wanda who was lying on her front on the bed behind you, her chin resting on your shoulder.  

The air in the room was light, the lightest it’d been for a long time.  

Things felt normal. Just a group of friends blowing off steam after a hard work week.  

Your eyes would catch Steve every so often, linger for a couple of seconds before flitting around the group to not arouse suspicion, Sam being the only one to notice. Making you roll your eyes whenever he raised his brows and smirked behind his beer bottle at you.  

“Haven’t seen Steve this relaxed in a long time.” Wanda muttered to you, as you played with the ends of her auburn hair. She was right, he seemed... content. He was making a conscious effort to get involved with the group, but you suspected that had something to do with Bucky and Sam pressuring him to do so.  

Your hum in response was soft, your eyes still trained on the super solider as he laughed at something Bucky had said. That familiar warmth spreading through your chest at the sight, the sound was like hearing a song from your past for the first time in years, filling you with happiness at the memories of hearing him laugh whenever you made a bad joke, or the time you used his shield as a helmet to cheer him up. “Yeah,” you mumbled back “it’s nice.”  

“Has he spoken to you since-”

“No.” You coldly cut her off, taking a long swig of your beer. You didn’t want to still be affected by your last conversation with Steve, but the way his face fell when you told him how you felt was forever burnt into your retinas. “I need some air.” You stood from your seat on the floor, ignoring everyone's eyes suddenly on you. Swaying slightly from the five beers you’d downed since sitting down.  

Like he was tuned into your every move, Steve was on you before you regained balance. “Woah, Peach, you alright?”  

“I just need some air.” You muttered, shaking your head slightly to settle your vision.  

“You sure?” Warmth spreading from his hold on your shoulders, steadying you. A shiver running down your spine at the rasp in his voice.  

“With all due respect, Captain.” Snatching yourself out of his grip, your upper lip snarling. “That isn’t your problem anymore.”  

“Peach-” Steve softly called after you when you shoved past him and headed toward the door.  

“Give her a minute.” Wanda chimed in, now sitting cross legged on the bed, her bottle resting between her legs.  

The cold, autumn air hit you, knocking the wind out of you. You stumbled into the railing, resting your elbows on it as you leaned forward, your eyes looking over at the horizon, the orange sun casting a warm glow on your skin.  

Golden hour. Your favourite time of day.  

Memories of sitting on the field of the compound with Steve in summer, your kindle in one hand, his hand holding your other as he mindlessly played with your fingers. The picnic you both made long forgotten as you would read to him.  

You missed him.  

You missed home.  

“Golden hour.” The new voice interrupted your memory, making your eyes flutter open. “The only time the world looks peaceful.”  

“Something like that,” you whispered back.

You hadn’t spoken to Bucky much since he’d come back with you, he’d been too busy with Steve. But you figured he wasn’t one for talking, like you. Preferring the silence, comfortable in it. Something about him gave you a comfort vibe, maybe it was the way his stare intimidated many, but his eyes gave away how vulnerable he was. Or how soft his voice was whenever he spoke, a striking contrast to how closed off he was.  

“You doin’ alright?” He asked, shuffling closer to you and offering you his jacket when he noticed you shivering from the dusk air.  

“Yeah,” waving him off and wrapping your arms around yourself. “Just been a long time since we all sat and chatted like that.”  

“I get that, it’s been a long time for me to.” He mumbled, placing the jacket around your shoulders anyway. “Being around more than one person can sometimes be intimidating when you’re used to your own company. But everyone’s nice, Wanda can be weird and intense at times. But that isn’t a bad thing.” He shrugged, playing with the label of his beer bottle.

“Wanda’s been through a lot. She means well.” You defended, turning to look at him for the first time since he came outside. “I bet even Steve is different to you now.” You tried to ignore the way your heartrate increased at the mention of his name.  

“Nah, he’s still the same old punk he was back then, just beefier and taller.” You both shared a quiet laugh, the birds chirping nearby the only noise between you both. “He cares about you, you know.”  

An exasperated laugh fell past your lips, turning to face the horizon again. Not wanting to continue this conversation. Trying to ignore the burning feeling in your throat.  

“I know. It’s none of my business, and if I’m overstepping my mark then please, tell me.”

“You’re overstepping, Barnes.” You warned him with a small smile.  

“I’m gonna tell you anyway.” He teased, bumping his arm against yours.  

“Of course, you are. You know, you’re as stubborn as he is.”  

“Thanks.” He beamed down at you, like you’d just paid him the biggest compliment even if it wasn’t intended that way. “Sam told me what happened.”

“Wilson.” You grumbled, your jaw setting and eyes closing in frustration.

“I think you should speak to him, maybe-”

“Why?” You snapped, ignoring the taken aback look stretched across his features. “I said what I needed to say, made my feelings clear. Sam told me to give him time, I’ve done that.” A dry laugh escaped as you twisted your body to look at Bucky. “Tell me Barnes, have you ever had someone treat you like you’re the only person in existence one moment, worship your entire body, condition you to crave everything about them. Then,” the snap of your fingers made him blink in shock. “Act like you’re nothing to them the next?” His silence almost deafening to you, he watched with bated breath as you shook your head. “He fucked with my head, and I’m done.” With your final words lingering in the air, leaving the atmosphere thick and heavy. You spin on your heels and make your way back to the jet, deciding that spending the night on the uncomfortable benches would be better than having to face Steve again.  

The feeling of someone else's touch on you startles you awake, your arms going straight into defence mode and fighting off whoever it was.

“Hey, shh, shh. It’s me, Peach. It’s me. You’re safe, I’ve got you.” The deep raspy voice of Steve settled your rapidly beating heartbeat instantly, your eyes fluttering open to find him crouched before you and still dressed in his old and grey tattered sweats, and a plain white top. Whisps of his blonde hair falling out of place and over his forehead, your fingers twitched to comb it back into place.  

“Peach, baby,” his eyes softening and wide when he felt how cold you were, your body shivering. You ignored the way your heart swelled at the sound of him calling you baby. “You’re freezing, here.” He mumbled, throwing the hoodie he had resting in the crook of his arm over your body.

Not giving you chance to protest he scooped you up into his arms, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist, and made his way out of the jet and back towards the motel. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into his hold, craving the warmth that he radiated. His smell settling you and letting your eyes flutter shut again, your body exhausted and stiff from the uncomfortable sleep you’d just had.  

“Wh-what’re you doing?” You mumbled against his neck with your arms tightly wrapped around it. Your teeth chattering as you spoke, making Steve hold you tight to his body.  

“Taking you to bed.” He stated matter-of-factly, reaching a motel room door you thought was the one you stomped out of hours earlier. “You can’t, I won’t allow you to sleep in that jet.” With ease he plucked the room key out of his jean pocket and unlocked the door, kicking it open softly and walking in, making sure to kick it closed behind him.  

The room was dark, with only one bed in the middle. You may have had five beers before but you certainly remember there being two double beds and a sofa bed, you remember Sam and Bucky fighting over who got the sofa bed for the night. You also remember Wanda chaperoning a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors for it. Bucky winning best out of three.  

“Where is everyone?” Your question came out as more of a mumble when you spoke, currently fighting off the sleep that was taking over your body.  

“In the other room baby, I got a separate room for us- you.” It almost pained him to stop himself, his heart lurching out of his chest knowing he didn’t have the right make that claim anymore. He’d been subtly calling you baby, hoping you’d notice and you had. Your heart fluttering every time he threw it into the conversation. Like he’d been calling you it forever.  

It wasn’t until he placed you on the bed carefully, watching how you curled in on yourself, making yourself small. That he realised how much he’d fucked up, how hurt you were, how exhausted you seemed. He knew you’d been punishing yourself silently for how he reacted, blaming yourself for ruining your... situation.  

But he couldn’t blame you, it was all him. It all happened so quickly, it went from you both being on cloud fucking nine after pulling multiple orgasms from your body to you both chest to chest as you held back tears, admitting your love for him. It gave him whiplash.  

It’s not like Steve didn’t feel anything for you. He just didn’t know if it was love that he felt. You’d been his best friend, his other half for 10 years. Sure, the lines had begun to blur over the past few months as you explored uncharted waters with your friendship. But that didn’t mean he didn’t love you, it's all he could think about.  

It consumed him.  

Enamoured him.  

It was the reason he started coming to you all those months ago. Why he kept coming back every night, why he took his time taking you apart, why he started to stay after. He never wanted it to end, his heart sinking whenever the sun would creep in through the thin curtains. He wanted you like this every day, in nothing but his shirt, ready and waiting for him. You were his. You belonged to him. And he you.  

Before all of this he never questioned your friendship, if there was something more below the surface. Sure, Tony would tease him relentlessly claiming there was. Nat to. But he ignored them, thinking it was just his friend's poking fun at him. “Dude, you’re pussy whipped and you’re not even getting any.” Tony would say, Steve used to recoil at his crass way of words, but the more he thought about it, the more he agreed. “Please.” Nat would always start with when Steve would dismiss their ridiculous ideas of something more between you two, snorting as she smirked. “She’s your little shadow, it’s cute. I’ve known you for a long time Rogers, the longest relationship you’ve had since your little Peach came onto the scene was about a month-” and Tony would always chirp in with, “and that’s because your darling Peach didn’t like her!”  

But Steve learnt to ignore their comments, he’d always leave them to come and find you. Finding you always in the lab with Bruce or the library that barley anyone used. Your presence would calm him whenever they riled him up.  

He gravitated towards you, always.  

If Tony saw him now, he’d laugh and make a snarky comment about always being right.  

He missed them, he longed to pick up the burner phone and ring his old friend. He knew missed them to and that was his fault. You being here, was his fault. He took you away from your friends.  

That day when you and Wanda went missing for hours, he had fears that you’d gone back to them, knowing you hadn’t spoken in a week and how much you were beating yourself up, how much you missed him. He knew because he missed you to. His mind starting to race with thoughts of you back at compound, settling back into your life with everyone but him, like he never existed. He noticed Sam smirk to himself as he paced the jet, pulling at the ends of his blonde locks. But he chose to ignore his friend, like you chose to ignore his calls. Why were you ignoring him? You knew if he rang, it was an emergency.  

He’d never been so relieved to hear Wanda’s voice, he remembers his heart hammering against his ribs, blood rushing to his ears as he scrambled to the ramp. He needed to see you, needed to know that you’d returned. That you hadn’t left him. When he saw you all felt right in the world again, especially when he heard your breath hitch, the way he heard your pulse quicken at the sight of the disbelieved man before you proved you still cared. You still loved him.  

Then he saw Bucky. It was like his two worlds were finally colliding. You’d brought his best friend back to him. That’s where you were. You hadn't left him. You were helping him.  

Even after what he’d put you through.  

It was Bucky who said it first, Sam has been quiet to do so. Wanting him to get there on his own. But during one of their morning runs, that Bucky had now become a part of, his statement blurted between the three men left a heavy feeling of tension between them.  

“You fucking her?” The bluntness of his tone made the other two stop, Sam looking between them both, his hands resting on his knees as he caught his breath. The question had been burning on the tip of his tongue ever since he stepped foot on the jet. “Because it sure looks that way.” The brunette continued before Steve could open his mouth to protest. “I’ve seen the way you look at one another when you think the other isn’t paying attention.”  

That caught Steve’s attention. You looked at him? One glance in Sam’s direction confirmed his unspoken question, a quiet nod his only answer.  

“The day they found me, the way she spoke about you-”

“She spoke about me?” It was the first thing Steve had said all morning and he didn’t care how desperate he sounded. He hadn’t been able to sleep, like most nights without by his side. Missing how your soft snores would lull him to sleep.

“You were all she spoke about.” Was all Bucky said on the matter, turning to continue on their jog leaving Steve stood there as he blinked in shock at his best friend’s admission.  

“St-Steve,” your soft voice pulled him from his reverie, your fingers gently wrapping around his wrist, holding him place. His breath stuck in his throat as he watched your eyes flutter open, your lips parted slightly. “Don’t leave me.” You couldn’t stop the words from leaving you, the quiet plea barley echoed around the room and you thought he hadn’t heard you as he stood over you, his eyes flitting between your grip on his wrist and your lips.  

Only when you went to let go did he respond. Within seconds climbing over you, his chest pressed firmly to your back, his large arms wrapping around your middle tightly, his face nestled in the crook of your neck. Breathing you in, inhaling your smell. Legs tangled together.  

Both finally feeling at peace.  

Steve didn’t know what this meant for you both or what was going to happen. No more words were spoken that night. None were needed because as you both held each other, breathing in tune with other, every inch of each other touching.  

He had you back, and you him.  

For the first time since coming out of the ice, he felt at peace. You were his world now. His heart beat for you.  

Your name forever seared into his heart.  

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x female!reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers angst #steve rogers smut #chris evans #chris evans fic #chris evans angst #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #cevans #cevansedit #evansedit

[yeoblurbs]

[05:34] angst to fluff, one-shot

Pairing: Choi San x Female Reader

WC: 2k

Warnings: small mentions of drinking (wine), subtle hints of anxiety, an awkward situation in public

Your hands shake beside you, heart hammering in anger as your eyes well up with tears. “That’s not what I intended to happen, San. I would never intentionally fuck up something that meant so much to you!” you throw your hands in the air as you speak, brows furrowed in frustration.

San is quiet; calm. Except his jaw is clenched, eyes narrowed and the dimples you love so much are nowhere to be seen. You want to throw up at the sheer hatred you see in his eyes.

His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he takes a deep breath, though the tension in his shoulders stays. “you’re saying it’s not your fault but if you were just nice to her, none of this would’ve happened!” he exclaims angrily.

“I was nice to her!” you cry out desperately. your face is crumpled in pure despair as you hear his next words. “clearly, not enough! so when I go back to work and lose my promotion because my crazy jealous fiancée couldn’t act civil, how will you still say that it’s not your fault?"

You hadn’t meant to cause a scene. San had asked you to come with him to a work party, one announcing his job promotion and you’d been delighted. except upon arriving, he had immediately been torn from your side by fellow coworkers, and while you were nervous, you knew you could handle yourself alone.

the problem arose when you went to use the restroom and in walked three girls, ones you saw speaking to San earlier while casually touching his arms. immediately uncomfortable, you quickly dry your hands intending to leave as soon as you could, except the black-haired one in the middle locks the door before walking right up to you.

she smiles, pearly white teeth and crimson lips, “you’re Sans girlfriend, right? I’m Yuna, his friend.”

if it weren’t for the fact that she locked you inside, you might’ve found her friendly. You smile, tight-lipped yet respectful, “I’m actually his fiancée, y/n. it’s nice to meet you, Yuna.”

her smile sours at your reply, and her friends ignore you entirely as they apply their makeup in the mirror. you know what will occur next is not something peaceful, having watched enough chick flicks to realize things would turn messy if you didn’t leave now. you bow in passing as you walk towards the door, swiftly moving past Yuna and unlocking it with a smile and nod.

except it wasn’t over then, and 30 minutes later, Yuna stands in front of you, her cherry lips parted in shock with a large red wine stain on her white dress. she begins to cry, soft sobs leaving her throat and her friends comfort her while looking at you with rage.

you open your mouth to say something; anything, but Yuna whips her head up and speaks, her voice intending those surrounding you to hear, “I haven’t done anything with San! We’re just friends, I would never go after a guy that’s taken!” her bottom lip curls into a pout. she looks at you with sadness, round eyes filled with tears as she bursts into more sobs. “you didn’t need to dump the wine on me, I’ll stay away from San, I promise!”

you’re in shock, unsure what to do as the circle of Sans coworkers look at Yuna in pity and stare at you with ire. you want to defend yourself, but how could you possibly shout that you hadn’t dumped anything on her, rather, that she dumped it on herself? who would they believe, the coworker with wet eyes or the outsider who stands before her?

but then you remember San; your fiancée, your best friend, and your soulmate. except before you can search the crowd for him, you feel a grip on your wrist as you’re pulled from the scene. you can hear him whispering apologies as he bows to fellow coworkers, but you’re too stumped at the entire situation while he brings you back to his car.

so that’s how you’re here, in your apartment at 12:32am shaking in distress as you are blamed for a situation that was not your fault. but you could handle Yunas friends blaming you, you could handle their coworkers looking at you with distaste, however, what you could not handle was San, your San, looking at you with loveless eyes as if you were nothing but a pesky, immature girlfriend. you hate that he trusts you this little; that your word wasn’t enough to him. you know you would believe him had the roles been reversed, and perhaps that is what hurts you most.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, San. I told you I didn’t do it, she poured it on herself and if you can’t believe me then maybe that says something about this relationship,” at your last sentence his face drops. his shoulders have released some tension and his eyes carry less hatred. but it’s not enough for you anymore. hurtful words have been thrown your way and you didn’t think you could stand to look at his cold gaze any longer.

you take a deep breath before wiping your cheeks and grabbing your own car keys. San has stepped forward, he looks confused as you turn to him, “I’m going to stay at my friend's house tonight. Go get some sleep and we’ll talk soon.” you utter tiredly yet no less firm.

he looks slightly panicked as his hand darts up to grab your wrist, but you aren’t in the mood to explain yourself any longer; you shake his hand off and wait for him to reply.

“wait.. you’re leaving? we need to still.. let’s just talk about this. don’t leave before we resolve this.” he pleads softly. the anger has washed from his form and his face holds nothing but a soft frown, fury nowhere to be seen. but it’s still not enough, at least not right now. “no, San. I don’t think I can properly speak to you right now after hearing you blame me for something that was not my fault. you made it clear that you don’t trust me. I need space.” you glance up at him before looking to the door, “sleep it off and I’ll see if I’m in the mood to talk tomorrow.”

But San isn't angry anymore, no, he could handle losing his job promotion, hell, he could handle losing his job entirely. what would destroy him most is losing you, and he feels guilt claw at his chest when he thinks about the words he carelessly spewed tonight. he needs you to know he's sorry, but how can he do that if you're gone? San looks at you in agony, eyes filled with anguish at the mere thought of you leaving right now. “do you have to? can you just stay? please? I’m sorry, I’m sorry for all of this but please let’s just sit down and talk.” he swallows and bites his lip, tears springing to his eyes, “don’t go.. don’t leave me” he pleads. "At least let me apologize."

the sight of his tears brings you pain, but you know you need the space for at least one night. you sigh and approach him. his teary eyes stare into your sad ones while you cup his reddened cheeks and kiss his forehead.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, san-ah. I’m hurt, but I still love you, and we will still talk.. but right now I really need the space. I hope you can respect that." you speak softly, aware of his fragile state despite the fact that you, too, are hurting just as much, if not more than he is.

Sans lips press together in another frown as he nods and kisses your temple gently, "Okay, I understand. I still want you to know I'm sorry, and I love you." your eyes fill with tears at the gesture and comment before you turn to leave.

ꕥ

You spend the night with your friend, updating her on what happened at the party. she tells you to leave San for good, but even she knows you would never do that, at least not over something like this. you arrive back at the apartment sometime in the afternoon, taking your time to reflect on the argument and process how you felt. you come to the conclusion that you will forgive San once he apologizes, though he will have to make it up to you with more than a simple 'sorry' this time.

you place your keys on the counter, taking off your jacket, and hanging it up. you look around in question, wondering where San was and how he could leave without saying anything when the two of you had yet to resolve yesterday's argument. you pad over to your shared bedroom, opening the door, and walk towards the lump on your bed. you pull back the cover and smile at the sight.

Sans hair is splayed out on the pillow, cheek smushed with his lips in a pout. your smile dims when you notice the redness beneath his eyes, realizing he must have cried quite a bit. you cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb underneath his eye as you lean down and place a gentle kiss on his forehead.

when you raise your head, his eyes flutter open. "morning, baby" you whisper with another kiss, this time to his nose. he crinkles his nose cutely at the action, before sitting up and attacking you in a hug. you fall on the bed with a soft thud while he lays his head on your chest and rubs his cheek on you; an endearing habit he had when he needed comfort.

you open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to it. "I'm sorry. yesterday I was a complete ass. there is no excuse for how I behaved or the things I said." he lifts his head up and looks at you, face inches apart, "I was afraid to lose my promotion, but still, I shouldn't have blamed you for something that wasn't your fault." he sighs and the two of you sit up facing each other.

"I..I'm so incredibly sorry for what I said and the way I handled the situation." he pauses and reaches for your hand; you notice his is shaking. "I've been so worried about my job, that I treated you like shit even though I knew it was wrong. I know it'll take time for you to fully forgive me," he squeezes your hand and looks you in the eye, "but I hope you know I love you, and I'll do my best to make things right."

you smile tearfully at his formal-like apology. while the wounds were still fresh, seeing his serious demeanor and hearing his reassuring words that he did truly love you was comforting. still, though, there was one thing you couldn't shake off; one comment that had you spiraling. "Do you still think I'm a crazy jealous fiancée?" you utter lightly, though your heart feels heavy when you ask.

San seems to feel worse at your question, as he looks at you with a pout and pulls your hand gently, maneuvering your body onto his. your head falls into the crevice of his neck. you move to look at him, until he places his hand on the back of your head softly, raking it through your hair.

"of course not! I was a dumb idiot who didn't know what he was talking about. if anything, I'm the one who gets crazy jealous." he grumbles sulkily at his last sentence, and you giggle when you realize he's not wrong. San can get jealous easily, always clinging onto you and nuzzling your neck for attention.

his words bring you comfort, and while San still has to make it up to you, you know the two of you can get through this. you place a soft kiss on his neck and hear his breath stutter before he squeezes you closer to him. you lift your head and stare at his face closely before kissing the corners of his red eyes. he blinks at each kiss and you smile at the endearing action before placing your lips on his.

yeah, the two of you would be okay. you were sure of it.

a/n: was supposed to be a drabble but i love happy endings:(

#san x reader #choi san x reader #ateez x reader #ateez angst #angst with a happy ending #san x y/n #san x you #ateez x you #ateez x yn #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic

[anintrovertedechoe]

moonlight.

mammon x gn!reader

heartfelt fluff

Giggles fill your apartment kitchen, music drowning it all out until you two are the only ones who can hear yourselves. This, you think, is love. Love in its purest and most unadulterated form. Love that is unafraid and comfortable and warm. Love that you could lie and bask in like sunlight on your living room floor on a Sunday afternoon.

He’s shirtless and your chests make contact through your flimsy tacky yellow tank top. (The color is ugly and ‘looks like what spoiled BufoEgg Tea would smell like’ according to Mammon, but yellow is his color and the two of you couldn’t stop laughing when you saw it, so into your cart and wardrobe it went.) His arms wrap around your waist, and he arches his back over you so you can actually reach his shoulders. (Tall bastard, you murmur. Not my fault yer such a short human. He grins. Your palm gently pushes his face away and his smile is so bright it steals the breath from your lungs just like he stole your heart oh so long ago.)

The music hums in the background, Dodie and Laufey play through the speakers, voices creating a gentle melody the two of you hum along to. Your lover is tone-deaf, but you still feel your chest bursting at the seams with love when his voice enters your ears.

The two of you rock to the sides together, holding onto each other so tightly that you feel like you might meld together as one. You voice your thoughts, and Mammon says he doesn’t see a problem with that (he grips you closer to him and meets your eyes and you don’t think you would mind either, if you’re being honest.) The midnight moonlight shines through the kitchen windows, and he tucks his face into the crook of your neck, where you know a crooked smile awaits you. You lean on him and pin his head against you, eliciting a laugh from your lover.

“Love you, Mams.”

“Love y’more.” And you can’t help but press your lips against his at the response. It is soft, and sweet, and slow. I am yours. I would follow you to the ends of all of the three realms if you asked me to. I love you. I love you. I love you, it says.

And you think you would stay like this forever, if you could. Right here, right now, with Greed in your arms and Dear Soulmate ringing throughout the room. How fitting it is, that Laufey’s melodious voice starts her chorus as his forehead presses against yours, blue-gold eyes shining so soft in the light you can’t help but melt.

Suddenly you’re pressed against the counter, his arms trapping you against him and suddenly Mammon is at your ear whispering, “Play the song.” Less of a demand and more of a plea, sweet and nearly silent, his voice sends shivers down your spine.

You can’t help but bask in the endearment that surges through you. A hand tangles itself and plays within the white locks belonging to the second-born Sin.

“What song?” A teasing grin from you. A whine from Mammon.

“Y’know, the song.” He pouts against you and his hair tickles your nose as he buries himself further into the space between your head and shoulders as you laugh at his antics.

“Need’ya to tell me what song, baby. Can’t read minds, y’know.” You know exactly what song he’s talking about.

“I hate ya, y’know.”

“You love me.”

He dramatically sighs against your neck. “Wish I didn’t.” A lie and you both know it. Still doesn’t make your smile any less wide.

“Mean. M’not playing the song for you now.”

“You said you didn’t know the song?!” A cry of outrage and mock indignation. You hastily shush him and break out into a fit of quiet laughter.

You motion for him to lean in closer, before whispering urgently and dramatically,

“I lied.”

“…”

“…”

“I was serious when I said I hated ya, y’know.”

A series of breathy giggles leave you and quickly reach Greed’s ears, and soon enough he’s barking out laughter alongside you.

It’s in moments like these that you know things are going to be alright. No matter what, you’ll have your Mammon by your side, and that means things will be okay.

You remember a time before him, before the love of your life was yours, and you can’t believe you ever thought you were alive before him. Darkness had filled every part of your being, and the days had dragged on, long and pointless. You remember coming home to your empty apartment, and the bitterness that used to form a pit in your chest and choke you to the point of tears.

Before you met the boy with stars in his eyes, you didn’t think you would live to your next birthday. How fitting it was, that he had come in in your darkest moments, only to fill you with light. (The sun seemed dim compared to his smile, and you fondly remember the moment you realized that you would do anything for that smile, no matter how troublesome or ridiculous his scheming may be at times.)

“Watcha thinking ‘bout?” A casually posed question, but his eyes betray the slight worry that stained his face.

Mammon, your Mammon. The love of your life and beyond. What would you do without this precious boy? What would you do without the greedy Mammon who willingly had let you steal his golden heart? (You treasure him as though he is the most precious jewel, and Greed finds himself melting into you more often than not partially to avoid being witnessed as the blushing mess he becomes whenever he looks into your eyes, filled with love. All for him, you tell him. And despite being Greed incarnate, he cannot imagine taking all of the entirety that is your love.)

“Nothin’, just thinking about how much I love ya, Mams.”

He blushes furiously and tries stammering out a response, only to give up and once again bury his face into the crook of your neck, whining and mumbling something along the lines of ‘not fair’ and ‘…love ya’ more, human.’ Against your skin.

And while the moonlight shines and Mitski plays in the background, you play his song and sway with him once more.

i love him ur honor. i am in love with him ur honor. i would do anything for this man. tooth-rotting fluff is not a can, but a must.

please please please please offer feedback and criticism hes my fav character and i want to make sure my writing and characterization did him justice :((

anyways yeah credit to @pothologics for the banger playlist that inspired me to write this

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #mammon obey me #om! mammon #mammon #mammon avatar of greed #mammonobeyme #the great mammon #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me x y/n #obey me x reader #obey me x you #obey me x mc #mammon x reader #mammon x mc #mammon x you #mammon x gender neutral reader #mammon x y/n #obey me mammon x you #obey me mammon x reader #obey me fluff #obey me angst #mammon fluff #mammon x reader fluff #mammon angst #x reader #x reader fluff #x reader angst

[foliosriot]

The Rotten And Ugly

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

summary: you break up with noah without thinking about the consequences for either of you.

warnings: language. description of a panic attack. self-worth issues. mental health problems.

a/n: anyways this got angstier than i’d originally anticipated so uh enjoy the pain i’m about to serve you on a damaged and thrifted zoopals plate

masterlist

You hate how much he’s gotten under your skin over the years. The way he’s taken a variety of sharp objects and ruthlessly carved his name into your bones. In the intricacies of your veins there are markings that are nearly identical to his tattoos. You swear your hips and waist are permanently speckled with dark smudges, a repeating pattern that looks suspiciously like his fingerprints.

You’re still picking out pieces of him from yourself.

And yet, you were the one to end it. You were the one that told Noah you “can’t do this anymore”, whatever the hell that means. He asked as much, but you didn’t seem capable in giving him a straight answer. So you left the house battling against your instincts to run back to him.

But you were able to fight against them as you let yourself out the front door, leaving behind someone that has been a rock in your life for as long as you can remember. You left Noah standing in the living room, alone and confused. You fucking abandoned your self-proclaimed soulmate.

That was nearly a month ago.

After you left the boys’ house that day, you somehow convinced yourself that you were no longer hopelessly in love with Noah. You gaslit your own brain into believing your relationship — both platonic and romantic — was built on the fact that you were never good enough, that Noah took pity on you from the get-go.

It seemed to work. At first, that is. Because, before you altered your brain, you allowed yourself to wallow in your guilt and anxieties. For three consecutive days you bawled into your pillows, grimacing and crying even harder when the smell of Noah’s cologne met your nostrils. You were throwing yourself quite the pity party, and it was torturous.

But you were the one who was convinced that you never deserved Noah in the first place. You ended it, not him.

When those three days were up and gone, you managed to pull yourself together long enough to allow your best friend, Violet, to take you out for a girls’ night. It was something you needed — it was something that could distract you from your own head.

And the fact that it had worked was surprising. Maybe it worked too well.

At one of the handful of bars Violet had dragged you to you met Ryan. He was tall, lithe build and long limbs. His blackened hair was shorter on the sides, allowing the top to grow longer, thus falling into the beautiful hazel of his eyes. He had snow white skin but his flesh was divided up by swathes of colored ink that had nearly glowed under the neon lights. He’d donned an old Bullet For My Valentine t-shirt and black cargo pants.

Something about him had felt familiar to you. But you weren’t allowed anymore pondering over that inclination as Ryan had dragged you onto the dance floor.

It wouldn’t occur to you until a week later when you and Ryan were on your first official date. If it weren’t for the gauged ears, the round, rimless glasses, or the chunky gold rings, you would have thought he was somebody else. It was almost uncanny.

God, but you could have sworn…

You were wrong, however.

Ryan seemed to really like you, though. He had an eye for finer details and was a real sweetheart. He was obviously taking things slow with you, especially after you had accidentally dumped the story of what happened with Noah onto him over one too many shots of tequila. His genuine concern and sympathy over the entire ordeal had you fawning over him tenfold.

You and Ryan went on more dates since that night. Around him you were pushing down your self pity and replacing it with something you could have mistaken for happiness; you felt content around Ryan.

Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever.

It was nearing dusk when your apartment’s doorbell chimed. The sound startled you for a moment, but you relaxed as you headed for the door.

But there was Ryan, that smile of his you had anticipated on his face. You swallow down the chunk of disappointment.

“Hey,” you greeted him. You stepped aside to let him inside before gently clicking the door shut. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, sorry! I was gonna text you that I was coming over, but I thought I’d make it a surprise,” Ryan replies with a shrug.

You force a smile, hoping it came off, at least, partially genuine. “Oh, okay. Well, do you wanna watch a movie or something, then?” you asked.

“Sure.”

The two of you walk in to the living room in search of something to watch, be it a movie or a random episode of a TV show. You sit fairly close to each other on the small couch, a minimal amount of space between both your legs.

As you continue your hunt for your entertainment for the night, your anxiety begins to gradually rise. Your heart is thumping wildly and the palms of your hands are growing clammy and there’s a dull throbbing pain behind your left eye. Why is this happening? What the fuck is going on?

You don’t realize when you begin drawing in breaths in quicker succession, until your chest is seizing and you’re hyperventilating. The sound of Ryan’s concerned voice is muted from inside your skull, making you feel as if you were underwater. Tears are spilling down your face but you can’t find the strength to wipe them away.

Then you feel the vibrations of Ryan frantically speaking to you floating around your brain, and you’re not quite sure what he asked, but you manage to choke out one word.

Noah.

Everything became darker and blurrier after that. Time didn’t existence nor did anything around you. Your head was swimming and you couldn’t figure out where you were — if you were at home, if you were at work, with Noah.

Noah.

You think you hear the front door opening and slamming shut all of a sudden. But you aren’t quite sure anymore. This is the most violent panic attack you’ve ever had.

You jolt when there’s an unexpected hand carefully grasping yours. It must be Ryan.

His skin is frigid compared to the heat radiating from you. He begins gently running his thumb over your knuckles, a gesture that feels vaguely familiar.

The thing that finally brings you back to the present is the soft voice in your ear. At least you think it’s soft and gentle. Everything still sounds warbled, but there’s a distinct difference to this voice. You latch onto it and begin pulling yourself towards it in hopes of relinquishing the hold this panic attack has on you.

Darkness begins slinking away to reveal your living room. Your vision is blurry when you come to, but you blink away the tears that cling to your eyelashes, the action almost painful. You take a few moments to carefully and slowly gulp down several lungfuls of air before you turn to the body beside you.

But you aren’t met with the worried glaze in Ryan’s hazel eyes. Instead you see Noah next to you, his head angled down in your direction as he quietly sings.

Oh.

That’s how you were able to get through your panic attack. The only thing that has ever had that kind of power is Noah singing and holding your hand. He did it to let you know he was there the entire time, to provide something to keep you grounded to reality.

“Noah…”

Your voice comes out as a broken whisper. Noah immediately stops singing. His head shoots up. There is a frantic glint in his dark eyes as he searches your face for a moment before locking his gaze with yours.

“Baby, what happened?” he asks, one of his hands moving to your face. His palm is cool against your cheek, and you nearly shudder at the sensation of his calloused thumb gently stroking your cheekbone.

“Wh-What are you doing here?” you counter. You’re trying to ignore the fluttering sensation in your heart when he called you baby. But it is much too difficult, especially when he’s looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. Like you were worth looking at and cherishing. Your stomach churns mildly.

A muscle feathers under his skin when Noah clenches his jaw. He continues staring at you, save for the single glance he shoots up and to the left.

You hesitantly look over your shoulder, and there, standing just behind the couch with his hands clenching the cushions, is Ryan. The look on his face is tight but unreadable. You feel Noah’s hand lightly glide down until it rests against the side of your neck. Ryan’s eyes track the movement.

“What happened?” You ask Ryan the same question, hoping he gives you an answer. You’re trying to ignore the placement of Noah’s hand, but it is proving to be nowhere near easy.

It takes Ryan a few prolonged seconds to say anything. But when he does finally speak, he says, “We were trying to find a movie to watch, but then you tensed and started shaking. I tried talking to you and to get you to stop crying and hyperventilating. You weren’t responding and I was getting really fucking worried.”

Ryan pauses. He visibly swallows, then shifts his hazel gaze from the hand against your throat to your face. A flinch ripples through your body at the emotionless light in his eyes.

“You managed to say one word,” he continues. His tone is devoid of feeling, almost like he was trying not to show any emotion at all. “Noah. And I automatically knew who you were talking about. So, because I was desperate as shit, I got your phone unlocked and found his contact you kept for some reason. I called him and, well, here he is.”

Ryan looks down at the floor beneath him. Your heart is speeding up once more, and Noah seems to have noticed because he presses his index finger into the pulse point beneath the hinge of your jaw. The pressure is ginger at best, but it somehow manages to keep you from going in to hysterics once more.

You look back at Noah to see him already watching you closely. Your breath hitches slightly when you notice the familiar loving shine in his irises. God, you have missed him so much.

Noah has one knee bent and resting on the couch, with the other dangling over the edge. Over the course of the attack you had crumpled into a ball — a familiar aspect of these things for you — and Noah had managed to peel away your arms from where they had wrapped around your legs like a vise. He had entered your personal bubble in hopes of helping you. One hand of his hands still held yours with a secure grip.

You felt an overwhelming need to wrap Noah up in a thankful, loving hug. But you still felt Ryan’s presence.

Mulling over your decision in your head kept the room silent. It took longer than you would have wanted, but you knew it was a necessary one to make in the first place.

“Ryan.” You shift just enough to face Ryan more directly. He lifts his head as you force your arm to move. You slowly reach for one of his hands, gathering the strength to talk. “Thank you for being here. It means so much to me.”

Ryan doesn’t say anything initially. First, he rakes his gaze over to Noah, a glare overcoming him.

“I didn’t do anything, Y/N,” he bites out. “All I did was call the ex.”

You feel Noah tense, but he doesn’t speak.

“I’m gonna leave now,” Ryan says, finally stepping away from the couch. “I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N.”

As Ryan heads for the door, you call out, “I’ll call you.”

With his hand already on the doorknob, Ryan stops to look at you. His gaze softens as you make eye contact.

“No. Don’t worry about it,” he tells you. His words are quiet and tinged with a tense of sadness. He gives you a small smile. “This was really nice. I’ll see you around.”

Then Ryan is gone.

And you’re alone with Noah.

Silence sits over you like a weighted blanket. Sitting in the dead quiet with Noah has always been relaxing and comfortable, because there would be times you would lay your head down on his chest and listen to his steady heartbeat. At times like those neither of you had any responsibilities or stresses. You simply existed together in your own little world.

But there is an underlying tension this time around. You’re still angled towards the front door and you can feel Noah watching you. His pinky brushes your collarbone, and it takes all of your remaining strength to suppress a shiver.

Then Noah’s hand slips from your neck, and you can’t help but miss the sudden vacancy.

“Y/N. Can we talk about this?”

Noah’s voice is quiet. His soft tone is tainted with something akin to anger, but you can’t be sure. Maybe it’s sadness or confusion. Either way, you turn your head towards him.

Strands of his dark hair are dangling in front of his face. There’s an unidentifiable glint in his eyes that has your heart stuttering. You suddenly have a desire to reach forward and touch the tattoos on his hands and neck, everything else covered in black clothing. And you think you’re successful at resisting that feeling, when you’ve slowly counted to ten in your head. But you can never rein yourself in very well when it comes to Noah.

You turn to fully face him. He watches your every move with a confused air about him. His body stills completely when you finally stretch your arm out, your fingertips brushing the red apple at his throat. You swear he shivers slightly when your fingernails graze his inked skin.

Noah lets you touch his tattoos without a word or twitch of a muscle. With every movement you make he watches you like a hawk, like he’s going to tear you limb from limb at any moment. You have done this countless times over the years, but something about this time feels different.

This goes on for only a few short minutes. Until Noah grasps your wrists and gently pushes your arms away from him. He keeps his hold on you.

“Y/N.”

Your throat constricts slightly in apparent preparation to cry once more. But you swallow thickly as you manage to meet his eye.

“Noah.”

He tightens his jaw. He lowers his eyebrows slightly as he considers you and your slightly patronizing reply of his name.

“We’re gonna talk about this,” he tells you. “Right now. Whether you like it or not. We need to talk.”

And he’s right, you know he is. Though you don’t know how this is going to go.

You shakily take a deep breath anyways. You nod once, gesturing as best as you can despite your momentary shackles for Noah to speak.

“Why? Why did you break up with me?” Oh god, you’re hoping he didn’t feel your pulse spike at his question. “I mean, you gave me a reason, but we both know it was kinda bullshit. You didn’t tell me the truth. So can you tell me the truth now?”

Fuck. You can’t do this.

I’m sorry, Noah. But I can’t do this anymore.

There’s a pulsing behind your eye. Your head is pounding and your cheeks are tear-stained. And you would be an even bigger liar if you restated what you said that night. ‘Cause by the fucking gods above, you were all in from the beginning. You knew you were in love with Noah a long time before you actually started dating. You have been by his side through the worst years of his life, and he has been there for yours.

You have missed him more than anything this past month. Even while hanging out with Ryan something felt off. Your brain was too hung up on Noah to even fathom forgetting him or replacing him.

So what’s the point of hiding anything else from Noah, since he has seen and witnessed every dark and ugly and rotten thing you hold inside? He saw all the bad and evil that reside deep, deep down and still chose to stay.

But you have been broken for a long time, even considering how much Noah has helped you. There is something damaged beyond repair within. You’re not sure if it’s worth keeping anyone around anymore in order to try and fix it. It seems pointless, really.

Noah is still watching you. His hands are firm around your wrists as he waits for your answer.

“I’ve never been good enough for you,” you finally say, and it feels like a weight is lifted from your chest. “You how damaged I am. You have seen all of the shit that keeps me up at night and you’ve experienced firsthand how violent my panic attacks are. Why the fuck did you stay? You’re Noah fucking Sebastian. Lead singer of a successful metal-core band, who could have anyone he wants. And you chose me? I guess I just don’t see why.

“I’m not worth the hassle or worry. Everyone wastes their time with me. I’m not getting better — I can’t get better! So I removed the variable that was the issue. I removed the problem so you wouldn’t have to. I willingly took the swan dive, ‘cause sooner or later I was gonna self-destruct. I’m a fucking time-bomb, and you know it.”

Throughout your explanation Noah stared at you. He had made no attempts to interject or talk down on your feelings. He listened intently, and your heart aches.

But you can’t take the staring any longer. You wrench your hands away from Noah and stand from the couch. You wobble on your feet for a moment before you regain your balance, shuffling to the other side of the living room.

You turn to look at Noah to see him slumped against the back couch cushions. His arms are crossed over his chest and his eyes are still tracking you. Both feet are planted on the carpet.

“Would you stop looking at me like that?” you demand. “Like—Like I’m being irrational. Or, like—“

“Like I actually care about you?”

You fall silent at Noah’s interruption. His face is nearly expressionless, but you detect the minuscule frown on his lips.

“I’m not gonna stop caring about you, Y/N,” Noah continues, his voice low. You think he may be angry. “It’s not something I’m interested in doing. Because, yeah, I’ve seen all of the fucked up shit inside of you, but you’ve also seen it from me. You chose to stay too, right? So why would I want someone who doesn’t harbor a little bit of pain or agony? That makes you human, and that makes you you. ‘Cause believe me when I say that I am in love with you. Baggage and everything. But I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Tears had begun falling from your eyes again. Your lips trembled slightly at Noah’s declaration. Your body was shaking.

You watch as Noah gets to his feet. You can’t help but fold your arms around your torso as he slowly approaches you. The blood pumping through your veins and roaring in your ears is deafening.

“I can’t promise I won’t hurt you.”

Noah pauses a few paces away at your words. He meets your eye for just a moment before you’re locking your gaze onto the floor.

“Okay. Then don’t promise. I don’t care if you hurt me, ‘cause I’m gonna stay either way.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“What if…” You sniffle as you tighten your hold on yourself. “What if I don’t want you to stay?”

“That’s not happening.”

“Noah, I—“

Noah takes the steps forward to reach you. “The only reason you don’t want me to stay is so you can convince yourself everything was your fault,” he told you. His voice is still low in pitch and peppered with a certain hardness. “I’m not gonna let that happen. None of this is your fault.”

Your instincts are screaming at you to fall into Noah. Every inch of your body is berating you to let this all go and let Noah back in. You both need each other, you know that. So why is this so goddamn hard?

His words hang in the air like a heavy fog. Your vision is blurry from tears. Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest. This has to end.

“Get out.”

Noah recoils a fraction at your unexpected statement. “What?”

“I said get out. I made my decision, and you need to respect that.”

“I’m not leaving.”

More tears cascade down your face. Every single one feels like acid eating away at your skin as you raise your head to look Noah in the eye.

“I’m not going to ask you again, Noah.”

Noah doesn’t protest. But you can see the tears in his eyes as he eventually backs away and goes for the front door. You’re shaking uncontrollably as you watch him open the door, chance a glance back at you, then leave. He gently shuts it behind him.

A void opens up in your chest. It yawns wide, a blackened abyss growing bigger and bigger inside of you, threatening to consume your soul.

God, what the fuck have you done? You are so in love with him, and you just let him leave like that. You can’t even begin to believe that you’re this fucking stupid.

But Noah left because he loves you. And that makes the tears fall harder and faster.

You can’t imagine a life where he isn’t there. Frankly, you don’t want to imagine such a life. In every past, present and future you have ever conjured up in your head, Noah has always been there. And you just ruined any chance of fulfilling a better future for both of you.

This can’t happen.

You’re not going to let this happen.

Without thinking you dash for the door and fling it open. At the other end of the fairly short hallway, near the elevator, is Noah. His head is hung and he’s holding his phone. You can’t see his face clearly, but there’s a foreign rigidness to his body that you wish you never have to see again.

“Noah!”

And at first Noah doesn’t react. Then he’s twisting his neck to look your way. The sight of you has him straightening his posture and sliding his phone back in to his pocket. You can see the rise and fall of his chest, a certain anxiety about him that hurts your heart.

Then you let out a loud sob, and Noah is racing for you without hesitation. He gathers you in his arms before your body crumples to the floor. You latch your fingers onto the fabric of his shirt as you cry against his shoulder. One of his arms is fastened around your abdomen while the other is along your shoulders, that hand slipping through your locks of hair and carelessly gripping at the roots.

“I’m sorry,” you sob against his body. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. God, I’m so stupid. I am so sorry—“

Noah cuts you off. “No, Y/N, do not apologize,” he tells you, his own voice thick with tears. “You’re not stupid, either. You were trying to do the right thing for you, and that’s okay. Never apologize for that. Okay?”

You manage to nod once. Then he’s carrying you back into your apartment in the direction of your room. He carefully sets you down on your bed and immediately joins you. There’s blankets around you and Noah is holding you tightly.

You bury your face in his neck with your arms coiled around his shoulders. His arms hold you against him, his head resting beside yours on the pillows.

The pillows were beginning to lose the smell of Noah’s cologne. You were worried they would have trapped the scent of Ryan instead over the past couple weeks, but all you feel is Noah. Every sense is overwhelmed by him and his presence. The feeling of his body against yours feels like coming home once and for all.

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x reader #x reader #bad omens #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #alex! ❪ 𖤐 ❫ #alex’s writing! ❪ 𖤐 ❫

[zepskies]

Never Say Goodbye - Part 8

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader 

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

Word Count: 5,000 Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort and feels, alcoholism lol

Part 8: Long Distance

Sam stayed back at Bobby’s while Dean accompanied you back home, now that it was no longer a crime scene. When your dad finally got off of work, he greeted you in the living room with relief in his eyes and a warm hug.

That warmth diminished when he noticed Dean standing behind you.

“Dean’s a friend of Bobby’s,” you explained. Dean introduced himself and shook Jack’s hand.

“Yeah, wanted to make sure she got here okay,” Dean added.

Jack scrutinized him as they shook hands. Maybe he suspected that you and Dean weren’t telling the whole truth, but Jack seemed to accept things.

For now.

“I think we’ve got frozen pizzas for dinner if we don’t want to order out,” you said. You went over to the kitchen to check, but without you realizing, that brought you right to the spot where you were assaulted just two days ago. 

The blood had been scrubbed off the tile floor. There were still small, suspect stains in the grout, though. You looked up and saw your reflection in the microwave. It wasn’t unlike that night, when you had looked up and seen your bloody face, then looked down and seen Danny Schmitt lying dead on the floor.

You flinched when a hand came to rest on your shoulder. It was Dean, and you gave him a small grateful look. You briefly covered his hand with yours, but you took a breath and forced yourself to move past the spot, and continue toward the fridge. 

Jack watched the small moment between you and Dean. Dean knew that Jack had caught it, while you remained oblivious as you puttered around in the kitchen.

The three of you made somewhat painful small talk while waiting for the pizzas to cook. When it was done, Dean helped set the table and you cut out the slices. Jack took an opportunity to grab a beer and approach you.

“So why’s Skater Boy still in my house?” Jack asked. You could only assume he meant Dean.

“Dad, please don’t be rude,” you warned. 

“You seein’ him or something?” 

You set down the pizza cutter and gave Jack a pointed look. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

Dean could hear you and Jack talking from the dining room. He took issue with your dad’s phrasing. It was a little more than “seeing,” but at least now he understood what you’d been talking about with your dad. The guy was a hard-ass. 

So Dean would go along with however you wanted to play this. It was only fair. 

The problem was, this mostly left you to keep the conversation going once the three of you sat down to eat. For forty-five minutes you did your best to fill the silences, but Jack was a man of sparing words. 

“So yeah, I should be able to finish my thesis in time. I’m looking to have a job lined up after I graduate next semester, but the only thing I’ve really been seeing is teaching positions,” you explained.

“Teaching’s acceptable,” your dad said, after finishing his second beer. “And doable, for you.”

You glanced at your dad with a telling press of your lips. 

Dean understood your annoyance. Doable for you? 

What was that supposed to mean?

“Well, I’m not sure I want to teach,” you said. “I’m thinking of applying to the natural history museum here in Sioux Falls.”

“And do what, dust off wax mannequins?” Jack remarked. 

You set down your glass of water a bit too hard. “If you’re going to say something, say it.”

Jack gave you a look of exasperation. “I’m just sayin’. You went to college without a real plan, now it’s bitin’ you in the ass. And it ain’t been cheap—”

“For you it has, because I put myself through college,” you countered. 

“What I’m saying is, now you’ve limited yourself—”

Jack actually reminded Dean of his dad in a lot of ways. But he had a feeling this man didn’t know his daughter very well. Dean wasn’t normally one to meddle in things that weren’t his business, but you were stressed out enough. He didn’t like the way your shoulders were tightening. He could feel your upset through the soul bond, and your eyes were dangerously close to frustrated tears. 

He touched your knee beneath the table and looked over at Jack.

“Look, maybe we could just take things down a couple notches here,” Dean suggested. 

Jack turned to him with an angry frown. “Now would be a very good time for you to butt out. Dean, was it? Matter of fact, why don’t you get the hell out of my house—”

“Okay, that’s enough!” you shouted. You clenched one fist on the dining table, the other on your knee beneath the table.  

Both men looked at you with mixed reactions of surprise. 

You turned to your dad. “The difference between you and me is I pursued what I was interested in. You went after what you were good at.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Jack asked, after his shock wore off.

“Nothing,” you said. “But neither is what I did. I’m proud of where I am so far, what I’ve accomplished. I’m sorry if you don’t think that’s worth much, but I do. You don’t have to agree with my choices, but you can at least respect me.”

Silence fell across the table.

Secretly, Dean was proud of you, and he tapered down a smile. He knew you sensed it when you glanced at him.

“I respect you,” Jack said, pulling your attention away. “But I’m still your father.”

You shook your head. “You don’t, Dad. If you did, it wouldn’t be so hard to tell you that I’m not dating Dean. He’s my soulmate.” 

Once again, shock made the air tense. Jack’s eyes were open wide, looking from you, to Dean, and back again. His brows furrowed.

So Dean, ever the tension breaker, offered you and Jack a resigned grin. He pointed to his and Jack’s beer bottles, which were empty. 

“Well,” he said, “I’ll get the whiskey.”

When your father’s shock finally wore off, he had plenty of questions for Dean. About where he lived, his job, his life in general—most of which Dean couldn’t answer honestly. Jack was a police detective by trade. As such, he was a perceptive man who knew he wasn’t getting the whole story, but eventually you cut off the inquisition.

You showed Dean up to your room, where you two were able to get some privacy. 

“I’m proud of you,” he said, once you both sat on the edge of your bed. “I could tell that, uh…that conversation with your dad was a long time coming.”

You nodded, but you couldn’t quite smile. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow,” he replied. 

Tomorrow. You sighed, but you also tried not to let him sense your darkening emotions. Instead, you sat up straight and gave him a decisive look. 

“Okay, then I’m staying with you at Bobby’s tonight,” you said. One more night together.

Dean’s lips raised into a grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

You spent that night mostly playing cards with Sam, Dean, and Bobby as they taught you how to hustle poker. You drank and ate and laughed, and at night, you and Dean continued to learn each other’s bodies.

In the morning, you hugged both Sam and Dean goodbye. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean apologized again while he held you. “I’ll call you later.”

Holding back your tears, you nodded and kissed him one more time. He tucked a finger beneath your chin to keep your head up. You tried at a smile, which he appreciated. 

Then Sam and Dean climbed into the Impala. You watched them leave, and Bobby laid a supportive hand on your shoulder. 

The next year was torturous for you both. 

Dean updated you after various hunts. Not on a regular schedule, but often enough. Sam started calling now and then with historical questions—some you could answer off the top of your head, and some you actually put in some effort into researching. Dean didn’t like it at first, but soon he started calling you for information himself. 

You were smart, quick on your feet, and realistically, a convenient resource since you had access to a university library. You enjoyed it though. You were happy to be helpful to them, but you also liked the research. Often they were interesting topics in the mythologies of different cultures (if you took out the whole hashing and slashing of innocent people and monsters out of it). 

But that part too was gratifying; you felt like you were helping them save lives, in whatever small way you could offer.

You also visited Bobby more often. It was your last semester of college and he helped you with your thesis, actually giving you good notes. Dean, bless him, was encouraging, but really only helped you with the movie references. Bobby actually gave you feedback on your writing and added tidbits to the historical aspects as well.

You learned that Bobby was actually really smart. Maybe that was where you got your affinity for history and language arts.

One day though, your uncle noticed that you weren’t as into it as usual. You had a half-drunk beer in your hand while the two of you working in the living room—on the final draft of your thesis.

Bobby had asked you a question about a certain line, but you hadn’t heard him. 

“Hey, you awake over there?” he asked. Jolting in your seat, you looked over at him apologetically. 

“Sorry, what?”

Bobby smiled wryly. “Let me guess. Dean ain’t called you?”

You shook your head. “I talked to him yesterday. They’re investigating a cursed painting in New York somewhere.”

“So what’s with the face?” 

You shrugged. “Nothing.” 

After you didn’t give Bobby anything to go on, he sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Okay…”

You two spent an extended moment in relative silence, where only faint music from the radio played in the background. Plus, the occasional turning of pages from Bobby’s book.

“It’s just,” you started to say. Bobby closed his book with an expectant look on his face. 

“I’ve waited twenty-four years to find him,” you said. “Twenty-fucking-four. And now I still have to wait. How long will it be until I can start my life?”

“Well first of all, you’ve been living your life long before Dean,” Bobby pointed out. “You have your own thing going, and right now, so does Dean. When he finishes dealing with his past, he’ll be able to start thinkin’ about his future.”

That was fair, you considered. It made you feel a bit immature when he put it like that. Nor was it realistic of you to expect Dean to drop everything else in his life for you…

You and your uncle had gotten closer over the past few months. So you felt you could ask him something that had been on your mind for a long time.

“Feel free to ignore me, but, about Aunt Karen…was she your soulmate?” you asked. 

 Bobby looked over at you after sipping at a fifth of whiskey. He seemed reluctant to even say her name.

“She was,” he admitted.

You knew this would be a sensitive subject, but you took a chance. “What happened to her, Bobby?”

At first, he was quiet. You just waited to see what he would say, if he was willing to trust you. After a short while, slowly, he told you. 

She’d been possessed by a demon. 

Not one exactly like Sam and Dean were hunting, but close enough. However, Bobby didn’t know then what he knew now. 

She’d been coming at him with a knife, and before he realized what he was doing, he was defending himself with the same knife. But she just kept coming. It took your father, Jack, to pull her off of him. And Rufus, who had been tracking the thing, broke into Bobby’s house and exorcised the demon.

Then, a black spirit drained out of Karen’s body. She had enough awareness to look down at her three stab wounds before she fell to the floor. Finally, she bled out.

She was gone before either Jack or Bobby could get her to a hospital.

Jack had reluctantly helped cover up the scene by saying she’d suffered a psychotic break and attacked her husband. Bobby’s case was self-defense.

You could relate to that, at least. 

By the end of his story, you were trying in vain to stifle your tears. When you were able to speak, you asked another question.

“Then…why does Dad hate you so much if it wasn’t you fault?” 

“Because I killed her. My own wife, my…” Bobby sighed, a heavy, sharp exhale. “His baby sister. I can’t blame him.”

Because he still blamed himself. In the end, it was blood all over him and the body of his soulmate in his arms.

You didn’t know how to comfort him, but you tried. Still silently crying, you rested your hands on his arm while he couldn’t quite bring the whiskey back to his lips. 

When you graduated in May, you didn’t expect Sam and Dean to come. You’d told them about it, but when the ceremony came and you stood on that stage, you didn’t see the brothers in the crowd. You saw your dad, Bobby, some of your colleagues from the university, and a couple of your best friends from high school.

You forced your disappointment down and accepted your diploma with a smile. You were now finished with school, complete with your master’s degree in Greek and Roman Studies. And in two weeks, you had a job lined up at the local museum. You would be giving exhibit tours, and you already had a script you had to memorize by your first day. 

Maybe it was basic, but there was a path for growth there for you. In a few years you could work yourself up to museum curator! 

The point was, you felt it was a step in the right direction.

Later at home that night, your dad congratulated you while you cut up the cake he bought for you in the kitchen. He set a hand on your shoulder, subtly asking you to pause what you were doing. You turned to him with a smile.

“I’m proud of you, darlin’,” he said. “You’ve got drive, and you did what you set out to do…so much of you reminds me of your mom that way.” 

Tears welled up in your eyes. Thinking about your conversation with Bobby a few weeks ago, you looked at your dad a bit differently. You had compassion for him. Like Bobby, Jack had lost his person. He was just a man who couldn’t let go.

“I get why you have a hard time remembering Mom,” you said. “Now that I have Dean, I can’t imagine how I would feel if I lost him.”

But it was still a monumental fear. Every day that you didn’t hear from Dean between hunts could be nerve-wracking when you thought about what he was doing. Especially when you didn’t know how much he left out for your sake.

So when Jack nodded, you looked up and saw rare emotion in his eyes. 

“How’s Dean?” he asked. 

“He’s on a job in South Carolina,” you lied, and felt a twinge of guilt doing it. “Severe rat infestation.”

“Okay. And he couldn’t take a couple days off the rats to be here today?” 

Your lips pursed at the question—mainly because it was the same one you had. You just didn’t want your dad to know that.

“He’s working hard,” was all that you could think to reply. You knew it totally didn’t convince your dad, but you handed him a slice of cake to shut him up about it.

Later in your room, you laid out your cap and gown on your bed. You debated keeping them in your closet, or just donating them. It wasn’t like you were ever going to wear this again. 

Hey, beautiful.

You gasped when Dean’s thoughts startled you. You whipped around and there he was in your doorway, dressed in his usual jeans, shirt, and leather jacket combo. He smiled and held a bouquet of flowers for you.

“Congratulations, Professor,” he said. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as you went to him. You actually almost bowled him over by jumping into his arms. 

“Whoa!” he said with a laugh. He gripped your thighs tight around his hips but lost a few steps, crashing against the wall and disturbing some of your frames. You both laughed and kissed deeply. 

After a while, you slid back down to your feet and he stroked your cheek in affection. He offered you the flowers again, and you accepted them with a pink blush. They weren’t just basic roses. Most of them you couldn’t name, but there were daisies and large orange flowers, thin springs of small white and green ones, white and red flowers that greeted you with soft blooming petals. 

“Thank you, these are beautiful,” you said. 

His smile fell. “Sorry I’m late.”

Your excitement dimmed, but you shook your head. “It’s okay.”

Dean noticed your cap and gown on the bed and gestured to them.

“Mind modeling that little number for me?” he teased.

Your mouth twitched. “What, really?”

“Yeah, why not? I wanna see the full package of the college grad.”

With another little blush, you obliged him. After setting down the flowers on your dresser, you slipped on your large, silky graduation gown first, then the cap. You adjusted the tassel so it wasn’t directly in your face. Then you grinned and struck a pose for him in the shapeless gown.

“Real sexy, huh?”

Dean smirked. “Absolutely. College girls are always sexy.”

You laughed and dropped the pose. Both of you sat down on the bed while you took off the cap. Dean fixed your frizzy hair as a result.

“Well, officially I’m not a college girl anymore,” you pointed out. “I’m starting at the museum soon, I think I told you.”

Dean nodded. “That’s okay. Hot nerds are even better.”

You giggled and took his larger hand in yours. “Where’s Sam?”

“Chillin’ at Bobby’s.”

“Ah…you saw my dad?”

“Downstairs. Wasn’t exactly happy to see me,” Dean said. “I, uh…I am sorry I couldn’t make it to the big ceremony.”

You shook your head with a smile. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

Soon, you fell into the pull of him as he guided you into a kiss. You held his face in your hands, and he tugged you into his lap. 

“Up for a sleepover?” you asked between heated kisses. Though it was difficult to think at the moment, Dean hesitated. 

“What about your dad?” He groaned when your nails dragged down the back of his neck. You gave a nipping kiss between his neck and shoulder. 

“You can be quiet, can’t you?” you said against his skin. Normally you wouldn’t dream of doing this when your dad was in the house, but it had been months since you’d seen Dean. Months. 

One of your hands moved down between your bodies to palm at the growing bulge in his jeans.

“Well,” he said with a grunt, “I’m always up for a challenge.”

He left you on the bed, just long enough to get up and lock the bedroom door, before he all but tacked you back onto the bed and made you squeal. 

Meanwhile, downstairs, Jack heard your bedroom door click. He sighed, trying his damnedest not to think about what might be going on upstairs. 

He could storm up there and break down the door (like he was itching to do). You might be an adult, but this was still his house… 

But he also didn’t want to disturb the newfound peace he’d found with you today. 

Time for a drink, he decided. He grabbed his keys and headed out to the nearest bar.

Jack loved his town. He’d lived here most of his life, met his wife here, started a family and a career and all the rest here. But there was only one good bar, and that meant he was liable to run into his brother-in-law, AKA the town drunk. 

Jack spotted Bobby down at the end of the bar with a young man, dark-haired and likely in his early 20s. Jack knew that your Dean was staying at Bobby’s house. Jack also knew that your Dean had a brother, Sam. This dark-haired beanpole was most likely him.

Jack didn’t know much about Dean, or his family, but he wanted to. He wanted to know more about the man in his daughter’s life.

So instead of heeding his instinct to sit at the bar alone, he made his way all the way down and greeted Sam and Bobby civilly. 

“Your Dean’s brother?” Jack asked. Sam’s handshake was firm as he nodded. Jack detected the strength behind that loose-fitting flannel.

Hmm, not so much a beanpole, Jack thought.  

“Yes, sir. I’m Sam,” he replied.

Jack nodded at their whiskey glasses. “Let me buy another round.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Bobby said.

“It’s all right,” Jack said. “I’ve got it.”

Bobby wasn’t sure what Jack was aiming at. They hadn’t spoken directly in a few years. But he could assume it had something to do with Dean dating the man’s daughter.

Jack turned to Sam and asked mild, probing questions. He learned that Sam had gone to college: pre-law at Stanford. He had been all set to go to law school and become a successful lawyer. Sam sounded like the kind of guy Jack would’ve preferred you end up with.

“But instead, you became a traveling exterminator,” Jack said. “What happened there?”

Dean had evaded this question before, but Sam told him something different.

“Well, uh, to be honest…something happened that kind of derailed things,” Sam said. 

“Which was?” Jack asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Sam met his gaze steadily, but Jack saw something deep there, held behind polite bar conversation. 

“My girlfriend died,” he confessed. 

Jack set down his bourbon on the counter. A tendril of guilt licked down his spine for pressing. “I’m sorry.” 

Sam nodded. “After that, I spun out for a while…but Dean, he didn’t let me crash. He got me back working with him on the job. Something…constructive. It kept me going.”

Jack considered that with his glass back up to his lips. 

“After my wife died, I had my work and my daughter,” he said. “That’s it. That’s my life. It’s honest.”

Sam inclined his head. The conversation continued from there, on and off while they drank. Bobby interjected every now and then, but he kept nursing his second whiskey.

Eventually though, Sam bowed out with one last shake of Jack’s hand and a pat to Bobby’s back. It left the two older men to finish their drinks.

“They’re hunters, aren’t they? Like your friend Rufus,” Jack said. 

Bobby glanced at him. Then he sighed.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “But they know what they’re doing.”

Jack shook his head. Goddamn hunters.

But the more he considered his brother-in-law, your conversation with him earlier resonated in his mind. 

“I get why you have a hard time remembering Mom,” you had said. “Now that I have Dean, I can’t imagine how I would feel if I lost him.”

Jack looked over at Bobby. As much as he hated to admit it, they were living the same life, more or less. He’d just had you to keep him somewhat anchored. Approaching sane and respectable. Bobby had been alone.

“It doesn’t get easier, does it?” Jack asked. 

“What doesn’t?”

“Life,” he replied. “Without her.”

Bobby paused. Once he realized what Jack was really saying, he sighed once again.

“Nope,” he agreed. 

“I don’t know Dean Winchester,” Jack said. “You do. Should I be worried?” 

“He’s a good kid. Got some rough angles,” Bobby conceded. “But you’ll never find a more loyal man in Creation. He’d break his own neck before he’d hurt that girl.”

Jack nodded. “Good. Saves me the trouble of breakin’ it for him.”

Bobby chuckled and finished his whiskey. Jack ordered him another.

Bobby looked over at him again. “Thanks.”

Jack nodded. They drank in companionable silence until the bar closed.

The next morning, you and Dean stood outside your house on the driveway. The Impala shone next to you in the bright day’s sun. Soon, you’d have to watch the car peel away. In a way, it was harder the second time.

Dean held your cheek and kissed you nice and slow. You knew he could sense what you were feeling right now, but you tried to hold it back from your connection as much as you could.

You let your hand drift down from his shoulder to his chest, over his heart. 

I love you, you wanted to say. It was poised on your tongue, but you were afraid of being the first one to say it. Maybe it was silly, but you wondered if you had gotten attached to him more quickly than he had to you.

Meanwhile, Dean sensed your anxiety and worry, but he didn’t hear your thoughts and insecurities that you were holding back. So he just chocked it up to the fact that he was leaving. Guilt nagged at his heart.

“I’ll call you,” he promised. He always promised to call, and he always did. This time, it just didn’t make you feel that much better.

But you still faked a smile and bent to grab the bagged up containers you’d put together for Sam and Dean. It was some homemade chicken parmesan and garlic rolls, which would probably last for all of a couple of hours, knowing Dean.

“Share with your brother this time,” you reminded him. Dean smirked and took the bag from you. 

“No promises.”

The next few months were spent with you and Dean each focusing on your jobs. You talked on a frequent non-schedule basis: phone calls on your lunch break, on your commute before or after work, between Dean’s hunts, on long drives across state lines. 

When you didn’t have time to talk, you sent emails. Yours were often longer and more detailed than Dean’s, but that was just how he spoke. Direct and to the point, albeit with one or two dirty jokes thrown in. 

Sometimes all you two had time for was a brief text here and there. Dean would wish you a good morning. He’d tease you, asking what you were wearing. 

“Yoga pants and a ratty old shirt,” you’d replied once. 

He’d said: “Hmm, yoga pants.”

You laughed. “You’re ridiculous. I’m literally eating a pint of Ben & Jerry’s right now.”

“Ooh, what flavor?”

You’d rolled your eyes. The only thing that distracted his dirty mind was his stomach. 

Sometimes you would send him a new song to listen to (which he would complain about, if it was anything past 1989).

But then that day came.

That dreaded day when Dean didn’t answer your call. It wasn’t just that he didn’t answer right then. You had finished your last tour of the museum for a class of second graders and were walking out to your car. It wasn’t unusual for Dean to hit you back later if he was mid-hunt. 

So you waited until the evening without a response. A warning bell trilled in your mind, but you tried not to get worried just yet. You decided to text him. 

Hey, just checking in.

You went to bed that night still waiting for his reply. 

Then the morning came, and you went a little crazy. You called him twice, then Sam. 

When Sam didn’t pick up, that little bell in your mind was a screaming fire alarm. It was a Friday though. You still had to go to work. 

So you got ready for your day as usual, though even your manager Jerry noticed that you were distracted. You had been working at the museum for around six months now, and you had proven yourself to be a dedicated worker and enthusiastic about your work. So Jerry knew when you were having an off day.

“You all right?” he asked. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you said. “It’s nothing.”

“Okay, well, you’ve got another tour in five minutes,” he reminded you, before he tsked and rushed over to a group of teenagers who were messing with the neanderthal exhibit. 

You sighed. The moment you thought about checking your phone again, it rang in your pocket. 

Quickly you checked who it was, your eyes widening. You answered, “Sam? Is everything okay? I’ve been calling—”

“Listen,” Sam said. “I…I need to tell you something.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach when you heard his tone. Whatever had happened, it wasn’t good. 

“What happened?” you asked. 

“We found our dad,” he said. “And the demon.”

You gasped and moved to a corner of the museum for some privacy. “You did? That’s…that’s great! But what—”

“We got into an accident,” said Sam. “My dad and I are okay, but Dean, he’s…”

Your breath stilled in your lungs, even as your heart started to pound.

“Where are you?” You started toward the back offices to grab your purse and fished for your car keys. While Sam told you the hospital and the city, your heels clacked on the shiny tile as you booked it to your car. 

“Hey, where are you going?” Jerry asked. 

You put Sam on hold for a moment and said, without hesitation (and tears in your eyes): 

“I’m sorry, I have a family emergency. My boyfriend just got hit by a truck.”

AN: Aaand another cliffhanger. But I'm sure you know where this is going next...

2.01 "In My Time of Dying," in which the reader finally meets John Winchester, but she could end up losing Dean for good this time.

(Also, there are just a few more chapters after this. I promise I won't go through the entire show lol.)

To keep reading: PART 9

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

@curlycarley @buckywenal24 @jamerlynn @iprobablyshipit91 @globetrotter28 @deamus-liv @irgendwas122 @deans-spinster-witch @dogbarkbark4445 @my-proof-is-you @vera0124 @deans-baby-momma @lacilou @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @happygoodvibe @theonlymaninthesky @spnexploration @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @imagineteller1ller1 @icequeen1371 @mininjageek @tiredqueen73 @bitchwitch1981 @abbigaleelizabeth @ohgodthebogisback @where-the-river-bends @loveprof6 @thespnlover

#dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #fluff #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x soulmate!reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean x female reader #spn #spn fanfic #spn season 1 #soulmate au #soulmates #sam winchester #bobby singer #john winchester #zepskies writes #zepskies

[ladykailitha]

The Subtleties of Steve Harrington Part 1

I do have the next part of “Can Anybody Hear Me?” ready but I wanted to start putting this one out. So it’ll be every other day posting between the two fics. And my muse has latched on to the soulmate genre and I’m working on that one too. So when this one is finished, I’ll start posting that one too.

This will have four parts. And the format is a little different. Anything labelled “After” is after Steve and Eddie get together. And anything labeled “Before” happens before they get together.

Summary: Steve has a problem. One he really doesn’t understand. The people closest to him think he’s straight. Well, there are few exceptions. He just wasn’t expecting Eddie and Robin to be in Camp Straight Steve. In a series of vignettes about the people closest to Steve and Eddie finding out that maybe Steve is subtler than they thought.

*

The Morning After

Steve was in the kitchen making breakfast when Eddie stumbled in, all groggy and bleary eyed. He threw himself into a bar stool and groaned. Steve slid over a cup of coffee and the sugar.

Eddie dumped in half the sugar and stirred vigorously. He took a long grateful sip and then looked over at Steve who was trying not to smile over his cup of coffee.

“What the hell happened last night?” he asked Steve.

Steve’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. Um...I didn’t think you were that drunk. I should tell you, but I would prefer if you could remember. So why don’t you finish your coffee and get a shower and if you still don’t remember I promise I’ll‒”

Eddie hurried around the counter to cut him off by putting his finger to his lips. “That’s not what I meant, sweetheart. I worded it badly. Of course I remember. It just came out of left field for me, okay?” He moved to kiss Steve but Steve jumped on to the counter, dodging the kiss.

Eddie frowned. “Steve?”

“I don’t know why everyone says that me liking guys comes out from nowhere,” Steve muttered darkly. “Yeah, I’m not as overt with guys as I am with girls, but I can’t be, can I?”

Eddie gulped. Okay, Steve had a point. “How long have you known you like boys?”

Steve hung his head and sighed. “I’ve know I liked boys before I knew I liked girls.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Come again?”

“I was like eight,” Steve explained. “There was this boy. Candy Andy they called him. Because he always had a big bag of hard candy every day. He used to save a strawberry candy. You know the ones with the jelly centers?” Eddie nodded. “I didn’t particularly like them, but I liked him so I ate it anyway.”

“Awww,” Eddie cooed. “Baby Steve was a sweetheart.”

Steve blushed. “One day after school, I asked him why. He said that he liked how the jelly made my lips pucker.”

“Smooth little fucker,” Eddie said with a grin.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “And then he kissed me.”

“So cute,” Eddie said. “Whatever happened to Candy Andy?”

Steve sighed. “He got outed half way through my seventh grade year and got bullied so bad, his parents were forced to move.”

Eddie frowned. “His last name wouldn’t have been Costello would it?”

Steve reared his head back. “Yeah, it was. Why?”

Eddie chuckled. “It appears that we had the same first boyfriend.”

Steve’s eyes went wide and he tilted his head forward. “Excuse me?”

“You know how Tommy would call me fag and queer all the time?” Eddie asked, biting his lips.

“Sure,” Steve said. “It was his favorite insult.”

“Well,” Eddie slowly, “with me it wasn’t just an insult. I was the one he caught making out with Andy under the bleachers.”

“Oh, shit,” Steve breathed. “How were you not bullied to hell?”

“Oh they tried,” Eddie said with a grin. “But I would flirt right back. It made them uncomfortable enough that they stopped.”

Steve giggled. “I think we got off the topic.”

Eddie’s smile faltered. “A bit. I’m sorry, sweetheart. That was a stupid thing for me to say. Because you’re right, you have to be subtle. Especially someone like you with your parents and sports and all that other bullshit I didn’t have to deal with.” He cupped Steve’s cheek. “It’s just...Christ, Steve. You were known as the ladies’ man. You could have any girl you wanted with the crook of your finger.”

Steve sighed. “I know but I’ve had loads of crushes on boys.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “Like who?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Look, let’s just say with boys, I have a very particular type.”

Eddie leaned back and eyed him. “I’m listening.”

Steve threw his arms in the air. “This is so bad. Tommy H.”

Eddie chuckled. “Saw that one coming. Who else?”

“This one is so horrible,” Steve said with a small whine, “and if you tell Max, I swear to God, no one will find your body.”

Eddie’s eyebrows went up. “Billy Hargrove? Are you serious?”

“Not my proudest moment, to be sure,” Steve said, ducking his head. “He was a racist bastard. But fucking hell he was hot.” He went on to list a couple other guys and they all had one thing in common. They were considered ‘bad boys’.

“You including me in that list, darlin’?” Eddie asked with a wink.

Steve blushed deeply. “Drug dealer, metalhead, in a band...”

“Wanted for murder...”

Steve shoved at him playfully. “Innocent as a new born deer.”

Eddie chuckled. “You forgive me?”

Steve nodded.

Eddie leaned forward and kissed him. Steve opened his legs, allowing Eddie to slot himself in between them, bringing them closer together. Eddie put one hand on Steve’s waist and the other slid into his hair, deepening the kiss. 

Steve sighed happily.

*

Two Months Ago

Steve had assumed that he hadn’t needed to come out as bisexual. He flirted with guys as easily as he flirted with girls.

So it came as a bit of shock when he came out to Robin that maybe he was subtler than he thought. Either that or everyone else was more dense than he expected.

“Hey, Robs,” he said, one day at work. “Can we talk?”

She turned around and smiled at him. “Sure, dingus. What’s up?”

“I think I have a crush on Eddie...” he whispered.

She pushed him playfully. “Come on, man. Don’t joke about that stuff.”

Steve frowned. “Why would I joke about that?” He ticked off reasons on his fingers. “I think about him all the time. I want to spend every hour of every day in his company. I get butterflies when he walks into a room. I can’t stop smiling when we’re together. Maybe you’ve got a different explanation for all that, because it certainly feels like a crush to me.”

She blinked at him owlishly. “So why didn’t you say something when I told you I was gay? We were both hyped up on truth serum.”

Steve sighed. “I knew that if I started talking about it, I wouldn’t be able to stop. You are so vibrant and outgoing and free. Being gay for you is just adding another sparkle to who you are.”

“And you think being gay or bi or whatever isn’t a good look for you?” Robin asked, incredulous.

Steve hung his head. “You think I don’t know my reputation. You think I don’t know what would happen to me if people found out I like boys?”

She blinked for a moment. “Every girl you’ve ever dated would suddenly freak out on you for being ‘fake’.”

Steve nodded, fighting back tears. “I know I don’t show that side of me often but...”

Robin sighed heavily. “You were hoping I had a functioning gaydar?”

He ducked his head and turned away.

“Oh, Steve...” she murmured and gave him the biggest hug. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I should have at least noticed how differently you treat Eddie to everyone else. Because yeah, now that you’ve mentioned it, I can see it.”

“I love him so much,” he whispered into her shoulder. “But I don’t know how to show people this is a part of me.”

“Holy shit,” she said suddenly sitting up. “‘And more.’ That’s what you said.  You like both. I’m sorry I wasn’t listening to you. Because you listened to me. I feel like a bad best friend.”

He held her close. “Just tell me how to come out everyone else and I’ll forgive you.”

She laughed. “Not even I know how to do that. Like the only people besides you that knows I like girls are Nancy because she figured it out and Jonathan who has a strangely functioning gaydar.”

Steve had a pretty good idea why, but he didn’t know for sure.

A customer came in and the moment as gone.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #coming out #ladykailtiha writes

[iheardarumorthings]

HEY BESTIE CAN U MAKE A BLURB OR SOMETHING ABOUT FIVE HARGREEVES DURING THE FIRST EP OF S3 like yk the one where he saw delores after jayme spits on him and the reader who happens to date him saw it and like "wtf is he doing" and heard the name delores coming out of his mouth and the reader just goes silence after that scene BECAUSE THE READER IS THINKING ABOUT IT A LOT LIKE "is he actually still in love with a mannequin" and like very angsty afterwards but Five confronted her why she's being so quiet after their visit at the sparrows and the rest is up to u :] TYSM IDK ITS MY 1ST REQUEST ACTUALLY AND I CANTTT STOP THINKING ABT S3

ANGSTANGSTANGST

warnings: i think there's swearing, female reader (in my mind, but i can't remember using pronouns), angst. hardcore angst

tags: @mad-elia

PERFECTION

You were both running to get to Allison, his arm was around your waist, the other arm stretched toward the cornered woman. 

“Thanks,” she heaved once the three of you made it to the upstairs. 

“No problem,” Five said.

And then you saw her. She was a taller woman with electric black hair and green eyes. 

He told you guys to go, that he’d handle the woman. While Allison ran, you lingered, hiding behind the wall, watching.

He hit her over the head and she let out a groan of pain. Good. He could handle anything, your boyfriend. You had no doubt he’d be able to handle this easily; after all, he was probably the quickest thinker out of everyone. He could do anything and everything and that was only one reason you were irretrievably, desperately in love with the man.

And then came the spit, along with a hiss bubbling from the woman’s mouth. Jayme, you think her name was. Jayme. It sounded about right.

You wrinkled your nose, much like Five who began to berate her. “Agh! Hey, gross, alright?”

But before he could continue the usual lecture about sanitation, his face went glassy. Sweat built up on his forehead, and he began to walk around almost aimlessly.

“What the hell?” you heard him whisper. His eyes were directed toward the stairs, as were Jayme’s.

You ran out, looking at him, but didn’t touch him. Disturbing people when they’re in a trance could end dangerously, you heard. 

“What did you do to him?” you whispered, but she heard it and only smiled. It wasn’t one of those soft smiles; it was something similar to Five’s smile when he was irked. It was crooked, fake.

“I’m only showing him what he wants, kid.”

“Dolores?” Five whispered. You could feel your heart shatter.

The mannequin; that mannequin that sat with the both of you through the darkest nights of the apocalypse. She was there through everything; he always seemed to choose her over you. Even after you two were together. Dolores this; Dolores that; “Dolores would look good in this, wouldn’t she?”; “Dolores, you’re perfect”; “Dolores, I love you”.

You thought it was over. You thought he was over the stupid mannequin; you thought he loved you, only you. You thought that you two were meant for one another, the stupid soulmate shit everyone preached. But, you could see now, you clung on too tightly to the dreams a little girl would have.

You could see him break out into a smile, a genuine one. “Dolores.”

And then came the italian. 

“Really? Italian? Holy shit. Do you think I could get out of this without fighting you?” you asked Jayme. She raised an eyebrow at you before quickly turning to Five. “I’m way to tired for-”

He began to make out with thin air. 

Well, fuck.

“Okay, I’m just going to go,” you said, holding back the tears that threatened to spill.

You only just turned your back when you heard Five tumble down the stairs.

~*~

“Just gonna sit. I’m just gonna sit for a minute,” Luther groaned.

Your bones were cracking. You could practically collapse right there, plopping down on the top of the bench, lying there, mimicking Klaus on the table next to yours.

“Oh, I’m cracking,” Klaus said, a grit to his voice. You could second that.

“You all good, Klaus?”

“Fine, (Y/N/N), you?”

“Could be better.”

Five climbed on top of the table, sitting on the edge and placing your head gently in his lap. He began to run his fingers through your hair, his rhythm was constant. His love wasn’t. He grazed a cut and you hissed.

“That’s one hell of a cut, Sweetheart,” he mused quietly. You used that as an excuse to get out of his lap.

“I’m fine.”

You could see him flinch- just barely, not enough to catch if you weren’t paying close attention- at the slight harshness in your tone.

Good.

~*~

“CHET! Mon frère! I’d like my usual suite, por favor!” Klaus announced excitedly to the man at the front desk. He was older, his wrinkles prominent, but his hair still maintaining a blondish color that grasped onto hints of youth. 

“I’ve never seen you before,” Chet deadpanned. 

“See? Told you. Discreet.”

“Great job, Klaus,” you giggled; in turn, he wrapped an arm around you and wrestled you into his side.

“Don’t sass me, kiddo. There is such thing as a time out corner, you know.”

The dog’s whimper interrupted the conversation very quickly. 

“Please stop scaring my dog,” Chet said.

“We need some rooms, please.”

“Super.” Chet pulled out a sign with the words only a nightmare could hold. “And how will we be paying today?”

Well shit.

“Fine,” Luther said. “Empty your pockets. Come on; something.”

You dug around in your pockets, finding a dagger and an extinguished cigarette. 

“(Y/N)! Come on, really?” Five scolded.

“As if you haven’t had a cigar before.”

“Condoms?” Luther asked.

“I think you can exchange those for cash,” Klaus replied, causing you to giggle.

“Come on, you two, put the knives away!”

Luther looked around. “Oh, all right,” he sighed, removing his watch. Klaus marveled at it as he handed it to Chet. Examining it, Chet grabbed three room keys.

“Well, let’s Brady Bunch this bitch.”

~*~

Only one room had one bed, so you and Five were assigned to that one.

“Let’s unpack. Settle in.”

“And what do we have to unpack?” you questioned, eyebrow cocked.

“Yes, Darling, isn’t that liberating?”

“Fair enough.”

“Alright then,” Five said. “Let’s fix you up.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

You didn’t want him touching you anymore. You didn’t want him lying to you anymore.

“You know what I mean.”

“Fine. I’ll get Allison in here-”

“Why Allison?” he asked, eyebrows furling. You could see the hurt flash in his eyes. Your heart broke and soared at the same time.

“You know why, Five. I saw everything.”

“Everything? I don’t get it.” He approached you, reaching out. You pulled back. He took another step forward. This kept going until your back hit the wall. He quickly brought his arm up, trapping you there. “I don’t understand. Why can’t I take- what did you see?”

You laughed, but stared at his arm. He was serious.

His other hand made its way to your hairline, brushing it softly. “I don’t understand.”

You recoiled, causing him to flinch once more.

“Sweetheart, we’re done. It’s all over; no more apocalypse, no more nothing. This is it! We can be happy- just… tell me what happened. I’ll fix it. I swear I will. I can’t afford to lose you after everything. I’ll fix everything, I promise, just please tell me what-”

“I saw you making out with thin air.”

“After what Jayme did? I thought I told you to run-”

“I hung back to make sure there wasn’t any funny business.” His arm loosened and you made your exit, walking toward the door. He didn’t jump toward you. He didn’t do anything. He just looked. “Turns out, there was some funny business. You’re still hung up on Dolores.”

“No,” he whispered. “No, (Y/N), I swear to God, I-”

“I heard everything, Five. So, we’re hanging out here for the next few days and then I’m out. I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore.”

“(Y/N), I love you. Not Dolores, you.”

“I have come second to her after years, Five. Years I have waited for you to come around, and when you finally did, I was stupid enough to believe it was true. I was foolish enough to believe you could actually love me, that someone would actually love me. But, of course, I should’ve known: you can’t get over something so perfect that quickly.”

“You are perfection,” he whispered, tears in his eyes. “You-”

“No, Five. You can’t- I know what I saw. I know what you want, and that’s not me. Now, if you excuse me, Allison will only be available for so long. I’m going to need this cut fixed.”

You walked out the door with tears blurring your vision.

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #five x reader #five x you #the umbrella academy #tua #the umbrella academy x reader #tua x reader #tua x you

[krashlite]

Opinions on secret Soulmates? (Saw you made the millie animatic so im curious) /light hearted

(Bass boosted sigh)

Short answer, I love this duo and they’re one of my favorite toxic yaois in this fandom however comma during DL they’re definitely unethical and I’ve already gone through all the the intricacies of how DL went badly

Long answer

I think they’re fascinating because they both tend to idolize the other while both using the other as an excuse to avoid their problems and dooming the both of them in the process. When they’re around each other they’re usually only Positive and any Negativity is very jarring (especially from Grian’s perspective, who sees B as a safe person). Introducing negativity there is like being tagged when you’re on base- it shouldn’t be allowed they don’t know what to do with it

Except it’s somewhat unbalanced

BigB keeps finding himself in situations where he’s the failsafe for Grian’s poor decisions. In 3L the Blue Sword Boys were all but planning a rescue mission for Grian midway through the war. In DL obviously Grian ran away to BigB when Scar was his soulmate, then again in LimL Grian ran to him when the other two Bad Boys died

In all three of these seasons, you can argue having this connection got BigB killed! In 3L BigB was still reaching out to Grian as Scar and Bdubs cornered him (then he turned on Grian but shhh), in DL Grian killed Ren, BigB’s soulmate, and in LimL Grian got the Nosey Neighbors into SEVERAL scenarios that cost them time

Again, they idolize each other but BigB has the understanding that Grian brings danger into his life. Yet he still ultimately views Him as a positive thing. In fact, I’d even argue that the added danger is what BigB idolizes him FOR

And that’s because BigB is scared of getting into dangerous scenarios. He usually bases alone, he develops an alter ego to run from the consequences of killing Cleo, he has to psyche himself up for Any type of physical attack on someone and when he does strike he’s screaming “AAAAAAA” the whole time!

Grian doesn’t need to do that, it comes naturally to him

Then on Grian’s side of things- he’s a coward too! Except he’s constantly masking it with his thrill seeking, trying to be the scariest thing in the room not just to feel strong but so that everyone else Leaves Him Alone. In fact, Grian ALSO tends to base alone! Or at least he tries to, until some group comes along and tosses him over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He makes secret alliances to save his own skin (yes, alliances plural, there were Several), and is usually the first to run when trouble comes his way

And all that running is Tiring.. it’s so, so tiring

So him idolizing BigB is him idolizing that “safety” he sees BigB having. Grian has never had a direct interaction with one of BigB’s risks, nor does he have any reason to see BigB as a threat in the same way other people are “threats.” He runs off to BigB over and over again because he sees BigB as someone that can save him, maybe even the Only person that can save him

Except again, what ends up happening is Grian gets BigB killed

Also couldn’t find a way to fit it in here but iirc BigB is the first person Grian actually built a grave for and I’m so normal about that

#move ASIDE desertduo I have a new toxic yaoi #trafficshipping #I guess #that’s a solid I guess #I don’t even know where I stand on shipping in this fandom anymore #but I like them narratively and that’s what matters to me #bigbst4tz2 #grian #trafficblr

[izvmimi]

All Roads Lead to Love? - Chapter III

cw: alcohol mention. quirk use. medical scenes. bad fashion. Please see additional masterlist warnings! Masterlist

Izuku stares at your number on his phone and his stomach turns as his thumb hovers over the call button. 

Then he looks up. Shoto hasn’t said a word in the last ten minutes, content with finishing up the last of a sandwich and scrolling through his phone. Shoto has a bad habit of responding to every thirsty comment he gets and Izuku doesn’t bother telling him not to at this point. That’s PR’s problem and they get paid handsomely for it.

“How bad is it if I call a girl who might have a boyfriend?” Izuku says it wincingly, as if the very idea pains him.

Shoto doesn’t look up. “I mean if you’re just saying hi, it’s not illegal. Otherwise it’s harassment.”

Izuku should know better than to expect tact from him. Izuku pushes his phone away from him and replaces the emptiness of his right hand with a handful of fries to stuff into his mouth. Shoto looks up and raises his eyebrow at him, then shakes his head.

“I thought you and Ochaco broke up.”

“We DID.” Izuku insists, annoyed. “Over half a year ago?”

Shoto shrugs. “I mean it’s not like it’s obvious, the three of you still hang out all the time.”

Izuku frowns. This is true, but it’s been less so in recent times, and the media storm related to it is brewing, he feels, when the distance, now more obvious, gets spun into netizen debate but he’s hoping to shield himself from it.

Perhaps he shouldn’t bother you just for that reason alone. Especially if you have someone. You won’t have him. Not in this life, not in the next.

“It’s about ___,” he finally admits. Shoto looks slightly confused for a moment and Izuku practically growls at him before he recalls.

“Oh.”

Sighing, Izuku leans back into his chair and lets his shoulders slump. Perhaps he’s creepy to still feel this way about you, but there’s not much he can do about it. He was doing so well too until he saw you yesterday, and… 

That fucking guy. 

Izuku runs his hands through his hair. Life is too cyclical for him right now.

“How are you and Mo-?” he asks instead but Shoto shrugs, interrupting him before he can ask any other questions.

“Fine.”

Sometimes talking to Shoto is like pressing oil from a stone, but Shoto suddenly asks Izuku a follow-up question.

“You know, if you’re still pining for that long, does it really matter at this point if she has a boyfriend?”

Izuku looks shocked, but Shoto is dead serious. He blinks.

“Just tell her how you feel anyway. That way she can tell you no to your face and you’ll get over it.”

Izuku feels something in his heart rend, but Shoto’s insane advice has a shocking amount of weight to it.

As usual. He just has to work up the nerve to listen to it.

—

A couple of weeks pass. You’ve found yourself staring at Izuku’s number in your phone far more than you have in years, wondering if you should tell him what happened and knowing that it would make you sound crazy. How do you even start such a conversation?

Hey I know I haven’t spoken to you for real in years, but some kid with a quirk made clones of me that suggest you’re my soulmate? Oh by the way, I loved you back then but just never told you? Anyway, break up with your girlfriend, a literal angel, because I’m bored.

You call one of your friends, not the ones who went to UA with you and told you not to suppress your feelings, but another one who will tell you you’re ridiculous and to focus on the very available man in front of you, if you must insist on rekindling old flames.

And she tells you exactly what you want to hear.

“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

You sigh, absorbing the hit, but you’re thankful. “I know.”

“If he fumbled you then, he fumbles forever,” she says, unabashedly. You can see her now, painting her toenails with one hand, and petting her cat with another. It doesn’t matter to her that fate says otherwise, just the lack of effort on either part.

Don’t let us convince you how to feel, you remember an alternate version of you say.

It’s the wake-up call you need.

That evening, you meet up with Akira impromptu and he fulfills his promise of your favorite sushi and wine. Drinking more than usual to forget whatever your clones have to say, you find that Akira’s lips are somehow more comforting now that you’re older, and his hugs are tighter, and while you don’t end up sleeping together by the end of the night, the thought of laying under him in the near future brings a warmth to your chest that feels like the beginning of newly rekindled love.

—

“Are you this embarrassed to be seen with me?” Inko snickers, walking just a couple paces behind her son, whose broad shoulders are hunched over as he shrouds himself in a hoodie, a hat and sunglasses. He looks somewhat ridiculous like this, with the effect of making his already very noticeable frame stick out more, and the fact that he’s dressed head to toe in merch that doesn’t exactly match color scheme-wise (Froppy socks and Red Riot shoes, and Pinky’s iconic tie-dye pattern are not exactly easy on the eyes) doesn’t help.

“I just want to get in and out without incident,” Izuku murmurs quietly. Inko laughs and pats his back as he continues to push a shopping cart past the crowded hallways. He wishes his mother would have chosen a better day for grocery shopping because he woke up grumpier than usual today, which is really saying something, but these runs are important for her. She misses him and this is just one of the ways he can remind her that above all else, she’s still his son.

“That’s not like you.” She rubs his back gently and Izuku’s mouth twists to the side.

It isn’t, but it is him at the very moment. All he can think about is the fact that he feels like he should call you and he has no idea what to say, and the idea of you desperately finding ways to hang up on him makes him sick to his stomach. He’s tired and overworked. He’s seen at least one article speculating on his romantic life since this morning, now that Iida and Ochaco were found cavorting on a beach, and he’s starving. 

The last one is a problem he can fix. Realistically, the first one is too but all he can think of is rejection and the label of creep. 

Izuku Midoriya, current #1 Hero and absolute creep.

“I just need a break.” Polite enough to grab two cans of vegetables from the highest shelf, a couple for him and his mom, and one for the lady that seems to be reaching but too embarrassed to ask for help. She thanks him and he says not to mention it, then lets the cart speed off before she can think too hard about who he looks or sounds like. 

Deku is very popular with older middle-aged ladies.

A little further down, he stops so that Inko can catch up with him. She’s still in high spirits and he resists the urge to shudder when thinking about how well her and Toshinori’s date last night went. He’d picked her up from his apartment and that may have been a little too much for him but he’s accepted this arrangement for now.

If his mom is happy, then he is.

They chat more about everything then nothing, while Izuku keeps the conversation away from how good his mentor is as a lover, then earning a moment for himself to scroll through the news on his phone while his mother chats up the workers at the fish market. He’s too engrossed, analyzing the scathing review of property damage with Dynamight and Red Riot’s combined recent save, until he looks up and sees Inko walk in a sudden opposite direction. Curious as to where she’s going but not moving yet, his eyes follow her, but when he realizes where she’s waving to, he almost shits his pants.

This can’t be serious.

It’s you again. You look just as surprised as he is, your mouth slightly agape, a pomelo in your right hand over at the produce section. Suddenly, he is acutely aware of exactly what kind of fashion disaster he is, and looks around, calculating the chances he can hide without being noticed by anyone or being called out by his mother. It’s not like you are particularly dressed to the nines either - you’re in an oversized hoodie too (Izuku wonders if it’s yours or Akira’s for a moment), the hood drawn close around your unmade but clean face, and yoga pants, sneakers that at least match unlike his clashing shoes. Although you look slightly uncomfortable the longer Inko talks to you, he can tell it’s less about not being kind and more shyness. 

He spends more time observing you than making an escape route, and Inko finally betrays him by pointing over to him. You look like you’ve gone ashen when you see him, and it smarts; he offers you the smallest of awkward waves but Inko takes your wrist gently and pulls you over to him jovially. 

And now you’re face to face again. He swallows hard, feeling the palms of his hands get sweaty as he grips the shopping cart handles. He has no idea how it’s gotten like this, and neither do you. You’re stiff as a board, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

Just why do you dislike him so much? He wonders, but he has no time to lament, lest he make this worse than it already is. 

“You know, I still have a picture of you two in my house!” Inko says, cheerfully. “I’m surprised you guys don’t still hang out often.”

Your stomach turns, and both of you don’t realize that you’re thinking the same thing -

Because they didn’t like me back, back then.

Desperate to make small talk, you say, “Oh, do you come here often?”

Izuku blinks, trying to comprehend your own ridiculous question you regret asking, but only makes it worse.

“To the grocery store? Oh yeah, haha, need to eat too!”

He laughs a little too loud, and in attempting to convince himself and you that he’s funny, slaps the handle of the shopping cart, which subsequently tips backwards which he scrambles to resettle. You and Inko both look shocked, and by the time he’s guided things back into carts, Inko is laughing nervously too. By now, Izuku has garnered more than a couple of stares from nearby customers, and quickly bumping him out of the way, she picks up on his odd behavior and rescues him.

“Ha, well it was nice to see you again, hun, I hope things have been well! Say hi to the family for me,” she waves, and quickly pulls Izuku along with her.

You remain planted watching him, wondering what trick the universe is playing on you. 

Of all the grocery stores in Japan, your search for one specific food item brought you to Izuku, no matter how badly you try to avoid him.

—

“Can I ask a stupid question?”

Camilla looks up from where she’s perusing through a rack of work blouses then looks back to you.

“None of your questions are stupid. Shoot.”

You let your hands leaf through a stack of folded jeans, then pace a little as her eyes follow you, mulling over the words to use under your breath. After all, you haven’t explained the multiverse thing yet although you’re usually open about most things, for fear that she will hit you with an ‘I told you so’, even if she’s generally very kind about it. But you do still need to know.

“Do you still have people from way-back-when that you’ve liked?” you ask. Camilla gives you a look, then walks over and takes your face dramatically in her hands.

“Once again, I am begging you to stop going on dates with that weirdo,” she says. You find yourself laughing. She wasn’t too keen on the second date, and not the third, and while she didn’t explain in detail, she’s observed Akira enough over time (since they were both in the Support class) to not be particularly fond of him at all. 

“I mean he really isn’t that bad.”

“He’s boastful and a womanizer,” she says again, now turned back to laying shirts onto her chest. “How does this look?”

“Oh, it’s cute,” you approve, noting how nicely the turquoise in semi-sheer material appears against her complexion. 

“Great,” she takes it and pushes it into your arms. “This is for you. Glad you like it!”

Camilla’s tricked you again. You came out here intending not to leave with more clothing and yet…

“Let me be fair. Akira gives the energy of an unserious person, but perhaps he’s changed over time. I could be wrong.” She softens her stance, putting her hand on her hips. You snort for a moment, but you can easily see why she thinks this way - he is a bit airheaded for your liking, and the sudden declaration of re-interest in you does seem brusque. But the truth is you’re not tied up with anyone else, so it doesn’t really matter if you allow yourself to have some fun.

On top of that, you’re not really thinking about Akira in this particular case. 

Sucking in a deep breath, and considering that you might immediately regret it, you decide to tell her what happened just weeks ago. By the time you’re done explaining, her hand is over her mouth, but then she smiles practically to the back of her teeth, and you realize you’re in trouble.

“Now that’s what romance novels are made of.”

“Camilla…” you start. She giggles and twirls a bit.

“Why are you questioning it? We saw the way he looked at you-”

You grimace. “He did not.”

She rolls her eyes. “Listen, if a man looked at me like that, I’d truly not sit here and argue with my friend about it.” She’s wandering between racks of clothing again, and you find yourself following her naturally just as you have for the past hour.

Your lips press into a thin line. “It sounds like a good story, but truly if he wanted me back then, he would have had me by now.”

As it comes out, you immediately regret it. Lead forms in your stomach as you think of what you just admitted, and Camilla is now digging through skirts that you’re not sure are for you or for herself.

“So clearly the problem is him. .That’s something we can sort out soon enough, now can’t we?”

In seconds, she’s zapped your phone right out of your pocket, flying directly into her open right hand.

“I’ll call him,” she sings.

If the panic that overcame you at that moment could revitalize a human being, you’d have resurrected an entire cemetery at once. 

“… You wouldn’t,” is the phrase that comes out of you weakly, in a hush. Camilla grins, unlocking your phone (you consider that you probably shouldn’t have given out your passcode as recently as last week’s sleepover), and scrolls through your contacts briefly before settling on his name. She considers it for a moment, truly, but the deep frown on your face and your approach to her make it sufficiently clear that you’re not above wrestling your phone out of her very hands in the middle of a department store. Twisting her mouth to the side, she decides to throw the phone back to you.

”Coward,” she murmurs.

You slip your phone in your pocket, considering changing your passcode that very second, glaring at her. 

“Stay out of my business,” you snap, but then you break out into giggles, partially out of relief. She laughs too, and pulls out another dress, glimmering in the overhead light, a soft purple chiffon number.

”You’re coming with me to the next gala and you’re wearing this.”

”I don’t think Mirio will appreciate losing his date,” you muse. She’s already off looking at the rows of pumps and stilettos, giving you a throwaway glance, but not without a sparkle in her eye.

”I think sunshine boy has enough admirers, and you’ve spent enough time hiding in the shadows.” She beams as you take it from her hands, adding to the pile of things you already have to try on.

You huff in pretend annoyance but you can never fault your friend.

“I’ll consider it.”

—

3 months since your first meeting passing faster than you know it, your most involved pediatric patient returns, and right on time.

“How’s little Kazuo doing?” 

You’re excited to see him, and he looks better than you expected, the young boy kicking his feet comfortably, his blue eyes shaded this time by a toy replica of Can’t Stop Twinkling’s iconic red shades offered to him by Junko. He takes the time to remove a lollipop from his mouth and looks at you with a big grin, and it warms you inside out. 

“Good!” he says. Mrs. Minamoto smiles at him as you ruffle his hair gently then look at her to confirm that this is true, and she does.

The quirk stabilizers have been working wonders, she says, and you decline testing his quirk currently, not because you really don’t want to see another legion of Deku wives/girlfriends tell you that you’re making a wrong decision with your life, but because the child looks like he’ll do best undisturbed today.

“Any breakthroughs?” you ask. 

“No incidents,” she affirms. “No strangers, doppelgangers or weird unexplained objects, thank goodness,” she adds, and she appears genuinely relieved which makes you glad for her.

“Good!” You take a few notes down on your legal pad then clasp your hands together.. “Do you think you’d be comfortable with a spacing regimen?” 

She looks resistant immediately, which is understandable, and you quickly recant your suggestion. Rolling back in your wheeled stool to your computer where you’re documenting, you click a few buttons to renew the child’s prescription for another 3 months.

“We can give it time. So far we haven’t found anyone in the database reports with a quirk remotely similar to this, as you already know from our written communication, but if you’d like we can take some time to let him experiment with his abilities at small intervals, or we can continue the stabilizers until we can set you up with the appropriate coaching program.”

She picks the latter, as you expect.

“I… I just think he’s too young to be twisting and turning the universe like this,” she says. With this, she pulls her son closer to her, who looks comfortable yet concerned with his mother’s reaction.

“Absolutely.”

You mean to be compassionate. After all, her son has already messed with your life as you know it, so perhaps a bit more time for things to normalize is warranted.

Mrs. Minamoto lets out a sigh, then taps her heels on the ground. You look back at her after signing a few electronic documents to approve medications and next time visits. 

“Is it wrong for me to stop him from using his ability?” she asks. “I don’t want to stunt him… I just…” she trails off and you shake your head.

“All you’re doing is giving him time to adjust safely. We’ll work on this together, okay? It’s a huge amount of power for such a tiny person, so let’s give him a little bit more time to grow into it.”

Mrs. Minamoto looks teary-eyed and you offer her a reassuring handhold. 

“It doesn’t hurt to give a little more time to reflect and plan. After all, what’s destined to happen will happen regardless.”

Kazuo’s sea-green eyes focus right on you at this moment, and for a moment you wonder if he’s challenging how much you believe in the words you so easily say.

—

“Oi, we’re heading out.”

Katsuki’s speech is partially slurred, and Ochaco giggles politely as she waves him and his date out, her own naturally pink cheeks red herself, just as quite a few others in this private room. She nudges Iida who is staring off very slightly into space, his own look somewhat dazed even though he looks like he’d be much less of a lightweight, and Izuku notices how quickly Iida returns to reality from her touch, then waves in turn. 

“Make sure to text when you get home!” Iida and Ochaco both practically say in unison.

Perhaps they are made for each other, he thinks for a moment. By now, the two are official with the group of Heroes they frequent in and no one bothers to ask him any more questions, and he’s thankful for it, but it’s still awkward to be invited to these group outings that feel more like dates these days, particularly since the girl who’s seated next to him has long since given up on conversation and is now blatantly swiping right on a dating app, hoping to get lucky somewhere else before the night is over. He’s not bothering paying her any mind more than is polite; after all his mind is elsewhere. Izuku watches Katsuki whisper something into Runa’s ear as he adjusts her jacket onto her shoulders, and she laughs and taps his shoulder back.

Izuku wishes he could broach the subject of you, one of her best friends, but Runa has been preoccupied for most of the night with talking to Katsuki, and he knows better than to interfere with Katsuki getting the attention he craves. A smaller part of him wonders if he could just ask her to bring you with her next time, but that’s an insane request, and while Runa once was partial to teasing both him and you more than a little often in high school, she does her best not to bring you up whenever he has the chance to speak to her. 

Almost as if you’ve told her explicitly not to. 

It’s nearing midnight, and Izuku calls over their waiter to foot the bill this time, having made arrangements early on with the group to manage the table. His ‘date’ orders another drink without looking up which Izuku doesn’t even bother to be annoyed about, while Shoto and his girlfriend, nicknamed Mochi, also look to be getting ready to leave, him sticking so close he’s practically wrapping her in his peacoat. It dawns on him that he might actually be stuck as the last person in the room with the most uninterested person in the world but thankfully Ochaco and Iida seem to remain steadfast in keeping him company.

“Thanks for paying, Izuku,” Ochaco says a little bit later, rubbing gentle circles on Iida’s back. Iida is now practically facedown, but still gesturing something with his hands in agreement. 

He smiles.

“Of course.”

“Thank you for coming out too,” she says again later, when Texter has found a match and makes her way out and Izuku is once again the third wheel to his two best friends. Iida has stepped out to use the bathroom before leaving, and he and Ochaco stand outside in the frigid night under the moonlight. It’s the first time they’ve stood like this together in months, but the silence between them was less uncomfortable than it was pensive then.

Izuku again continues to pretend that he hasn’t had a terrible night, but he knows Ochaco can tell. After all, Ochaco is one of the few people that knows him better than anyone, when his mind is preoccupied with something else, when he’s uncomfortable, when things are wrong. Just because she chose to ignore that feeling of being in the wrong place when the right person was standing next to her the whole time, does not mean she doesn’t know his heart intimately.

“Has everything been okay?” she asks.

Izuku offers a nervous laugh. “Yeah, don’t worry, I’m not sad or heartbroken or anything,” he replies. He’s assumed incorrectly that he knows what she means, and when he turns to look at her, she’s frowning.

“I didn’t mean it in that way,” she murmurs. 

Izuku knows she’s being honest.

“I know whatever is making you feel less you has nothing to do with me, or rather…-” she looks away for a moment, back towards the entrance of the restaurant - “us, but I just want you to be happy, okay?”

Izuku nods, his throat suddenly dry.

Iida arrives soon and with hugs, the two set off, and Izuku walks home alone, checking his phone the entire way, looking twice at the text he considered sending you just to say hello, liquid courage in his veins still not enough to press send.

…

“What are you looking at?” Akira asks. He’s grinning, gold eyes as  bright as the candles flickering on your dining table, and you turn off your phone, flipping it over and pushing it out of sight as you reach for the breadbasket.

“Runa’s out with friends and wanted to show me a pic.” The pic in question shows the group of your classmates at UA, including a couple of unidentified characters, and it looks like a group date. You take in the features of the girl who sits next to Izuku, beach-blonde and bright-eyed, staring a little too long, then focus back on Runa who is taking the selfie, Katsuki taking up far more of the picture than you wish he would but expect him to.

“Ah, your friend that hangs out with all the top Heroes, right?” he asks. You twist your mouth to the side, as you look up at him then click your screen off.

“Yeah. I mean, she too is a top hero…”

He shrugs, then returns to his cut of steak. Without looking up, he adds, “I’m surprised you distanced yourself from them after all this time, but can’t say I’m not thankful for it.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. Akira looks up at you, as though surprised that you’re even challenging him on that notion. You’ve had many a discussion on how detrimental heroes are to society, even after the meta war had almost ended Japan as you knew it, but you couldn’t imagine he still held those views all this time. Hero Society has settled, although it has morphed and changed. Heroes remain celebrities but they’re no longer gods among men in the way All Might was.

Well, at least most aren’t.

“I just think for regular people like us, it’s better not to stay so entangled with that archetype, you know,” Akira adds. You’ve been through this train of conversation before, and your lips press into a thin line but you hold your tongue for now. Regular people like us. Like you and him.

“I mean, think of that asshole Deku,” he starts. 

There it is.

“Akira, can you pass me the butter, actually?” You won’t let another night be ruined by the mere mention of his name. He passes it, but you can tell he’s annoyed by your interjection.

“As usual, you immediately defend Midoriya,” he presumes. You try to remain polite enough not to roll your eyes, but you’re really being tested, and are suddenly no longer able to hold it in.

“It’s been over a decade,” you remind him. “Will you get over whatever your preoccupation with him is? He hasn’t mattered to me in so long, but if you want to speak to him and talk through whatever feelings you have harbored all this time, hopefully I can find a way to hook the two of you up.” 

As the words come out, you start to regret your overreaction, but it’s just a couple months into this budding relationship and the thought of a repeat of Akira’s high school insecurity while you’re on your way to your 30s is unbearable.

Especially knowing that perhaps this time, there’s a good reason to.

Akira gives you a meaningful look, then takes a bite of his steak, chews and swallows, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. You take a sip of your sparkling water, keeping eye contact as well. It’s not meant to be a challenge but you want to convey that this particular conflict is over and not to be revisited. The message is clear.

“As long as it stays that way.”

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #daydreams: bnha #mimi writes: arltl #mimi's notes

[steddieas-shegoes]

Chapter 6

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

“Oh would you look who decided to acknowledge I exist?”

Steve didn’t hold back his eye roll at Robin’s words since she couldn’t see him. He’d decided to call her on the walk to his car after work, just to update her on things and make sure she was okay if he wasn’t home right after work.

“We just saw each other yesterday.”

“More than 24 hours ago, Steve.”

“We are two separate humans, Robin.”

“But only one brain. Look at you separating a whole brain. This is why I couldn’t concentrate today. You took it with you.”

“Are you done?” Steve sighed. “If you’re done, I need to talk to my best friend.”

“What’s wrong?” Robin’s tone went from slightly annoyed to concerned, which meant she’d never actually been that annoyed to begin with.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be home late.”

Please don’t ask, please just accept it, don’t ask, don’t ask.

“Why?”

Fuck.

“Just stopping by Eddie’s for a bit.”

He was met with complete silence. He pulled his phone away to make sure the call hadn’t been dropped. It hadn’t.

“Robs?”

“Steve. I’m saying this because I love you.” Oh boy, here we go. “I’m worried.”

“There’s nothing to worry about. I’m just hanging out for a bit and then coming home.”

“You’ve practically lived with him since Saturday!”

“Okay, just because I slept over…”

“Twice! In a row!”

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Uh huh. It doesn’t mean anything except you have barely been home and you literally went to subspace and dropped and probably subspace again with this stranger who did one nice tattoo and suddenly you’re ready to fly to Vegas and forget me!”

Ah. Steve let himself feel guilty for a moment before he remembered her insistence just a few weeks before that he needed to find other friends besides her, be social, maybe find a boyfriend.

Well, now he was doing some of that and she had a problem?

“I’m just enjoying my time with someone new. This is what you’ve wanted me to do forever, right?”

“Not like this!”

“Oh, I’m sorry I’m not following your rules for my friendships.”

“This isn’t a friendship, this is some weird sexual situation that’s gonna end up messy and you’re gonna end up hurt. It’ll be Nancy all over again.”

That hurt. Robin had been the one to get him through the Nancy heartbreak, always offering whatever support he needed while he worked through his disappointment that turned into an identity crisis that turned into a bit of a change of personality. She never judged him for his response to it. She was the perfect friend.

Having her throw it at him like this left a sour taste in his mouth and a hollowness in his chest.

She’d never spoken to him like this, not even when they got into stupid little arguments about cleaning the common areas of the apartment that sometimes escalated more than they should. This felt like she was jealous and taking it out on him.

Jealous of what though? She never seemed interested in having an actual relationship, and she was out all the time, leaving him to fend for himself in their apartment.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Steve.”

“Yeah, well. I appreciate the concern.”

Steve hung up. It wasn’t the mature thing to do, he knew that. But he was hurt, and he didn’t want to make things worse by letting the hurt out on her. He would talk to her when he got back home.

They were best friends, platonic soulmates. They’d get past this.

But for now, Steve turned his notifications off on his phone, got in his car, and drove to Eddie’s house.

– - – – – –

He made it inside with no issues, putting the key back under the mat once the front door was unlocked.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket once he was inside, ignoring the many texts from Robin to send a quick text to Eddie.

Made it home. Gonna make spaghetti. That okay?

He was looking around the kitchen to find all of the things he’d need when his phone started buzzing.

Eddie was calling.

“Hey, thought you’d be with the client.”

“I am, but it’s a friend. She’s taking a break. How was the rest of your day?”

Steve didn’t want him to know about his fight with Robin, not when most of it revolved around how quickly he was becoming attached to him.

“It was fine. Um, spaghetti’s okay? I just figured you probably had stuff for it.”

Eddie didn’t immediately respond, and Steve tried not to let himself worry.

“Spaghetti’s perfect. What happened, sunshine?”

How did he know? Steve was notorious for hiding his feelings from people, he’d been a champion for most of his life out of self-preservation.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Steve was putting everything into being convincing.

Eddie was at work, he didn’t need to deal with Steve’s problems.

“Stevie, did something upset you? Do you need me to come home?”

God, of course he would offer to hurry back. He was so nice and Steve didn’t deserve it.

“Steve. I will leave right now and come back, just say the word.”

“No, no. I’m okay. Just had an argument with Robin. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sorry, sunshine. What will help?”

He didn’t know. He didn’t think he could really talk about it right now. He didn’t want Eddie to feel like he had to talk him through it when he was with a client.

He started to feel worse.

“I think maybe I should head back early tonight. Make sure I see her before she goes to bed.”

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll be done here in an hour. You don’t have to cook anything, I’ll just grab us something on the way.”

“No. It’ll keep me busy. Can I cook please?”

He didn’t mean to sound so whiny, or practically beg, but it must have worked because Eddie gave in.

“If you really want to, you can cook. But I want you to go change into my clothes first, okay?”

Thank God Eddie couldn’t see the redness of his cheeks spreading down his neck.

“Okay. Can I wear your hoodie?”

He knew it would smell like him, and he knew it was soft, and he knew it would make him feel a million times better.

“Yeah, sweetheart. It’s on the bed. I’ll text you when I leave here, but call me if you need me before that.”

“I will.”

“Good boy. See you soon, sunshine.”

Steve felt warmer, lighter, more like he could handle the feelings Robin brought up. He knew if he could feel like this for a little bit, he could easily handle whatever conversation they’d have when he got home.

— — — — — —

Steve was so focused on the sauce he was making, he didn’t hear the front door open or footsteps come through the living room and into the kitchen or Eddie walking up behind him.

He felt strong arms wrap around his chest from behind, a soft kiss placed on his temple.

He leaned back against the warmth of Eddie, the calm he exuded taking over the whole kitchen.

“Welcome home, Eds.”

“Mm. Could get used to that,” Eddie said as he kissed Steve’s cheek, then his jaw, his neck.

Steve was doing his best to stay focused. He was cooking dinner, right.

He started to lean forward, but Eddie pulled him back again.

“Babe, I have to cook,” Steve giggled.

“Not done,” Eddie said against his neck, teeth barely scraping against Steve’s pulse point and causing him to let out a moan.

“I don’t.” Kiss. “Want this.” Kiss. “To.” Tongue.

Fuck.

“You keep cooking, sunshine. I’m just gonna enjoy my appetizer.”

“But I made garlic bread,” Steve pouted, pulling away as much as Eddie would let him. “For an appetizer.”

Eddie pulled away and looked at Steve, blinking at him as if he were confused.

Then he broke out in a huge smile.

“You’re trouble, sunshine.”

And to Steve, that sounded like he was saying something entirely different.

— — — — — — —

They didn’t talk about Robin.

Steve put their food on plates while Eddie grabbed some beers from the fridge.

It was very domestic. Comfortable. Nice.

Eddie insisted on sitting right next to Steve, one hand on his thigh for the entire dinner. His thumb was rubbing back and forth, his fingers sometimes drew designs on his knee, and he tapped rhythms into his skin until it felt like Steve was part of the song.

It was easy.

They talked about their days. Steve gave him the full play-by-play of his meeting with Will and Eddie kissed his cheek when he was done and told him how happy he was that Will liked it.

Eddie told him about his appointment, Chrissy, who he’d been good friends with since high school. He’d shown her that tattooing was a way to love her body when she’d been diagnosed with an eating disorder. He promised her he’d do any tattoo she wanted for free if she went through the intensive rehab and therapy process, and four months later, she came by his shop and became his favorite client on top of one of his best friends.

Steve leaned his head on Eddie’s shoulder as he spoke, smiling to himself as he realized that Eddie was just a caring person.

He cared about everyone in his life in a way that Steve had not been familiar with before Robin.

He cared the way Steve cared, and he made Steve want to show it more.

He made Steve want to be bright in a way he’d never wanted to be before.

Eddie made him feel like he could shine.

He felt the impending rain cloud of leaving his side, though. Facing Robin would be a storm he didn’t want to weather tonight, feeling a bit overwhelmed already from his day of emotions.

It had started so good. It felt good right now.

“You got quiet on me, sunshine. What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?”

A lot. So much. He didn’t know how to answer without putting everything on the table, and he knew he couldn’t do that right now. He didn’t want to cry either and that was getting more likely the more tired he got.

“Just thinking.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Anywhere you want is fine with me, sweetheart.”

Steve could tell him a little. Maybe talk about how much he wanted to stay by Eddie’s side. Or how he didn’t know how he was already so attached, but the thought of not having Eddie around was already devastating.

How much he could love him if he was given the chance.

“I’m scared that Robin’s right.”

Well, that’ll spark a conversation he didn’t want to have.

Nice job, idiot. You’re gonna end up spilling your secrets.

“Right about what?”

Eddie’s arm was now wrapped around Steve’s shoulder, hand resting against his arm where his fingers were tracing designs that Steve would tattoo on his skin.

“She said this is gonna end bad. I’ll get hurt. She didn’t want me to come tonight.”

Yeah, that’s not giving too much away.

Eddie’s fingers froze against his arm.

“She thinks I’d hurt you?”

“I guess.”

And a part of Steve believed it too. That was part of why he felt so shitty. Eddie already held the power to hurt him and he didn’t even realize it.

“Stevie, look at me for a minute.”

Steve pulled away, letting Eddie’s arm fall, but quickly finding his hand to lace their fingers together for extra comfort.

“I know this is gonna sound crazy, and it’s okay if you don’t wanna stick around after, but,” Eddie’s eyes were shining. Was he going to cry? “I’ve never felt like this with anyone. I’ve never wanted to spend every moment with someone before you. I missed you so much today, it was like I was being torn in half. I know it’s crazy. I know. But you’re important to me. I don’t know what will happen, I don’t know what you want, I just know that I wouldn’t ever intentionally hurt you.”

Steve could feel his lip quivering. He knew he had tears in his eyes.

He was in deep and the only way out was through.

“I don’t know how to explain how much being around you has changed me. Just in the last two days I’ve felt like someone I didn’t even know I could be. Robin’s worried because,” Steve took a deep, steadying breath. He had to be honest. Eddie deserved it. “I jump into things quickly. I’ve always been like that. I commit hard and fast and I end up hurt every time. She was around for the worst one with my ex-girlfriend. She’s worried this will be like that and thinks you’re just using me for the sexual aspect of it. Well, she thinks we’re using each other, I think. And maybe if you were different, I would be. I’m not always a great guy. But it’s just that you’re you. You’re the kind of person who will always get the best me because you deserve someone who makes you feel the way you make other people feel.”

The words just didn’t stop coming.

Steve would’ve been more nervous about it if he wasn’t watching the fondness seep out of Eddie’s pores.

His every movement revolved around Steve’s own, his touches gentle and electric.

His hand was cupping the side of Steve’s neck, his eyes staring into Steve’s soul, even though he’d just laid it out on the table in front of them.

“You deserve to be the best you because it makes you feel good. But if I can help you find that, then I’m all yours, sunshine. As long as you want me.”

Steve leaned forward, resting his forehead against Eddie’s.

He closed his eyes.

His phone started ringing.

He planned to ignore it. He knew it was Robin and he wasn’t quite ready to face her yet.

But he knew if he didn’t answer, she’d worry. Maybe dramatically call 911 to do a wellness check.

He didn’t want to put Eddie through all that.

He grabbed his phone and answered, letting his head rest against Eddie’s chest.

“Yeah?”

“Steve. Listen. I’m sorry about earlier, okay? I didn’t mean that. I’m just worried about you. I want you to have someone who makes you happy, but I want you to be safe and-“

“Robs, I know. I’m sorry I freaked out.”

Eddie’s hands were moving up and down his back slowly, adding pressure to his shoulders where he was most tense.

“Are you gonna be home soon?”

Steve resisted saying that he was home.

He realized he’d said it twice to Eddie; This felt like home. He’d never really had somewhere that felt like home. Even with Robin, he knew they were roommates because neither of them could afford rent on their own.

But here, he felt like he could safely recharge, relax, be himself, float away and find his way back. And he could do it all with Eddie.

“Yeah. I’ll head out soon.”

Robin was silent as Eddie started playing with the hem of Steve’s shirt.

“You could just stay. If you wanted. I mean I have your location and you’ll text me in the morning so I know you’re alive.”

Steve considered that this might be a test, that Robin was seeing if he’d give in easily and not explain anything else.

But Robin isn’t the type of friend to test him like that. She was never anything but honest and straightforward, never would expect him to make a choice like that to win her love. That’s just not who she was.

“I could stay tonight.”

Steve looked up at Eddie, who was smiling and nodding down at him, hands never stopping their comforting movements on his back.

“I’m gonna stay tonight.” Steve smiled into the phone as if Robin was able to see. “But tomorrow, I’m coming home after work and we’re having a long talk. We’re gonna order pizza and we’re gonna drink enough cheap wine to have the worst hangover ever on Wednesday morning. Okay?”

Robin let out a quiet chuckle. Good. Laughter is good.

“Okay, dingus. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You got it, Robs.”

When Steve hung up the phone, Eddie pulled him tight against his chest, letting Steve find his place with his nose against his collarbone.

He breathed in his scent, smiling to himself at how quickly he relaxed into it.

“Sounds like things went well.”

“Mhm. Things’ll be good.”

Eddie kissed the top of his head.

“Let me clean up the dishes and then we can go to bed.”

“No, wanna stay here.”

“Here, in this chair?” Eddie snorted. “I don’t think either of us actually want that, sunshine.”

“Don’t wanna move.”

“How about I carry you?”

“Yes, please.”

For some reason, Steve didn’t exactly expect him to actually lift him in his arms and carry him. But he did.

He had him in his arms like he was a new bride being carried over the threshold, and Steve was blushing from his head to his toes.

Steve looked up at his face, taking in the way Eddie had a near-constant smirk when he was doing things like this. Like he was having fun and liked doing it.

Eddie dropped him in bed, laughing at the ‘oof’ Steve let out from the impact of hitting the mattress and pillows.

He stared down at Steve with that soft look he gave him before. Like Steve was actually making his life brighter, like it was a beautiful thing to have and know Steve.

No one has ever looked at him like that.

“Stevie.”

“Hm?”

“I really want to kiss you.”

Steve gulped.

“I really want you to kiss me.”

Eddie didn’t question it or wait, and his wet lips were against his with a passion Steve had never experienced in his life.

He forgot about everything except the way Eddie’s lips fit perfectly against his, slowly opening his own up so he could lick into his mouth.

He ran his tongue along Steve’s bottom lip, smiling into the kiss when Steve let out a loud moan.

Eddie’s hand was in his hair, tugging on the ends just enough to keep Steve present as his other hand ghosted down his side and squeezed his hip.

Steve could stay just like this forever and it wouldn’t be long enough.

He’d never have enough of Eddie touching him, kissing him, caring for him.

He wanted it always.

He let out another moan when Eddie’s teeth bit down on his bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth and lips like he was trying to eat him.

Steve would let him.

But just when he thought he was going to stay like this all night, Eddie pulled away, nipping at his bottom lip one more time before he separated from him completely and stood up.

“Gonna go clean up. Be a good boy for me and stay right here. No touching yourself.”

Steve hadn’t really thought about doing so until he watched Eddie walk away and glanced down to see that he was hard. Incredibly so.

Suddenly, his only focus was on getting relief from how hard he was. How had he gotten there from a kiss?

It was like every touch from Eddie was equal to 1000 touches from anyone else. If Eddie touched his cock, he was done for. He’d embarrass himself beyond belief.

Maybe if Steve didn’t think about it, it would go away and it’d be fine.

Maybe he could just give himself a little touch. Eddie wouldn’t know. It’s not like he was watching.

But Eddie said not to.

Steve had to listen to Eddie.

He could distantly hear Eddie washing dishes in the kitchen, dishes clanking around while the water ran from the faucet.

He could feel the heat of the sweatpants and hoodie he was wearing, causing him to break out in a sweat.

Eddie didn’t say he couldn’t take his clothes off. He just said he couldn’t touch himself.

So Steve removed the hoodie and sweatpants in record time, unable to focus on anything except the cool sheets under him and the hard length nearly poking out of his boxers.

He hoped Eddie would touch him when he got back. He couldn’t sleep like this.

Too on edge, too close to falling the wrong way off the cliff.

He didn’t even register when Eddie entered the room again, his thoughts stuck on how good it would feel to have Eddie’s hands on him again.

Then Eddie’s hands were on him again. They were cupping his cheeks and forcing him to make eye contact with him.

Eddie was shirtless already, straddling his lap.

Steve didn’t care how he got there, just that he was.

He couldn’t help the whine he let out when Eddie’s cock brushed against his.

Oh, he wasn’t wearing pants either.

Steve hoped this was going where he wanted it to.

“You look so beautiful like this, sweet thing. Like I could eat you right up,” Eddie said before leaning in to leave a trail of kisses down his neck.

He paused right where Steve knew his freckles were and let out a small laugh against his skin.

“These are the cutest things I’ve ever seen.”

Steve whined. He needed Eddie to kiss them, kiss him, kiss anywhere. He needed his lips on him every second of every day.

As if he could read his mind, Eddie gently kissed his freckles. Steve could feel his smile against his skin.

“Please kiss me,” he let out, needy whimper following his words.

“Am kissing you, sweet thing.”

And he was. Technically. But Steve needed to taste him again, needed their mouths connected so he could feel his breath in his own lungs, taking and giving oxygen Steve so desperately wanted to give and receive.

“Need you, please,” Steve added, as if that would make Eddie do anything else. “Please, please.”

Begging was not what he thought would happen tonight, but his mouth no longer had a filter as he felt Eddie’s hips roll against him.

The friction was almost too much.

Steve was going to cum. Right there in his boxers after barely making out and like, two barely there touches against his cock.

“Love hearing you beg,” Eddie said as he trailed his lips and tongue and teeth down Steve’s chest. He licked at one of his nipples, blowing cold air on it after. Steve shivered, but not from the cold.

“Feels so good,” Steve managed to get out.

He could tell he was becoming more incoherent, his moans getting louder despite Eddie hardly doing anything at all to him. He’d be embarrassed if he didn’t know how hard Eddie was above him.

Suddenly, Eddie’s lips were back on his own. He sighed into it, relief at being given what he wanted letting him relax further into the bed.

The relief only lasted for a moment, though.

Eddie was pulling away and laying down next to Steve.

No.

“No,” Steve said, turning his head to pout at him. “More.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows at him.

“That doesn’t sound very polite, Stevie. I can’t give you what you want if you don’t ask nicely,” Eddie sounded bored. Was he bored?

No, he wouldn’t have gone from interest to bored that quickly. Would he?

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You listening?”

“Mhm.”

“Good boy. You’re gonna get on my lap and you’re gonna get yourself off. No hands.” Steve was already moving, but Eddie put his hand on his chest to hold him still. “No boxers. You use your safe word if it gets too much.”

Steve didn’t know how this could be too much, but he was too far gone to do anything but agree.

“Okay.”

Eddie removed his hand and didn’t stop Steve this time when he got up and straddled Eddie’s thighs, the reverse position they’d been in before giving Steve a head rush. He helped push Steve’s boxers off, holding him steady when his legs nearly gave out when he kicked them off.

Eddie didn’t touch him at first, letting Steve find the position that worked best for him and watching as he tried to find the perfect level of contact.

He couldn’t though.

“Oh, sweet thing, you can’t get it right can you?”

Steve whined and shook his head, feeling tears of frustration building behind his eyes.

“You want me to help you?”

“Please, yes, help,” Steve got out between pants.

Eddie’s hands were on his hips, warmth spreading from the place they touched Steve’s skin throughout his body. His grip was strong, nearly leaving fingerprint bruises in his skin. Steve wished he would.

“More.”

“More what?”

“Fingers. Harder.”

Finding the right words was hard. Steve was doing all he could to keep his eyes locked on Eddie’s face, vision going a bit blurry from the cloudiness in his head.

Eddie understood though.

His fingers gripped harder, and Steve knew he’d be done for soon regardless of the friction on his cock.

“You want help getting started, sweet thing?”

“Mhm. Mmm,” Steve was incoherent. He knew it, but he couldn’t do anything but let Eddie have full control.

Eddie used his strong grip to move Steve’s hips back and forth a few times, the feeling of Steve’s bare cock against Eddie’s clothed one nearly enough to send him over the edge right away.

He was moaning uncontrollably.

“I’m not doing it all for you,” Eddie said, letting go of Steve’s hips and watching as Steve stuttered in his movements. “C’mon. You were so desperate for it before.”

Steve didn’t think about how he was naked and Eddie wasn’t, how his dripping cock was getting Eddie’s boxers messy, how Eddie was smirking at him as he struggled to keep up the pace Eddie had started.

He only thought about how he had to get relief and make Eddie proud of him for doing what he asked.

Steve’s hips moved back and forth, rolling down every time he pushed forward so he could feel Eddie’s length against his own.

It was too much and not enough and Steve didn’t know how long he could keep this up.

Eddie was watching him, talking him through it, but not touching him.

“That’s it, sweet thing. Doing so good for me,” Eddie let out a moan when he started moving faster. “That’s it, sweetheart. Making me feel so fucking good.”

Steve wasn’t even registering his own pleasure anymore, only able to hear the way Eddie’s words were getting breathier, moans louder.

“Gonna cum for me? Want you to make me messy, sunshine. C’mon,” Eddie started tilting his hips up to meet Steve every time he rolled his hips down.

It was so much.

There was nothing but Eddie. His voice wrapped around him like a warm blanket as Steve felt the pull in his stomach letting him know he was close.

“Mm, Eddie, Eddie-“ Steve was babbling and he couldn’t stop. He didn’t care. He didn’t think Eddie did either. “Gonna. Gonna be good.”

Eddie let out a loud moan and sat up enough to kiss Steve’s lips.

Steve was done for.

He came so hard he almost couldn’t even feel it, the pleasure making his vision go black and his body go numb.

He could feel Eddie rut against him a few more times before he let out a groan.

He couldn’t open his eyes to see, but he knew Eddie must’ve finished too.

“So good, sunshine. Did so good for me, can’t believe I’m so lucky,” Eddie was whispering into his ear, soft breaths making Steve shiver against him.

Steve felt Eddie moving him so he was laying down in bed.

Then cold air shocked him into opening his eyes and letting out a pained whimper.

“Shhh, sweet thing. Just grabbing a washcloth. Gotta clean you up and take care of you, yeah? You did so good for me,” Eddie said as he pecked a kiss to his forehead.

Steve wasn’t quite floating now, but he recognized that he’d been on the cusp of it before Eddie walked away. He still wasn’t aware of most of what was going on, just that he’d never felt so good in his life and he hadn’t even had hands on him.

Whatever Eddie had done to take Steve apart was incredible.

When Eddie came back with the washcloth and gently wiped his stomach and chest, Steve tried to speak.

“Love that,” was all he was capable of, but it was a start. Eddie would get the gist of it.

“I’m glad. Loved doing that with you,” Eddie said softly as he got into bed next to Steve. He immediately pulled Steve on top of him, and Steve nearly gasped at Eddie being naked under him. “Feeling okay?”

Steve nodded against his chest.

He’d never felt better.

As he drifted to sleep to Eddie’s soft whispers, Steve thought about how he could possibly love someone so much so quickly.

Chapter 7

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#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #grumpy sunshine trope #tattoo artist eddie munson #guidance counselor steve harrington #dom eddie munson #sub steve harrington #ao3fic #myfic #chapter 6