#am I doing a reread not 3 weeks later

[maeofthedead]

God, the bit in TSC where Jean is furious at the accusation that he didn't fight back because he did. Until one day he just couldn't get back up.

He was just a kid. He still is

[rk800-is-hot-change-my-mind]

RAHHHHH I WANNA POST SOMETHING BUT I HAVE NOTHING TO POST

[loveshotzz]

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

chapter three -

This has got to be the longest crush ever

Robin’s bad date, and a late night that changes everything.

warnings: 18+ A little bit of queer and mid twenties crisis angst for Robin, with comfort obvi. Tension, but are we surprised at this point?, and a secret third thing, wonder what it could be? 😚

wc: 6.3k

authors note: Hi babies! I am taking just a week off from my posting schedule for this week long work trip I’m taking on Monday. There’s lots of conferences and I won’t have much down time. We will resume our normal posting schedule for chapter four starting 3/20 🌻🧡

series masterlist | series playlist

June -

Would you believe me if I said I’m in love? 

                            Baby, I want you to want me.

You can’t believe you landed yourself in detention.

All your late night study sessions for the SAT’s that led to oversleeping and missed alarms finally catching up to you just like Robin warned you it would. Miss O’Donnell is the one who makes your best friend's predictions come true, handing you that notorious pink slip for walking into her class ten minutes late for the third time this week. 

When you arrive at exactly 3:15, the classroom is mostly empty. Your eyes scan the bored faces of the few students joining you, hoping to at least see Eddie’s familiar head of curls. But of course, today of all days, he’s managed to be on his best behavior or just didn’t get caught. 

Sighing defeated, you give Mr. Clark a tight lipped smile, ignoring the shocked look on his face seeing you in here. Picking an empty desk in the middle away from anyone, you decide to busy yourself with the Algebra homework you’ve been avoiding for the better half of a week. It’s when you lean over to unzip your backpack that you catch the sounds of sneakers squeaking against the ceramic floors.

”Ahh, Mr. Harrington. Even fashionably late to detention, I see. Your hair looks good enough to sit in silence for an hour and a half to me.” Mr. Clark announces the king of Hawkins's grand entrance with the kind of sarcasm that makes you smirk as you start arranging your things on your desk.

“That’s good to know 'cause I was doing it for you Mr. C.”

Steve Harrington always thinks he’s so charming

Snorting as you click your pen, you dare to look up only to catch ‘the hair’ looking right back at you with that golden smile that you’ve seen take even the strongest soldiers out. 

Oh no. 

Eyes going big, you quickly bring your attention back down to your homework, silently hoping he doesn’t take the seat next to you and land you in here next week too. 

“So thoughtful of you. Now why don’t you take a seat and do some studying for that test on Monday. And maybe this semester you won’t have to worry about relying on extra credit to keep playing basketball.” Mr. Clark dismisses him, earning a low whistle from the boy who holds his hands up in surrender, Nike covered feet coming down your row.

No, no, no, NO.

You still don’t look up, rereading the same question over and over again because no matter how many times you try, you’re too distracted by the cedar and clove that invades your senses kicking them into overdrive. The whites of his sneakers catch in your peripherals when he does the unimaginable and sits next to you.

Staring at the equation with the kind of concentration that’ll be sure to give you a migraine later, it takes him a good thirty seconds before he temporarily gives up trying to get your attention to grab something that gives the illusion of studying out of his backpack. 

Trying to play it cool, your stomach twists in nervous knots worse than the ones you get when Robin forces you on the janky rides at the summer fair every year. Sure, you’ve been hit on by a guy here and there, but no one can prepare you for what it’s like to catch Steve Harrington’s attention—especially for someone in your Hawkins hierarchy who would never be on the receiving end of it.

He flips through the pages of his textbook loudly, earning his first warning glare from Mr. Clark, and you decide to write your name on the top of the page so at least it looks like you’re doing something. After a couple bounces of your knee, you can feel the heat of his gaze back on you.

”Psst, hey.” 

The last letter of your name comes out illegible, and you jump at the hushed sound of his voice. Taking a deep breath, you work up the courage to meet his flirtatious smirk and golden brown eyes. The sun leaking through the windows gives you a glimpse of the green that hides inside them from this close. You hate to admit that he’s just as pretty as everyone says he is.

”Hi,” you smile a little shy, offering a small wave of your pen and it lights up his whole face, making your body buzz.

”You have a highlighter I can use or something?” He keeps up his ruse, the whites of his teeth showing in a grin.

You arch an eyebrow at him, something sarcastic reminiscent of Mr. Clark flashing behind your eyes. 

“What? You don’t think I’m actually going to study?” He acts shocked, slapping his giant hand across his chest and it earns the kind of giggle from you that pushes him full steam ahead.

”It’s blue, is that okay?” Giving into the bait, you try and hide the way your face warms, ducking down to dig in the bottom of your backpack.

”Are you kidding? I love blue. Favorite color actually.” Laying it on thick, you can see the way he scoots to the edge of his seat, the spice of his cologne making you bite at your bottom lip as your fingers wrap around what you’re looking for.

Sitting up in your seat, you aren’t expecting him to be so close and it threatens to steal the air right out of your lungs.

”H-here,” you manage, holding the blue writing utensil in the small space that's left between you.

Steve's eyes roam your face freely, pink tongue coming out to wet his full bottom lip before they settle back on your gaze, lids a little heavy, voice low and somehow sticky sweet.

”Thanks, honey.” He leans forward more, purposely brushing his fingers with yours when he takes it out of your grasp, “but now, I’m afraid the only way you’re gonna get it back is to let me drive you home after this.”

“I’ve got plenty, you can keep that one,” you try to stay strong, but when that second giggle slips out, you seal your fate.

”I can’t do that, this is your favorite one.” He tisks like it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard, with a crooked grin that makes you bite the inside of your cheek.

”Is it?”

”Absolutely.”

“Are you two done? Or should we schedule a second date for next week?” Mr. Clark interrupts.

”That would actually be date number three. We’re going on two after this is over.” Steve smirks, throwing you a wink ignoring the harsh way you whisper of his name. 

Yeah… you were fucked.

“I’ve got a date tonight!” 

Robin sings excitedly, bursting through the front door in a wild ball of energy, successfully waking you up from your nap on the couch. Blinking slowly, as you start to recognize your surroundings, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you force yourself to sit up, wincing at your stiff neck and the fact that you dreamed about Steve Harrington again. 

“A date with who?” You grumble, still a little grouchy, yawning with a stretch that pops in your back.

”This girl that I met at the record store this morning, we talked about Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos for what felt like hours. She’s just, wow, she’s so cool. Almost too cool for me, you know? She’s a senior in college-“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up.” Cutting her off before she can ramble any longer, you wave your hands for her to stop: “First of all, no one is too cool for you, okay? If anything, it’s always going to be the other way around.”

“Yeah, okay, Steve.”

It takes a minute for her words to sink in about the man you haven’t seen in almost a week and a half, but when they do, the glare that settles on your face makes her laugh. 

“Ha ha, very funny.” You deadpan with a tight-lipped smirk, before clearing your throat, “Well where are you guys going? Do you want me to go undercover in case you need saving? I’m fully prepared for a stakeout.”

Robin rolls her eyes, but her smile, which spreads wide enough to see all her teeth, gives away her love for your dramatics. 

“No, I don’t need you to go undercover or anything. I mean, it is going to be nice knowing you’ll be here waiting for me to tell you all about it instead of having to call you and hope the city girl answers.” She teases, earning the scoff from you that she was looking for.

“I’m choosing to ignore that, and if at any point you change your mind, you know your own number.”

Earning a genuine laugh from Robin always makes your soul feel lighter, so when your joke lands and you get one, the heaviness of Steve that’s been weighing down on your shoulders eases up just a little bit.

”I’ve just never been approached in public before like that, you know? It’s not just the other girl you know is gay on campus. I don’t know, it feels good.” Your best friend’s confession makes you want to wrap her up in a hug, keeping the urge to remind her of your offer to move to the city with you to yourself for right now, letting her bask in the moment.

”Well, you're hot. Can you blame her? If you weren’t basically like a sister to me, I’d be all over it.” Wiggling your eyebrows, she flips you off, but you still catch the tinge of pink that paints her cheeks rosy.

”Please, Steve would have my head on a stake.” She snorts, purposely trying to get under your skin now.

”Robin.”

”What? I thought he was going to pop a blood vessel in his eye when I mentioned your little ‘adventure’ last week” She giggles, heading towards her bedroom.

If only she knew just how much those words were true. Your thighs meet like in the memory you can’t stop playing on a loop, palms turning sweaty, remembering the velvet of his lips so close to your neck.

”Wait! Did you ask that on purpose?!” You gasp, jumping to your feet to follow her.

”Maybe.”

”Maybe?!”

”You know what I do need help with?” She ignores you, spinning on her heel to meet your narrowed eyes.

”What?”

”Help me pick any outfit?” Pushing out her bottom lip, she gives you the kind of puppy dog eyes that no one in their right mind could say no to.

Sighing heavily, your feet drag on the carpet before flopping yourself onto her bed huffing out a “Fine” as the box springs squeak.

The rest of the day is spent going through what feels like every outfit in Robin’s possession, even getting desperate enough to try on some of your clothes despite your clashing styles. Settling on a pair of boot cut jeans, a black half crop top with a flannel shirt that you’re pretty sure she stole from Steve and the Dr. Martin’s you got her for her birthday last year, she was ready to break hearts. Blue eyes roll in the back of her head when you make her say ‘I’m the prize’ until you feel like she halfway believes it before handing over her I.D. that you’d found stuffed between the cushions of the couch in a frenzied panic to search for it only ten minutes prior.

The sun starts to set on Robin’s small apartment after she finally heads out the door, and the shadows that bounce off the white walls bring back the thoughts of Steve you’d successfully gotten rid of for a few fleeting hours. 

Huffing to yourself with crossed arms, you watch the flat bag of popcorn spin around in the microwave. You can still hear the beginning Moonstruck playing on the TV in the living room, over the loud hum of the machine. Comfortable in an oversized shirt that lands just at the bottoms of your cotton sleep shorts, goosebump dot across your legs from the cool of the A/C. Your skin still tingles everywhere he touched and the week of radio silence feels worse the second time around. 

The shrill sound of Robin’s phone and the first kernel of popcorn exploding in the bag overpower your ears all at once, making you jump. Mumbling cuss words under the now constant sound of popping, you try to calm your heart rate down, wandering to the living room. Your hand hovers over the phone, the realization about who might be on the other line making your stomach drop. He hadn’t called Robin yet. There’s a moment of hesitation, but you take a deep breath, letting the air expand in your lungs, silently counting to three before you grab the phone off its hook.

”Buckley residen-“

”I need you to come get me, I- I’ve made a huge mistake and I’m just so fuck - “ Robin cuts you off, the rasp in her voice cracking like she’s trying not to cry, “I’m just really embarrassed, please come get me.”

“What happened? Where are you? I’m coming, just - just tell me where you are.” Running to her bedroom to grab your sneakers with the phone pressed to your ear, you can hear her sniffle.

”Benningans, it’s the next town over. I’ll be outside -“

”Are you safe?” You panic, slipping your foot into your shoe as quickly as you can.

”I’m safe, I’m just, I’m embar- I don’t want to talk about it right now. I’m safe, I’ll be outside.” She mutters.

”I’ll get there as fast as I can, okay?” Feeling a little helpless, you try to ease the hurt that’s evident in her tone with soft reassurance. 

”I’m just, I’m really glad you're here. I’ll see you soon.” She manages to get out before the line clicks dead.

Slipping your second shoe on, the realization that you don’t actually have a car to save her with, hits you like a ton of bricks. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Stomping back to the living room, your eyes find the mustard yellow address book next to the phone’s dock. Your fingers fumble through its pages, eyes squinting as you try to read Robin’s messy writing, searching for a familiar name. You find two:

Eddie and Steve.

You stare at the page, your moral compass going haywire. Despite the way he’s rented a space in your mind, the thought of seeing him alone again makes your stomach twist. Eddie would be simple. Eddie would be easy. Your thumb hovers over the first number in the one she has scribbled down for him, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t bring yourself to press it. She needs Steve.

You groan loudly, stomping your foot for good measure, before letting out a long breath through your nose, dialing his number that you knew you should have all along. 

It only rings twice.

“Whatever it is, the answer is no,” Steve deadpans.

”Is that really how you answer your phone?” You scoff, doing your best to ignore the butterflies you’ve managed to stifle as they start to come alive at the sound of his voice.

“I thought this was - shit, I thought this was Henderson - erm I mean Dustin, you remember Dustin?” He stammers and you know that hand of his is running through his hair right now.

“Yeah, the middle schooler.”

“Well, he’s like nineteen now -“

“I didn’t call you to talk about Dustin, Steve,” You sigh heavily, rubbing the bridge of your nose, “Robin called me really upset from Bennigans, and I don’t have a car or any way to go get her-” 

“I’m on my way.” He cuts you off without any hesitation,“Be outside in five minutes for me?”

”My shoes are already on.”  

After a click, you’re left with the sound of the dial tone in your ear. You hang up the phone as warmth floods your body, easing some of your temporary worries. 

Steve Harrington is making it hard to hate him.

The short walk to Steve’s BMW from Robin’s front door feels like stepping through a time machine.

One that takes you back to late nights sneaking out your bedroom window, always being extra careful not to wake your parents up so you could go make out with your secret kind of boyfriend under the stars. Those were always your favorite nights with him. The nights he’d put away the king Steve armor, those nights he’d just be Steve. A boy who just wanted to make his father proud, thinking maybe he’d stay home more if he was.

You can feel the way his eyes roam your body, the heat of his stare lingering on your exposed legs, setting your skin on fire. Suddenly more than aware of your lack of pants, only part of you regrets not changing into some leggings, but you try not to think about that too hard right now.

He clears his throat when you open the passenger door, the smell of leather and the dark woody sweet scent of oil surrounding you as you slide into your seat. The spice of his cologne tickles your nose when you close yourself in, clicking your seatbelt in place before daring to meet his eyes. The golden brown inside them shimmers with something you’d missed in the orange glow of the street light and the nerves still feel the same way they did five years ago. The only thing that hasn’t changed.

”Thanks for doing this,” you offer with a weak smile.

When he realizes you’ve put your weapons down for the night, his face softens with a crooked grin, subtle pink dusting the apples of his cheeks.

”I meant it when I said I can’t say no to you,” he starts, selfishly letting his eyes roam the smooth lines of your face that are finally not twisted up into a glare before realizing his slip up, “and Robin, my best friend obviously.”

”Our best friend, Steve.” You tease trying to ignore the tension that crackles in the empty space between you even worse than before.

”Whatever you have to tell yourself,” he winks, forearm flexing as he puts the car in drive.

Scoffing a ‘whatever’ with a playful roll of your eyes, you let your muscles relax into the familiar seat. The Police’s Every Breath You Take spills through the speakers just loud enough to be heard over the low rumble of the engine, and you become hyper aware of his hand resting on the stick shift, the tips of his fingers just close enough to brush against your thigh every time you hit a bump. 

There’s a silence that falls between you once the street lights run out and his full focus shifts to the pitch black road ahead. The quiet is filled with what almost happened in his room, unspoken words that don’t dare to roll off of sober tongues. You wait until he’s too distracted looking for surprises that might run out from the woods on either side of you to let your eyes wander over and really take him in.

A white drawstring hangs low on his heather gray sweatpants that fit tight over his thighs spread wide. Your throat goes dry at the white tank top that hugs his broad chest, the gold chain that wraps around his neck getting lost in the thick patch of curls on display. You’re finally able to really make out more of his tattoo for the first time, thin, precise lines that look like feathers attached to a set of sparrow wings.

”Did she tell you what happened? I mean, is she safe?” He interrupts your greedy stare, eyes lighting up when he catches you, tucking it away for another time.

”Uhh, yeah,” you answer with a shake of your head, teeth biting down on your bottom lip with hot cheeks, “she’s safe, she kept saying she’s embarrassed but wouldn’t tell me why, just kept begging me to come get her.”

He just hums, lost deep in thought of all the things it could be, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens with worry. 

“We’re only ten minutes away, so it won’t be too much longer now.” 

He reassures you, but it feels like he needs it too, especially when his hand leaves the stick shift to run through his hair that looks more tousled than usual, making you wonder if he was lying in bed before this. A worried breath exhales through his nose, with a tight jaw, and you hate the way your stomach drops when both his hands find the steering wheel after he tugs on his roots a little bit. 

Nervous fingers play with the bottoms of your sleep shorts, trying your best not to stare while you keep your gaze out the passenger window. Stolen glances are followed by tight lipped smiles when you’d always find him staring back. Honey and chestnut make your stomach flutter, and you think maybe some things never change. 

It takes less than the ten minutes that Steve promised for the back roads to turn busy, and bright with the kind of lights a small town on a Saturday night has. A slouched frame sitting on the side of the road catches in his headlights, getting closer you see that Robin’s waves have lost all the bounce she left the house with, along with the rosy tint in her cheeks. The flashing Bennigans sign spins a block behind her, and the orange bulbs match the burning ember on the end of her cigarette that dangles from her full lips. 

“Shit, it’s bad if she’s smoking,” Steve mutters, turning on his hazards as he pulls up next to her, the wheels of his car coming to a stop. 

She hollows her cheeks out, taking one last drag, waving at you to stop unbuckling your seat belt as she gets to her feet. Blowing the smoke from her lungs into the wind, she flicks the half smoked butt into the street before opening the back door, sliding into the leather seats with an exasperated huff.

“Just, don’t – I’m okay,” she starts, closing the door and shutting out the whir of the traffic outside. “Turns out her boyfriend’s best friend really likes Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos too. She really thought me and him might hit it off after our talk at the record store today. I don’t want to talk about it, I just want to go home with my two favorite people and feel sorry for myself.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Steve doesn’t miss a beat. Turning around in his seat, he flashes her his million-dollar Harrington smile. “I’m the king of feeling sorry for myself.”

Her lips twitch, but when she sees the natural roll of your eyes at the boy next to you, it turns into a full blown smile. A little shimmer came through in the dulled-out color of her eyes.

Got me up all night

            all I’m singing is love songs.

“Honestly, now that I’m thinking about it, this girl sounds like a scammer, Rob. I mean, come on.” Steve snorts, rifling through her cupboards in the kitchen. Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos, what kind of game was she playing at anyway?”

Robin giggles from her place next to you on the couch, her head resting on your shoulder, the green apple of her shampoo still lingering on her curls that tickle your cheek. 

“Plenty of people like those artists, Steve.” She sighs, but you can still hear her smile, “It’s fine, I’ll just stay the lonely Hawkins lesbian for the rest of my life, no big deal.”

”Shut up!”

”Will you stop?!”

You and Steve chide her at the same time, hard eyes meeting from across the living room and softening. He doesn’t even try to stop the lopsided grin that pushes up your favorite cheek and you hope Robin doesn’t feel the way it makes your skin warm. 

“Whatever, I already warned you I’m going to be miserable. Gimmie a break, and you’re actually taking forever in there, by the way.” Whining, she sits up, sending a rush of fruit and leftover tobacco to your nose.

“Yeah, well, I can’t find your peanut butter,” he mutters, opening up the cabinet above the sink, the bottom of his tank top rising enough to see a sliver of sun kissed skin and a few more freckles. Why does it feel like there's always more?

”What are you even making anyway?” you ask, ignoring the way Robin’s head whips around. A smirk spreads wide across her face because you’re actually trying to make conversation with Steve.

“Just a little something that’s going to cure my best friend’s heartbreak,” he winks, the jar of JIF extra crunchy looking extra small in his grasp, twisting the cap off. “We came up with it together, actually.o biggie.”

Your gaze narrows, but he doesn’t miss the way the corners of your mouth twitch, something sparkling inside the dark gold in his eyes.

”Interesting, considering I ran to the store earlier to grab my best friend’s favorite ice cream, just in case.” You counter, something mischievous twisting up your lips. “You didn’t even think to stop and get it on our way home. Some friend.”

Robin’s smile lights up the room, very obviously enjoying the show, maybe even a little too much. Clapping her hands together, she lets out a content sigh before leaning back into the couch cushions.

”I really could get used to this,” she beams, “maybe we should have a contest, see which one of you can do the nicest things for me.”

You can’t stop the snort or the roll of your eyes that has Steve throwing his head back in a fully-bellied laugh, giving you the perfect view of his neck, and only Robin clocks the way your giggles are cut short and the secret way your eyes glaze over.

”I’m not gonna lie as much as I love crunchy peanut butter banana s’mores, I have to say Steve, the fact that she actually called you makes her the winner for the night.” She smirks, chuckling harder when you shove her with a hushed ‘Robin!’

His smile doesn’t fade as he starts to cut banana slices. Big eyes meet yours with the kind of look that threatens to melt you into the couch.

”That’s alright, I’ll be a gracious loser tonight, but just know, honey, I’m very competitive.” He warns, long fingers spreading the fruit evenly throughout the peanut butter that messily coats graham crackers.  

“I don’t like to lose, so it’s fine.” Your quick reply deepens the smile lines in his cheeks, putting the finishing touches on your snacks.

“Yeah, this is definitely the life I was meant to live,” Robin gloats, nudging you, “I’m the prize, right?”

It’s your turn to throw your head back in the kind of laugh that rattles in your rib cage, too distracted to see the lovesick way Steve bites his bottom lip watching you from across the room.

But Robin does.

With a heart so full it might burst, tears threaten to spill from the ocean in her eyes, daydreaming about moments like this, only ever thinking they would be something that stayed trapped in the confines of her mind. The warming feeling of happiness wraps around Robin like a blanket when she gets to sit between you both on the couch. A distant friend she hasn’t seen in a long time, a secret she’s kept mostly to herself. 

With a messy plate of half eaten treats and sticky fingers, she’s content watching Cher and Nicholas Cage fight over how much they love each other. Fully knowing that Steve is sneaking looks at you from over her head, smiling to herself at the nervous way you fiddle with your hands in your lap because of it.

Robin doesn’t fight the exhaustion that starts to make her eyelids heavy just a little halfway through the movie. It’s easy to give in when your body weight relaxes deeper into her side, and how Steve drapes his arm over the back of the couch, tucking you both into his chest with evening breaths.

You’re warm, cozier than normal, and it surrounds every part of you.

Cheek pressed against something that’s not firm enough to be the couch, you nuzzle yourself deeper, chasing the heat and the sleep that’s threatening to evade you. Your cushion starts to move, making eyes shift behind lids that aren’t ready to open yet. Lashes flutter, feeling the way your leg is slotted between someone else’s, and the warmth of a palm finds the small of your back, pulling you closer.

A deep sigh rumbles in your ear before fingertips lazily trace up and down the dip of your spine. Stubble tickles your forehead, and as coherency starts to come back to you, a softer patch of hair rubs against your cheek. The kind of spice and lingering sunshine that could only come from one person hits your senses, and the white cotton of Steve’s tank top finally becomes visible. 

The shift in your breathing brings his soft touches to a halt, the muscles you’re pressed on your side against stiffening. Realizing your hands are sprawled across his chest, just under your chin, you can feel the way his heart races under your palm. He’s everywhere, and despite the way you’ve told yourself you hate him, your fingers curl into the cotton of his shirt because it feels like home. Toes pressing into his calf, you wind your leg around his tighter, and it turns timid fingertips sure of themselves, tracing patterns between your shoulder blades. You don’t dare look up at him yet, or it would make the way your own hand starts to explore his abs that twitch under your red nails real. 

He feels different than you remember, there's more of him now, harder in spots that used to be soft. Your fingers get greedy, the blunt ends of your nails scratching along the outline of his happy trail, earning a low groan from him that vibrates deep in your core. Those butterflies that have made a permanent home out of you start to stretch their wings, and when they feel the soft velvet of his lips against your forehead, they tickle at your ribcage and kick up your heart rate. You wonder if he can feel it.

It’s the faintest kiss, one that you’re not sure you would’ve even felt if you were asleep, but it makes you lean in closer. Inhaling deeply, tears sting at the corner of your eyes when the familiar scent only makes you crave him more. After years spent denying the existence of his touch from your memory, it’s almost overwhelming to feel it again. 

The muscles in his arm underneath your neck twitch, and the fingers that have been drawing lazy circles on your back move slowly up your shoulder. The backs of them run down your arm before they finally connect with your skin, goosebumps exploding underneath his touch in a ball of electricity that you can feel on the pads of them that start a new path up the loose sleeve of your shirt.

You fiddle with the bottom hem of his tank top, the heat of his body radiating against already flushed skin. Brave fingers dare to dip underneath only to get stopped by a large palm wrapping around your wrist 

“Baby,” there's a hint of a smile and a little bit of grogginess in his voice that gives away that he hasn’t been awake that much longer than you, “I think you should at least look at me before I let you get under my shirt.”

Biting at your bottom lip, you push yourself deeper into his chest, embarrassed, feeling the gentle shake of his body when he laughs. 

“Come on pretty, let me see your face.”

His affection makes your heart swell, and you know what it means if you look him in the eyes. Your nails dig into the cotton, tugging at the fabric a little while you pull yourself together, lashes fluttering against your cheeks, shaking the rest of the sleep. Lifting your head up from its hiding place, you cross the line you promised yourself you wouldn’t, but when you meet the green that shimmers in the darkness of his eyes, and the crooked grin that twists up his full pink lips, it feels good to give in.

Releasing the hold on your wrist, he’s gentle, almost hesitant, when his warm palm cups your cheek. The rough pad of his thumb traces the line of your cheekbone feather light, and you can’t help but lean into his touch. No more armor, fleeting glances, or stolen looks, not when he’s this close and even more handsome in the glow of the moonlight. 

“Beautiful.” He murmurs just loud enough for you to hear, and your legs somehow wrap around his tighter.

”Yeah?” you whisper, your fingers coming up to the play with the gold chain dangling from his neck. “Why didn’t you kiss me then?”

”What?”

”Last week,” 

”That wasn’t the right time,” he sighs, eyes tracing every line of your face like he’s committing it to memory, “It would have ruined it.”

“Ruined what?” You press, twisting the metal between your fingertips, heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“My chance at trying to do this the right way, the way you deserve.” He doesn’t hesitate to say it, like it’s something he’s thought about for years, and it makes your head spin.

“What about now?” 

“That depends,” he hums, the pad of his thumb dragging across the slight pout of your bottom lip, threatening to steal the air from your lungs.

”On?” Your voice comes out just above a whisper. Tilting your chin up, you can still smell the peanut butter on his breath.

”If you want me to.”  He breathes, the tip of his nose running along the length of yours. 

Your hold on his gold chain tightens, pulling him even closer. His eyebrows pinch together when he feels the slightest brush of your lips against his, and he can still taste the sweetness of the banana.

”Please tell me you want me to.” 

The desperation in his voice is enough for you to tug him down, closing what’s left of the small gap, your top lip catching against his full bottom one. Just enough to feel the familiar silk that could leave a wildfire in their wake before you finally speak.

“Kiss me, Steve.”

A groan rattles deep in his chest, and he doesn’t hesitate to do what he’s wanted to since he saw you. Applying just enough pressure to wake up every last butterfly, the tip of his nose pushes into your cheek when he slots his lips with yours. It’s soft at first like he’s testing the waters, taking it slow so he can savor it, just in case you never let him do it again.

He pulls away enough to look at you, chestnut eyes blown out wide, and you hate that you already miss his kiss. Giving into everything you’ve fought for so long, it’s your turn to capture his lips. It stuns him at first, but when you open your mouth, his body melts easily into yours, and that big hand of his moves from your cheek to hold the back of your neck. Tongue swiping boldly across your lower lip, he begs you to let him in.

Moans get hidden, muffled inside each other's mouths after you grant him access, your fingers tangle themselves inside the thick forest of his hair that’s still just as soft as you remember. Nipping at his bottom lip, the grip on the back of your neck tightens and you can feel the way he kicks up in his sweats because of it. Your own thighs threatening close when you’re reminded of what’s between his legs.

“Baby,” he warns in between kisses, feeling the roll of your hips, but you don’t miss the subtle way he tries to meet them with his own.

It’s too easy to get lost in him, and the years it took to move past him make even more sense when your tongue finds his again. Fighting for dominance, you try not to think about the irreversible damage tonight might do to you as you tug at his roots, teeth scraping together, the kiss turns more heated by the second. Years of anger and longing come out in desperate touches. His hand finds its way to your hip, the pads of his fingers brushing against the skin under your shirt, sending a shiver up your spine, letting you roll them one, two, three times before tightening his hold.

He pulls you closer, letting you win before his nose nudges against your cheek, his lips finding the corner of your mouth. Catching his breath, he trails them along your jaw before making his way down your neck. Your chest heaves, fingers turning soft and slowly running through his hair. He hums against your skin, his hand staying under your shirt, the warmth of his palm covering the small of your back, leaving wet kisses on the sensitive spot behind your ear.

”Let me take you on a date,” he whispers, leaving one more under his jaw before pulling back to look at you.

”Steve -“

”Just one,” he begs, bumping his nose with yours, smirking when it makes you smile.

”Let me sleep on it,” you sigh, ducking your head under his chin to hide. Too many thoughts trying to occupy space in your mind with a head still dizzy from his lips.

”I’ll take what I can get,” he laughs, the tips of his fingers starting up the familiar patterns that started all of this, quickly make your eyelids heavy, nuzzling deeper into his chest. You weren’t ready to think about tomorrow yet.

🌻 chapter four

[the-likesofus]

Buddie Fic Recs

This is my 5th Buddie Rec List! I started compiling this list last April and omg looking back through them now I desperately need to reread them all. Highly recommend all of these fics, also please show the authors some love in their comments xx Happy Easter lovelies <3 REMINDER TO CHECK THE TAGS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS

where our eyes are never closing by @rewritetheending | T | 6k

After the lightning strike, Buck asks Eddie to take candid photos of him to help prove to Buck that he still exists. Absolute PEAK Softness. Buck through Eddie's eyes! I was a mushy puddle by the end. 10/10 would recommend. 

i got all my sisters with me by @useramor | T | 6k

Established relationship Buddie. Eddie’s sister has a baby and they travel down to Texas to meet the baby. DIAZ SIBLINGS UNITE! Seriously though the sibling dynamic in this is off the charts and Buck and Eddie are sickeningly in love, it is quite beautiful.

meet me where the tide comes in by @iinryer | G | 4k

A 3+1 fic about Eddie getting kissed on the head. FOREHEAD KISSES PTSD MORE HEAD KISSES AND BOYS IN LOVE!! Need I say anything more??

The one where Buck gets turned into a dog by @911onabc | G | 9k

Law Suit era BUT WAIT WAIT….DOG BUCK!! I am a sucker for fic where one of them gets turned into an animal. They are much more free with their affection when they think it's just a dog, or just a cat, and the bond between Eddie and "Boy" is so so wonderful. And I do love a happy ending xx

can't do this anymore (do it anyway) by @chronicowboy | T | 2k

Short and sweet but GOD this packs a punch. Eddie starts dating after the lightning strike and Buck is feeling Big Bad about it. He is so sad it truly breaks my heart but all works itself out in the end and Eddie proves Buck’s fears wrong.

We Found Each Other (Over There)  by @thekristen999 | T | 46k

Buddie WWII AU. A combat medic and a G.I. meet during one of the world’s greatest battles. This fic is a legitimate masterpiece. I cannot describe to you the quality of this fic because it is beyond words but I will tell you I stayed up until 3:30 am to finish it in one sitting and was left broken but made so so whole again. 

the mortifying ordeal of being known by @the-amber-raven | G | 60k

AU where Bobby is Buck’s adoptive Dad and Eddie is dating Buck but Eddie and Bobby think they are talking about two different people. Buck is training at the fire academy but hiding it from Bobby. This fic is the most beautiful tangle of miscommunication, love and family. 

like all good things are by @try-set-me-on-fire | T | 7k

Perfect, amazing, soul-destroying, magical, healing Fic. This literally covers all the bases. Chim and Bobby both get injured. OH! and Buck and Eddie were secretly dating all along. READ THIS FIC PEEPS!

find a way to you (if it kills me) by @eddiediazes  | M | 19k

The one where Eddie decides to start dating again, Buck figures out his own feelings just a minute too late, and then he spends a week going through the five stages of grief. BUCK PINING LV.10000000!

and i’d choose you (in a hundred lifetimes) by @monsterrae1 | E | 16k

Amnesia Exes fic by the wonderful Rae. Buck and Eddie fall in love via a penpal program and then Buck vanishes. This fic is set four years later. I literally could not put it down. I was reading it in class and then sat in my car for who knows how long just to finish it because I could not continue my day without knowing how it ended.

he never thinks of me (except when i'm on TV) by @loserdiaz | M | 18k 

APRIL'S FAMOUS!BUCK AND ARMY!EDDIE FIC!! In which Eddie finds out years later that his unrequited feelings for his high school best friend were not actually unrequited, Buck is stupidly famous now and they pine. OH THEY PINNNEEEEE! It’s delicious. 

every time we stop talking (the universe starts screaming) by @chronicowboy | M | 21k 

Alternative S7, Buddie Divorce Era Pt.2. Buck does something reckless and Eddie gets angry about it but these boys cannot communicate effectively to save their lives! This fic is peak angst to a happy ending and I felt like I had a hole in my chest OMG.

left your mark on this heart by @chronicowboy | G | 5k

Buck gets medically diagnosed with butterflies and the doctor makes him write in a notebook every time it happens. Surprise, surprise, the cause and effect is Eddie-related. The notebook entries kill me in the best way, the happiest happy ending

ALSO, YES THIS IS THE THIRD FIC BY THE SAME AUTHOR ON THIS LIST WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT?? READ IT IS WHAT! COS THEY'RE SO DAMN GOOD. 

endless numbered days by @cal-daisies-and-briars | G | 13k 

Buck and Eddie's wedding but from Bobby's POV as Bobby reflects on the family he lost and the one he gained. Absolutely beautiful, I cried.

don’t wanna let you love somebody else but me by @shitouttabuck | T | 14k

Chris wants dating advice so obviously Buck and Eddie decide to Fake Date for research purposes. This fic is PEAK adorable, sappy, and awkward Buddie. They’re idiots but we love them and the certainly love each other. READ THIS FIC! 

[danikamariewrites]

Take Them All Down (part 2)

Rhys x reader

A/n: First off, I am so sorry this is months later. I did not realize I wrote part 1 in freaking October until I reread it for a refresher. Like no wonder so many of you asked me about part 2! There will not be a part 3 (so sorry if you have your hopes up for that after reading this).

Warnings: blood, violence, and eventual fluff

The throne room filled quickly. You couldn’t pick out faces even if you wanted to. Looking down you see the unlucky prince you had grabbed in your rage was Eris. The only surprise you showed at his fear was a raise of your eyebrow.

Seeing ghosts scares people. Eris isn’t immune to that.

The crowd parts, letting Beron. When he sees you with a sword to his heirs bleeding throat he pales. “Everyone out!” Beron roars. The room empty’s in seconds. Leaving the three of you alone.

“You,” Beron says cooly, raising a shaking finger at you. “You, are supposed to be dead.”

——

Rhys hasn’t broken his stride or acknowledged his family since the cemetery. Ripping open his closet door and donning his leathers Cassian finally grabs him by the shoulders, pinning him to the wall. Everyone waits with bated breath at the threshold of the bedroom. Azreil stands between the family and his brothers to absorb any fallout.

“Rhysand! Stop! By the fucking Cauldron, what do you mean she is not dead?” Cassian’s booming voice causes even Azriel to take a step back. But Rhys stands strong. Mirth dancing in his eyes. “The bond never broke,” he said with that haunting laugh and even more troubling smile.

“I have felt nothing since Hybern. The bond it…it’s just been waiting for y/n to wake up.” Cassian let go, his face pale. Instead of being angry he wanted answers. He was beyond confused at how you could possibly be alive. They saw your body, watched as your coffin was buried!

“What’s the plan Rhys?” Azriel asked, a slight shake in his usually calm voice. Another haunting laugh leaves Rhys’ lips. “Eris has been screaming in my head for an hour. She went right to the Autumn Court. My vengeful wife, HA!” Azriel and Cassian look at each other. Then it clicked.

Beron had found your body.

He had been the one to alert everyone, even brought Rhys over to you.

As if he was reading their minds Rhys began to voice their train of thought, “Beron saw an opportunity at the end of the war and took it. The instability of everything. He needed to take me out of the equation first before taking out any of the other courts. ‘Killing’ y/n was the way to go. Smart. He wants Prythian. Wants to be High King and for that he needs all the courts to rely on him. He has been creating problems that only he and his court can solve.

“I’ve been in contact with Kallius and Helion over the last few weeks. After Amren’s last meeting with the governors I knew it was Beron. Without us and trying to keep their courts alive it’s been a mess.” “So you are aware the court is struggling?” Amren interjects. Anger rolling from her tiny body in waves. Rhys turns to look at her. His face sympathetic and guilty. “I know you’ve been doing everything I should be. And I am so sorry. I should have never shut down like that. But I couldn’t…”

Cassian claps a hand on Rhys’ shoulder. “We understand, brother.” Had it been any of them Rhys would be doing the same thing his family was doing.

“I’ve reached out to Kall and Helion. They are meeting us in Autumn soon. Get ready to go.” His brothers nod, leaving Rhys to prepare for what awaits him in Autumn.

——

Back in the throne room you stall Beron. You want him to continue his tirade, letting all his anger out so you can deflect it right back at him. When he paused you dug your blade deeper into Eris’ throat. He held back his wince. Knowing the punishment from his father would be worse than loosing his head.

Before you could open your mouth to retaliate the bond in your chest stirred. You felt everything all at once. Anger, relief, love, and grief.

Rhysand.

He knows. He came for you.

Surprise shines in your eyes. Looking down at Eris he meets your gaze, his own amber eyes screaming ‘I did this. I told him. Please let me go.’

Dropping the sword from his neck Eris breathed out a sigh of relief. “Go,” you growl at him. He scrambles off the dias, deciding that leaving you and his father alone would be best. He dashes for the large double doors. Your eyes never leaving his back until Eris disappears from view.

You need to stall longer. Although you can feel Rhys again he’s far. Probably just winnowing to the border of the court.

Making a show of bringing your sword up to your eyes to inspect Eris’s blood slowly dripping down the sharp edge. You wipe it off on the skirt of your dress. Looking down at the swishing black fabric you notice how dirty and tattered it is. You don’t know if it’s from being buried for so long or pulling yourself out of your grave. Maybe it’s both.

The memory of waking up in the pitch black and digging yourself out flash through your mind. You want to drop to your knees and cry until you have no tears left. A pulse of love comes down the bond full force. It gives a you a renewed strength as you stare down Beron. Soon, it promised. Soon you could do all of that in Rhys’ arms.

Lifting your sword you point it at Beron. “We have a score to settle, asshole.” He smirks at you. Reaching out he pulls his sword from thin air. Sweeping into a ready stance. Beron curls his fingers, beckoning you forward. “Let’s see if the dead can fight.”

You run toward him, letting a cry rip from deep in your chest. You are going to kill this motherfucker.

The two of you keep clashing. Metal against metal ringing throughout the throne room. Slash after slash you finally feel the adrenaline wearing off. You’re weak and can feel he’s gaining the upper hand. Beron backs you toward the dias.

With a mighty swing Beron has you down. Your back hits the wooden stairs. Wasting time trying to recover, Beron stomps over, kicking your sword from your hand. Beron pushes his heavy boot against your open hand. You scream at the feel of your fingers cracking between his weight and the wood. He lets out a cruel cackle. “This time, I’m going to kill you for real.”

Beron raises the menacing blade. Ready to strike right through your heart. Closing your eyes you brace yourself for impact. It never comes.

The doors explode. You take a risk and move your eyes off Beron to see who has barged in. Rhys, those gorgeous wings on display. He’s flanked by Azriel and Cassian. Kallius and Viv with Mor at her side. Helion and his general. Beron must’ve done something to really piss off three High Lords while you were buried.

Everything went by in a blur. All you could do was watch. Rhys could’ve easily fought Beron on his own but it seemed like they each wanted a piece of him. Near the end Eris comes racing in, his neck bandaged. It’s an easy fight in the end.

Eris brings his father to his knees. Broken and bruised, he surrenders. Eris takes control, ordering Beron to be sent to the dungeons and watched at all times. His execution would come soon. Eris didn’t want him escaping.

You feel arms around you. Jumping, you look to your side and see Rhys. You almost didn’t recognize him with the beard. There was hope twinkling in his eyes. Silver lining them as he stares at you in disbelief.

A loud cry escapes your lips as you put all your weight on your mate. Rhys says something that you don’t hear, your ears are still ringing from the explosion. Darkness consumes your vision as the throne room falls from you. You cower into Rhys’ chest hoping the light comes back.

When you feel a floor beneath you again you pull away from his chest. Looking around you find you’re back in the Town House. Home. You are finally home.

You see the family behind you, not wanting to scare you. Tears fall freely down your face. When you woke up in that box you never thought you would see them again. By some miracle the Mother decided you weren’t done living yet and gave you back.

“I knew you weren’t dead.��� Rhys whispered, kissing your forehead. “I could never leave you.” You say softly, looking up at him. He smiles at you. Tears falling down his face into his beard. Bringing a hand up you run your fingers through his beard.

For someone who has been depressed it’s very well kept. “I like the beard.” Rhys laughs as he pulls you into a hug. After embracing on the floor for what feels like hours Rhys shifts so you are looking up at him again.

“I want Madja to look you over, then we can get you into a bath my love.” He rubs the pad of his thumb across your cheek. Wiping away dried mud and blood. You won’t argue with him. You can tell he just wants to take care of you. “Sounds perfect.”

[nyhti]

Batman Rogues Tumblr AU:

Jervis:

-Joined Tumblr in 2009, has had the same blog all this time -Has a big follower count, but most of those blogs have long since been abandoned -Is very active -No sideblogs, everything from kink to cute animal pics is on the same blog -Has witnessed or been involved in every single major event in this site's history -Attended Dashcon (he was the one who pissed in the ball pit) -Involved in some sort of petty drama on a daily basis -Has a 20km long post of just going back and fort arguing with some random user. This argument started in 2016 and neither remembers what it even was about. He gets worried if the other person hasn't responded in a while. -Gets at least 3 callout posts a week. Always makes sure to reblog them and adds an essay underneath defending himself no matter if the callout post was about liking the wrong pony in MLP or murdering someone in cold blood. -Kinnie drama the likes of which you've never seen before -And in general just discord you never thought anyone could ever come up with -At this point you wonder if he's even having fun on this site, but he just keeps on reblogging bunny pics like it's nothing -Has a Wacom drawing tablet

Jonathan:

-Joined in 2011 after Jervis introduced him to the site -Has some really tacky theme he hasn't changed since 2013 -About a couple hundred followers, but they are very devoted. Lots of mutuals -579257405547 blurry photos of Nightmare -Post fics and essays on various topics he's been thinking about lately -Of course reblogs every single spoopy art piece he finds -Definitely does fic request -The most fucked up smut you've ever read -Like smut you don't even know is smut, because it's just that confusing -Most of his post don't get past 50 notes, but he has made a couple of post, mainly of the: ”Here's how you write x, y and z...” and ”As a Professor of Psychology, I can tell you...” variety, that have about 10 000 notes -Has a chill time on Tumblr -Only uses Tumblr on desktop. Has never even seen the app. -Completely unironically reblogs every cool skeleton on a motorcycle pic

Joker:

-Joined in 2013 -The only reason he joined is because he once came across a horny drawing of Batman and searching for the artist led him to Tumblr. -Starts writing a post, gets distracted mid way though and starts doing something else. Comes back to Tumblr 3 hours later, notices he was making a post, doesn't even bother rereading it despite not remembering what it was about and just hits posts. His blog is full of completely incomprehensible post that just stop mid way through -Makes a couple post that get so popular they are still making rounds today. They will always have additions like: ”I still can't believe this post was made by the fucking Joker” and ”Joker had a Tumblr?!” -Forgot his password a month after joining and never visited the site again. Barely remembers he ever had an account -Those true crime people still harvest his 20-post-pathetic-excuse-for-a-blog-blog for content to this day all the while completely ignoring all the rogues with still active (and better) blogs. They are saying things like: ”Ooohhhh, it's like a deep dive into his twisted mind :00” and are always trying to find some hidden symbolism and meaning behind all his ”just farted so loud it scared the neighbor's cat” kinda posts.

Eddie:

-Joined in 2011 -759752974576 sideblogs, 55425720752174838+1 sockpuppet accounts -When he's really low he'll post a poll like: ”Be honest, am I cute? Yes/No” and then has his 55425720752174838+1 sockpuppet accounts hit ”Yes” and somehow ”No” still wins. He deletes the whole post. -Posts the most obvious ”and everybody clapped” Tumblr fake stories you've seen. When he gets called out, he pretends you were supposed to figure out they were fake -Has an awful time on Tumblr, but can't delete, because he's addicted to getting notes -Always falls for every one of those post where OP pretends to be stupid on purpose (i.e. smooth sharks, putting fingers in guns etc.) -Posts riddles everyday that even his biggest haters cannot help but try and solve -Sends himself hatemail so he can post the witty comeback he just came up with. Forgot to hit anon once and people just won't let it go

Hugo:

-Banned for posting cock :/

[lavender--fairy]

Hey Fairy!

I have a success story for the people who always love to doubt the law by saying “well what if I was in a dire situation(bills need to be payed asap, no income, homelessness etc), how would the 4D help me then??”

Welllll, I was in a similar situation where I did not understand how to operate the law despite knowing about it for years and i did have previous successes with money but it was always like an accident and not something I knew how to operate and continued to struggle even until recently lol.

I had no income since November and ofc bills were due, rent was due, I was in a very dire situation and believe me I was freaking out the whole month of January, it did not help me🤠 and I was constantly trying to be in the wish fulfilled but with the intent of changing the 3D, which is what failed me.

I read Ed art’s posts around Christmas but ig it just did not click for me until I reread some of aphroditeappreanticeee’s posts and some of yours and others’ about how it’s not about changing the 3D, it’s all about changing the 4D and being in the state of thing desired. I was like “fck it i got nothing to lose” so I decided to focus on being in the state of wealth and not bat an eye for what the 3D showed me.

I had absolutely no idea how things would unfold but I kept my state and less than a week later money came flowing in I mean like going from 0$ to like 20k$ which ofc isn’t the end goal(as in I’m sure my state of wealth will bring me millions asap😋) but it’s fucking magnificent! Especially considering how bad my situation was!!!!

So in the end, my advice would be - keep returning to the state of your desired thing until it becomes natural and if you’re having trouble coming back to it, do what @cinefairy said and that’s “ask yourself why you want the thing you desire and you’ll see that it’s to acquire the feelings which accompany the thing you want, feel those feelings” and that will help you sustain your desired state, at least it helped me a lot!!

hey butterbean!! I am so gladd you put the law to the test because other wise its just of no use, alsooo thank you so much for telling us this i am sure it will inspire so many people, Thanks for your amazing advise as well <3

[lemonnsss]

Moral of the Story Chapter 4

Gif by: @celebritiesandmovies

A/N- I’m so sorry for the late update! I’ve had some issues with my health recently that have led to some related issues in school; but, I’ve been feeling a lot better and tried to edit this up quickly.

It’s not my best work, but I had no idea what to do with this chapter, please forgive the nonsense.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Taglist: @vicmc624 , @mostlymarvelgirl , @yvonneeeee, @beetlejuicesupremacy , @moonlightreader649 , @whattheduckisupkyle , @chrisevans-realwife, @nekoannie-chan , @mrsbarnes32557038 , @imyourbratzdoll , @weallhaveadestiny

Word Count: 1.2k

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The thought that Scott would leave never so much as crossed my mind. How could it? Jean and Scott had been dating since the seventh grade.

I must have reread his email half a million times, each time hung on the words “I’m leaving the mansion too.”

I was pulled from my shock as I heard the door shut behind me. I put my phone away, internally prepared myself for the interview questions, and turned around, standing from the chair. I began to talk before I saw the figure, “Hello, again Ms. Potts. That was quite the situation-” I stopped. I had expected to see Ms. Potts. Instead, there stood Tony, who seemed equally shocked to see me there.

“Why hasn’t Pep sent you out yet?” He moved from the door to the desk, “The last person to make it this long had a mental breakdown a week later.” He passed my side, slipping onto her desk. He kicked his legs slightly before he appeared to remember I was still present.

“Regardless, where is Pepper? She usually never leaves interviewees unattended,” He leans back, bracing himself on one of his arms as he reaches to the top of the shortest stack with the other quickly lifting the top sheet and, while scanning it, says, “and most certainly never leaves them around confidential company information.”

“Technically, the interview hasn’t begun.” An uncomfortable pause fell in the room as he waited for me to elaborate, “Her regular assistant is on maternity leave. Her fill-in accidentally double-booked her- she’s in a meeting right now.”

He let his head fall back dramatically as he scoffed, “Shame, I had wanted to tell her something in private. Do you know who’s all in there with her?” A cocky smirk plastered on his face.

“No? Why, Tony?”

He slipped off the desk, similarly to when he hopped up, “Oh, nothing. Just have a bit of information to share with the class.” he was almost halfway across the room when he turned back to me. His smirk was now a shit-eating grin.

“Wait,” I ran to the man, grabbing his wrist, his expression turning amused, “if the information is so important, would it not be better to share it with her privately as you originally intended.”

I suppose I had a stern expression as I said that as Tony burst out laughing, “What am I? A schoolboy scolded by his teacher?”

“Not far off on the teacher part.” He stopped for a moment before a small smile came across his face.

“Really now? When was that?” He leaned against the table again, his interest shifting to the current topic more and more.

“It was my last job. I taught at a private academy outside Salem for almost three years.”

“Interesting. And what provoked the sudden career change?”

“I don’t believe I owe you that information, Mr. Stark, unless it pertains to a crime.”

A silence passed as he tilted his head one way and then the other. “Fair point. It doesn’t apply to California's laws, but sure, plead the fifth. I won’t judge you.”

“Oh no,” I said sarcastically, “how could I ever go on with the great Tony Stark judging me!”

“Ha-ha, very funny.” He moved his hands in an almost childish manner. Playing to exaggerate his point, “You don’t seem like the type to leave such a luxurious position for any old reason. And given that you didn’t have a job lined up, you left quickly. Why is that?”

“... My long-term partner and fellow teacher at the institution cheated on me with our co-worker.”

I looked up, his face seeming to wander between holding back a chuckle and ‘Oh shit’.

After quickly stiffening his laugh, a voice rang out behind, “Well, that’s quite the loss on their end.” Ms. Potts said from her place, leaning on the doorframe. Noticing her, I stood up, “You were a great help today, and from the small glimpse I’ve seen with you and Tony, well, I think he’ll be in good hands.” 

By the time she finished her sentence, she was standing in front of myself and Tony. He still placed his weight on the desk but now he stood with his back straightened. I couldn’t help but let out a light chuckle, watching how much his demeanor changed when trying to maintain a good image around her.

“Please, Ms.Potts-“

“-Call me, Pepper. Please.”

“Alright… Pepper. Thank you, but you’re too kind. I just did what I could to help. That’s nothing to be hired over.”

I watched as she placed a hand on her hip, looked at Tony, then looked back at me.

“Hun, I mean this in the nicest way I can,” she says as she placed her hand on my shoulder lightly pushing me to sit, “do you want this fucking job?”

"Yes?"

“Great! You’re hired. Tony is scheduled to attend an event in Milan later this week so, I’d recommend you get ready for it. You’ll be at the convention for four days, not including travel days, please keep that in mind while packing. Now, if you don’t mind,” she moved her arm in front of her covered desk, “I have a few rather large stacks of paperwork to get to. Tony will show you to your office, once you’re done you’re free to leave,” she moved around the desk to type something on the computer, “I’ll have the receptionist send the order out for your ID badge, we’ll most likely have it tomorrow, otherwise it will be the day after that.” She moved up to Tony and me pushing him off her desk and casually shooing us to the door, “Congrats on the new secretary, Tony, don’t fuck it up. And to you, good luck.”

And just like that, I was standing outside of Ms. Potts' office with Mr. Stark. He led me over to his office, the room was rather cluttered but, inside and to the left there was a door. He looked over his shoulder, I guess to check to see if I was still there. He then opened the door, which, led to the secretary’s office.

“There’s another door leading in from the hall, so, please, don’t feel required to come through this room every morning. If you have any other questions, you have my number. Otherwise, I have better things to do.”

“I’m good Mr. Stark.”

“Mr. Stark was my father, call me Tony.”

“Okay then, Tony.”

“Well, I’ll be seeing you then.” He gave a slight wave and walked out into his office. The sound of his door closing let me know he was either leaving or heading back to Pepper’s. 

I took another look around the room, it was well-furnished and fairly clean. There was nothing I could see that needed repair either. I wouldn't need to bring anything in.

We boarded the plane about sixteen hours ago and finally reached our destination. We were about five minutes from landing. I got up to wake up Tony, who had been asleep for the past four hours.

I walked over to his chair, slightly nudging his shoulder, “Mr. Stark, wake up. We’re about to land.”

“Fuck you”

“Apologies, sir.” I sat across from him and buckled my seatbelt.

After I had finished the pilot sent the message over the intercom. Tony begrudgingly followed the instructions. The landing was a bit bumpy, but far from the worst I’d felt.

Once we were given the all-clear to start unboarding we started walking down the airplane's staircase. I started walking towards the car that was waiting when I heard a loud bang. The unmistakable sound of a gunshot rang out. I turned around and saw Tony writhing on the ground.

[neewtmas]

Maybe You’re The Idiot

A/N: if I’m honest, I’m not really sure if I like this. it kind of feels all over the place, and I realised again that I’m not the best at writing enemies to lovers or kissing scenes lol if there are any typos, it’s bc it’s 5 am. @ the anon who requested, thank you so much, I hope you enjoy!

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

wordcount: 4.4k

request:  I love everything you’ve written, I often go back to reread and I can’t get enough! So thank you for your works <3 if you can and are willing I have this in mind: George karim x fem!reader who’s joined l&co for a bit but George still hasn’t warmed up to her and she’s trying to prove herself to them to the point of recklessness. Lockwood Lucy who have been playing mediators and peacemaker are fed up with their arguing, claiming they would get along very well if they actually tried. They set them up so they can resolve their rivalry (prob forced proximity with them having to team up for a small mission) but first time is a disaster and from that you’re free to ddo whatever you like - by anon

taglist: @maraschinomerry @marinalor @oblivious-idiot @thedonutdeliverygirl​ (if you wanna be added/removed, just send me an ask :))

masterlist

The house was silent. It was a heavy silence, definitely supernatural. The sun had gone down a few hours ago, and ever since then, darkness had crept stealthily into every room. In stark contrast to the eery atmosphere in the rest of the residence, the kitchen was like a small island of warmth and comfort amidst a sea of dark unknowns. In the centre of the kitchen table stood an oil lamp, its yellowy flame flickering. Any conversation had long since died down, and now it was just a waiting game. Y/N was tapping her fingers on the wooden surface in irregular patterns, glancing at her watch every few seconds. She was nervous about what the night would bring.

“Could you stop!” George snapped, glaring at her and she jumped, immediately taking her hands off the table. “God, you drive me crazy”, he muttered. Y/N straightened up. “What is your problem?”, she asked, exasperated. George had yet to say a single nice word to her, even after several weeks of them working together. If he wasn’t ignoring her entirely, it was all sarcastic remarks or snide comments about her abilities as an agent. She hated how he could make her feel so small and stupid by just looking at her. She got along just fine with Lockwood and Lucy and just wished that George would finally accept her. “I don’t have a problem”, George shot back, crossing his arms and looking at her provocatively. "But maybe you do." She was just about to throw some snarky comment back at him when Lockwood interrupted. "That's enough", he said sharply. "It's nearing midnight and we need to stay alert. Can't have you two squabbling in the background."

Y/N stayed close to Lucy as they left the kitchen a few minutes later, rapiers hanging from their belts, tool kits slung over their torsos. The old lady that hired them tonight had described how her grandchildren had started avoiding the living room, and how the youngest, still a toddler, had cried incessantly whenever anyone would bring him near. She hadn’t noticed anything, but that wasn’t unusual at her age. They had checked the entire house, but as expected, the living room was the only spot with any abnormal phenomena. Lucy had reported some distant whispering, and all of them had felt the heavy atmosphere.

George set down the duffle bag with the chains and went back to the kitchen. Y/N started unfurling the metal and laying it out in the space between in a circle.

“Why don’t you bang them around a bit louder, Y/N? I don’t think the neighbours three houses down heard you yet.”

She turned around swiftly at the sound of George’s mocking voice. “Why don’t you do it yourself then? If you know everything better?” She dropped the end of the chain she was holding and the sound echoed through the room. Lucy rolled her eyes. “Just leave her alone for once, George.”

The temperature had dropped significantly, and miasma was creeping up on everyone. Lucy handed out some chewing gum, and then they stood inside the iron circle, waiting for the apparition to manifest.

Just a few minutes after the old grandfather clock in the hallway had chimed midnight, Lucy reported an increase in the whispering and all four of them watched the corner she had located it in. Y/N had the best sight out of all of them, and so she was the first to make out the shape of a young man. "He's here", she whispered as the ghost drew nearer, feet submerged in the carpet, his outline getting clearer the closer he came. 

"He appeared right next to the cabinet. I bet the source is somewhere in there." "What does he look like?" Lockwood asked, sunglasses perched on his nose. "His death glow is suddenly really bright." 

Y/N studied the face of the ghost, a cold shiver running down her spine as she gazed into the black abyss that was once his eyes. "Early thirties maybe. He's wearing a suit, but no tie." 

"I don't get much from him", Lucy chimed in. "Just that he is angry." 

"I'll run over to the cabinet and secure the source", Y/N said and was about to step over the chains on the ground, when George grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her back so that she stumbled against him. "Have you lost your mind?", he hissed. "You have no idea if the source is even there!" She tried to shake off his arm and snapped at him. "Oh shut up, George. Do you have any better ideas?" "No, but that doesn't mean I just run out of a secured area without any preparation and precaution like an idiot -"

That was the last straw. Y/N yanked her arm out of his grip and leapt over the chains, rushing towards the cabinet. The ghost lurched in her direction and she made a few quick motions with her rapier, causing it to draw back. She sprinted over to the cabinet, dropped to her knees in front of it, and started tearing open the compartments. Behind her, a vase got picked up by the supernatural wind that surged through the room, crashed to the ground and shattered into a million pieces. 

Someone was yelling her name, and suddenly George was next to her, wildly swinging his rapier over her head. The last drawer was stuck and she pulled on it with every bit of strength she could muster, until suddenly it came loose, sending her flying back and right into George. He cursed loudly as he fell over. They were now sprawled on the ground, tangled together in a pile of limbs unable to move and suddenly the ghost of the young man was above them. His face was pulled into a horrific, grotesque display of pure wrath as he plummeted down on them. Y/N screamed and tried to pull out her rapier from underneath her in a last desperate attempt when from one moment to another, the ghost disappeared. 

The screaming wind died down immediately and all that stayed was a violent ringing in her ears as George untangled himself from her and stood up, dusting himself off. He did not offer her his hand, he didn't even give her so much as a single glance before he stomped out of the room. Lucy kneeled next to her, a crumpled-up silver net in her hand. "Are you okay, Y/N?" she asked, taking her hand and helping her up. Y/N nodded weakly. That could have gone terribly wrong. 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The taxi ride home was awkward, to say the least. No one was saying a word, Lockwood looked out the window with his lips pressed together in a thin line the entire time, Y/N had her gaze lowered to her hands in her lap. She could tell Lockwood was angry. She looked over to George once, but when she found him already looking at her with an undefinable expression on his face, she quickly averted her eyes. The last thing she needed was another comment from George. 

Back in 35 Portland Row, Lockwood was pacing up and down in front of them in the kitchen, lips still pressed together, wringing his hands. The atmosphere was tense, no one dared to say a word in fear he would explode at even the slightest disturbance. Finally, he turned to George and Y/N, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“I’ve had more than enough of your stupid, childish antics. You’re disrupting our work as a team and -”

“It wasn't my -” George quipped up, but Lockwood silenced him with a motion of his hand. “No! I don’t care! I don’t care whose fault it was or was not, I don’t care!” His voice got louder towards the end, clearly more than fed up. George seemed like he wanted to say something, but decided against it.

Lockwood continued, trying hard to keep his voice calm. “We are a team. And we need to be able to rely on each other, or else we all could end up dead. Do you understand that?”

Both George and Y/N nodded reluctantly, carefully avoiding even looking in each other's direction.

“Tonight was a disaster, and as much as I'd like to right now, I won’t fire either of you. You have two options: You learn to get along or you both quit. End of discussion.” Without another word, he left the kitchen, Lucy following him close behind.

Y/N and George sat on their respective chairs like two school children that just got scolded, Lockwood’s anger and what he had said still hanging heavy in the air.

George exhaled and broke the silence. “He’s right, you know? Maybe if you hadn’t been so stupid -” Y/N immediately jumped up, balling her fists. “Stupid? Me?” George also rose from his seat, making a few quick steps toward her and jabbing his finger into her chest. His eyes behind his glasses were narrowed as he spoke through gritted teeth. “Yes, stupid. You almost got yourself killed back there, Y/N. Killed. Do you understand what that means?”

For a moment she was overwhelmed by how close he was, but then she pushed him back by his shoulders and he stumbled. “Guess what George? I do! But it’s not like you’d care anyways, so why does it matter to you?”

She didn’t give him a chance to reply and stormed out of the kitchen. He stood there, hand raised and her name on his lips, but she was already gone.

The next morning, Y/N entered the kitchen and was surprised to see everyone already sitting at the table. Lockwood's expression was unreadable, Lucy was smiling in a way that made Y/N worried for what was to come, and George sat slouched on his chair and looked like he'd rather be anywhere else but here. "Sit down, Y/N", Lockwood said and pointed to the last empty chair right next to George. He huffed as Y/N dragged it over the floor to sit as far away from him as possible. "This is an intervention", Lockwood began as soon as she sat. Oh no. "This -" he gestured towards the space between George and Y/N, "can't go on. Tonight, you two go on a case. Together. Just the two of you." 

Y/N stared at him in disbelief, then buried her face in her hands with a sigh. He couldn't be serious. 

"Great idea Lockwood. She's probably gonna get us both killed", George scoffed, crossing his arms as he leaned back. "I don't care. If you gave each other a chance, I think you would get along just fine." 

Lucy leaned forward, a sly smile on her lips. "Actually, I think you'd get along very, very well." 

George scoffed louder, furrowing his brows. "I hope you're not implying what I think you're implying, Lucy." She smirked at him and shrugged. "That's for you to decide, George. Maybe you have some time to think about it tonight."

Y/N looked back and forth between them, and she could feel heat creep up her cheeks. What were they on about? What was Lucy implying?

After dinner, which was spent in tense silence, Lockwood and Lucy set off to their case of the night, leaving Y/n and George behind. This was the first time since Y/n had started working at Lockwood & Co that they were alone. They left the house and climbed into the cab that was waiting at the corner. LISA stared out of the window and watched the rows of houses pass by in the dusk. Many had brightly lit windows and she caught some glimpses of the people that lived there - someone cooking dinner, another person dancing through their living room - and she felt a sense of profound sadness wash over her. When she stepped into 35 Portland Row for the first time, she felt at home immediately. After some rather unpleasant experiences in other smaller agencies, she had been apprehensive about even applying, but it was her last viable option. Lucy and Lockwood had made her feel welcome immediately, and George... well George, after ignoring her for a while, became less welcoming by the day. Lucy had warned her that he could be somewhat stand-offish, but that he would warm up to her quickly, even reassuring her that he'd been the same with her. But he hadn't warmed up at all. She had no idea what she did to make him feel that way, but by now it was glaringly obvious that he could not stand her. 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

When they arrived at their destination, a somewhat run-down apartment building, George grabbed their bag, jumped out of the cab and sped-walked to the entrance, not looking behind him to check if Y/N was following him. For a second she contemplated just telling the cabdriver to take her back to Portland Row, but then she decided against it. No reason to make George hate her even more. 

They entered the elevator, which had seen better days, and stood silently as it made its way up. Y/N stared at her ectoplasm-stained boots in the blotchy mirror, and when she raised her head, she caught George looking at her through the reflection, but he quickly looked away. That was something he did a lot. He never talked to her except with snide comments when she did something he deemed stupid, but she lost count of how often she had caught him looking at her. It made her feel self-conscious in the worst way.

The elevator dinged and they stepped out onto a dimly lit hallway, the few lamps on the ceiling flickering ominously. "Apartment 386", George said curtly and turned to the left. Y/N stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket and threw a glance at the hallway behind her before she quickly followed him. He maybe wasn't very pleasant company, but at least she felt safer than if she were alone. 

He didn't wait for her to catch up before he knocked at the door of apartment 386. Just when she came to a halt next to him, the door opened and revealed a small, elderly woman. She smiled brightly as she saw their rapiers and the bag George was carrying. "You must be Lockwood & Co" she exclaimed and opened the door wider. "Come in! I prepared some tea." Y/N looked over to George, who glanced at her and then followed the woman into her apartment. 

It was decorated exactly in the way one would imagine an old lady decorating her living space. Lots of floral patterns, old furniture, and everything looking somewhat dated. On a dresser in the living room stood several picture frames that showed the woman with what was either her son or her daughter, their spouse and two small children that smiled happily into the camera. 

On the dark wooden table in the kitchen, the woman had prepared a steaming kettle of tea, several cups and a heaping plate of biscuits. She gestured to the chairs and scurried back into the kitchen. "Please sit down", she called and when she came back, she was holding a little porcelain box that she put down on the table. "I'm Violet", she introduced herself, smiling. She seemed elated at the thought of Y/N and George keeping her company. 

"So you're Lockwood?" she asked George after he reluctantly sat down on one of the chairs, the pink rose pattern of the upholstery clashing horribly with the orange of his jacket. He opened his mouth but had no chance to get even a single word in because Violet just kept talking. 

"And the delightful young lady?" She set a cup of steaming tea in front of Y/N. "Is that your girlfriend? That's just lovely. You know, I find it horrible that you young folks have to risk your lives every day, it's nice to see that you make the best of it. My grandson is part of an agency as well. Not as small as yours, but also not one of the big ones. Sometimes I don't know what to think of that, but -"

Violet kept talking as she gave George his cup of tea, but Y/N wasn't listening anymore. She was still hung up on what she said about her. George's girlfriend? How did she come to that conclusion? And why did the idea of that not seem that bad? Suddenly she felt hot. She shook her head, trying to fight off these thoughts and get back to the issue at hand. 

When Violet finally stopped talking to take a sip from her tea, George asked quickly: "So, why did you call our agency? What is the problem?" 

"Didn't I already tell you over the telephone?" Violet asked, confused. 

"No, that was Lockwood, our employer." Y/N couldn't help but notice that George corrected her on her assumption that he was Lockwood, but not on the one where she called her his girlfriend. 

"Well, for quite some time I've been hearing scratching in my walls. And sometimes this horrible screaming." She shivered, clearly distraught at the thought. "Wait, you've been hearing it?", Y/N asked. That was impossible. Violet nodded eagerly. "Yes! Almost every night. I've lost so much sleep over this, you wouldn't believe it."

George took off his glasses, polished them on his sweater and put them back on. "Violet... does any of your neighbours have a cat? Or maybe a ferret? Or anything of the sort?" She looked at him, confused. "I think Ms. Fernsby two apartments down has a cat. Why is that important?"

George pinched his nose and took a deep breath, and Y/N could tell that he was trying to hold himself together. "Because whatever you are hearing at night, I can tell you with absolute certainty it's not a ghost. If I were you, I'd call animal control. I believe you've got a cat in your walls."

It took quite some time to convince Violet that the scratching she heard was indeed no malevolent ghost, but probably just the neighbour's cat and to get her to stop trying to offer them one cup of tea after the other. 

When they finally stood in front of the apartment building again, the street was deserted and dark. George had called a cab to bring them back home, and now they waited, leaning against the building wall. Every few minutes, the ghost lamps turned on, bathing their surroundings in cold, green light. 

It was a clear night, no clouds obscuring the stars. Y/N leaned her head back, watching the dark sky. She had her jacket pulled tightly around her body, trying to protect herself from the chilly air. In her peripheral, she could see George fiddle with the zipper of his jacket, glancing over at her every now and then. She wanted to say something, anything, but it felt like her throat constricted every time she opened her mouth. Just then, the cab pulled up and George jumped, grabbing the bag and rushing towards it. 

Twenty minutes later, they stood in front of 35 Portland Row, the backlights of the cab disappearing down the street. George pushed open the wonky gate and climbed up the stairs, setting down the duffel bag with a heavy thud. He started rummaging through his pockets. Y/N watched him check every pocket twice before he turned to her. "Do you have a key?" he asked, and she shook her head. "I thought you had one." 

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Of course you did." 

She stood straighter, crossing her arms in front of her. Anger was bubbling up inside of her chest and she had to use every ounce of self-control she had to not scream at him. 

"What is your problem, George? It's not like you brought one! Why do you have to criticise every single thing I do? Why the hell do you act like I'm the stupidest person on earth?"

George threw his hands up, exasperated. "Because you are, Y/N! You are reckless, you have no regard for your safety, and I -"

Before he could end his sentence, the door in front of them got ripped open and Lockwood stood in the frame, raising his eyebrows. "I can't believe it. I send you on a case in hopes you finally get along and what happens? You start fighting right in front of my house!"

George scowled, picking up the bag and walking into the hallway, pushing past Lockwood. "The case was a joke. What did this woman tell you on the telephone? Something about screaming in her wall maybe? Because guess what, that's not a ghost, that's just a bloody cat. And thanks to that I just had to waste an entire evening with her." 

He dropped the bag next to the kitchen entrance and stomped up the stairs. Seconds later, the sound of a door slamming echoed through the house and Lockwood chuckled. "Oh, he's in a bad mood." 

The next few days, George ignored Y/N. Whenever she entered a room he was in, it wouldn't take long for him to leave. If he came into the kitchen and saw her sitting at the table, he would turn around on his heels and leave. At meal times, he acted as if she wasn't even there. And even though Y/N didn't want to admit it, it was starting to eat away at her. 

Three days after the disaster that was their solo case, she came downstairs from her room to get herself a cup of tea. She was about to push open the door, but when she heard the voices of Lucy and George in the kitchen, her hand stopped in mid-air, hovering over the handle.

"She is driving me crazy!" That was George. He sounded exasperated, and she could exactly imagine how he looked right now, hands thrown in the air, eyebrows drawn together in a frown. 

"But why? She's not doing anything. You're just being unfair to her at this point."

"She's just so reckless! She doesn't care for herself and her safety! She's just another Lockwood!" It was silent for a while. "Are you sure that you're not just... worried about her?", Lucy asked softly. "Because you actually do care?"

Y/N leaned closer to the door, her heartbeat quickening. What would George say? "What are you doing there?" Lockwood's voice sounded from behind her and she yelped, losing her balance and pushing the door open. Lucy whipped around and both she and George stared at Y/N, wide-eyed. "I - I didn't mean to -" She was searching for words desperately, her face hot with embarrassment. 

Lucy rose from her seat. "I think you two need to talk", she said, slipping past Y/N and pushing her further into the kitchen. Before she closed the door, she stuck her head in and looked back and forth between them. "You are not leaving until you have talked this out, got it?"

After the door closed, Y/N stood there, nervously shifting her weight from one leg to the other. She was entirely overwhelmed by the situation. 

George was looking everywhere but at her. "What did you hear?", he finally asked. "Not much. Just that I drive you crazy." 

"Yeah, you do! Of course you do. It's annoying enough to have one reckless person in the team, but two is just -", he was searching for words. "I can't be the only one with common sense here!"

Y/N huffed. "How would you know if I have common sense or not? Until now, you've either ignored or insulted me!"

George jumped up, his chair scraping over the floor. "Someone with common sense doesn't throw themselves in front of every single visitor they come across! Without any thought!" 

Y/N made a step forward, that familiar anger stirring inside her. 

"Maybe I wouldn't have to do this if you didn't take every single chance you get to paint me as an incompetent agent! Maybe I wouldn't have to do this if you just accepted me as part of the team like you did with Lucy! What is different about me, huh? Am I really that horrible that you want to bully me out of here? What did I ever do to you?!" 

Y/N had talked herself into a rage, so much so that she was yelling in George's face by the end of it. She hadn't even noticed that she had moved closer to him during her tirade until he gripped her shoulders, making her stop in her tracks.

"Look at me. You drive me crazy, okay?!" His voice was low, and under the sudden intensity of his gaze, all of Y/N's anger melted away and got quickly replaced by a fluster. "I don't know how to handle this, I don't know how to handle you. You just turn up on our doorstep one day, and suddenly, I don't know what to do with myself anymore. Suddenly, I start behaving like an absolute idiot whenever you are around. And then you start throwing yourself in life-threatening situations like an idiot -"

Without thinking, Y/N reached forward, cupped his face with her hands and pulled him in for a kiss. The moment their lips met, he went rigid, and she almost pulled away, the horrible fear of having misread the situation entirely washing over her. But then he seemed to realise what was happening. His hands slid down her arms until they gripped her waist and he pulled her closer to him. Without breaking the kiss, he walked her back a few steps until she collided with the counter. Suddenly, his hands were everywhere, roaming over her back, down to her hips, back to her waist. He was kissing her with such fervour, but at the same time with such gentleness that it was making her feel dizzy. She buried her hands in his curls, eliciting a small gasp from him. She pulled back with a smile, and he looked at her, eyes glazed over, lips puffy from her kisses. 

"Maybe you are the idiot, George."

thanks for reading, feedback is appreciated :)

wanna request something?

[thisismeracing]

https://www.tumblr.com/thisismeracing/733756361805004800/which-we-wanna-talk-about-first-tugging-on-lewis?source=share

ok but lets talk about how mick would absolutely learn how to take care of hamilton!reader's hair

this man already sorts hamilton!reader's rice for her so its not far off that he would learn another way to take care of her

i think he also does it because he wants to know how to take care of their potential kids hair if they get hamilton!reader's curly hair

FAMILY HAIR DAY

MICK, HAMILTON!READER, AND THEIR LITTLE TODDLER

AND TODDLER SCHUMACHER-HAMILTON IS GETTING THEIR HAIR DONE BY ONE PARENT ON EACH SIDE OF THEIR HEAD

or

pre-shumacher-hamilton kids: lewis and mick doing the back of hamilton!readers hair while hamliton!reader works on the front

ok imma stop there

(i think the sickness has gotten to my head because i went on about schumacher-hamilton babies, im going to go cough up my lungs now)

☕

every time I reread the rice scene my heart goes kjdgdsfjiodhjdskjhkdsjg

the way he's obsessed with her I would bet the thoughts about their kids' hair would come later on. It would start when they got to spend more time together, he would watch attentively her hair routine, what she did before and after bed, how she washed her hair, and so on. Mick finds it therapeutic to watch her go around each step, he'll ask her questions here and there, to which she'll explain, and some time into the relationship she'll ask for him to do some of those, such as wash her hair, or help her detangle it. And I just know homeboy will be all happy she's trusting him and they're sharing yet another moment, he'll def open YouTube and start watching tutorials on how to braid, and some details that he may have let slip and he doesn't wanna keep asking her. Next thing hamilton!reader knows Mick has half of her products in his apartment because "I saw it online and well, I just wanted to save you the trouble of always bringing and taking your bottles of hair product..." and she won't tease him about it because she too got some of his stuff for her house (THIS REMINDS ME OF THAT SCENARIO YOU SENT ME FOR AN EXTRA KJSDKJGDSG) anyways, they'll end up having spa days before or after racing weeks, whenever they can, and their schedules let them, and it'll go from hair care to skincare. And when they're all fresh and smelling as good as ever, they'll lie together either in bed or on the couch, turn on their playlist, and take a nap (you can bet Lewis will pretend to be jealous about this new tradition because you two too have your hair care day every month or whenever you find a free time in your schedules).

TODDLER!HAMILTON-SCHUMACHER DKGJSKGJSDG I AM CRYINGGG THIS SCENARIO WOULD BE SO CUTE!!!!!

Mick's phone would be full of braiding tutorials and pics because his kid would definitely ask for some new types and he wants to do it too, they'll definitely create some kind of tradition where they'll braid their baby girl's hair, and then hamilton!reader's hair too. Lots of snacks, giggles, and music while they're going about it.

After the rice situation Lewis wouldn't even be surprised Mick knew how to braid hair kfjskgjsdgkj

i think the sickness has gotten to my head because i went on about schumacher-hamilton babies, im going to go cough up my lungs now/// BESTIE I LOVED IT AKGJSKDGJSK ily <3 take care!!

Read KOMH here

[fentibeauty]

okay, we know toxic!riri is a hypocrite. she’s most likely to leave you on delivered for DAYSS. what about her getting mad at reader for doing it to her?

a/n: i like the way you thinkk, hope i fed you well with this.

warnings: toxicity, profanity, aggression, angst.

tags: @melodykisses @shuris-whore @saturnville @haechvn @ppawmpkin @cherios @vargskelegore @angeliquebones @szalipcombo @rxcently @playgurlxoxo @shurisbbymama (comment if you wanna be in tag list)

you were with your friend, shopping at the mall treating yourself. it was the end of the semester, you passed all of your exams, so why not have a day to yourself? you decided not to bring riri along, the reasons behind it is because she can get rather annoying while shopping, and you we’re currently upset with her.

you understood it was finals week, plus she was iron heart and she was always busy. but it didn’t excuse the fact that she would literally leave you on delivered for days. not even reacting to the message with at least a thumbs up. you told your friends about it, you didn’t like bringing them into your relationship problems with riri but you were desperate for advice.

“knowing myself, i would just do the same thing back. play their game. they’ll notice what you’re doing and they should stop their game playing. but also knowing riri, you gon have to work 10x harder than me.” your friend told you as she picked up a shirt she was interested in.

you nodded your head, maybe you should do the exact shit riri does to you.

starting now..

you guys walked to the food court, you were so hungry after all the shopping. once you and your friend sat down with your food you guys engaged in conversation.

“let me tell you, i am so glad finals are over, i was so close to-”

*ping!*

you look down at your phone and it was indeed a text message from riri, interrogating you about your whereabouts.

riri <3: ma, i’ve been knocking on your door for way too long, where tf are you? sent: 2:45pm

you looked back at your friend, “like i was saying.. i was so close to ending it all. i’ve never been so stressed in my entire life”

“i’m surprised i passed mine. i didn’t study at all.” your friend shrugged as she popped a fry into her mouth. you shook your head, “you never study for anything.”

“hey! if i ace everything without studying what’s the point?” she tried to reason. “i guess.” you laughed.

riri <3: answer your fucking phone, you’re lucky i don’t have your location or i’d pop up on your ass. sent 2:50pm

riri <3: ANSWER THE DAMN PHONE Y/N. sent 2:51pm

riri <3: stop playing with me, man. what’s so important to where you can’t answer your girlfriend’s text message??? sent: 2:52pm.

you watched at the messages came through, rolling your eyes at the hypocrisy in these messages. you look up at your friend who has an amused grin on her face. “looks like she ain’t playing around, huh?” you shake your head.

“hush! she’s such a hypocrite, look at these messages.” you showed her.

riri <3: you’re not even at campus are you.. you’re pissing me off really. i know damn well you’re on your phone. sent 2:54pm

riri <3: what’s the fucking point of having one if you ain’t responding to me? sent: 2:55pm

“ou girl, they keep on coming. you definitely in for it.” your friend found everything about this funny. “maybe i shouldn’t have told you to do this, because riri is nuts.” she reread the messages to get another laugh.

you looked back at your phone to read the new messages as you shook your head. you silenced your phone and put it on the table. “let’s just continue our lovely day. i’ll deal with her later.” you picked up your lemonade taking a sip of it.

you and friend left the mall, you then went to go get your hands and feet done. you got a touch up on your eyebrows and you even got a massage!

as you were driving back to the university you have yet to check your phone since. you parked in the student parking and got out of the car. you and your friend retrieved your bags from the trunk.

“it was nice girl, let me know when you wanna do this again! i’m free for you always.” she smiled. you went in for a hug, saying goodbye and going separate directions.

you finally looked at your phone and there was indeed 30 messages from riri fucking williams. you didn’t even bother reading them, you knew it was gonna be a bunch of hypocrite bullshit.

you made it to your dorm, and opened the door. you sighed and placed the bags on the table. you turned back around to lock your door. as you were about to turn around you froze.

“so you ain’t seen my messages mama?” your eyes went wide, how the FUCK did she get in here? “how.. did you get in here?” you were sure you locked your door. “don’t worry about all of that. why the hell didn’t you answer my damn texts!” riri got up from your bed and walked towards you.

she backed you up to the door and stared you into your eyes. “where. the. fuck. were. you. all. day?” you looked down, your submissive self slowly coming out by riri’s dominant tone.

“i was out.” you looked down. riri grabbed your chin and forced you to look her in the eye. “and that causes you to not respond to me all fucking day? it’s 8 fucking pm.” you felt yourself getting angry. “i was enjoying my fucking self. treating myself after this long ass week of exams. i was with my friend and i was just enjoying the moment.” you pushed her off of you.

“enjoying the moment with her? for fuck what? why couldn’t you bring me along?? i had exams too.”

“look at the way you act! i don’t want you to ruin our day because of your toxicity.” you point at her.

“that still doesn’t excuse the fact that you ignored me this whole time.” you scoff, smiling. “really riri.. REALLY? what does a few hours have on SEVERAL DAYS, that you go without texting me. you went a week without responding to my messages.”

“you know i be caught up in things though.

“listen to yourself! you’re being a damn hypocrite! i’m busy, you’re busy. we’re both business. but i also find a way to text my girlfriend because i love you and i want you to know that i’m here. but it seems that i’m the last person on your fucking mind all the time because you never text me BACK!” you were furious at this point. you finally told her how you felt about her ignoring you after a while.

you know riri wanted to have a rebuttal, she wanted to have the last word but couldn’t. she knew you were right, she sighed in defeat. “look ma, i’m sorry okay. i’m sorry. i understand what you’re saying i do.”

“no you don’t, you never do.” you crossed your arms. “you say you understand but go back to do this same exact shit 2 days after.”

she walked up to you. she uncrossed your arms and they fell to your side. she said wrapped her arms around your waist. you looked at the wall in-front of you. “i hate texting, you know this baby. i’d rather you just come and see me.” she kissed your neck. you tucked your lips in not phased by what she was saying or doing. “i know, i know. we have 2 different schedules and routines so it can be tricky to communicate.”

“it’s never that tri-”

“shhh, just let me finish talking, ma.” riri’s hands made her way down to cup your ass, giving it a firm smack making you stumble into her arms a bit.

you let out an aggravated huff and looked into her eyes, “imma work on my communication. i promise. okay? but it aint gon happen overnight. just work with me. call me, facetime me, pull up at my garage if you feel like i’m ignoring you. ion like texting, like i said before but i’ll try to get better.” she pulled you closer to her as she kissed your jawline before pulling you in for a kiss.

don’t fold. don’t fold. don’t fold. don’t fold.

you knees buckled as you gave in, riri grinned into the kiss and you whined. “you still mad at me baby?” riri asked. “you don’t play fair.” you hit her shoulder.

“never have, never will.”

the enddd.

[wallpaper-inside-my-heart]

💛Smoshblr December Asks Final Day💙

IMPORTANT NOTES (that I forgot to include in todays ask):

If you aren't done with answering all your questions yet, but want to; then don't feel any pressure to do this today 🤗 Just bc it says december on the tin, doesn't mean I will appreciate getting your answer any less, if it's in late january or smth 🫶

also: I promise I will get around to looking at & interacting with everyone's responses! I promise I did not forget about you, I have just been/still am incredibly busy irl 🙈

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alright, buckle in folks, this is a long one 😅✨

(Split into three parts like the other asks; No pressure to any of you to do the same tho, I just really like this format and it suited my thoughts/organizing needs)

My favourite smosh related memories of 2023 (chronologically):

Tldr:

1.) Joining the smoshblr community 💚

2.) Spommy nation 💜

3.) Smoshblr December Asks 💛💙

now for anyone who is interested in me rambling way too much:

Joining the Smoshblr community 💚

I got into smosh at the start of this year bc of the Reddit stories videos (I watched a couple smosh vids over the years before, but never consistently followed their releases). They became smth I looked forward to every week and lead me to check out more smosh videos in general! I also remember checking the tumblr tag for smosh back then and being a little disappointed, that the fandom was fairly inactive, barring a few exceptions <3

And then the reunion happened and it took me like 3 whole days or so to actually realizewhat went down 🙈. Bc I saw the thumbnails for the interview and the 2t1l vids and was just like “Aww, it’s so nice that they are friends again and doing a collab! 😊 (I’ll watch these later tho…)” Little did I know that finally watching them would turn my year around in a way that I could have never seen coming!

Suddenly the Smoshblr community exploded with activity and so so many lovely ppl joined and started sharing their thoughts and feelings about the reunion. And while I wasn’t an OG fan by any stretch, it really felt like there was magic in the air/ on this platform! 😹💕

I’ve been into fandom for more than half of my life by now. But I’ve never really gotten “personally” involved in any active communities. Just someone hovering on the sidelines and simply liking & reblogging stuff from time to time.

But with this community smth just started to click for me and made me to get “more out of my shell” or whatever idioms might apply here. And this allowed me to meet so many awesome people!! 💖 Special shoutout to @wiggog-y-hecox 💜, who was literally my first friend in this community! I still so fondly remember our talks about your cool smosh AU concepts! 🤗💙 And also to @swiftllama 🩵 for discussing so many taylor swift lyrics and ianthony with me (+occasionally good omens too 😹💕) And also @japhan2023! 💚 I know we’ve been chatting on and off since the beginning, but I am also so so happy that this month in particular allowed us to grow even closer!

2. Spommy nation 💜

So we’re moving into the middle/end of summer now on the timeline for this one. I was in the middle of writing my bachelor thesis and really going through it mentally bc of that. Getting deeper and deeper into the Smoshblr community also lead me to check out more smosh fanfics in general. Which is how I discovered the fic the right side of my neck (still smells like you) - jovenshires (imdeansgirl) - Smosh [Archive of Our Own] by our beloved @jovenshires 🩷.

Now I’ve told Katie <3 this story before so I’ll keep it brief here; but basically smth about this fic was incredibly comforting to my overworked brain. And I’ve reread it more times that I’ve ever read a fanfic in my life before that. And I truly think it has forever changed my brain chemistry, and also made me very attached to this ship (aside from the fact, that spommy is genuinely such an amazingly adorable ship with incredible amounts of potential, like!! I don’t wanna downplay that bc of the chemical reactions in my brain around that time 🙈) Some more stuff happened which eventually lead me to become friends with Katie, who is truly one of the ppl I treasure the most in the world at this point 💖

But I also wanted to mention Spommy nation as a whole, bc this subsection of the fandom is filled with so many kind, creative and just generally amazing people!And I also just love all of us freaking out whenever we get new crumbs for this ship lmao 😹💕

Special shoutouts to @soupy-girl 💛, Kit! @hoohoobeanie 🖤, Mer!!! @tommybowefuneralattendee 💜, @ancientvamp 🤍 & Snel @blondeforyou 💙 for being some of spommy’s nations strongest soldiers 🫡 and also absolutely lovely and incredible people in general, who I adore so so much🫶🥰

3. Smoshblr December asks 💛💙

I doubt anyone didn’t see this coming 🙈😹

So, I had been meaning to do smth inspired by the “Shayne guesses” series for a while now (also the fact that the official smosh compilation of those vids dropped this week, near the end of this challenge, is so funny to me for some reason). But I never quite figured out how to do it, since I knew guessing for eachother would be difficult. And if I just started randomly messaging all the blogs I’ve followed with an onslaught of these questions, it might get a bit weird or overwhelming 😅…

⚠️slight too personal ramblings ahead, that I don’t wanna force on anyone without warning⚠️

And then, towards the end of November, I gotta be honest, I was really not doing well, especially mentally. (First masters semester and I was still sorta dealing with the damage I caused to my brain while writing the thesis and barely getting two weeks between defending it and starting the new semester to truly recover from it all) And I knew december would get worse, bc I still hadn’t finished all the Christmas presents for my family, assignments were piling up & I kept on catching way too little sleep.

So all of these stressful thoughts made me think “You know, a lot of other ppl are probably struggling with similar stuff rn, especially during these dark & cold times of the year. So why not try to do smth that might bring some joy or fun into other ppl’s lives?” And that’s how I literally typed up that initial post, two days before December started without having planned it for more than a literal day or so 🙈😹 (I did already have a long list of questions, bc I started doing the top 3 stuff in my friendgroup, but rearranging everything to fit the sorta 3-day cycle I wanted to do, still happened up until last week lmao; tho I always knew that this would be the last question <3)

(end of rambling ⚠️)

And I was genuinely, positively overwhelmed by how many people wanted to join in for this silly little game!🥹 I love and appreciate all of you, whether you stuck around for the whole month, might still be catching up on some of the questions (which, no worries, I know there were a lot 🤗) or just answered a few of them! 🤗💖 And as I am currently fighting the urge to tag every single person who participated in this activity, I cannot help myself but atthe very least tag the ppl that I feel like I have grown closest to/gotten to know a hell of a lot better, over the course of this month (some of which I may have known/followed for a while now, but some I also got to know mainly bc of them joining in on this journey with me in the first place: @ceilidhasworld ❤️, @fantasticduckchaos 🩶, @notthatalex 🖤, @natashasbitxh 🧡, @shaynetopps 💜,  @only-frann 💛, @smoshmonker 💚, @smoshidiot 🩷, @craintheodora 🩵, and so so many more of you guys! I just don’t want this entire post to become a taglist or send this to too many ppls notifications 🙈🫶

Note:

I know that I am super behind on interacting with everyone's responses! 🙈 And I promise that I will get to each of them eventually! 🤗 I am just super busy with assignments and exam prep atm. And also get very easily overwhelmed by talking a lot to people, even if it's just online 😅 (I love and appreciate ppl reaching out, asking questions or otherwise trying to have a conversation with me tho! It might just take me a good while to respond in some cases, which I promise has nothing to do with how much I value any of you 🥹🫶💞)

PS: The month might be over, but I do have something special planned in honor of this event and everyone participating in it 👀🫶

💚 Smoshblr December Wrapped 💚

[starlingflight]

Fan Fic Humble Brag Tag

Sometimes we love something we wrote so much we want to knock on every door spreading the good word of our little story. But sometimes we fear being seen as rude or too self promoting. Here is your chance to do a bit of self promo and bragging without fear because some asked you too.

Answer the questions and then tag five writers who you think deserve to brag about their work.

Thank you to @thelighthousestale @ginnyw-potter and @sophie-hatter-jenkins for the tag, I'm sorry this took me so long to do but I am chronically bad at being nice to myself so this was the hardest thing ever.

Answers below the cut (if you read, you might get a sneak peek of a new WIP! 👀)

Tagging @merlinsbudgiesmugglers @lanaturnergetup @artemisia-black

1. The funniest bit of dialogue you've written:

From A Two Step Process (Chapter 2):

Ginny nodded slowly and Harry could practically see the cogs turning in her brain as she tried to work out what had caused this sudden burst of romanticism from him. “Are you pregnant?”

Harry choked on the air he’d been inhaling, causing Ginny to laugh hysterically at his reaction. “What?” Harry spluttered, fighting to regain control of his lungs. “What kind of question is that?”

Ginny shrugged, her laughter easing to a light chuckle. “I couldn’t think what else was causing this behaviour and y’know, you’ve performed impossible feats before.”

“I’m not pregnant,” Harry said, briefly wondering how he'd reached the point of needing to say that out loud. “Are you satisfied?”

2. A story you wrote that made you cry?

Because I Knew You, when Ginny tells Andromeda she held Tonks' hand when she died and promises to make sure Teddy knows what she was like.

3. A story that makes you laugh every time you reread or think about it?

Probably Countdown! Little Teddy is always a source of entertainment.

4. Best moment of canon compliant characterisation?

The whole of ‘Forgetting’? I think this is the closest fic I have to a character study and I loved writing it because I really got to explore a lot of what I think makes Ginny Ginny. 

5. Something you wrote in a fic you secretly (or not so secretly) think is canon?

Ginny trying to fight the Felix Felicis in HBP because she no longer trusts anything that interferes with her perception. (Everything I Wanted, Chapter 10)

6. The most romantic bit you've written?

I actually don't think it's a hinny moment (which has shocked me). I think it's in Homecoming Draco asking Astoria to run away to Paris with him and then revealing that he's already found a stables/yard for Artemisia, closely followed by a decade later when he turns Malfoy Manor into a Hippogriff sanctuary for her (Wayfinding).  

7. A fic you wrote that everyone else sleeps on, that you know is excellent?

Because I Knew You - I love this fic but it's easily my least engaged with, probably because it’s gen. 

8. Wow us with an excellent excerpt?

First look at the Historical friends to enemies to lovers AU: 

“What on Earth do you think you’re doing?” Ginny demanded, wrenching the window open with one hand and dragging Harry through it with the other. “Do you not think one funeral to be sufficient within the space of a week?” 

Harry spared a glance over his shoulder, peering at the ground two stories below as his feet met the soft rug that covered most of her bedroom floor. “A fall from that height would hardly be fatal,” he said unconcernedly. “I may have suffered some injuries, but I’m confident I would make a full recovery.” 

The window rattled in the pane from the force with which Ginny slammed it shut. She closed her eyes and released a deep breath against the vision of him laying broken and bruised in the flowerbed below her window, she had seen quite enough death and injury of late without imagining yet more dire scenarios.  

 “And what do you expect people would say, upon discovering you'd grievously injured yourself falling from my bedroom window?” 

The question did not require an answer, they both knew what would be said in response to such a thing. They were both perfectly aware of what the consequences would be; special licences had been procured for rather a lot less. 

“I've never fallen before,” Harry said, sidestepping the topic of such consequences with aggravating deftness. “I've made the climb many times.” 

“Not in a very long time,” Ginny reminded him. 

It must have been at least five years since he had last attempted to climb the trellis that stretched from the the garden below all the way up to Ginny's window ledge, the trellis which had become rather more hazardous now that it played host to Fleur's beloved roses and their many thorns. Not to mention that Harry was no longer a scrawny young boy, and carried considerably more weight in the form of lean muscle he’d developed in the intervening years. 

Back then, he had utilised the trellis not as a means of seeing Ginny, but as a convenient means of accessing Ron's room, which was two floors above and impossible to reach by scaling the walls of the house. 

Ron, however, was not home at present, a circumstance which begged Ginny to repeat her earlier question. “What are you doing?” 

9. Five words to describe your writing? 

Descriptive, fluff, longing, tension, romance

10. The fic you are most proud of?

Someone Else's Life, it has a plot which I’m notoriously bad at so I’ll always be especially proud of that and I just really loved watching everyone trying to figure out wtf was going on as I was posting.

[izukuwus]

Edible Arrangements: The Final Bite: Thirst

First - Prev - M.list - Read on Ao3

A/N: hey grae, why don't you include the chapter titles in the titles of the actual chapters when every chapter has a title on both the master list and on ao3? I don't know, grae, let's start doing that with the actual final update to edible arrangements. that makes sense, sure.

A/N, TWO!: let's have a little chat about what's next here in the notes of the final update to the last three years of my life. for starters, every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end etc. etc. SO!

announcing!

EA: OnlyFangs!

I intended to have a banner here to announce OnlyFangs but I, uh, didn't make it. oops. but the sequel to Edible Arrangements will launch October 31st!

in the time between now and then, I will be pre-planning, pre-drafting, and largely doing prep work so that OnlyFangs can operate on a consistent update schedule. tentatively, I am aiming to have enough backlogged that I can consistently update once a week. I am fully aware that shit happens, however, and this may change. no matter what, Halloween will mark the start of the sequel, and I am committed to that! in the meantime, I plan on revisiting each chapter of EA to make small edits for consistency and include chapter titles on each installment rather than hiding them. there will be no major changes, only to things like grammar and formatting consistency in the early chapters, so no need to reread, it's just something I'm doing!

thank you to everyone who has stuck around, whether it was from the beginning or partway through. y'all really made this worth it. <3 without further ado, I give you our epilogue!

Summary: You wake up.

Warnings: blood

Word count: 1400+

You are cold when you wake. Worse than that, you are alone.

Worse than that, you are thirsty.

You know where you are, but you can't bring yourself to think about why you got here.

So, you slip out of bed in search of a drink. It's late, but you don't want anything in the house. You know that already.

There's this vending machine on campus that sells weird sodas. Not particularly strange ones, but not the kinds you find in your average vending machine. Coke Vanilla. Shit like that.

You want to go to that vending machine. You're thirsty.

Your wallet is on the vanity. You grab it, find your keys, and slip outside.

It occurs to you, then, that something is strange—the carpet is torn up and half-melted. The room has a strange scent to it. The couches are gone, too.

You're thirsty. You'll ask Izuku about it later.

This is not the right time of day to hang out on campus. It's perfect. You get in your car and drive, and it's only now you realize you're not wearing shoes.

Oh, well. You're just running to the secret vending machine behind the KUC, and it's not like you haven't seen weirder shit on campus than someone buying a soda in—you pause to glance at what you're wearing, having not thought about it until you were already driving and felt the gas pedal under your bare toes—extra baggy basketball shorts and someone else's t-shirt, sans shoes.

And so you drive, on autopilot, until you find parking close to the KUC, and then you walk on autopilot the rest of the way.

The first cool sip of vending machine soda has you sighing into it. Like a man who's walked the desert, you drink it down and don't stop drinking until you've drained the bottle.

As the bottle makes its way into the nearby recycling drop, you find that you are still thirsty.

You've still got change, so what's another bottle?

And yet, as that bottle, too, finds itself immediately emptied and dropped in the recycling, you are still thirsty.

Another.

Still thirsty.

You are nauseous now, from thirst and overwatering yourself. It occurs to you that you should perhaps just drink water, given the level of thirst you're at, but vending machine water is expensive, and you're almost out of loose change to spend on bottles of things as it is.

A clattering nearby. A girl on a skateboard. She's trying to do a kickflip. She's not doing a very good job, based on all the clattering and stumbling and complete lack of kickflipping she's accomplishing. She's swearing a storm as she tries. Again. Again.

You're so thirsty.

Fuck it.

You buy a bottle of water.

Why are you so thirsty? Why isn't anything working to—

She falls this time. Really falls. This time, her swearing is not frustrated but pained, and you're rushing to her, dropping to your knees as she hisses in pain. Her jeans are torn at the knees now, ragged holes that reveal bloodied, reddened skin beneath.

"Are you okay?" you blurt. You're already uncapping the bottle of water you had been honestly two steps away from biting into like an apple and drinking that way, already holding her leg still to rinse away the blood and gravel from her knees. "Here, let me help you clean those. That was a rough fall.”

"Ah, I'm fine. Nothing hurt but my pride, you know?" She grins good-naturedly as you rinse it all away. "I'm starting to think kickflips are bullshit, though."

You laugh softly. "Maybe they are."

You move on to her other knee with the rest of the water, but your gaze lingers on her exposed knee. Distantly, you think she gives her name, and you mumble yours back before your mouth begins to water something fierce.

The scent reaches your nose beautifully, stronger than you ever remember blood smelling. Come to think of it, you'd smelled this rich scent back at the house. Less the scent of metal and more something intoxicating and sweet.

"Uh, [name]? You good?" she says. You've already forgotten her name, barely caught yourself leaning forward too close.

You stare at her blankly.

You're thirsty.

"[name]!"

The voice snaps you out of your trance, and you turn to see Izuku bolting at you at breakneck speeds. He comes to a stop next to the both of you, barely panting. "I'm so sorry, they've been undergoing this test for a psych study and they haven't slept in a solid 24 hours and I think they forgot to take their iron pills and they always get a little weird when they're low! Are you okay? You're not hurt too bad, are you?"

"Uh, no, I'm fine. Are they going to be okay...?"

Izuku has you pressed firmly into his side with one arm, an ostensibly supportive gesture. "They should be. I should probably get them back, though! They need to get some proper iron in their system and maybe get their brain away from the whole spacing out thing."

"Um, okay. Thank you. Both of you."

You give her a loopy grin, eyes still fixed on her bloodied knees. "You'll get that kickflip."

She nods, smiles, and collects her skateboard. "Thanks again."

She boards away, and when she's finally gone, Izuku takes a cursory glance around. The rest of campus is abandoned, it seems, or at least abandoned enough that he's satisfied with the room to speak.

He drags you into a tight hug that has the both of you sighing. "You need to be careful," he mumbles into the top of your head.

As though that's fair to ask of you. You hardly know what's happening.

"Careful?" you reply, muffled in his shoulder.

You feel the telltale shifting of a nod. "You need to feed. Come back with me, we'll get you handled, and then you can rest."

You wriggle out of his hold, stare longingly at the spot on the concrete where the stranger fell and smeared her blood on the ground. Something in you is overcome—the urge to drop down, to lathe tongue against concrete just to get a few tainted drops of the blood she shed there. The other, somehow tamer, part of you wants to give chase. To follow the distant sound of her skateboard against concrete and take her down and sink teeth into skin. It's all you can do to hold back.

(Now, let’s not kid ourselves, here:

It’s not you holding you back.

It’s Izuku, physically holding you in place as you thrash unknowingly, holding you back.)

You stare at where the girl had been a moment longer, and then you turn away, running your tongue over your teeth in a desperate attempt to make your mouth feel less dry with thirst. When you do, you yelp. Flavors burst on your tongue amid the pain—you’ve cut it on your teeth, on canines sharper than—

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, how you are suddenly putting the pieces together.

“Izuku?”

“Yeah?” He seems relieved that you’ve stopped trying to struggle out of his grip.

“What the fuck happened?”

He blinks slowly. “You don’t remember?”

“You would not believe how completely tired I am of not remembering anything.”

Suddenly, everything feels wrong. Your canine teeth are fangs in your mouth, the weight that had made every motion feel just a touch sluggish dissipates to leave you feeling lither than you recall, and, come to think of it, there’s a tight feeling across your neck like a scar. Beneath your fingertips, you confirm that it is one—long and thin.

There’s a kiss to your forehead.

Oh. You remember that.

“I’ll refresh your memory, and we’ll talk about… everything we didn’t get to talk about… and we’ll sit down and we’ll get it all sorted out. But first, I need you to come home, okay? I’ve got a blood bag with your name on it, and a kitten that has missed you just as much as I have except that he actually had the right to miss you, and we really need to decide on the new furniture and carpet for the living room.”

“Do I remember it all right?” you whisper.

“What do you remember?”

You pull away only to swoop back in, only to press a soft kiss against his lips. He reciprocates with a gentle hum, holds you tight.

“That, for one thing.”

“What else?” He mumbles against your lips.

You smile softly, although it is twisted with emotions you cannot yet name. You open your mouth to speak. And you begin to make sense of it all.

Tags: @tooloudarts @xxangelpridexx @lirinstaalem @izoodles​​ @denise-the-death-goddess @themerpenguin​ @sincerelybubbles​ @fudobaby​ @imabootywarrior​ @fuc-kingmonkey​​ @the-secret-thief @kc-korra​ @kiliakit​ @hay-leeeah @meowkid1000 @mha-baku-todo-deku-kiri @jojo-buttercup @starfishlovingbnha @wwwwyamd @omiwashere @emilytheeggy @subwayslander @thelittle-witch​ @sparkexplosive @shoutaaizawas @vanilladyfics @stargazerunlimited @chaoticevilbakugo​ @deeplightgarden @stxrrielle @idonthaveanameideayet @snowymaltese @bnha-babygirl @graywrites20 @dusstory @sky-angel101

If your name is on the list but not underlined, I was unable to tag you! If your name is on the list and in bold, this is my second attempt to tag you. You will be removed from the taglist after a third attempt. Please ensure that your blog is set to appear in search results to be able to be tagged on the taglist!

Taglist is now closed. Please keep an eye out for a new taglist form in the future!

If you're reading this, thank you, every one <3

[paalove]

just reread nothing to lose and i am once again thinking about "pran doesn’t listen to his parents about much, right?" pran doesn't listen to his parents about much... pran doesn't listen to his parents about much... AHHHHH!!!

also thinking about how the week I finished bad buddy I was like PRAN ELLA ENCHANTED AU and just rotating this in my mind along with that concept. idk if you have read ella enchanted but as a possible prompt— a bad buddy, pran cursed with obedience! au

HEY. YOU SENT THIS MONTHS AGO AND I'VE THOUGHT ABOUT IT WEEKLY SINCE. 🥰

first: thank you ily, im glad you like that tiny little au it's one of my favourite pocket-universes <3

second: main fic coming in... hopefully the next couple of weeks? meanwhile here is a scattered little multi-pov intro to the fic i HAVE been calling "ella enpranted" xoxo

...

“Listen to me, Pran,” his mother says.

He does, because she’s his mother, and he does because he has to.

Concern etched into the lines of her face, deep deep worry and upset in her eyes, she orders him, “Stay away from that boy as much as you can,” and Pran will, because he has to.

As much as he can.

…

It’s hard to track him down this week – sometimes Pran gets skittish – but Pat finds him on Wednesday! It’s just been art, and Pat is taking the not-allowed-but-whatever shortcut that goes behind and around the weird little separate building that’s been used for art since they switched where all the languages rooms are, and there-

“Pran!” he calls, running over.

As he does, Pran’s head jerks up and he looks over and his eyes go wide, face startled, but he doesn’t look mad so Pat knows he’s only stashing his books away because he likes an escape route, he’s not mad at Pat.

So, Pat grabs the folder furthest from Pran and picks it up, flipping through and seeing a bunch of physics notes in Pran’s neat handwriting and smooth, black ink, because Pran never seems to have a pen go dry in the middle of writing anything, it’s all so even and careful.

Pran reaches out for it, then his hand freezes like an inch away from it and he says, “Pat, give that back.”

“No,” Pat says, but he’s smiling at Pran and Pran smiles back.

Shaking his head and turning – saying with his shoulders I’m not waiting for you and saying with the half smile but you can follow me if you want, I guess, it’s whatever – Pran says, “I need the folder back at some point.”

“I’ll give it back later,” Pat agrees.

Pran runs off when he doesn’t have something hostage, but he’s never mad about Pat taking his stuff. It’s just a game they play.

…

“Has someone told you to do something you don’t want to?”

She’s genuinely concerned, he knows that.

But she hasn’t ordered him to be honest, so he’s got enough leeway to not say you, Mae, it’s always you, because that would hurt her feelings and it wouldn’t change anything anyway, and Pran instead says, “The teacher assigned us both to be in the band,” and lets her remember all that trial and error, years ago, when they had to figure out how the orders worked.

Pran’s parents know that his too-powerful, too-flighty aunt’s gift was for them, so their orders normally take precedence over anyone else’s; they also know that their later orders take precedence over earlier ones, unless they specifically build something in, like telling him to disregard later ones that contradict the one they’re making right now. This pause is, he’s sure, letting his mother remember telling him to always consider teachers’ orders to outweigh all but a select few of her own.

Of course, most of what Pran’s figured out, he hasn’t told them.

Or even written down.

It’s safer to keep what he knows to himself.

His mother closes her eyes, nods, and says, “I suppose it couldn’t be avoided at that school.”

Pran wishes he had any way of stopping what comes next.

…

Dissaya’s son is honest, kind, and good.

Those are things she knows about him, things that she needs to protect and nourish and help to grow, and things that can’t be poisoned in him the way they were in her. She doesn’t like making him sad, dragging him away from his friends, but Pran is so vulnerable.

Moreso because of the gift.

It made her heart freeze in her chest the first time she saw him on the playground, some smaller child cheering him on, Higher! Higher, and the face of frozen fear on Pran’s face not even slightly getting in the way of how high he was swinging-

She still shudders to think of it.

Her sister-in-law was unrepentant when she called. Of course a gift of obedience doesn’t stop at the walls of their household, she’d laughed, but it’s always going to be stronger for family, isn’t that nice?

It’s not in her nature to yell, really, especially not at her husband’s beloved little sister, but she made an exception that day.

And then she had started to plan.

The idea that her careful planning and careful instructions to Pran haven’t been enough, haven’t kept him safe…

She’s never a coward except when it comes to Pran.

Dissaya sends him away.

…

It’s not written down, not anywhere, but Pran has a list of things he knows to be true about his gift.

His parents’ gift.

If his parents tell him, directly, to do something, he can’t help but do it. There’s no resisting directly, from the second he hears the order he begins to carry it out.

Physically impossible orders are an absolute exception – they arrive at Pran’s ears like normal, non-magical words, just the way a normal sentence works for anyone else on earth. He won’t try to fly if someone tells him to.

If anyone outside his family tells him directly to do something possible, it depends on what his parents have said first, but normally… he has to do it.

Pat telling him to race counts.

Pat whining at him to stop ignoring him also counts.

Pran has some leeway in deciding what counts.

In fact, Pran decides what an order means. He can know his parents meant one thing, but if the actual words they used mean something else… Pran can pick, kind of. Only kind of. He’s been experimenting with those limits for years.

The final part of it, the part that he’s known from the start and can never let himself forget or forgive, is the part that’s least useful and most essential.

8. It’s not a gift.

Because Pran has those old orders – keep yourself safe, don’t hurt others, and always prioritise teachers over other kids – and they make something like a shield, but one that it hurts to hold. The order to ignore other people’s orders no matter what never, never worked.

They must be physically impossible. Or something like that.

[cannibalfrodo]

i hope you've been doing okay!! for a while, i thought you'd quit tumblr wjsdfjh i hadn't seen you here in a while

i kinda thought i should let you know that last year i started crime & punishment and have really been enjoying it (however i got stuck halfway through due to Other Books™ and Life Circumstances™ so although i intend to finish it, it's going to probably be a few months XD)

anywho how have you been doing?

hi hi :3 no I am stuck here unfortunately. I'm really sorry much of last year I wasn't doing very well, so lots of my contacts got neglected, but I'm better now and would love to catch up :)

(I literally still have a draft responding to an ask of yours abt sebastian moran that is just a half finished piece of meta I never got around to. shame. maybe I'll just add onto that next time i reread the empty house.)

as of today I am doing pretty good I have some really exciting things coming up this month (seeing a concert next week, then I'm at a music festival and then I'm going to travel to a con with my friend) and I've been doing alot of writing recently, plus right this second I'm looking forward to watching the new doctor who episode with the boyfriend later. I'm subjecting rowan to the curse.

and that's awesome, I really hope you've been enjoying it!! I understand though, I have read most dostoevsky novels but this happened to me with tolstoy so often, I still have not finished anna karenina and I started reading that nearly two years ago. fun fact this year I've been reading alot of japanese lit I've been meaning to sink my teeth into I'm currently having a great time with mishima, but man I also read some yokomizo and it hasn’t let me go. anyway feel free to tell me your thoughts when u pick it back up I always love to talk abt it. me and my reason 10+ copies of crime and punishment.

have very grainy image of me and rowan hanging out in european church when he was here three weeks ago. was really awesome we traveled :)