#anyways life is a drag without live music

[asteroidaffection]

concert season starts up again this month for me and i could not be more excited

[imaginaryf1shots]

Neighbour | Lando Norris

WC: 2K+

Lando x reader

Part 2

Summery: (REQUESTED) Your neighbour and you don’t get along, but what happens when your ex turns up to your house.

Warnings: Cursing, cheating, google translated french

A.N: Not my best work but I wanted to get something out

Masterlist

You've been living in Monaco your whole life, went to school there, went to college elsewhere before coming back to Monaco. It's true that it's a hub for all the richest of people, plus all motorsport athletes and fans. On most days you don't mind any of that, but you're starting to hate your life there. A lot of people move in and out of the city all the time, some rich some not, some nice some not, your new neighbour is anything but nice.

He isn't always there but when he is, he makes sure you know it, and makes your life a living hell.

But he's the last thing on your mind right now, you're going out with your friends and boyfriend to go clubbing. It's the weekend and you're all wanting to let loose, it's been a long weekend and your neighbour is back in town, so that adds to the sleepless nights and headaches.

Lando was dragged out of his apartment to go to a club with Max and Kelly. He just came back to Monaco a few days ago and his friends wanted to have fun. P was having a sleepover at her friend's, so it was perfect.

Lando knows who you are, he definitely does, he's seen your glare and heard your shouting more times than he can count. Always screaming in French and never letting him let a word out before you're marching off. He has no idea if you think he speaks French, or if you’re just cussing him out. That gets on his nerves, who shouts and then leaves without any explanation or waiting for any response. It irked him to no end, did it make him blast his music a tad bit louder? Yes he did, but she started it, she's the one that annoyed him and kept shouting.

Lando is dressed to go clubbing with a chain around his neck, his curls wild and free to do as they want. He met with Max and Kelly there, he chose not to drive, knowing he'd be drunk by the end of the night, and the club wasn't that far from his house anyways. Walking in the club, he felt the vibrations going through him, his blood was pumping, itching to have a drink and hit the dance floor, maybe ask the DJ for a go. The mood was amazing, everyone was having fun as if there's no tomorrow, Lando was dancing with this random girl and Max and Kelly were having a good time. An hour in, Lando made his way to the bathroom at the back of the club, he drank so much and needed to pee to be able to drink some more. It was much quieter at the back of the club, the music was muted, the lights were a bit brighter, and surprisingly there weren't that many people around. Maybe this is why Lando heard it, there was shouting, in thick accented English, different accents, but both speaking English. Maybe he was nosey, or maybe he just wanted to make sure that everyone's okay, but he quietly made his way to the corner at the end of the hallway, leading to the emergency door, he peaked around the corner. Seeing the back of a female in a short dress and hair loose, his eyes running up and down her figure, shouting at a guy much taller and bigger than her, the guy's face was pinched in anger, his hand was moving around.

"I saw you! Why are you still denying it?" The female shouted, her anger and hurt vivid in her voice.

"You saw nothing, because nothing happened!" The guy shouted back and she huffed, Lando could imagine her rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms. "Love, please believe me, nothing happened."

"How can I? When I saw you! I saw you and you have no excuse." She sounded desperate now, Lando debated walking back but he couldn't get himself to just turn and walk away, something made him stay.

"It's dark here, you're mistaken, believe me, please, I only have eyes for you." The guys said and took a step closer, his hands landing on the female's shoulders, Lando could see her tensing. "I love you, you know that right?"

"I know." Lando almost missed her words, he knew she was about to forgive him, and even though he didn't know what happened, he knew the guy was bullshitting his way out of cheating, and she was falling for it.

"Then believe me." The guy leaned in for a kiss, but she turned her head to the side, and Lando saw her face, his eyes went wide and he dipped his head back out of sight. He just saw his annoying neighbour fighting with her boyfriend and he had no idea. He checked her out and even liked what he saw. He wants to bleach his eyes for checking her out. How could he find her attractive? Knowing that her boyfriend won’t hurt her, he went to his original destination. Standing in the urinal he does his business before someone walks in and stands at another urinal one down from him. Lando looks up and sees your boyfriend standing there, looking unbothered. He even got out his phone and dialled a number.

"Hey babe... yeah, I'm going to be late... don't wait up for me.... I know, I miss you too... don't worry, I have tomorrow off and I'm spending it all with you... yeah... whatever you want... I love you... see you tomorrow my love." Lando is standing there in disbelief, that asshole is two timing girls. He may not like you, he despises you even, but that doesn't give that guy rights to cheat on you.

Lando debates telling you, as the alcohol in his system seemed to disappear and he doesn’t drink for the rest of the night, but he did manage to spot you a few times dancing with your boyfriend with a smile on your face, his first time seeing you smiling. Completely unaware, and over the fight you two had.

He decides not to tell you, you'll figure it out.

And you figured it out, one text sent to you by mistake was all it took. Scott kept calling you at all hours of the day and night, you had to block him but he'd get a new number and start calling you again, it left you sleepless and more sensitive. This is why you're standing here in your pyjamas at Lando's door pounding on his door at 8 PM, it isn't that late but you haven't been sleeping well and just wanted to get

to bed, but the music coming from Lando's house just made it impossible to do so. It took Lando a minute before he answered the door. That minute felt like a lifetime to you, you really wanted to strangle him by the time he made it to the door.

"What do you want?" Lando asked, he now knew you spoke English, he was surprised to see you there. You never come to knock on his door, usually your confrontations happen when he's going out at the same time as you or one of you is coming in and another is leaving.

"S'il te plaît, baisse la musique.” (Please turn down the music.) You say in French pinching between your eyebrows in a desperate need to stop the headache.

"Don't speak French, love." You sigh it takes you a moment to register what he’s saying and it seemed for the first time you realise he doesn't, and frown to yourself.

"What?"

"I don't speak French." He repeats amused.

"But-But that means every time-“

"Yes, I understood nothing." You huff and push your hair out your face, your pyjama top rising with your hand movement, giving Lando's eyes free access to your skin, he bites his bottom lip lightly.

"Okay, can you please turn the music down a bit, I can't sleep." You ask him to choose to ignore the fact that he can't speak French.

"It's 8" Lengo frowns and you sigh, he then realises how tired you are. "I'll turn it down."

"Thanks" With that you turn barefoot and walk back to your apartment, closing the door behind you, all while Lango is watching you. He shook his head and went back into his apartment and turned the music off.

You don't interact much but Lendo has seen you in passing during the next week, he caught your phone ringing a few times, it seemed to ring a lot lately and you never seem to answer, always declining the call and then blocking the number, he can only guess that you found out.

Finding out that your boyfriend is cheating on you is never easy, but finding out it’s more than one woman, and more than one time is much harder. How could you be so blind? you don’t get why he’s still calling you. You could only guess that he’s been dumped by all the women he was stringing along. You were going through the breakup, not getting enough sleep, not going out, spending your days on the balcony looking over the city.

You were sitting there with a glass of wine, your head leaning back on the chair as you chilled. Blindly taking a sip of the wine, only to find the glass empty opening your eyes you groan. Begrudgingly getting up to refill your glass when you glance down and have to do a double take, Scott’s car is parked in front of your building, the ugly purple car, eye-catching even in a city like Monte Carlo. “Fuck.”

Your brain came to one conclusion, you have to escape. You run inside, through your apartment and outside to the elevator, only to find it already on its way up. Not a lot of floors in the building, turning and looking frantically, your eyes fell onto your neighbours door, you run there and ring the bell while knocking on the door, repeatedly. Lando opens the door, he doesn’t have time to think before he’s pushed back and his door is slammed, his vision is filled with your hair, you have only managed to push him back a step. you’re looking through the peephole not caring that you just barged into his apartment without any rhyme or reason, offering no explanation.

“What the fuck?” Lando whispered to himself, before he heard it, pounding on your door. Your breathing picks up pace, your eye glued to the peephole.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You mutter over and over again.

“What is happening?” Lando asks and it seemed like you didn't hear him, so he gently moves you to the side and it's then you come out of the trace you're in and blink up at him, he looks through your peephole and sees your ex standing there in front of your door, he's started shouting and calling your name. “What is he doing here?”

“I-uh- I don't know.” You say weakly and look up at Lando, eyes filled with tears, shaking you head you continue voice wavering. “I don't know, he's-he's been calling me and sending me texts and I've blocked him but-but…”

You trail off as Scott starts cussing you out, and throwing threats, your eyes went wider. Lando’s jaw clenched, his hand formed into fists. Lando puts his hands on the door handle and just before he twists it, you place your hand on his to stop him, you're shaking. “Please don't leave me here, don't go out, please.”

“Okay, okay, it's fine, I’ll call security and have him kicked out and he'll be off your visitors’ list.” Lando says and places his hand on your shoulders to calm you down, you nod at his words and Lando just pulls gently to the living room where you collapse on the sofa, your head in your hands. “They’re coming up.” Lando says after his call and sits at the other end of the sofa angled to face you, you look up and Lando takes you in, eyes red, lips raw from you biting at them you're not shaking anymore, but still over all a hot mess. His heart breaks for you, all the past transgressions forgotten.

“Thank you.” You tell Lando honestly, you're grateful he didn't kick you out or tell your ex that you're here.

“No worries, couldn't let you out to that asshole.” Lando clenched his fists just in thought of your ex being outside. “Do you want to drink something, water, tea, coffee?”

“Wine?” You ask and Lando chuckles before he gets a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Thank you.”

Lando pours you a glass, the first one you down in one go. The second one you nurse, by the third you're both talking, fourth your mind is off your ex, and then you're sleeping.

Lando hadn't drank as much as you had, he debated moving you to the guest bedroom, but he's slept on the sofa a few times before and he knows that It's comfortable so he just moves you so you're laying down with a pillow under your head and a light bedsheets over you. Lando finds himself sitting on the coffee table facing you, you look so innocent sleeping, snoring lightly, and once more he just takes you in. “Maybe you're not so bad after all.”

Once he catches himself pulling an Edward Cullen he gets up and goes to his bedroom, leaving you to sleep, but all he could think about is you.

All you could dream about is Lando

Maybe he's not bad after all.

Part 2

[luveline]

Omg I love the hot bombshell bau reader x Spencer!! Could you write a scenario with them when the team is out drinking and she’s flirting with him even more & she can take it a lil further because they’re not in work? Thank you🥰

thank you for your request! this isn't a perfect fit of what you asked for but I hope you like it! fem!reader, 1k

"Psst! Psst!" Your perfume floats his way. "Spencer!" 

Spencer turns to your whisper shouting, much less whisper than you probably mean it to be. You're as in his personal space as you can manage without falling into his lap. Luckily, the rest of the team seem to be more interested in the previously unheard story Emily's deigned to tell about a Sin to Win weekend in Atlanta, and no one turns to investigate your secret.

"What?" he asks.

"Can you get me another drink?" you whisper. You insisted on sitting next to him, your breath sharp with cherry liqueur. If you hadn't, he would've tried to make it this way anyhow.

It's not fair. You've drunk enough to get cut off and still you look so pretty, bombshell through and through —there's no other word for it. Your eyes are glittering and unsmudged despite an evening of laughter and a pitcher's worth of bourbon bombs, and they're looking at him with this weird pinching pleading that makes his stomach twist. 

"I don't think you should have anything else." 

"Spence…" You put your hand on his thigh. Not cupping it, nowhere inappropriate, just your fingertips pressed to the fabric of his pants as you twist in your seat to beg. "Please, Spencer. Please." 

He really likes you, and this tone you're using threatens to haunt him forever. Resigned, he moves your hand off of his leg and grabs your empty glasses. "A spritzer," he says, standing up from the booth. "That's it." 

"Hey, no," JJ says, her thin brows pinching as she smiles, perplexed. "She's cut off." 

"That's why Spencer's going to get it for me. He's my angel," you brag, words tipping, tumbling all over the place. 

Spencer looks at the disapproving expressions on their faces, Hotch, Emily, Derek and JJ all looking as though they learned how to frown from the same place. Only Penelope and Rossi seem encouraging. Penelope tipsy herself, and Rossi a self-professed believer in, "Living life to the fullest. Get the girl another drink, Reid." 

"A spritzer," Spencer says again. 

You smile gleefully and follow him out of your seats toward the bar. The barkeep gives Spencer a knowing look when he orders your drink but doesn't say anything when Spencer puts the change in the tip jar, which is questionable. Spencer secures your cold beverage and hands it to you, fully intending on walking you back to the booth. 

You pull him off course. He has little power in the situation, a yelp and a yank and you're dragging him toward the bar jukebox. Your spritzer paints your hand as you put it down, lips wet with it as you beam at him from over your shoulder. 

"Pick a song?" you ask. 

"I don't know if they'll have anything I like." 

"Pick one anyways." 

Spencer has to stand directly behind you to read the titles. "Why don't you pick one?" he asks gently. 

You sway. He doesn't know if it's down to the alcohol or the five seconds of music that plays as you scroll through songs. "I don't have a dollar."

Spencer laughs and gets his wallet out, handing you two dollars from the fold. "There. Pick two." 

"You're such a nice guy, Spencer, and I don't mean it like, oh, you're a nice guy, you don't mess girls around, I mean…" You fold the dollars he gave you mindlessly. "I mean, you're just nice. In the best sense of the word. You're gentle, kind…" 

You gasp, sounding pained. Spencer's hand leaps to the small of your back, "What? What's wrong?" 

"They have Out of Touch by Hall and Oates. Hold my spritzer, handsome, I need to put this on before I die." 

Derek comes looking for you both somewhere in the second play of the same song. Spencer's cheeks are bright pink, people staring in confusion at the repeat and the pretty drunk woman speaking the words. Spencer tries to flag Derek for saving, but when Derek sees the way you've wrapped your arms around Spencer's bicep, he chuckles and waves goodbye. 

You look up to Spencer eagerly. You're close enough to kiss him. "You know how to play nine ball?" 

"In theory," he says weakly. 

"Good! If I win you can buy me another spritzer, and if you win, I'll let you take me home." 

Spencer was always going to be taking you home tonight, but for a distinctly different reason. "If you win," he says, licking his lips, "I'll give you another dollar for the jukebox." 

"And if you win?" you ask.

"I'll take you home," he says slowly. "But only to take you home." 

"That's cute." 

No matter what drunken delusion you're under, Spencer does end up taking you home after a third round of Hall and Oates. You're not so drunk as to need help standing, and you manage to get to bed without help. He just wants to make sure you lock the door. 

You kiss him on the cheek, your hand behind his neck like you might turn his lips to yours. Spencer turns his face away. 

"I'm not gonna try anything, Spence," you say, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. "Just wanted to say thanks. You'll stay, right? Don't get the train." 

Spencer sleeps on your couch. In the morning he wakes to the smell of eggs fried in sesame oil and the heavy scent of hot chocolate. Oh, and you in your tiny pyjama shorts at the helm, completely untouched by the copious booze intake of the night before. "Loverboy," you sing-song. "Come on! I'm gonna sit in your lap and feed you like a Grecian emperor. It'll be fun." 

It'll definitely be something. 

[rafeandonlyrafe]

girls night guardian

words: 1.3k

warnings: request!, drinking, partying, violence, college au

“you sure you don't want me to come?” rafe asks, adjusting the strap on your dress for you, wishing it covered up more of your body.

“it's girls night rafey.” you shake your head. “besides, it's just a sorority party. there will barely be any guys there.”

“yeah, alright.” rafe sighs. he trusts you to party on your own without him, its everyone else that he doesn't trust. whether it's a friend encouraging you to drink more than you should or a guy dancing up on you.

“i don't wanna be out super late anyways. will probably head home around 11:30 if you wanna stay up.” you offer, knowing rafe would feel better if he was able to make sure you were home safe before falling asleep.

“definitely will.” rafe cups your face, pressing his lips to yours, smearing the lipgloss you had just reapplied.

“okay.” you smile at him, swiping your thumb across his lower lip to get some of the sparkles off. “love you baby.”

you weren't sure at first when your highschool sweetheart asked to move to the same college town as you. worried living together and attending university away from the outer banks would put too much stress on your relationship, but it's only strengthened.

“i love you so much more princess.” rafe says. you learned not to argue back about who loves who more, rafe will always insist it's him. “you sure you don't want me to walk you there?”

“thanks for the offer, but you know katie only lives three houses down.” you pat his cheek before opening the door, stepping into the cool night, the setting sun casting a warm orange glow among your neighborhood, technically off campus but steps away from the greek life houses, every house being rented by students for the course of their education.

“alright, have fun princess.” rafe says, watching you walk out the door. you close it behind you, but aren't surprised when you hear it reopen a minute later, rafe watching you until you reach katies door. 

you raise your fist to knock, but before you can even make a sound, your best friend flings the door open with a squeal.

“i am so excited for girls night.” she says, looping elbows with you and ushering you back down the steps. knowing katie, she's probably been ready to go since lunchtime.

“me too.” you smile. you love rafe and love partying with him, but it's fun to occasionally leave the boyfriends at home and just have a blast with your girls.

you reach the party quickly, it's only about a two minute walk until you see the sorority house, and hear the loud music. 

it's a rush of hugs and squeals and greetings when you enter, your friend taylor making it her mission to drag everyone towards the dance floor, which the entire living room has basically been converted into, with a makeshift bar in the corner.

you laugh and dance with your friends, occasionally downing whatever alcohol that is pushed into your hands by katie or taylor.

you aren't too drunk, but your bladder has filled so you tell katie, practically having to scream into her ear, that you were going to find a bathroom. you navigate through the hallways, not surprised that it isn't insanely packed like other parties. the sorority girls don't invite as many people as the frat houses do.

you head up the stairs and use the first open bathroom you find, glad that its so clean unlike some of the other ones you've used at parties.

you make eye contact with a man you don't recognize as you exit, causing you to quickly rush down the stairs. the university isn't that small, so it's strange and almost jarring to see an unfamiliar face.

“hey, taylor!” you call out, looping arms with her once you reach the living room, hoping being with your friend would dissuade the man from talking to you, but it clearly doesn't work when he comes up, a flirtatious smirk on his face.

“hey gorgeous.” he reaches his hand out. “im mike.”

“hi mike.” you say politely, but don't reach out to shake his hand. “i have a boyfriend.”

“damn.” he looks around. “i don't see him though.”

“he's around.” you mumble, not wanting this random persistent guy to think that you're here alone. “just giving me some space to dance with my girls.”

“if he's giving you space for your girls, how about for me too?” mike smirks, reaching out towards your waist, but you manage to step back in time before his fingers graze you, taylor in tow.

“hey, she said she had a boyfriend, why don't you just leave her alone?” taylor pipes up, and suddenly mikes eyes turn from friendly to heated, anger overtaking his expression.

“don't think i was talking to you, bitch.” he grunts out, making both of you gasp.

“what did you just call the lady?” a voice rings out from behind mike, and you let out a sigh of relief as he turns and comes face to face with rafe.

mike goes to respond, probably continuing to argue or to tell rafe to piss off, but before his words can leave his mouth, rafe decks him straight in the jaw.

you expected the punch, so you knew to move out of the way as mike falls backwards. he's an inch or so taller than rafe, but with rafes surprise and muscles, mike has no chance as your boyfriend pounces on him, making sure his face will tell the story of his behavior for the next couple weeks.

you watch with wide eyes as rafe punches him. it's not the first time you've seen rafe beat anyone up, but it's been a while, his behavior so different in college than it is when he's in the outer banks.

“okay, okay.” you pull at rafe when it's clear mike can't take much more. rafe pulls away, his eyes suddenly softening, cupping your cheeks in his warm hands. he presses a kiss to your lips as his thumbs swipe over your skin. 

“are you okay baby?” 

“yeah.” you nod. “im fine, promise.” 

“and you're alright taylor?” rafe asks. he's become the honorary defender of all of your friends, especially the single ones who he considers it his duty to protect just as much as you.

“im alright, thanks rafe.” taylor smiles at him in relief, corners of her mouth only raising higher as mike groans on the floor. you'd be worried about her reaction to him if it wasn't for everyone knowing that rafe only has eyes for you. a few girls tried to get with him when you first moved from the outer banks, but rafe made it very clear that he wasn't interested.

“oh my god, thank god you got here fast.” katie says to rafe, joining the group. “i texted him the second that guy came up to you, he just gave me terrible vibes.”

“you were definitely right for doing that.” rafe says. “now how about i get you ladies home?”

your friends nod as rafe wraps his arm around your shoulder, leading everyone out of the house. he makes polite conversations with the girls as he walks them home before continuing the couple feet back to your house.

the second rafe gets you inside, door locked tight behind you, the tension leaves his body and he lets out a deep sigh.

“it's okay, im home.” you rub your hands over his shoulders. “im safe.”

“i know.” rafe pulls you into his chest, needing to feel you. he presses kisses to the top of your head. “but you know im not gonna let you have any more girl nights, right?”

you let out a giggle. “i don't think any of the girls will mind if i haul you along with me.”

“better not.” rafe smirks as you look up at him. 

you grin up at him. “our protector.”

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland

[ilovepedro]

just married | frankie morales x f!reader

Main masterlist

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2k

Summary: You and Frankie just tied the knot. Half way through the reception, your insatiable husband whisks you away for some much needed privacy.

Warnings: fluff, oral (f receiving), fingering, exhibitionism (sex in a private bathroom), unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all), creampie, reader is female, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: happy frankie friday! this is based off this post, i could not for the life of me shake this from my head. literally wrote this in an hour, i’m telling y’all i’m actually going insane. the brain rot is actually concerning. FRANKIE NATION RISE! 🫡 anyway, i hope y’all enjoy! 🫶🏼 i loveeee me some frankie 🫠 not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @saradika

“Come on, hermosa,” Frankie rasps in your ear, moving his hands from your hips and grabbing your hand, a small smirk playing on his lips. Music booms from the DJ’s speakers, the dance floor lively and vibrant.

“Where are we going, baby?” You ask, your gown flowing freely as your new husband swiftly maneuvers you through the crowd. “You’ll see,” he shouts over the thrumming music. Your body buzzing with excitement and a smile, so big it hurts, adorns your face.

Leading you out into the hall and racing up the stairs, giggling like a couple of school children. Frankie drags you to the bathroom at the end of the hall, flinging the door open and guiding you inside.

He grips your hips and crashes his lips onto yours, swallowing your dissipating giggles as he presses you up against the door and locks it. You whimper softly as his hands begin to roam your body.

His hands roam your backside, making his way down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “Frankie!” You squeal, breathlessly, laughter bubbling over your lips as you pull back for a bit of air.

A toothy grin breaks out into his face. “I’ve missed you, hermosa,” he pants, the both of you breathless from running and desperately kissing each other.

“I’ve missed you too, baby.” Not having had a moment to yourselves this whole day, you two bask in this brief moment of privacy.

He brings you in for another insatiable kiss. Your hands tug at the hair at the nape of his neck, making him groan into you. Snaking his hands down your waist, he cups your mound in one hand. You moan into him as your brows scrunch in pleasure, grinding against his hand.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all day, baby,” he groans, guiding you to the sink, pressing your backside up against it as he peppers kisses to the column of your throat. “You look so fucking gorgeous, baby, this goddamn dress is driving me crazy,” he whispers, nipping your neck. 

“You’re driving me crazy, Frankie,” you gasp. “Look so fucking sexy in that tux, baby.” He smiles into your skin, working his way back up to draw you in for another kiss. You moan into his mouth as he slips his tongue inside, arousal pooling in your panties and sticking to your sex. Swallowing every moan that pours into his mouth, he pulls back, your lipgloss staining his lips. 

Crouching to his knees, he bunches your gown up over his head and moans at the sight of your lacy panties paired with your garter. 

“Fuck, baby. So fucking wet for me all fucking the time,” he whispers huskily as his large, warm hands run along your thighs. He slides your garter down your leg, tucking it into his back pocket. 

Propping you up onto the sink, he spreads your legs and presses a kiss to your sex. You moan at the feeling, aching for more. One of his thick fingers prods at your entrance, parting your lips and allowing your husband a view of your glistening pussy.

“Please, Frankie,” you plead breathlessly, tossing your head back. 

“Yeah? My pretty little wife wants me to eat her pussy? Huh, mi esposa?” You moan, eagerly nodding as you clench around nothing. Frankie doesn’t miss the way your thighs squeeze together.

“What my wife wants, my wife gets.”

Without warning, Frankie dives in and licks broad stripes up your folds, gasping as you bite back a moan with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, attempting to be quiet. 

“No no, baby. I wanna hear you. They can’t even hear us with the music, it’s just us, baby - just me and you,” he says before diving back in and licking through your folds, his strong nose nudging your clit and your eyes flying open.

“Oh fuck, Frankie!” You moan loudly, eyes squeezed shut as you toss your head back, caution blown to the wind. You snake a hand into Frankie’s curls, tugging at them and eliciting a groan from your husband. The vibrations against your cunt send a new wave of arousal seeping from you, Frankie lapping up every drop as he drowns in your slick.

His tongue prods your entrance, fucking into you. He groans at the way you clench around him, chest rumbling in satisfaction. 

It’s sloppy, and hungry the way he laves at your weeping cunt. His tongue circles your clit relentlessly, your cries filling the air. His lips wrap around your swollen bud as his grip on your thighs tightens. Your hips involuntarily buck up into his face. He snakes his left hand up to your stomach, ring-adorned hand pushing you down and holding you in place. 

“So f-fucking good, F-Frankie, oh my god,” you keen above him, legs wrapping around his back as you try to brace yourself for your impending orgasm. His relentless pace creates a cloud of stars in your eyes. 

“I’m close, Frankie! So close, don’t stop! Please don’t stop, baby,” you yelp, tears of pleasure stinging the corners of your eyes as the coil in your belly tightens.

A sudden intrusion pulls a sharp gasp from you. Two of his thick, long fingers crook into that spongy spot with every stroke as he sucks on your clit. 

His fingers, his mouth, the ring on the hand which pins you down overwhelms you - he’s all-consuming. 

Your vision flashes hot white as the coil in your belly snaps, cumming all over your husband’s face and his fingers. Frankie laps at your juices as you grind your cunt into his face, thighs trembling while riding out your high. He groans as he slurps you up like the sweetest nectar, not wasting a single drop. Your whines fill the air along with a squelching sound as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. 

He pulls back and rises to his feet, his patchy beard glistening with your slick. Slamming his lips onto yours, the two of you moan into each other. The taste of yourself on his tongue makes your head spin.

Frankie ruts his hips into yours, his clothed cock brushing against your exposed cunt and a loud cry pouring from your lips at the sensitivity. Wrapping your arms around his neck to draw him closer, you buck your hips against his, seeking more stimulation.

“Lean back for me, baby.” he rasps as he pulls back, gently pushing you back against the mirror. He makes quick work unbuckling his belt and shoving his pants to his ankles. You suck your bottom lip in between your teeth, mouth watering at the sight of your husband’s angry, leaking cock. Unable to resist, you palm him in your hands, smearing the dribbles of precum along his throbbing length. Frankie stifles a moan, moving your hand away and lines up his cock at your dripping hole.

Swirling small circles around your entrance, gathering the new wave slick that pours from your cunt on his length.

“Frankieeee,” you keen. “No teasing, please, amor,” you huff, on the verge of tears as your desperation grows.

“I got you, amor, don’t worry,” he whispers in your ear. He slides in slowly, but smoothly in one go, your slippery folds allowing him easy access. Both of you moan in tandem, Frankie’s brows pinched together and your lips parted.

You’re so full, relishing in the dull sting as he stuffs your wet heat to the brim. “Move, baby. Please move, mi amor,” you plead, breathless and desperate, seeking some relief.

“Shh shh, it’s okay, baby. I’m gonna take care of you, I always will,”  He says, voice hushed and husky, placing a kiss to your forehead. 

You know his words run deeper than just the matter at hand, having promised to love you eternally just hours ago.

He slowly drags out of you ever so slightly before snapping his hips into yours, his tip punching your g-spot. His hands rest on your waist as he picks up his pace. The room sounds pornographic - filled with the sounds of your squelching pussy, skin-on-skin, moans, and pants.

“I’m the lu-luckiest man ever. Got the prettiest girl ever to m-marry me. Knew you’d make a beautiful bride, hermosa. Most beautiful f-fuckin’ bride in the world, my pretty little wife. Get to, shit, get to love you and fuck this tight little pussy every goddamn day for the rest of our lives. Fuck,” he rambles, hips canting into yours.

Clenching around him at his words, more slick drips from your weeping cunt and onto the counter. An endless string of moans tumble from you and into the air.

“S-so fucking good to m-me, baby. So l-lucky to be your wife,” you keen, pressing your forehead against his. He hungrily captures your lips in a ferocious kiss, teeth clashing together as neither of you care how messy you two will look after.

“My wife. You’re mine, baby, you’re mine forever,” he moans as his tip kisses your cervix. Your walls flutter around him, your second orgasm rapidly approaching.

“Come on, baby, come on, baby. Let go, hermosa. I know you’re close. Let me feel you, I got you, baby,” he babbles almost incoherently. You wail as your orgasm washes over you, convulsing under his grasp, twitching uncontrollably as slick endlessly streams from your cunt. “There we go, baby. Good girl. So fucking good, hermosa. Always feel so fucking good,” Frankie groans against your lips, his thrust growing sloppy as your slippery cunt sucks him in.

“Love you so much, Frankie,” you gasp. “Love you too, hermosa,” he grunts. You can feel him throb inside of you.

“Cum, Frankie. Fill me up, please, baby,” you beg, still riding out the high of your climax.

“Yeah baby? Want my cum? Want me to stuff you full and walk around our wedding with my cum dripping out of your tight little pussy?" 

A high-pitched moan escaping your lips, you squeeze tightly around him. “Yes, Frankie! Wanna feel it dripping down my legs under my dress,” you squeal, overstimulation starting to sink in.

"My dirty fucking girl,” he rasps, punctuating his words with every thrust as he shoots warm ropes of cum into your cunt, coating your walls with his seed. A guttural groan rumbles from deep within his chest. Slowing his pace, you whimper as he fucks his cum into your used hole.

He rests his clammy forehead against yours, breath fanning each other's faces. Post-coital bliss settling amongst you two, the faint humming of the music from the reception rings in the air.

“Do you think they’ve noticed we’re gone?” You ask, panting. A deep chuckle rattles his chest, making you laugh. “I’m pretty sure they have, hermosa.” You pull him in by his tie, kissing him languidly. He pulls back and presses a playful tap to your thigh.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go before the guys start talking shit,” he says, helping you to your feet, and wiping his spend from your mound and in between your legs. He settles your gown into place as you fix your makeup in the mirror. He fixes his hair while you adjust his suit and tie back into place. You beam as you lock eyes with his, love shimmering in the corners of them. He entwines his fingers with yours as he leads you out the door and back downstairs to the reception.

It seems nobody has noticed you two were gone, or just don’t question your absence, as you two mingle your way back into the crowd.

“Hey! Where the hell were you two?! It’s time for the bouquet toss!" You best friend, and maid-of-honor, screeches.

"And the garter toss!” Santiago, the best man, chimes in. They drag you both to the dance floor. Women crowd the dance floor as you toss your bouquet over your shoulder, your best friend catching it and eyeing her partner. 

Music blares as Frankie leads you to a chair in the middle of the dance floor. He teasingly lifts your dress to remove your garter, to be met with nothing. Your eyes bug out of your head, heat coursing through your veins.

“Where’s my garter?” You ask him. Santiago appears behind Frankie, taking something out of his back pocket and holding it out to Frankie. “Here it is!”

Laughter erupts amongst your guests as you hide your face in your hands, an embarrassed smile plastered on Frankie’s lips, meekly waving to the crowd. He pries your hands from your face, playfully rolling his eyes as he brushes off the embarrassment while helping you to your feet. Cheering and whooping fills the hall as you smile apologetically to the crowd as they roar, Frankie cupping your face and pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

Frankie is rotting my brain today obvi. this one's for all my Frankie girlies out there, shout out to y’all 🩷

thank you for reading! 🫶🏼

tag list: @undrthelights @gracieheartspedro @jenispunk @amanitacowboy @bastardmandennis @nostalxgic @tinygarbage @party-hearses @mandoisapunk @harriedandharassed

[hyunluvbug]

jealousy, jealousy

pairing: lee know x afab reader

content: 🔞NSFW MDNI!!, ex lovers to lovers?, public sex (bathroom), oral (m receiving), face fucking (f receiving), unprotective sex, possesive!minho

premise: lee know is your ex and he sees you in the club one night. he becomes jealous from all the attention everyone is giving you.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: i have been simping extra hard for this man recently (more than normal ><) and this idea kind of drove me crazy. so i had to write and share this fantasy, enjoy :>

minho. the man who once consumed every ounce of your mind. his name running circles throughout brain like a marathon. he is everywhere until he is nowhere. the cause of your breakup? it was a mutual agreement. something you both discussed. all of it came down to the both of you being too busy to see one another.

"i think we should break up." minho tells you one evening in your apartment.

"okay."

your agreement is one that shocks him. he's shocked that you both thought the exact same thing. being too busy and not seeing each other enough made it feel like there wasn't any point to the relationship. of course, you miss him like hell and he misses you too. but it is what was best in the moment.

your friends thought maybe you are insane. they know how much you both love each other. hearing you decided to break up was a shocker for them. when you two had been dating for over a year. you kept telling them you were fine and that the breakup was simple. no one's heart was truly broken and no one was left with sullen feelings. a small piece of you did wish things could be different. but life just happens.

this is what led to your friends dragging you to the club. it had been a week without him and it felt like any other day. you barely saw him during the relationship to begin with so not much was new. a part of you did begin to feel lonely. knowing that you are no longer his and he’s not yours, did hurt.

your friends wanted to drag you to the club thinking it would cheer you up when you weren't even sad. you accepted anyways since a night out could be fun.

the crowd was lively. music boomed through the room causing vibrations to buzz the floor beneath you. a cup in hand filled with vodka and your hips swaying side to side. your friends are around you dancing with one another, twirling around and giggles leaving their lips. you are tipsy. the liquor making your body feel electric.

there were many other attractive people who caught your eye. some of them even eyeing you from how great you looked tonight. you had put on what you considered to be your best outfit and it was garnering many people's attention. one person's attention was all on you and you hadn't even noticed him.

minho was at that exact same club. for the exact reasons as you. his friends didn't really understand how the two of you broke up. you were practically inseparable when you were together but they guessed his busy schedule plus yours didn't match. minho was practically fuming though as he watched you dance in the crowd. taking notice of all the other people watching you, practically eye fucking you from a distance. he felt jealousy bubble up into his chest and he was waiting for it to explode.

you don't even remember how it all happened. one minute you were dancing and another you were following minho into the men's bathroom. he walked over to you and didn't even say a word, all he did was grab your wrist and drag you along. you let him.

"minho?" you questioned as he leads you into a stall. he locks the stall door and stares at you. taking in just how great you look in your outfit. everything about it makes him lose his mind.

"do you know how difficult it is to see other people who clearly want to fuck you?"

"excuse me." you question, shocked at what he is telling you. he begins to pull down his zipper, you watch him with your eyes wide. you are tipsy but you can still understand what he is about to do.

“knees.”

“if you think i’m going to get on this dirty ass floor-“

he lightly pushes you to the floor, “i said get on your knees.”

his eyes are clouded with darkness, something you hadn’t seen before. you gulp down your words as you look up at him. he pulls his pants and boxers down, his eyes looking into yours.

“you know what to do.”

you hesitate for a moment. remembering the break up and how it all happened. it was all his idea and yet here he is practically commanding you to suck him off. you can't deny that this whole situation turns you on.

"come on baby, i know you've missed me as much as i have missed you." he sighs above you, you look into his eyes. your eyes half lidded and he smiles at the sight. you bring his cock closer to your lips and begin to lick the tip.

"fuck, that's my good girl."

you tease his tip with your tongue, his hand caresses your cheek and pulls you forward. his cock fully enters your mouth and he lets out a loud groan.

"such a perfect mouth." he holds onto your face while he fucks his cock into your mouth. your eyes are on him as you watch him bite down on his lip. many moans and groans leave from his lips as he continues to slide in and out of your mouth.

squelching sounds of your spit on his cock fills the bathroom and echoes off the walls. the idea of someone walking in and hearing it makes you wet.

minho then pulls you away quickly. he stares into your eyes, a smirk is on his face. he grabs your wrists and pulls you up off the floor. his lips come into contact with yours and it feels euphoric. being able to kiss again after so long feels amazing. it is a feeling you didn't think you would be able to experience again.

while you're making out, you feel him pull down your panties. easy access since you're wearing a skirt. he runs his fingers under your skirt to feel your wetness.

"you always get soaking for me." he whispers over your lips. his fingers prod at your folds and run over your clit. making your legs shake and a soft moan to leave your lips.

"minho please."

"don't worry, i'll give you what you want."

he places you against the cold metal stall wall. you jump up to wrap your legs around him. you feel his cock come into contact with your folds. he rubs his cock over them letting the wetness coat him.

"you're mine." he breathes into your ear and pushes inside. the feeling of his cock inside of you at this angle makes your eyes roll. he is able to hit the deepest part of you. exploring the pleasure it brings you both.

he begins to thrust, in doing so, the stall wall begins to creak. the sound of him fucking you makes your brain mushy. the thrusts become more erratic and quick, your moans egging him to go faster.

"you want someone to hear you get slutted out huh? let them hear how dumb i fuck you. come on baby, say it."

you can't even form words. what he says slips in one ear and out the other. you can only imagine how fucked out you must look right now. your eyes are half closed and practically rolling into the back of your head.

"say it." he coos and you pant loudly. his thrusts become more harsh, each one pulling out slowly and thrusting back in even harder.

"y-you fuck, you fuck m-me so stupid."

"good girl." he chuckles, his thrusts go even deeper inside. wet sounds filling the bathroom. each thrust making you even more stupid, not being able to think about anything but him.

and your worst fear happens. someone walks in.

the bathroom door swings open with a creak and you hear them unzip their pants. minho covers your mouth with one hand and continues to fuck up into you. this drives you even more insane. knowing someone can still hear the rhythmic squeaking of the stall door. they can probably guess what is happening. your moans are muffled by his hand, he looks into your eyes. a big smirk is on his face. he is reveling in the fact someone can hear you get fucked. once they finish their business, they flush and walk out. the door creaks closed.

minho removes his hand from your mouth and you let out a loud groan.

"can't let anyone hear how fucked out you sound. only i can. just me. no one else baby. i want you for myself. i own you." he whispers sweetly into your ear. each phrase matched with a hard thrust.

you let out a few more whimpers. starting to feel a little embarrassed at how he makes you feel. everything he says makes you even closer to your high. his words allow you to revisit your feelings for him, everything begins to come back to you. you don't ever want to leave him. you want to be with him no matter what it takes.

"cum for me baby." he pants into your ear, his thrusts beginning to falter as his high also approaches. he thrusts inside a few more times and you're coming undone around him.

"shit." he grunts and you feel his cum coat your walls. he wraps his arms around you, your legs still secure around his waist. he pulls out of you and you let out a low whine. he begins to breathe heavily into your neck, trying to get through his orgasm.

when his breaths slow down, he looks up at you. his eyes glossed over with love. he smiles shyly at you, "okay so maybe i got jealous."

the statement makes you chuckle. you tap his arms and he helps you down to the floor. your knees wobble a little bit but he helps you stay up. he hands you your underwear and you slide them back on.

"that was one hell of a way to show me you want to get back together." you smirk and his face flushes. now he is the one who is embarrassed. he pulls up his own boxers and jeans.

"i just missed you so much baby." your hand reaches up to his cheek, caressing his soft skin.

"well, you have me. i am never leaving your side again." he leans into your hand, his eyes welling up with tears. he sniffles a little and you coo at him.

"wow, you missed me that much? i can finally say i made the lee minho cry."

"ah shut up, you're ruining it."

you both begin to laugh together, hoping that this is what will keep you together. the undeniable love you have for one another should be enough. no one or anything could ever get in the way of that again.

[saberlight1]

exit music (for a film) — coriolanus snow

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

warnings: slight tbosas spoilers, mentions of past abuse, trauma, violence, ptsd, established relationship, reader almost gets assaulted, Y/N usage, possessive!snow, a toxic ex attacks you, hints towards past sexual assault, standard ballad of songbirds and snakes warnings.

authors note: soo i was needing some comfort, and i realized there are not a lot of hurt & comfort fics for coryo!! this is a big injustice so i decided to write this. just a fair warning: this fic contains themes that can be hard for some people to read; including sexual assault and domestic violence. if you aren’t comfortable with these topics, feel free to go read some of my other coryo stories here! i hope you all enjoy this, much love<3.

masterlist

When you first laid eyes upon the white-haired boy, you didn’t think he’d become as important to you as he is now. He was assigned to be your mentor in the Hunger Games, and you were slightly relieved when you saw him standing at the train station, waiting for you.

Although you were both cautious of the other, coming from different, yet similar lands. But once you warmed up to him, you never wanted to part.

After the arena got bombed with you all in it, Coriolanus getting injured aand trapped, you stayed behind even if there was a clear opening for you to run— because you found yourself caring for him.

He had protected you so far, treating you with kindness and respect as he guided you through this hellish period in your life. So you had to do the same. Anyways, that was what told yourself when you risked everything to stay back and attempt to help him.

You brushed your hair behind your ears, ignoring the stinging pain in your side from being burnt as you started off into a sprint towards the boy who was crying out in pain, the pole he was trapped under catching fire.

“Coriolanus!” You called out as you neared him. “I’m here, I’m here.” You tried to soothe him as you tried to push the pole off of him.

He let out a sigh of relief at the sight of your face, and almost looked confused at your act to help him.

After a moment of struggle, you finally got the pole away from him, but it had got him badly. You immediately bent down to his level, your hands going to cradle his face softly, he leaned into it.

“Oh, are you alright?” You whispered, his shaky hands coming out to grip your wrists, rubbing softly in thanks. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner, I—” You did your best to explain, but you were cut off by a sharp grip on your arm, dragging you away from him. The boy reached out for you as you were taken away, only making your heart sink further into your stomach.

“No!” You thrashed in their hold, but to no avail. You watched your mentor lose consciousness from the pain as you could do nothing to help him.

And even though you only met him a couple days prior, you realized in that very moment how much you truly did care for him.

That was one of your earliest memories of Coriolanus, the next time you saw him after that was the first time your lips touched. From that night on, you became much more to each other than you ever would’ve guessed.

You sighed, moving from your spot in your window as reality set in. You hadn’t seen the boy in question in over month. He had promised to protect you, and he kept it surely. He cheated to get you out the games, and it ended with him locked up, as you liked to believe. People around twelve said that the Capitol had him killed.

You wished he had left you to die if it meant he’d be free and you the one in the grave. You were in misery in your district, missing your lover deeply. But, alas, you had no choice. And with all the fighting you did in that arena, you refused to give up now.

Even if it meant living without the one you craved most.

You grabbed your bag, another hard breath leaving your lips as you walked out the comfort of your small home that was in the outskirts of District 12. You liked it better that way, being away from it all. When you were younger you used to live down by the Hob, which was located right next to the Hanging Tree.

After years of hearing the grueling sounds of somebody loosing their life, the jabberjays in the wind repeating their loved ones cries, sometimes even their last words, you simply couldn’t bare it anymore.

So you left, opting to live out by the forest and the lake, giving you pockets of peace where you could forget it all. Or, at least the things you tried to forget. Some things seemed to haunt you forever.

You quietly walked into town to go get some food from the Mellark Bakery, your head down and gaze low the whole way. You could feel eyes on you— you always did when you came out of your home. You hated their stares, their judgement, that was the one thing that seemed to haunt you the most.

You finally looked up, meeting eyes with your ex boyfriend who was stood with his friends, a sly smirk being worn on his face. You internally shrank, your steps picking up as you tried to get closer to your destination.

Anxiety flooded your bloodstream as you heard loud, hard footsteps pick up behind you, sounding as if they were only inching closer and closer. Your eyes screwed shut as you felt like you were back in the arena again, your flight or fight instincts kicking in.

You tried to calm yourself down, repeating the words ‘It’s all in your head’ like a mantra under your breath. You had recently been plagued with the worst paranoia and anxiety, and the only reason of why you could think of was because of the time you spent in that godforsaken arena. Most of the time you felt as if you being hunted, all of the horror you felt when you were in that arena never leaving your nervous system.

Most days you had to talk yourself out of a panic attack, little things setting you off and sending you into a 20 minute state of panic. It was normal to you by now, and that is what you thought was happening.

Until a harsh grip yanked you out of your head, dragging you into an alley and pinning you to a wall. A loud yelp left your lips as you hit the wall, taking you a moment to process what was happening.

When you looked up, the pit in your stomach only grew further as an overwhelming sense of dread came over you. Your ex-boyfriend, Jay, was standing over you with that same soulless smile that used to haunt your dreams.

“My, Y/N. It’s been a mighty long time since I done seen you around here.” He taunted, his hot breath hitting your face, causing your eyes to screw shut as the past memories of him doing this very same thing to you swirled around your brain. “Thought after you got a taste of the Capitol.. of that Coriolanus Snow,” he said with disgust on his tone. “That you thought you were too good f’me. For Twelve.” He spat, harshly.

It was funny how with a few words he could turn you right back into that naive girl he manipulated all those years ago. You cowered in fear, refusing to look him the eye.

“Jay, please..” You whispered, your head turned away from him in an attempt to get as far away as possible. “Just let me go, please. I won’t come back around here, I swear.” You begged, tears filling your closed eyes as you fought for your composure.

“Nah, girl.” He whispered back, getting so close to you that you could feel his breath on your cheek. “I’m gon’ do what I want with you, like old times.”

Your eyes shot open his words. “No, God, please, no.” The tears fell from your eyes as you continued to plea with him.

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N.” He coldly smiled. “You used to be fun,”You felt his grip on your forearms travel back down to your hips, squeezing. The act left a bad taste in your mouth, making you want to throw up. You sobbed as you prepared yourself for what was coming, wishing you had just stayed cooped up in your home.

Your wails from the alley only increased in volume as his touch began to move downward. “Shut the fuck up,” He hissed, his hand slapping over your mouth. You prayed to whatever God was above, wishing he would just kill you now.

And just as his hand ghosted over the waistband of your skirt, the man’s touch disappeared all together, being replaced with the sound of someone hitting the floor.

You opened your tear-stained eyes slowly to find your attacker on the ground, and in a flash of throwing punches you saw that white hair adorned by the boy you adored so much.

You stood there in shock as you watched Coriolanus, who now wore a Peacekeeper’s uniform with a shaved head, beat Jay into a pulp. Tears still left your eyes as you slid down the wall, your knees coming up to your chest as you began to process what almost just happened to you.

Anxiety took your breath from your lungs as the panic finally began to set in once you realized you were safe. Your vision started to go blurry with tears as the will to breathe got harder.

“Hey, hey.” Coriolanus appeared in your line of vision, his hands wiping the tears from your face. “I’m here, you’re alright, baby.” He sighed before sitting down next to you and bringing you into his arms. You dug your head into the crook of his neck, hugging him close.

“Did he hurt you?” He asked, his hand on the back of your head, rubbing softly. He tried his best to comfort you, and tried to calm the fiery rage he felt when he saw that man on top of you.

“N—No,” You shakily got out. “He.. he tried to—”

Coriolanus’ head fell to your shoulder, hugging you just as tight as a sigh of relief left his lips. He had been walking by when he first heard your pleas with that man, and he dropped everything and ran at the sound of your voice. When he saw that man on top of you, the muffled sobs leaving your lips, your eyes screwed shut— God, he saw red. He would be lying if he didn’t say he didn’t miss you in the time you were apart.

Your body shook with your sobs, the boy’s heart hurting of the sight of you this upset. “Shh, you’re safe. I’m here,” He repeated, leaving kisses on your face, neck, and shoulders whilst he whispered sweet nothings in your ear in an attempt to calm you.

Once you somewhat calmed down you pulled back slightly, just to make sure he was real.

“Oh, Coryo,” You cried, your forehead resting on his. “Thank you, thank you.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat as he took in your state. He had never seen you like this, so scared, so vulnerable. The sight of it only made him bring you back into his arms, holding you impossibly closer.

“I’ve got you, my love.” He hushed your cries, leaving another kiss on your head. “No one’s gonna hurt you if I’m with you, it’s okay now.” You wrapped your legs around his waist as he stood up, you still in his arms. He placed you down slightly, his hands angling your jaw up so you’d look at him. “C’mon, let’s go to your house. Get you away from this piece of shit,” he pointed to the bloodied face of Jay who was unconscious on the ground. You nodded, trying to pull yourself together, your eyes flickering back to Jay to make sure he was still knocked out.

Sensing your anxieties, he pulled you back into his arms for once last hug. “Shh,” He rubbed your back. “You’re alright. He won’t hurt you, I won’t let him.” He comforted, leaning down to kiss your tears away. His movements made you smile as you sucked in a breath before you lead him out the alley and to your home.

Once you arrived and walked through the doors, it felt as if a weight was lifted off your shoulders. You were finally home, and you had Coryo with you.

Your heart felt full as it sank in that you were finally reunited with him, with Coryo. You got him back. A smile was on your face, despite your previous cries as you turned back towards the man who shared a similar smile to yours as he looked around at your home, and launched yourself into his arms.

He chuckled slightly, hugging you back like a delicate flower in his palm. After a moment of holding each other, you pulled back again, your hands cupping his cheeks. “I thought you were dead, Coryo. I thought.. oh, I thought they took you from me.” You sighed, leaning forward to connect your lips with his for the first time in months. You poured all of the longing, all of the tears, and emotion into that kiss, trying to show all your love with just an action.

He smiled against your lips, his hands on your hips being comforting as he leaned forward, tilting his head to deepen it. When the pair of you pulled apart for air, the smiles stayed.

“You should know by now that I’ll always find you, Y/N.” He joked, tucking hair behind your ear.

“Good,” You left one last peck to his lips, before going grabbing his hand and leading him to your bed. After all of the crying you had done in the past hour, all you wanted to do was lay with him.

He instantly knew what you were trying to do, a love-sick smile on his face as he laid down next to you, pulling you into his chest. You giggle as you settled in, your hand tracing patterns into his undershirt.

“I missed you,” He whispered after a while of quiet, looking down at you.

Blush dusted your cheeks as you rolled on your stomach to give him your full attention, your chin on his chest. “I missed you, too. Probably more.”

He smiled at your words, his hand coming up to grip yours lovingly, rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand. “You’re beautiful,” He said after a beat of silence, admiring you in the candlelight.

You smiled at his words. “You’re prettier, Snow.” Your gaze flickered down to your laced fingers, noticing his cut and bruised knuckles.

“Oh, Coryo,” You sat up slightly, bringing his hand with you to get a closer look. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize. That wasn’t your fault. I’m alright, baby, doesn’t even hurt that bad.” He tried to talk you down, a soft smile still on his face.

“Thank you, I mean it.” You met his eye. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you didn’t save me.” You swallowed the growing lump in your throat. “You always save me.”

It was his turn to blush now, as you bent down to kiss his injured knuckles softly. When you finished he grabbed your jaw softly, bringing your lips to his. He kissed you hard, just like he always did. It seemed like he tried to show how much he loved you with just one simple action, and trust, he accomplished that goal.

You hummed happily against his lips, letting him pull you down on top of him, your lips still connected. When you pulled back for air, he continued to cradle your face, peppering kisses along your jaw.

“You don’t have to thank me.” He whispered, his lips still leaving kisses. “I’ll always be here to protect you.”

You smiled, giggling as you snuggled closer to him. The pair of you had quieted down once again, sleep and comfort taking over your minds.

But you cracked your eyes open one last time, leaning up to leave kisses on his jaw. “I love you, Coryo.”

His eyes opened immediately as he stared down at you in shock, before a soft smile took over his face. “I love you, too.”

And just like that, all you had been longing for was under your fingertips, and you now thanked whatever God was looking down on you for bringing this man into your life.

[my-castles-crumbling]

"Sure, but only if you watch."

Based on this headcanon and a prompt by @beautyoftheships. NSFW and explicit, minors DNI

The party was loud. The house was so full of university students that James didn't even recognize most of them, though he lived in the house they were all occupying.

Music blared through huge speakers, courtesy of Sirius, and countless solo cups and beer bottles littered every available surface. A group of people threw ping pong balls into cups on the table and partygoers slurred words and stumbled around the kitchen as James walked by, clutching his own bottle.

Quiet. He needed quiet, of only for a second. He loved parties as much as the next bloke, but he had a bit of a headache, and he just needed a second.

Fighting his way through the crowd and down the hall, he found the door to his room, opening the door and slipping in, taking a deep breath.

"Needed a time-out, Potter? Sick of all the girls throwing themselves at you?" a low voice asked, and James's eyes shot over to his bed, where a pale, grey-eyed, dark-haired boy sat.

"Fuck yourself, Reg," James rolled his eyes, grinning.

Regulus was, of course, the only person he wanted to see at the party anyway. Regulus, who he could watch for ages. Regulus, who knew exactly how to make James worked up in the best way. Regulus, whose pout made James's cock twitch and heart ache. Regulus, who betrayed no emotions whenever he looked at James. Regulus, who was perfect.

But stunning gray eyes stared deep into James's and perfectly pouty lips muttered the best words James had ever heard in his entire life.

"Only if you watch."

Really, he was sure he'd misheard. Or that Regulus was joking. Or maybe Regulus had had too much to drink, and wasn't in his right mind. But a second glance at the other man told him that Regulus was sober, his eyes clear and no drink in sight.

"I-what?" James asked, flabbergasted, trying to pretend like the idea didn't make his knees weak.

"I know that you think about me, James. Maybe...maybe I think about you, too. D'you want to watch? While I...think about you?" Regulus murmured, small spots of pink appearing on the apples of his cheeks as he slowly (so slowly) dragged one hand to the button of his jeans.

"You're joking," James muttered hoarsely, convinced he was dreaming.

"Find out," Regulus shrugged, and suddenly his jeans were open with a small click of a button and the zip of a zipper.

James stared unabashedly as Regulus trailed his hand further, palming himself slowly, moaning just a little. "Reg," James whispered eyes widening as Regulus tightened his hand. "What-"

"James."

But he wasn't just saying James's name. He was moaning it, whispering it like a prayer as his slender fingers slipped underneath the elastic of his boxers. Without even realizing what he was going to say, James whispered, "Let me- let me see."

Grey eyes met hazel as Regulus stood, pulling his jeans and boxers down, revealing the most amazing cock James had ever seen. It was hard and ruddy, with a perfect, pink, already-dripping tip that made James's mouth water. God, he wanted to touch.

But he also wanted to watch. And his feet were rooted to the spot, so he stayed where he was.

As if reading his mind, Regulus wrapped his fingers around himself, still making eye contact with James, and began to slowly move, pulling at himself, eyes widening and glazing over just a little.

"That's it, baby," James found himself whispering. "Just like that."

And Regulus keened softly. Let out a high-pitched noise and bit his lip, let his eyelids flutter and sank back onto the bed, spreading his legs unabashedly.

My bed. He's going to come on my bed, James thought, watching the other man work himself over, twist his wrist slowly and cant his hips.

James was rock hard, himself, mouth wide open and palming at his extremely tight pants as Regulus adjusted his position, lying back on the pillows, knees wide and hand moving faster now. All the while, every time his eyes opened, they met James's.

"Fuck," James murmured to himself as Regulus's hips lifted off the bed and he cried out. "Those noises, love," he said louder, addressing Regulus, now. "So beautiful. Show me....show me what you want me to do to you, yeah?"

As if those were the magic words, Regulus's hand moved even faster, and he started whispering under his breath, just loud enough for James to hear. "Yes, James. Fuck, there. Please... James!"

It was the most erotic thing that had ever happened to him. Watching Regulus on his bed touching himself while he thought of James, James's hand pressing firmly on his own cock, hearing his name whispered is such a needy, desperate way.

"Can you come for me, baby?" James asked hoarsely, slipping his hand into his pants to wrap around his aching cock. "Come for me, darling. Show me how lovely you lo-"

It was a good thing a party was happening outside James's room, because Regulus nearly screamed. He let out James's name as his release flew over his stomach, painting his muscles in a way that made James come with him, standing right there by the door, pants still on. He fought to keep his eyes open, to watch as Regulus rode out his orgasm, face twisted in a way that made him look ethereal.

Me, he thought as he came down from his own high. He was thinking of me.

And as they both panted, chests heaving, and Regulus finally looked at him, the shorter man smirked a bit. "Maybe next time you can come a bit closer?"

James could only nod eagerly.

This got so long that I decided to post it on ao3, so leave love on there if you want!

[sattlersquarry]

the great divide (steve harrington x fem!reader)

Summary: (Post Season 4 AU, the sequel to orange juice) After your miraculous return to the land of the living, you aren't doing well.

Word Count: ~12k

Warnings: 18+ PLEASE!!!! for language, anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation. The reader has panic attacks and intrusive thoughts about Not Wanting To Be Alive. If that will be triggering for you please don't read this (read my happier bloom series instead). there's also an allusion to a relapse, slut-shaming, and allusions to sex (although there's no smut, it just gets slightly steamy). this fic is angst + hurt/comfort with an optimistic ending. inspired by noah kahan's music (including this amazing demo on instagram).

a/n: please let me know if i missed any warnings. please don't read this if you think it will be too triggering. the last thing i want is to make someone upset! but writing this was cathartic and helped me work through some things, i think. writing is magical!

🫀🫀🫀

THE GREAT DIVIDE

SOMETIME IN 1987

You aren’t sure how long it’s been since you last saw your friends. It feels like a fucking long time.

You woke up on the ground of the Upside Down, covered in dried blood and terrified at the sight of Vecna towering above you.

He brought you back to life. He wanted to send you back home and use you as a soldier and spy, the same thing he did to Will, Billy, Heather, and countless others.

“If you do this,” Vecna had growled, “You can once again see your family. Your friends. Your beloved Steven. Otherwise…you will die here.”

You refused, not interested in being his lackey. He tried to flay you anyway, but he was weak from the hell Nancy, Steve, and Robin rained down on him, allowing you to escape his clutches.

He stalked you for days, finally catching up to you—but you got the upper hand, using Eddie’s spear to stab him. Repeatedly.  

Killing Vecna caused the gates he opened to sew themselves back shut before you could get through. You were glad that your friends no longer had to worry about Vecna and his army of monsters pouring through the four gates, but it meant you were trapped on the wrong side of the universe.

Vecna gone meant the Upside Down could revert back to what it was before he arrived. Now, the sky of the Upside Down was a buttery yellow, and it was much warmer. You saw patches of green grass and flowers starting to grow in various spots around town. But it still felt like a nightmare.

You wander the Upside Down each day with a routine: avoid monsters, forage for food and clean water, and visit the gates to see if any of them reopened. Food and water aren’t as hard to find as you feared, since the world isn’t so much of a poison, desolate nightmare anymore. But the gates stay staunchly shut, much to your chagrin.

You miss your life. You miss Steve. You miss his laugh, his smile, his kisses, his touch. You would do ungodly things to see him again.

You hope he’s okay. Any time you want to give up, you remind yourself that if roles were reversed, Steve would keep fighting to come back to you no matter what.

And, to your pleasant surprise, he does just that.

🫀🫀🫀

AUGUST 1987

It’s been three months since you returned to the land of the living. You’re not taking it well.

Surviving the Upside Down meant constantly being in fight-or-flight, scrambling to find food and clean water while avoiding demo-creature attacks. Without Vecna’s evil influence, the animals weren’t so bloodthirsty—but they still needed to eat.

You were able to avoid them, surviving yourself off disgusting canned food from the Upside Down’s version of the Big Buy and whatever houses you ransacked. It wasn’t very appetizing. It made the meal you were serving up today seem like a 5-star, 5-course delight.

It was neither of those things. It was for a church potluck that your mother had a hand in throwing. Lots of casseroles and carbs. She dragged you along to volunteer in hopes to get you out of the house.

Ever since you left the hospital in May, you’d only ever left the house to go to doctor’s appointments, therapy appointments, and Steve’s place. Your parents wanted to encourage more of a well-rounded life and schedule, and although they’d never admit it, you figured they hoped you’d turn back to your normal self. To the person you were before it all happened.

You think she might have died.

As you plate some macaroni and cornbread for your next patron, you sense eyes on you. You glance over and see two women at a table a few feet away. To your chagrin, they’re gossiping about you.

“I mean, it’s appalling,” an old bat named Shirley hisses. “She claims to have lost her memory after the earthquake and gotten lost, but it’s obvious that she just ran away.”  

“Probably thought she was grown up, that she knew better than her parents,” Mildred says with a sniff, adjusting her too-big glasses.

“I can’t believe she left poor Steve Harrington high and dry,” Shirley adds.

Your heart clenches at the fact that these women see you as a villain, as an irresponsible idiot who up and left everyone who loved her out of spite. If they knew the truth…if they knew the nightmare you’d survived…

It only gets worse from there.

“You know what Cynthia told me?” Mildred says. “That her cousin’s roommate’s friend’s brother saw Y/N working a street corner in Manassas. It's just shameful.”

Anger burns through you, hot like hellfire. So, what? You’re not just a flake—you’re a slut to this people now, too? What happened to ‘loving thy neighbor’ and ‘forgiveness’ and all that shit?

“Can I get some more of that?” an elderly man says.

It snaps you back to your task at hand: dishing out food to hungry churchgoers.

“Ah, yeah,” you say. You dump macaroni on his Styrofoam plate. “Sorry. Here you go.”

The man smiles and ambles off. You take a deep breath and try your best to tune out the whispers of the chattering hens.

Your mother must notice the scowl on your face. She makes her way to you, practically floating, as graceful as ever. She’s totally in her element. She deserves a daughter who doesn’t clomp and stumble her way through life. Who doesn’t jump at every loud noise and sleep with a hunting knife under her pillow.

“Doing all right?” your mother asks you, giving you that sympathetic look that you think you might despise by now.

You muster up a smile of your own and nod.

Your mother can’t tell its fake and beams.

“See?” she says. “I knew getting you out of the house would turn that frown upside-down!”

She doesn’t know about the Upside Down. She thinks you got injured in the earthquake, stumbled through the Indiana woodlands, and got found by cops two states over. That you couldn’t remember where you came from due to amnesia, that since they pronounced you dead no one assumed you were the missing girl from Hawkins until your memories came back.

You let her comment slide and fake a smile, figuring it’s better to pretend you’re fine than feel it all.

🫀🫀🫀

That night, you chat with Steve on the phone. He’s gone back to college for the fall semester and you miss him terribly.

He promised he’d come back to Hawkins every other weekend. He knows how hard it’s been for you coming back. Or, he says he knows. Sometimes, you get the idea that he doesn’t really understand.

How could he? Every time he tries to get you to open up about what happened and what you went through, you shut down.

However, when he asks how your day was, you decide to be honest.

“It sucked,” you say. You blow out a huff of air. “These old crones were being total bitches at the church potluck. Apparently, the new conspiracy theory is that I was turning tricks in Virginia.”

“Ugh, I’m so sorry Y/N,” Steve says. For some reason, the sympathy in his voice makes you wince.

“But it’s fine,” you say quickly. “I don’t care what they say about me.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line.

“It’s okay if you do, you know,” Steve says, speaking slowly and carefully as if he’s worried about setting you off. (For good reason; you’ve been prone to outbursts of anger lately.)

“I know!” you say, defensiveness seeping into your tone. “But I don’t give a shit. Really.”

“Good,” Steve says. But he sounds unconvinced. “You shouldn’t.”

Another pause. It lasts a little too long for your liking. You clear your throat.

“I should probably shower and head to bed,” you say. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, totally,” Steve says. You don’t understand why he sounds almost intrigued by the prospect of your boring nighttime routine until he says, “A shower with you sounds like heaven right now…”

Shit. You’re really not in the mood for phone sex. Even if that’s not what Steve is angling for, just slightly flirty banter doesn’t sound fun to you either.

Steve has been a total gentleman ever since you got back. You’ve kissed a little, but anytime he tries to take it further, you stop him. As much as you longed for him in every sense while in the Upside Down, you don’t feel ready to re-engage in those kinds of activities—like you’ve been shot back to the insecure, unconfident person you were before you started dating Steve.

He respects those boundaries and never, ever presses for more. But you worry he’s getting bored and wants to get back into old habits, possibly evidenced by his shower comment.

You’re a coward. You don’t tell him outright that you’re not in the mood, afraid he’ll have an out-of-character reaction and chew you out for being a prude or a tease.

“Huh?” you say. Steve starts to repeat his salacious comment, but you interrupt with: “Bad…connection…can’t…better…”

You hang up the phone and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

🫀🫀🫀

OCTOBER 1987

It’s a Thursday in October, and you’re taking a trip for the first time in a long time.

“You have everything you need?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Toothbrush? Extra socks? Lambchop?”

You huff and roll your eyes, crossing your arms like a petulant teenager.

“Mom! I’m an adult. I do not need a stuffed animal.”

“But you packed her, right?”

You mumble out a “Yes” as she pulls up to the parking lot near Steve’s apartment building.

You applied for spring admission at the University of Indiana. Your lovely boyfriend invited you to stay with him for a few days so he could show you around campus for homecoming weekend.

Tonight is the unofficial campus tour with “Tour Guide Steve.” Tomorrow, you’ll help him and his friends put the finishing touches on a homecoming parade float, and Saturday is the big football game.

Before your disappearance and assumed death, your parents were insanely strict about you staying the night with Steve and wouldn’t have allowed it. Now, they’ve mellowed out—but you hate thinking it’s because of some kind of twisted pity.

Steve must have seen your mom’s minivan pull up from his apartment window, because he jogs over to you before you’ve even grabbed your bag from the trunk.

“Hey, babe!” he says with a beaming grin; the picture of exuberance. You can feel his excitement roll off him in waves. You feel like an asshole for matching his energy. Even though you’re excited for time with Steve, you have a pit in your stomach at the thought of being away from home for so many days.

Of course, if you get accepted to U of I, you’ll be away from home for weeks at a time. You try not to think about that.

Steve hugs you tightly, and you hope he can’t sense your apprehension.

He seems not too, still smiling as he gives your mom a quick hug and then offers to carry your duffel bag for you.

You give your mom a hug goodbye, promising to call if you want to get picked up early.

You and Steve wave as your mom drives away. After dropping your bag off at his apartment, Steve takes you on an abridged campus tour that ends at the dining hall. He wants to introduce you to his friends.

He has friends here. Of course he does, you’re glad he does. No one should feel like they don’t have friends, or like their girlfriend is their only friend. But what does it mean that your boyfriend is your only friend lately?

Nancy’s off at Emerson. As for the Hawkins crew, Jonathan’s busy with family stuff, helping Joyce and Hopper renovate their new house. Eddie’s preoccupied with his band, trying to get Corroded Coffin off the ground after a he-was-accused-of-murder hiatus. And Robin’s a student at Roane County Community College, spending her days with marching band and classes and clubs and work.

They’ve started inviting you to things, and sometimes you go. You usually don’t have much fun, distracted with your own anxieties and unable to think of anything interesting to say.

So, the fact that Steve seems to have moved on from everything so easily and has a pack of friends at college makes you feel pathetic, even though it shouldn’t.

At the dining hall, Steve introduces you to his buddies. When Steve lived on-campus last semester, Gus was his roommate. Now Steve’s moved into his own apartment off-campus, but the boys still hang out often and play together on a club basketball team.

Jessica is Gus’ girlfriend. She has a kind smile and compliments your sweater.

The last friend in their clique is Rochelle. She’s tall and slender, like a supermodel. Apparently, she and Jessica grew up together and are good friends.

Everyone greets you happily when Steve introduces you—except Rochelle, who looks you up and down like she’s inspecting you. It makes you uneasy.

You immediately start to dislike her more when she laughs loudly at Steve’s jokes and squeezes his shoulder flirtatiously.

“You are tew much, Harrington,” Rochelle says, flipping her shiny hair over her shoulder.

It makes you feel tense and jealous and angry and sick all at once.

You’re completely content to listen in silence while the others chat, but then Jessica asks where you go to school.

“Oh, um, here, in the spring,” you say. “Uh, hopefully.”

“That’s awesome!” Gus says. “You get the full Hoosiers homecoming experience a whole semester before having to pay tuition.”

You chuckle and smile. Any good feelings you have about this interaction come crashing down when Rochelle asks, “So, like, if you aren’t a student right now, what do you do?”

“She’s working at Sonic,” Steve says. “Saving up money. Right babe?”

You turn to him, face falling. You’re not working. You tried to apply for a job at Sonic and had a panic attack when you saw the gap in your resume from your 15 months in the Upside Down, so you roller-skated your way home to unemployment.

Did you not tell Steve that? You suppose you “forgot” to tell him about that panic episode.

“Uh, actually no,” you say, furrowing your brow. “Not anymore. I’m just taking a semester off.”

Surprise flashes behind Steve’s eyes, but he recovers quickly. He throws an arm around your shoulders and says, “Right, of course.”

The rest of the conversation is mostly you smiling and nodding along to the funny stories and inside jokes the group shares. When you and Steve get back to his place later that evening, you apologize for not updating him on the Sonic situation sooner.

Steve waves away your apology.

“Don’t even worry about it,” he says.

“But I feel bad,” you say, fidgeting with your fingers while you sit next to him on the couch. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.”

(You didn’t truly forget. You were embarrassed and didn’t want him to know.)

“These things happen,” Steve says. “I totally get it. For a few months after Vecna and…you, my brain was like scrambled eggs. I’d drink myself to a coma every other night. I definitely didn’t have the sharpest mind.”

You appreciate him for understanding. Except you feel shitty because you’re lying to him about forgetting. It’s a vicious cycle.

The two of you put on a movie, and while you’re lying on the couch with him, you start thinking of something you haven’t done in a long, long time.

You lightly trace your hand up and down the arm that’s wrapped around your middle.

“Hey,” you say quietly. “Would you want to…”

You clear your throat.

“What?” Steve asks.

You aren’t sure how to ask for what you want without sounding wholly desperate and/or pathetic and/or like the horniest bastard alive.

“Go to your room?” you say.

“Sure, if you want, we can go to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

You laugh lightly.

“No, I mean. You know.”

You wiggle your eyebrows and Steve’s jaw drops. Mouth agape, like a goldfish, his brains seems to short circuit.

The air is charged with something you haven’t felt in a long time.

“Are you sure?” Steve says, a barely audibly whisper. His hand cups your cheek so delicately, and you feel cherished. Love. Seen.

“I am,” you whisper back, before pulling him closer to you for a kiss.

It’s the kind of kiss you dreamed about while you were trapped in another universe.

It makes you feel electric, the same way your first kiss had. That iconic kiss happened because Steve found out you’d never played spin the bottle. In his kitchen late, late at night, he took an empty soda bottle and spun it on the countertop.

He had maneuvered it just right and stopped it with his hand when the bottle neck pointed right at you, like a compass needle finding truth north.

“Well, what do you know,” Steve had said at the time, with a dopey grin on his face. “It’s you.”

“If you wanted to kiss me so bad,” you had quipped, “you could’ve just asked.”

And then you two kissed like crazy, amongst other things.

Back in the present, all your hesitancies and qualms about re-engaging in intimacy and sex with Steve are thrown out the window when you feel his lips on yours.

Giddy as if it’s the first time (because, in a way, it kind of is), the two of you break apart and practically race down the hall to his bedroom. Thank goodness for no roommates, because when you’re in there, Steve slams the door and presses you against it to kiss some more, closing the gap between the metaphorical great divide that you’ve placed between you both.

You tug at his shirt, and he pulls it off before the two of you stumble into his bed.

Things heat up, and they’re going great. Steve is kissing and biting your neck, probably leaving a hickey or two, but you don’t mind. His hands are gripping your waist, practically leaving scorch marks in their wake.

You’re loving this. You’re having a great time.

Until you’re not. The trains of thought in your brain all rush from the station at the same time, colliding at a junction on the tracks.

What if you give Steve an infection? Not an STD, but like, an Upside Down sickness. You could be a carrier and not even realize it. Is that a possibility? What did Dr. Owens say last time you saw him?

He advised you not to get pregnant. He said there’s a possibility your future children could have birth defects after your time in the Upside Down. Birth defects! You’re only 21 years old and your body is poisoned. Not enough to harm you in the short term, but the long term effects on you (and your progeny) could be terrible to deal with.

But Steve really wants kids. What if he finds out you can’t give him children and he leaves you? You really, really don’t want him to leave you.

You don’t realize it, but you start breathing a little harder. To Steve, it seems like you’re insanely turned on. Mentally, your brain is on a different plane of existence.

He’s going to leave you because he’s better off without you. He doesn’t realize it yet but one day, one day. He will.

Vecna was right. Vecna said Steve would get tired and bored of you. That’s why the monster tried to recruit you, to flay you. That’s why he pursued you across the Upside Down for days, hunting you like a dog until he cornered you at the quarry.

Steve finally takes notice of your erratic breathing pattern. You’re not reacting how you usually do to his kissing. He ceases the lovefest and leans up on his elbows.

“Y/N? You okay?”

You don’t hear him. You continue to hyperventilate, your eyes screwed tightly shut.

And when you stabbed the beast through the chest with the spear Eddie left behind, you didn’t even feel sorry.

Is that the kind of person you are? A sick, violent freak?

But it was self-defense!

But if you hadn’t tried to draw the demobats away, you wouldn’t have been in that situation. You went against the plan. You caused all the bad things that happened to you.

You’re a bad person. A bad omen. A bad girlfriend. A bad daughter. A—

“Hey, can you hear me? Y/N?”

Steve’s soft, slightly panicked, voice brings you back down to reality.

You nod, eyes still shut.

“Sorry,” you say. “I don’t—I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, still speaking quietly as if he’s afraid to scare you. You don’t feel his hands on you anymore, but you sense he’s still close. “It’s okay. Can you sit up? I think you should drink something.”

You sit up slowly and open your eyes. Steve looks frazzled, but he musters up a smile when he hands you a glass of cold water.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

You don’t respond, just take a sip.

“Can we just go to bed?” you say after a moment, voice cracking.

Steve nods and gives your knee a gentle squeeze.

“Of course. And, hey, listen, we don’t have to have sex anytime soon, okay?”

“But—”

“No, seriously,” Steve says, shaking his head vehemently. “I mean, of course I like having sex with you. Probably too much.”

You snort and shake your head, a small smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

“But you know I don’t mind waiting. Right?”

You nod.

“Yeah, I know.”

But as you lie awake, tossing and turning, your brain continues feeding you lie after lie, and you find yourself believing the opposite. Prude, tease. Bad girlfriend. Bad person.

🫀🫀🫀

The next morning, you, Steve, Gus, Jessica, and Rochelle work on a homecoming float for the club basketball team the boys are on.

It’s fun at first. The parking lot is filled with floats for all different student organizations. Someone is playing music a bit too loud, but the energy is electric.

It takes a turn when Steve rushes off with Gus to get more supplies.

While you’re kneeling by the float trying to staple tinsel trim around the edge, you hear Rochelle and Jessica whispering conspiratorially on the other side. They can’t see you due to a large papier mâché basketball blocking you from view.

You're awash with embarrassment, feeling warm head to toe, when you realize they’re talking about you.  

“You know what Mollie told me?” Rochelle said. “When she and Steve were hooking up last year, he called her Y/N, like, three times.”

Your heart shrinks. You didn’t know Steve had been involved with anyone while you were gone. In fact, he said the opposite.

“That’s kind of sweet though, when you think about it,” Jessica muses. “But I wonder what caused Steve and Y/N to break up and then get back together. I’ve never dreamed of breaking up with Gus.”

“I heard some other super freaky stuff about her,” Rochelle says. “My sorority sister, Tina, is from Hawkins too. Apparently, Y/N had, like, amnesia or some shit after that earthquake thing. And she was like missing.”

“Damn,” Jessica says. “That’s crazy. How’d she remember stuff and get back home?”

“Who gives a shit?” Rochelle scoffs. “That’s obviously a cover story. Tina said the real story is probably something much simpler. Like she ran away to become a stripper but couldn’t hack it because she doesn’t have a good body. And, well, we’ve seen that firsthand.”

Anger and shame courses through your veins, and you tug on the hem of your sweatshirt. You’re comforted only a miniscule amount when you hear Jessica come to your defense.

“Don’t be such a jerk. And we have no idea what really happened so stop making shit up, mkay?”

“I’m just repeating what I heard. But Tina’s right, her whole deal is so weird. I can’t believe she’s Steve’s girlfriend. He deserves better.”

Those words echo in your head. He deserves better. He deserves better. You’ve been thinking that a lot yourself lately.

You don’t care if Jessica and Rochelle see you when you toss your stapler onto the ground and stomp off.

“Oh, shit,” you hear Jessica say. “Nice going, Roche.”

“It’s not my fault! I didn’t know she was creeping around!”

As you beeline through the throngs of float-makers, you bump into Steve, holding a box of glittery something. He grins at you.

“Hey, where’s the fire?”

When he notices the grim look on your face, he sobers up.

“Whoa, what happened?”  

“Who’s Mollie?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

Steve pales. He swallows hard, grip on the box loosening. He gingerly sets it on the ground next to him and shrugs.

“No one.”

“Liar.”

Steve glances around before leading you away from the crowd to a secluded spot on the outskirts of the parking lot.

“She really was no one,” Steve repeats. “Just some girl I had a class with. I was lonely and she liked me, so we went out twice.”

“I heard Rochelle say you hooked up with her,” you say. You cross your arms and try to keep angry tears at bay. “You told me you didn’t find anybody else.”

“I didn’t!” Steve says, a little louder. He clears his throat. “I meant that. We almost hooked up, but I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

You sigh and shake your head. You want to believe him so badly. But the voice in your head that’s been so cruel to you lately isn’t convinced.

“Do you still think about her?”

Steve scrunches up his face, wholly confused at your line of questioning.

“What? No, of course not. Like I said, we hung out twice, had one near-miss, and then never spoke again. Babe, is everything okay?”

He reaches a hand to your arm and you flinch away. Your action makes him frown deeper.

You rub your forehead.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say. “Just tired.”

A beat. You think Steve’s going to accept your answer, until: “Why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not lying!” you say, irritation creeping into your tone. “I’m just tired. Okay, Steve?”

Steve fidgets from foot to foot. He’s starting to look as agitated as you feel. With an annoyingly calm, even voice, he says, “I think you’re not being honest.”

“And I think you should shut up,” you fire back, before you can stop yourself.

Steve’s face contorts into a frown, the line between his brows deepening.

“Whoa, what the hell?” he says. “Why are you being like this?”

“Because I just found out you lied about not being involved with someone while I was gone!”

Steve rubs his face with his hands, as if he’s trying to scrub away whatever he’s feeling. He takes a deep breath, another one, and then finally speaks.

“Y/N, I thought you were dead,” he says, voice strained. “You can’t seriously be jealous of me spending time with someone else because to my knowledge, I was never going to see you again.”

You know you should apologize for your outburst. Tell him about your insecurities, now dialed up to 1000 thanks to Rochelle’s comments. Rejoin his friends at the float like the normal girlfriend he probably wishes you were.

But instead, you find yourself voicing one of the fears that’s been swirling in your brain since June.

“It would be so much easier for you if that was still the case, right?” you ask, softly.

“Excuse me?” Steve asks.

“Do you ever regret it?” you ask. “Bringing me back?” He doesn’t react, doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. You clear your throat and, louder, add, “Because it would be so much simpler for you to date a girl like Mollie or Rochelle.”

“Jesus, Y/N,” Steve groans. “Don’t bring Rochelle into this.”

“Why not? She’s obviously obsessed with you!”

“Yeah?” Steve scoffs. “Well, I don’t like her. I like you.” He shakes his head, as if he’s short-circuiting, and corrects, “I love you!”

Too late. You already heard the Freudian slip of your worst nightmare. He doesn’t regard you in the same way he did before your so-called death. You’ve changed too much.

You shake your head vehemently.

“No,” you say. “No. You loved the girl I was before it all happened.”

“You’re still the same girl!”

“I’m not!” you shout. You’re so angry, so upset, so emotional, you can’t stop. You’re floating above your body and watching yourself speak when you say, “I’m not. She’s gone, and sometimes I wish you’d never brought me back so I wouldn’t feel like this.”

Steve goes still once more. When he finally replies, his voice is dangerously quiet: “How dare you say that.”

You hadn’t expected that. You’d expected him to swoop in with comforting platitudes. To hug you and promise it would all be okay. To truly hear the words you’re saying—the thoughts you’ve been too afraid to voice in therapy, thoughts you’ve sugarcoated in your mind to lessen that bitter feeling on your tongue when you finally speak them aloud.

“What?” you whisper. Your eyes sting, unshed tears collecting on your lash line.

“How dare you say that,” Steve says, shaking his head. He’s angrier than you’ve ever seen him. He runs a hand through his hair and barks out a laugh so hollow, you can practically hear the echo in his ribcage. “That’s so fucking selfish that you wish you were still down there. I was miserable without you. I didn’t want to go on. I didn’t think I could!”

He's not getting what you’re trying to say. You open your mouth to reply, to apologize, to try and fix things, but Steve continues.

“So for you to be so callous, to think so little of me, to think I’d rather date some vapid airhead just because it would be ‘simpler’? To think I somehow can’t love you anymore because of what you went through? That’s just…bullshit!”

You heave out a sob as tears roll down your cheeks. Steve’s expression morphs into one of guilt. He swallows hard.

“Y/N, I—”

“You don’t get to tell me my feelings are bullshit!” you snap. You sniffle and roughly wipe your tears away, before jabbing a finger into his chest and pressing in. “Ever since I’ve been back, it’s all about how everyone else feels about it. You and my parents are so much happier, and you seem to think I can snap back to how I was before and forget it all happened and be grateful that I survived. Well, I can’t!”

Despite your distance from the parade planning festivities, you see a few curious students glance in your direction. You can’t be bothered to care.

“I don’t know how to go on with life like normal after 15 months in that hell, and no one understands what I’m going through!” you yell. “No one has been through that! And I’m miserable and scared and anxious and I’m lying to my therapist week after week because I can’t even verbalize what I’m thinking without feeling like I’m losing my goddamn mind. So sorry if sometimes I wish all this would go away.”

Steve’s facial expression cracks your heart in seventeen pieces. He looks devastated and confused.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, somewhat cautiously. “You’re right. I’m not handling this well, not seeing it from your point of view. But this is the most you’ve expressed how you’re feeling about it all. For the past few months, I—I don’t know. I thought you were feeling okay.”

You sniffle again and shrug.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Steve says. He clears his throat. “This is good, I think. Well, no, it’s not good that we’re screaming at each other in the quad. But getting our feelings out is—”

“I want to go home,” you say, cutting him off.

Steve closes his eyes, sighs softly, and nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll drive you back to Hawkins tonight.”

“No, I want to go now,” you say, voice cracking as you try not to cry harder. “I want my mom to come get me.”

Hurt flashes on Steve’s features. “Babe, are you sure? I really don’t mind. I want to, actually. The drive will give us more of a chance to talk.”

But you’re too tired and overwhelmed to talk anymore. Steve understands, though his shoulders are slumped as the two of you walk back to his apartment.

He offers to pack your bag while you call your house. Your mom picks up on the second ring.

“Hello, Y/L/N residence.”

“Mom?” you sniff. “Can you come get me?”

“Oh, of course sweetie!” You hear the jingle of car keys. “Wait, are you crying? What’s wrong? Was it another nightmare?”

“I just don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Did you and Steve have a fight?”

“His friends were really mean,” you say quietly, deciding not to disclose that you indeed got in an argument with Steve. “This girl, Rochelle, said one of her friends from Hawkins is telling everyone I was a stripper.”

“Oh, don’t you listen to that.”

You can’t hold back tears as you begin to cry harder.

“How come everyone makes up those dumb rumors?” you say through sobs. “And if people on campus already know them, how much worse will it be if I’m a student here?!”

Your mom soothes you over the phone before promising to get there as quickly as possible. As you hang up the phone, Steve comes in from down the hall, frowning and carrying your now-packed duffel. He doesn’t even try to be subtle about his eavesdropping when he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me Rochelle said that to you?”

You shrug and look down at your feet.

Steve closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I keep replaying our conversation in my head,” he says, “and I feel like an ass.”

“You’re not, Steve.”

“No! I am. I absolutely am. You were honest and vulnerable, and I immediately got mad. I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say flatly. Admittedly, you’re not sure if you forgive him yet. But you know you didn’t treat him well either, so you say, “I’m sorry too. I was insensitive. I know you had a hard time while I was gone—”

“But it’s nothing compared to what you were dealing with,” Steve says. He steps closer to you and intertwines your hands together. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

“My mom’s already on her way,” you say. “And you should rest up. Tomorrow’s the parade, and the homecoming game.”

“I don’t need to go to the game.”

“Steve—”

“I’d rather come back to Hawkins this weekend,” he continues. “Spend more time with you. Talk things through, you know? Maybe I can just ride with you and your mom, and Munson can bring me back Sunday.”

He’s sweet. But you aren’t sure how to tell him that you really, really don’t want to be around him right now. You don’t want to be around anyone, really.

You take a deep breath, gently drop his hands, and say, “I think I need some space.”

You can’t look Steve in the eye, but you hear the pain in his voice when he says, “Oh. Um, okay. Yeah. Of course. Space.”

You two sit in awkward silence while you wait for your mom to arrive. When she gets there, Steve continues to be a gentleman, carrying your bag for you and politely making small talk with your mom. He gives you a hug goodbye, but it doesn’t linger the way his hugs usually do.

As your mom drives away, you watch your boyfriend get smaller and smaller in the side mirror.

Before leaving, you promised him you’d call him that night.

You conveniently “forget” to do that.

He leaves a message at 9:37 p.m., asking you to call him back.

You don’t.

🫀🫀🫀

NOVEMBER 1987

“Hey, babe. It’s Steve. Again. I know we agreed on ‘space’ but I haven’t heard from you in three weeks…I don’t want to rush or smother you, but I’d really like to talk, even if it’s for, like, five minutes. So please call me back. I love you, Y/N.”

-

“Hey Y/N. Are you doing okay? Robin says she saw you and your mom at the store the other day and you just seemed kind of…out of it. To be honest, I’m worried about you. Listen, even if you don’t…even if we…even if you’ve decided you don’t want to be with me anymore, or something, I still care about you. And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. Please call me. Bye. Love you.”

-

“Hi Y/N, I’m coming back to Hawkins for Thanksgiving. Can I come by after you and your parents have dinner? I want to check in. On how you’re doing, and on how you’re feeling about ‘us.’ Let me know, okay? Bye, Y/N.”

-

“Hey. I’m going to swing by your place after I’ve finished Thanksgiving dinner with the Buckleys. Robin told me you’ve been avoiding her too. And Eddie, and Jonathan. I know you’re going through a tough time, but don’t try to do it alone. That’s a lesson I learned the hard way last year. I’ll see you tonight, all right?” 

🫀🫀🫀

You’ve spent the past month and a half wallowing. All you really do is sleep, eat, shower, and take short walks around your neighborhood for exercise. Any time Steve calls the house phone, you tell your parents to let it ring and let it go to voicemail.

It’s shitty of you, but you aren’t sure how to dig yourself out of this hole that you’ve found yourself in. You’re still feeling rather undeserving of Steve.

So when he shows up on your doorstep on Thanksgiving, wearing that maroon sweater that you’ve always just adored, the first thing you do is apologize for your radio silence. Then, you offer him pumpkin pie.

“I won’t say no,” he says. “As long as you split it with me.”

While your parents cuddle on the couch and watch It’s A Wonderful Life, you and Steve sit on the kitchen counter and eat slices of pie with whipped cream.

For a few minutes, you exchange small talk and pleasantries. Then, Steve gets down to business.

“How have you been doing, really?” Steve asks.

“Fine. Just tired.”

“Y/N,” Steve says with a sigh. “Please just be honest with me.”

You suck in a breath.

“Okay. You want honesty? I’m having a really hard time.”

“I know,” Steve says gently. “And I want to help. Can you talk to me about what’s going on?”

You consider it. You consider wrenching your heart open for him and admitting all your fears and insecurities. But last time you broached this subject with Steve and tried to be wholly honest about what you were feeling, you didn’t explain it right and he took it the wrong way.

And you also hear what sounds like Rochelle’s voice in your mind: He deserves better. He deserves better.

You save yourself the trouble and say, “I need to get my shit together. And I’m not being a very good girlfriend while I do, so I think we need to break up.”

Despite your best efforts to stay strong, you feel tears coming on. Everything only worsens when you hear Steve whisper, “What?” 

He deserves better. He deserves better. He deserves better than you.

“I have to focus on myself right now,” you continue as the tears roll down your cheeks. You stab your pie with your fork and say, “I’m sorry. I love you so much—”

“I love you too, Y/N, so I—”

“—but I need to deal with this on my own. It’s not fair of me to treat you like this.” You clear your throat and add, “You deserve someone who can give you everything you want.”

“You’re what I want,” Steve says. You can’t look at him, but you get the impression that he’s tearing up too. “I mean, if this is really what you want, I’ll respect your decision completely, but I just have to know—is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

You don’t want to do this—

—but he deserves better.

“I’m sorry, but no.”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Steve says after a beat. “Even if we aren’t together anymore, I’m still here for you. You know that, right?”

You nod, still decimating your pie slice with your fork.

“Okay, good.” He sniffles.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to keep apologizing.” 

“Sorry. Ah, I mean—”

Steve chuckles, despite everything. You two share an awkward hug goodbye before he leaves.

You stay in the kitchen and hear him wish your parents “Happy holidays.” As you hear the front door open and shut, as you hear his car turn on and drive away, you try to convince yourself this was the correct choice. That shutting him out means he’ll live a happier life without you.

The pit of emptiness like a chasm in your soul will go away eventually, right?

🫀🫀🫀

FEBRUARY 1988

It’s been 3 months since you broke up with Steve.

You decided to defer your U of I enrollment. Steve, being a good friend, calls a few days before the semester starts asking if you’d like help moving into your dorm, and you break the news to him. He understands but sounds disappointed. It makes you feel terrible.

But this is the right choice. You aren’t ready to be away from home, away from your parents, even if it’s just a couple hours away.

You start taking community college classes to fill your time and get some credits, along with working at Bradley’s Big Buy as a stocker. It’s mindless, monotonous work. It’s kind of perfect.

What isn’t so perfect is your therapist, Elaine. She’s nice enough. But she doesn’t seem to get it. You aren’t able to fully tell her what you went through, considering she knows nothing about the Upside Down, so she can’t really help you.

When you start opening up about the dark thoughts worming their way through your mind, Elaine advocates strongly and staunchly for putting yourself out there and making new friends to fill the void. You’re starting to wonder if you’re wasting your time shelling out $50 a week.

You do think a better social life would be good for you, so you invite Robin, Eddie, and Jonathan to come over to your place for a horror movie marathon. (Nancy would be invited too, if she wasn’t away at school.) You’ve rented a D-level slasher trilogy about a man in a hockey mask attacking pageant queens. It’s small potatoes compared to what you’ve actually been through.

Jonathan agrees, but both Robin and Eddie tell you they can’t make it. Robin because she’s got the flu. Eddie because he has band practice all afternoon and into the night.

It stings like a barb ripping you open when you swing by Melvald’s for cheap movie candy and spot the two of them across the street, laughing as they head into the Hawk with…Steve, who must be home from school for the weekend.

So they do want to have a movie night. Just with Steve and not you. Message received.

You wonder if Steve said something to sour you in their eyes. You thought the breakup was amicable. You know he was upset by it, but he respected your decision. And he doesn’t seem like the type to badmouth an ex, especially after all you’ve been through together.

But anxiety rolls through your nervous system the rest of the day. As you and Jonathan watch the crappy movies, you just feel numb.

“Jee-sus!” Jonathan yelps as the killer’s chainsaw hacks through someone’s limb.

He glances your way, eyebrows raising. “What? That didn’t scare you?”

You shrug. “I’ve seen worse.”

Jonathan’s brow furrows. He leans over and pauses the movie.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? We can watch something else. Or, if you’d rather be alone, I can head out.”

You pick at a loose thread on the pillow in your lap.

“Are Robin and Eddie mad at me?” you whisper.

“What?” Jonathan says with a laugh. “You’re, like, the nicest person in a fifty-mile radius. Why would they be mad at you?”

The old you was nice. The current you is moody. But Jonathan is also pretty moody, so maybe your moodiness is baseline in his eyes.

“They both said they couldn’t come tonight,” you continue, “but then I saw them just an hour ago in downtown Hawkins heading into the Hawk with Steve. Why else would they make up excuses not to come unless they were mad?”

Jonathan takes a long, slow sip of his grape soda and shrugs.

“It’s probably because they don’t want you to think they chose Steve over you in the breakup.”

“But that’s exactly what they did!”

“Maybe not,” Jonathan says. “Maybe they just made the plans with Steve before you invited us over and it’s easier to turn down your invitation than cancel on him.”

That’s a very logical way of looking at it, but it still stings feeling like you’ve lost two friends since you and Steve aren’t together anymore.

You and Jonathan continue watching, but his mom calls halfway through the second movie, forcing him to leave early—something about El using telekinesis to turn her bed into a bunk bed and it backfiring horribly.

You try to push your worries out of your mind, but paranoia takes a hold. As you toss and turn in your bed that night, clutching Lambchop for a semblance of comfort, your brain bullies you.

Robin and Eddie are pissed at you. Probably because you haven’t gone to any Corroded Coffin shows since you’ve been back. You’ve been a little preoccupied.

A little selfish, more like. It doesn’t matter what you’re going through. You should still support your friends.

But why? You don’t like drinking alcohol anymore because you don’t like feeling out of control. And the Hideout is the only place Corroded Coffin plays, and that place reeks of booze and cigarettes and bad decisions.

Maybe that’s why Eddie’s mad. Is Robin mad by proxy? Did Steve shit-talk you to her? How did he describe the events of the breakup?

Were you a bad girlfriend? Are you a bad friend? Bad person?

Yes. You’re a bad person.

🫀🫀🫀

You happen to run into Robin on the community college’s campus the following Monday. You can’t help but ask if she’s feeling better.

Her eyes widen and she plasters on a smile.

“O-oh, yeah!” she says. “I’m feeling loads better. Tons! Tons better.”

“Your sinus infection is gone?” you prompt, knowing full well she told you it was the flu.

“Yep! All gone. My sinuses are as healthy as can be. I feel like I could live to be 100!”

You exchange a few more pleasantries and shuffle off.

🫀🫀🫀

MARCH 1988

There’s a dark cloud hovering over your mind. Most days, you’re lethargic. You go to classes and go to work, and you do start going to the Hideout on Tuesday nights with Jonathan and Robin to watch Eddie play with his band.

But that’s the extent of your social life. You’re feeling lonely and drained.

Things take a turn for the worse in March. It was a cold, cold winter in Hawkins, and spring is shaping up to be warmer but just as gloomy. Really bad thunderstorms shake the windowpanes of your house most days, and the streaks of lightning remind you so much of the grayish-yellow Upside Down sky, it makes you sick.

You can’t help but find yourself thinking you want to disappear to escape it all. Not die, exactly. But fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. Maybe when you woke up, things would be better.

You try to explain what you’re feeling to Elaine the Therapist, and she doesn’t understand what you meant in the slightest.

“Have you gotten checked for narcolepsy?” she asks.

You give her a tight smile and say you’ll ask your doctor about it at your next checkup.

A bright spot is when Robin invites you to a party at her apartment. You forgot her and Eddie’s little white lie from a few weeks ago and RSVP yes.

The party is going well. You’re having a nice conversation with Jonathan and Eddie when Steve walks in, and he’s not alone.

Your heart sinks to your feet, through the floor, and all the way to the core of the earth when you see Steve is joined by Rochelle.

You don’t even hear any of the conversations happening around you. You quickly excuse yourself to the kitchen for a glass of water—and because you need to be alone.

You get about 15 seconds of a reprieve before Steve enters.

“Listen, it’s not what you think,” he says quickly.

“Hello to you too, Steve,” you say. You can’t even look him in the eye, choosing instead to study the ice cubes in your glass.

“I’m not here with Rochelle,” Steve continues. He runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, yes, she’s here. And I’m here. And we’re here together. But not together together! God, I’m not making any sense, am I?”

“None at all.”

“She needed a ride to her parents’ house for the weekend,” Steve explains. “She lives just forty-five minutes from here. But I guess they were out of town, and she didn’t have a key, so she’s staying with me. And she didn’t want to spend all day in my house alone, so—”

“She’s here,” you finish for him. You finally look him in the eye and force a smile. “That’s fine, Steve. You can hang out with whoever you want.”

“Trust me,” Steve snorts. “I’d rather not be hanging out with her. I’m just doing her a favor because she’s friends with Jessica and Gus.”

Before you can respond, Rochelle saunters into the kitchen. She smiles like a shark—all gums and teeth.

“Oh, it’s you!” she says. “Y/N! How have you been?”

“Fine,” you say politely. “How about you?”

“Oh, just great. Really great. Sad to not see you around campus, though. I thought you enrolled?”

She has the impressive capability of making everything single sentence sound like an insult.

“I’m going to community college instead,” you explain. “But I really should get back out there.”

You give Steve and Rochelle a wide berth before stepping back into the living room.

The rest of the party goes by fine. Except you can’t quite contain your rage watching Rochelle throw herself at Steve all afternoon.

She sits too close to him. She constantly whispers in his ear and giggles, like they’re sharing inside jokes and secrets. While Robin’s putting on a movie for everyone to watch, you swear you even see Rochelle put her hand on Steve’s thigh.

The only thing that makes you feel better is that Steve blocks every one of these advances. While Eddie regales you all with a Corroded Coffin storytime, you even notice Steve's slotted himself in between Robin and the wall, forcing Rochelle to stand off to the side near a potted plant.

When the party’s over, you wish Robin well and try to slip out unnoticed. Unfortunately, Steve has a terrible habit of noticing everything about you, and he follows you out.

“Hey, wait up!” he calls, jogging behind you as you speed walk to your car to avoid the sprinkling rain.

“Sorry, I have to go,” you say, struggling to unlock your car door.

Before you can get it unlocked and make your escape, Steve places a hand over the driver’s side door handle.

“Hold on,” he says. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“Well, I have to get home—”

“This’ll take five minutes,” Steve promises. He traces an X over his heart. “Cross my heart, hope to cry.”

You scrunch your nose in confusion. “It’s ‘die.’”

“Huh?”

“It’s ‘Cross my heart, hope to die. Stick a needle in my eye.’”

Steve’s eyes widen and jaw drops, affronted. “Jesus Christ,” he grumbles. “Why would anyone ever want to do that?”

“That’s the point!” you say, and you can’t help but laugh at the appalled look on his face. “You don’t want to do that, so you keep the promise.”

“Ah. Okay, well, I’ll be fast. I just want to see how you’ve been doing these past few months. I—I miss you, you know?”

You swallow hard. The rain’s starting to pick up now. You don’t want to wait too much longer to drive home, or else it’ll be too hard to see. And if you see lightning, you’ll probably have a panic attack behind the wheel, making you a danger to yourself and others.

“I miss you too,” you say. “But I really, really need to get home now.”

You think of leaving it at that, but your heart feels as sad as the look on his face, so you add, “But you can come by my house later tonight and we can talk? Uh, how’s 8 sound?”

Steve’s face brightens. He gives you that smile that always makes your stomach do a backflip.

“I’d like that,” he says.

You smile back and open your car door. Before stepping in, you turn to him and say, “Do not bring Rochelle.”

“Cross my whatever and hope to who-gives-a-shit!” Steve says as he walks backward away from your car. You give him a small wave, which he returns, before getting in the car and driving off.

As you suspected, the drive home is much, much too anxiety-inducing. Thunder seems to shake the whole frame of the car as you drive across town. Rain falls in pails, as if angels are taking buckets and throwing them on your car specifically. Your windshield wipers can barely keep up, and cars are honking and passing you since your fear is causing you to drive about ten under the speed limit.

You try not to let that bother you as your hands grip the wheel for dear life, the muscles from your fingers up to your shoulders impossibly tense. There’s a reason your mom drove you everywhere last summer and fall. Getting back into the habit of operating a motor vehicle isn’t easy, and everything seems to scare you now.

Despite everything, the drive is going fine—until one of the cars passing you cuts a little too close as they swerve back into the right lane. They almost clip your front bumper, which causes you to panic and swerve off the road near the now defunct trailer park.

Your tires squeak on the wet grass and you slam on your breaks, heart pounding. Shuddery breaths draw in, out. In, out. You try and collect yourself and turn your left turn signal on to merge back onto the main road. However, something gray out of the corner of your eye causes you to whip your head in the direction of the trailer park.

This is where you died and were resurrected—well, the version of this in the Upside Down. In Hawkins, the area is cordoned off. No one can live there anymore, thanks to the big cracks in the earth. Once gates, they were now sealed, but they upended some trailers and tore others in two.

You see a flash of movement between two broken trailers. The gates are supposed to be closed, and there aren’t supposed to be Upside Down creatures in Hawkins anymore, but you can’t help but wonder alternatives. You feel compelled to check it out. 

You turn off your car’s ignition, grab the flashlight from your glove box, and clamor out, ducking under the “CAUTION” tape and jogging into the park. You squint in the rain, the beam of your flashlight scanning the surrounding area. You step over uneven earth, wondering if you’re wasting your time and should just—

“GRRRRRROWWWLLLL!!!!!”

You whip around and gasp. The gray creature you saw wasn’t a demo-creature, but a mangy, stray dog with muddy fur. It snaps its jaws and you see three little puppies cowering under a bush behind it.

An overprotective mama dog wouldn’t have scared you two years ago. You would’ve known exactly how to handle the situation without freaking out. But now, your fear spikes and you remember the few run-ins with hungry demodogs you had in the Upside Down. The dog is blocking your way back to your car, so you turn on your heel and run in the opposite direction, toward the imposing forest.

You can’t think clearly. Your mind is on fire. All you can think is Danger! Danger! Danger! And it’s keeping you from making any rational decisions.

You swear you hear the dog chasing behind you, snarling and ready to attack. You zig-zag between trees and glance behind to see if you really are being chased.

You lose your footing on slick mud, left ankle twisting painfully as you fall to the ground. Your flashlight skitters out of your grasp and rolls away, blinking out.

Now, you’re stuck in the rain, in the dark, with an injured ankle and no flashlight. Thankfully, the dog wasn’t following. But you feel powerless, hoping you can muster any survival instincts from your time in the Upside Down to make your way back to safety.

🫀🫀🫀

At 7:58 p.m., Steve parks outside your house.

He’s more nervous than he needs to be. He tries to remember that this isn’t a visit to win you back, as much as he wishes it was. No, he’s respecting your decision. But he’s glad he has the chance to just talk to you.

After you dumped him, he spent way too much time overanalyzing that fight you two had in October. It solidified the fact that he was an ass, completely misunderstanding you and getting mad for no good fucking reason.

Admittedly, he was tempted to throw away all his progress and drink away his misery. But he didn’t, channeling that energy toward more productive things. His mind is clearer than it was, and he’s going to make it right this time. Steve wants to check on you, the way his friends checked on him while he was having a tough time. Their support was invaluable.

Steve rings your doorbell, shaking out his umbrella.

The front door swings open. Your father looks expectant, before he frowns.

“Steve, hello,” your father says. “Is Y/N with you?”

Steve’s brow furrows. “Uh, no,” he says. “I’m supposed to meet her here.”

Your father curses and puts his head in his hands.

“Is it her?” your mother says, rushing around the corner with the cordless phone tucked under her shoulder. When she sees Steve, her shoulders slump. She speaks into the phone, “Hopper, she’s still not back.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, heart sinking. “Y/N’s missing?”

“She never came back from Robin’s party,” your father says, stepping aside to let Steve in. “You saw her leave, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve says with a nod. His mouth feels very, very dry.

Your mother continues murmuring on the phone with Hopper, and your father continues grilling Steve: “How was she? Did she seem upset?”

“A little nervous, maybe,” Steve says. He swallows hard. “I, uh, I think she was freaked out by the storm.”

You should’ve driven her home, Steve thinks. You idiot. If something happens to her, it’ll be your fault.

“She’s been so quiet lately,” your father says, voice strained. He clears his throat. “And so jumpy. But she said she wanted to start driving again. We thought she was getting better…”

Your father looks like he’s beside himself. Steve is unsure what to say to make things right.

Your mother hangs up the phone and sighs. “Hopper’s going to go look for her,” she says. She chokes out a sob. “Oh, Roger…she’s been so down lately. What if she…”

“Let’s not speculate,” your father says firmly, though he looks anxious about the possibilities.

Your parents decide to drive around looking for you, and Steve joins the search in his own car as well. He can’t sit idly by knowing you’re out there, possibly in distress, possibly in danger.

🫀🫀🫀

While you’re sitting against a tree trunk trying to shield yourself from the rain, there’s a morbid part of you that’s okay with this.

You wanted something bad to happen. You wanted to be in some kind of distress, because you being hurt means people have to care about you. Right? They have to really, truly see that you’ve been struggling but haven’t been able to ask for proper help.

You snap yourself out of that thought process, trying to remind yourself that people do care about you. But it’s hard to feel that way when you’ve put so much distance between yourself and the people you love.

You aren’t sure how long you sit in the rain having a pity party, watching your swollen ankle get bigger and bigger. You need to ice it and elevate it. And anytime longer in this rain, you’ll catch a cold.

So, you crawl on your hands and knees and find as sturdy a branch as you can on the forest floor. You use it as a pseudo walking stick to help you hobble back toward the trailer park. You know the way, thanks to your time traversing the forest daily in the Upside Down.

As you get closer to the break in the trees, you hear people calling for you. You shuffle there faster.

“I’m here!” you yell, stumbling through the tree line. “I’m here!”

It’s Chief Powell and Hopper, and they look relieved to see you. Officer Callahan and an animal control worker are trying to coax the mama dog and her three pups into crates.

“What happened, kid?” Hopper asks, sitting with you in the backseat of Powell’s truck while the other man radios for an ambulance and a tow truck for your car. The usual gruff timbre to Hopper's voice has a softened edge to it today, like he can sense your emotional fragility.

“Some jerk pushed me off the road. And I thought I saw…I—listen, the mud made the dog’s fur look gray, and I thought it was—”

“One of these hellhounds?”

You nod.

“I’m not sure if you realize this,” Hopper says. “But it’s been two years to the day since you…you know.”

You swallow hard.

“I didn’t remember,” you admit. “I mean, I knew the anniversary was coming up soon, I just…”

“We were all worried you…did something,” Hopper continues cautiously.

“I wouldn’t,” you say, much too quickly. “I mean, I feel like shit a lot of the time, but…no. I wouldn’t.”

Hopper nods, eyeing you. He doesn’t quite look convinced.

When the ambulance arrives, he rides with you to the hospital. Then, your parents meet you at the ER, while a doctor looks over your ankle.

It’s sprained, but not broken, thankfully. They send you home with a brace, some crutches, painkillers, and instructions to elevate and ice.

The whole drive home, your parents give you a speech about how much they love you and how they want to know how you’re doing, and that if you ever feel low, to talk to them because they can help. Normally, that kind of thing would annoy you, but after today—the fear of seeing what you thought was a demodog, of being back in the wilderness by yourself, even just for a few hours—you appreciate the gesture.

It's after midnight when you get home, and the rain has finally let up. Your dad helps you up the porch stairs, leaning the side with your bad leg against him the whole way. You almost don’t notice the note tacked to the front door until your mom points it out.

It has your name on it. You open it. Parts of it have been scratched out, but you can still read it all.

Hey, Y/N. I was driving around looking for you when Hopper found me. I’m so glad to hear that you’re going to be okay.

I’ll swing by tomorrow to chat, if you’re still up for it. If not, no worries. I know it’s a tough time. I just want you to know that I miss you I care about you more than you know I’m here.

-Steve

🫀🫀🫀

When Steve comes by the next day, he’s not alone.

You’re surprised to see him and Max Mayfield standing on your porch.

“Uh, hello!” you say. “How are you, Max?”

“Pretty good,” she says, “now that Steve is taking us for ice cream.”

You raise your eyebrows and adjust your stance on your crutches.

“Oh!” you say. You look to Steve. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Everything about his posture is tense, nervous. You wonder if this is an intervention or something—if you’ll arrive at the ice cream shop and be bombarded by the rest of your friends and a licensed professional promising a “safe space.”

You tell your parents where you’re going, promising a million times that you’ll be careful, and hobble down the porch steps to Steve’s waiting car. He’s a gentleman, one hand hovering behind your back and ready to catch you if you fall.

Max lets you have the passenger seat, likely due to your injury. On the ride over, you consider (politely) asking what she’s doing there, as you expected this conversation would be about the nature of your and Steve’s relationship.

A part of you deep, deep down had hoped he would beg you to take him back. A part of you deeper down felt selfish for that, but it was what you wanted.

You made a huge mistake letting him go.

Steve ends up taking you both to Sonic, pulling into one of the parking spots and pressing the “Order” button. Max leans up from the backseat, sticking her head between the two front seats, and rattles off a complicated order of hot dogs, fries, slushies, and ice cream into the speaker.

“I thought this was just ice cream,” you say with an eyebrow raised.

Max smirks.

“Moneybags Harrington is paying,” she says, patting him on the shoulder.

“I resent that,” Steve grouses. But there’s a sparkle in his eye.

When the food comes, Steve divvies it up amongst the three of you. However, he quickly comes up with a shoddy excuse to step out of the car—something about the fries being a medium instead of a large.

Max climbs over the center console to settle in the driver’s seat.

You aren’t sure what to expect when you’re alone with Max, but it’s definitely not, “Dying and coming back really sucks, doesn’t it?”

Your burger immediately tastes like sandpaper. “Oh, let’s not talk about that,” you say. “Let’s talk about fun things. Have you learned any new skate tricks recently?”

“Don’t deflect,” Max says, waving a french fry at you for emphasis. “Steve said you were having a hard time because no one could relate to you, and I’m probably the only person in the world who can.”

She’s not wrong. After your return to the right side of the universe, you learned that Max woke up from her coma, completely healed, after you killed Vecna and the gates closed. You hadn’t thought about how the two of you had similar, paralleled experiences.

“It does suck,” you say quietly, swirling your spoon around in your ice cream cup. “And I kind of feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“For me, it was a lot of anger,” Max says. She fidgets with her own food as she continues. “I couldn’t understand people’s priorities anymore. Like, what do you mean you’re worried about a chem test, Dustin? A few months ago, the world almost ended!”

“I totally get that,” you say, and your heart already feels lighter. “And my parents don’t understand what really happened, so they just don’t get me at all. Why I get so scared, so angry. So jumpy. It makes me feel like I’m a freak in their eyes.”

“I feel like my mom doesn’t even see me anymore,” Max says. She clears her throat and you catch a glimpse of tears gathering on her lash line before she roughly wipes them away. “Like to her, I’m a ghost.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” you say. She scoffs.

“And there’s another annoying thing,” Max says. “The empty platitudes to make us feel better. That shit doesn’t fix anything!”

You’re not offended by her outburst, because you honestly agree. The two of you lament a bit longer, and by the end of the conversation, you’re feeling on top of the world. Sure, nothing is really fixed. But you finally realize that you have a kindred spirit in all this.

You and Max make a plan to do things together more often. You’re seeing her as a de facto little sister already, and you’re hopeful that your planned meetings will be just as beneficial for her as they are for you.

Steve comes back after what seems like a millennium, shooing Max back to the backseat.

“Took you long enough!” she says.

He just smiles.

🫀🫀🫀

JUNE 1988

It’s the first day of summer.

And it’s been a year to the day since you returned.

You expect to feel more anxious than you do. Instead, you feel peaceful.

You’re doing a lot better, genuinely. You found a new therapist (sorry, Elaine) and since it’s someone who worked with Dr. Owens, you’re able to spill all the gory details of your past and your trauma. Healing isn’t easy, but you feel yourself slowly sewing yourself back together again.

You and Max stick to your word and take weekly trips to Sonic. You talk about the heavy stuff, but also the normal life stuff. You sometimes have guests. This past week, Lucas and Mike tagged along, arguing the whole time about what should happen in the Ghostbusters sequel that’s supposed to release next year.

You and Steve…ah, what’s there to say. You want him back, but you imploded the relationship and it feels selfish to waltz up to him and say, “Hey, hot stuff. Wanna get back together?”

However, you’ve officially enrolled for the fall semester at U of I. While he’s home from Hawkins for summer break, under the guise of asking for tips about campus life, you spend a lot of time with him.

You also spend time in the library, doing some studying to catch up before you start your classes in the fall. Your high school graduation was a lifetime ago. Literally.

Steve, Robin, and Jonathan join you for those summertime study sessions, although Jonathan and Robin usually bicker over the music theory books and Steve doesn’t get much done except for doodling in his notebook. But sometimes you catch him staring at you, and then his cheeks flush pink in that adorable way that makes you want to do something stupid, like beg him to take you back.

If only you knew if he really felt the same…

…which you find out he does, during the summer solstice.

You’re at the county fair with your friends, but they’ve all run off to watch the fireworks, so it’s just you and Steve at a picnic table downing sodas and cotton candy.

Your fingers wrap around the cool glass of a now-empty Coke bottle, and you place it on the tabletop. You attempt to look nonchalant as you spin it slowly.

Once it’s picked up momentum, you let it go, watching it spin a few more times before stopping it with your hand when the bottle neck points at Steve.

“It’s you,” you whisper, attempting to recreate that magical first kiss moment from years and years ago. You clear your throat at Steve’s dumbfounded expression. “Ah, sorry. You don’t have to kiss me. I was just…”

To your pleasant surprise, Steve’s face splits into a grin. “Well, gee, Y/N,” he says. “If you wanted to kiss me that bad, you could’ve just said so.”

A million canaries titter a love song in your heart as he leans forward.

The two of you kiss, for the first time in a long time.

The great divide in your soul is starting to seal. And everything feels right.

THE END

🫀🫀🫀

a/n please lmk what you thought 🩵

tags; @aloneinthehellfire @starry-eyed-steve @hollandweather @wisdomssdaughterr @huffledor-able541 @springautumn

@sunshinesteviee @curiositydooropened @crappymixtape

[aliidarling]

i searched male manipulator music to find a song for this post LMFAOO anyways guys i dyed my hair burgundy:3 i’m in my red hair era

i need to purge my urges, shame shame shame ♡

RICK GRIMES x fem!reader

part 2

nsfw content — please scroll if uncomfortable

summary: you get taken by the CRM by total coincidence and reunite with your lover who you haven’t seen in years, only to find out he’s only a fragment of the man he used to be

tags: p in v, praise, gaslighting, toxic!rick, manipulation, i’m bad at tagging

nsfw content below !!

You were lying barely alive in a field, bleeding out from your stomach. Your eyelids were heavy as you struggled to stay conscious, not wanting to die. You had so much to live for.

Everything was a blur, the blood staining your clothes. His name echoed in your head. It had been years since you saw the man you fell in love with. Ever since that day the bridge exploded, the day you lost him.

It had been almost eight years since then.

You supposed a normal person would have moved on by now, but his face and voice still haunted you, keeping you up during late hours and not allowing you to rest.

It would only be fitting that he was the last person on your mind during your last moments. You only could hope you were one of his before the bridge took his life.

Everything started to fade slowly, your ears ringing. Your eyesight was spotty. All you wished for was to reunite with him in the afterlife.

As you finally went still, the loud noise of a helicopter nearing went unheard by you.

You had no idea what was going on. You were being carried by two large soldiers wearing all black, holding you up by your arms as your body dragged on the floor. When you awoke, you were in an infirmary, all bandaged up and feeling better.

It was like they worked magic on you. The bandages around your abdomen were the only evidence of the stab wound that was once there.

“Where the hell am I?!” You yelled, your voice almost scratchy. They ignored you and continued dragging you towards a door in the hallway.

“Listen to me you fat fucks!” A screech left you as they shoved you inside the room, slamming the door behind you. You stumbled into the room, quickly regaining your balance as you clutched your side, the aggressive treatment opening your stitches slightly.

“Jesus, what the f… Your words were trailed as you looked up and realized four people were staring at you, all of them seated in a row with one empty seat in front of them. You blinked slowly.

One of them calmly smiled at you and motioned for you to sit. You gritted your teeth, looking around the room. Soldiers were standing by the walls, guns in their hands.

You sighed and hesitantly sat down, giving them a blank look.

It had been a week since then. They explained the overall situation you were in, and how they had found you half-dead in a field and saved you. You felt a little grateful, obviously, but you couldn’t shake off the weird feeling this place gave you.

The way they didn’t let you leave no matter what you said was what freaked you out the most.

“What do you mean I can’t leave?!” You snapped, raising your voice at the tall man before you. He had introduced himself as Okafor and was one of your superiors. For the last week, you had been dragged outside by the gate, handed a sharp spear, and instructed to kill walkers without any choice in the matter.

He rolls his eyes at you and frowns, staring down at you.

“Why would you want to leave? We’re giving you a place to stay with a small fee for some labor.” He scoffs, ushering you off back towards the fence.

“You’re being brainwashed.” You grumble, reluctantly setting your spear back up and pulling your mask down.

Another few hours of just stabbing walkers in the head passes, tiring you. You’re leaning against the gate, blood all over your clothes and the jacket they supplied you with.

“Good job, rookie,” Okafor comments playfully, giving you a pat on the shoulder. You grumble and push him off.

“This place sucks ass. I just wanna go home.”

Okafor hums and shrugs at you.

“Sorry to break the news, but there’s no chance. Only one man in history has attempted to leave, and even he didn’t make it.”

This sparks your interest for a moment before you sigh and turn away.

“Am I done for the day?”

Okafor grins and immediately shakes his head, making you groan and cross your arms. You had been in the heat for half the day now, you were sweating and all you wanted to do was go home and wash all this blood off you.

“We have a commander coming to do a check-in. He’ll be here in around ten minutes, so stay put.” The words leave him smoothly, not giving you even a second to complain before he turns away and starts talking to another one of his men.

With a groan, you picked up your spear and started stabbing the walkers again. You felt like that’s all you’ve been doing recently, other than planning on how to escape this place.

A few long minutes later, you hear a name being yelled that makes your heart stop.

“Commander Grimes!” Okafor yells happily as a tall man in a tactical suit walks up to him, his back to you. Your blood ran cold as you prayed that it was some coincidence.

Even still, if it was a coincidence it would still make you feel sick. The universe always had its way of making fun of you, and now it was making you hear his name everywhere.

You stared at the man’s back, silently praying that when he turned around it would be him. Or wouldn’t. You were confused with yourself— you didn’t know if you wanted to see him alive if it meant he was working for this corrupted military.

But your heart ached, even if the cons weighed you down. You found yourself staring, walkers long forgotten.

Okafor notices you staring and frowns, turning his attention from the commander to you with a wave of his hand.

“C’mere, rookie. You gotta meet Commander Grimes.”

Oh fuck.

Your legs felt wobbly like they could buckle from underneath you at any second. With your legs working on auto drive and your mind racing at a thousand thoughts per second, you found yourself walking towards the two men.

Once you reached them, the tall man slowly turned to look at you. It felt like should have been in slow motion, but in reality, it was all going way too fast.

The commander turned to look down at you, his blue eyes and curls making you want to vomit. It was him. Of course, it was him.

His eyes were emotionless, his face completely blank. He stared at you like you were any other person. Like you weren’t the woman he shared a bed with for years. The woman who helped him raise Carl.

“Sweetheart, your mask,” Okafor comments mockfully, making you grimace. That’s probably why he’s staring at you like you were a piece of dust.

“S-Sorry, sir.” Your voice cracked slightly as you quickly pulled your mask off, your hair getting tangled slightly. You quickly brush it out of your eyes, blinking rapidly. Gulping down the nausea, you looked back up to meet Rick’s eyes.

He was frozen, his lips parted and eyes wide, not making a single noise. His back was turned to Okafor, so only you could see the expression he had. The expression of shock, realization, and recognition.

After a long moment of silence between the three of you, you held your hand up to your temple and saluted him, your fingers trembling.

“Commander Grimes.” Your voice shook as you pressed your lips together.

He stared at you for another long few seconds before nodding, so subtle you barely noticed. Everything in his body was on fire, alarms blaring and his heart pounding.

There you were. Standing in front of him. Saluting to him.

“Welcome to the CRM, consignee..” He trailed on.

You held back a laugh before muttering your name, glancing at him, the ground, and then back to Okafor.

“Am I free to go?” You said rather harshly, your fists clenching.

Okafor gave you a once-over, judging your dirty clothes stained by walker blood and messy hair from the mask. He hums before waving you off.

“Yeah, whatever, I’ll see you here at 8am tomorrow morning.” He mutters before going back into casual conversation with Rick.

As you walked away, you could feel a pair of eyes burning a hole into your back.

Just later that night, you were in your given apartment. It didn’t feel like home, like Alexandria. Your mind stayed on Judith and RJ, freaking out about whether they were alright or not.

Judith had stopped answering you a few days before you got captured. You knew a part of you was delusional for going out on a whole entire journey to find your lover when this whole time he was living luxury at the CRM. He was a commander, fuck.

What were you doing? Staying here? You needed to escape now, find Rick, and ask him what he was doing here. You wouldn’t leave without him, that was for sure.

You crawled up on your bed, hunching closer to the window. It led to a fire escape but was sealed tightly shut. For a place that says they never had anyone want to leave, they’re pretty cautious with these types of things.

Glancing at the mini kitchen, you got an idea. You grabbed one of the knives and got back on the bed and kneeled down next to the window and started to slide the knife between the slits, hoping to hear a crack or any type of noise that would alert you you’re going in the right path.

Not even mid-way through your little escape attempt, your door suddenly slammed open. You shrieked and dropped the knife, sitting up and turning towards your door.

Rick stood there, staring at you with a panicked expression. He shut the door, locked in, before turning back to you. He was wearing dark clothing still, but not tactical. Instead, he wore a button-up paired with jeans, with a leather jacket on top.

He rushed towards you and grabbed you, cupping your face with shaky hands and trembling lips. You immediately leaned back into him with the same expression, happy to finally be with him, and happy he still cared for you.

“You- you— why—“ He furrowed his brows as he patted you down in a panic, not believing the fact you sat before him. His hands were shaky as he cupped your face again and leaned down towards you, scanning every detail on your face.

“Rick, Rick— is it really you?” You gasped softly, sitting up further and pulling him in by wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He places one hand on the back of your neck while his other stays on your back, pushing you into him.

“It’s me, baby, swear. S’me.” He soothingly brushes his fingers through your hair before gently placing his other hand on your chin. His thumb picks at your bottom lip.

“What are ya’ doing here, sweetie? How’d ya’ find me?” His voice was soft and gentle, lowered. His thumb gently pulls your lip down before leaning his down. He breaths onto your lips.

“I-I— I’ve been, I’ve been looking. I swear. Almost died and CRM took me.” You muttered shakily. Rick frowns and massages the back of your head gently.

“You almost died?” He mumbled and gently pressed a kiss to your forehead. You whined softly, wanting nothing more then his lips on yours. Your hands clawed at his jacket. He giggles and pushes you down onto your bed, crawling over you and pressing your body down with his.

“You’re okay, now, right? Good girl, keep being good for me.” You nod in response as he kisses your neck, your eyes fluttering shut as your hands gently tug at his hair.

“Missed you.” You whimper into his ear, a soft moan leaving you as he nuzzles his beard into your sensitive flesh. His hips grind down on yours, the two of you desperate for each other.

“God, can’t even describe how much I missed ya’, gonna fuck you so good.” He almost whines. His hands come down by your sides and grab at you. He presses his lips against you hard.

A muffled moan leaves you as he sits up over you slightly. He pushes one of his knees between your legs and puts pressure against your core, his hand going to your shirt.

“I’m not gonna let you leave this time, kay’?” His eyes darkened as he said this, making you shiver. With a hesitant nod, Rick starts to pull your shirt off. Once you were topless underneath him, his lips pressed gentle kisses against every inch of your torso.

His breath brushed against your breasts. Your bra was the only thing separating him from your breasts. Without another second to spare, he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra.

This was all going so fast.

“Wait— Rick,” You whine softly, trying to sit up. He shushes you, cupping your breasts and pushing you back down, colluding his lips with your neck.

“Haven’t seen you in eight years, sweetheart. Nothing you do can get me off you.” He chuckles darkly, nuzzling his scratchy beard against your sensitive throat before pulling away and lowering his predatory gaze to your breasts.

A small moan left your lips as his hands started to massage your breasts, his warm palms gliding over your chest. Your nipples hardened, making him chuckle. He leans down, tweaking one of them with his finger and gently taking the other in his mouth.

Your eyes flutter as you find yourself being pleasured by the man you’ve been dreaming of for years— your body being treated like a vase. He was so gentle and soft with you, kissing every inch he could reach. His hands were soothing as they caressed you.

It still felt odd though. Something about his dark gaze and his possessive words had you shivering under him, looking up at his eyes. The new scars on his body had you wondering what he went through.

He was holding you close to his chest, hugging you tightly and humming soft little praises into your ear. His cock was buried deep inside you, your walls fitting him like a vise. He moaned into your ear, holding you so tightly you wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up with bruises.

His hips rocked smoothly, pushing himself deeper and deeper, wanting all you could offer. He wanted every inch of you and never wanted to let go.

“Good girl, so good for me, pussy so tight around me,“ He groans into your ear. His voice was raspy as his hands tightened around you, one on the back of your neck and gripping it. He held your face towards him so he could lean down to give you kisses whenever he wanted.

His other hand went down to work at your clit, humming approvingly as you clenched down at the pressure and let out an adorable little mewl under him.

“Wanna cum? Hmm?” He coos, gently rubbing your sensitive spot, leaning closer, and nuzzling into your neck. His thrusts get harder.

“P-Please, Rick, love you so much—“ You choke out, grabbing at him to steady yourself as he batters your insides. Your toes curled as your eyes rolled back, broken whines leaving your throat.

“Oh, oh, oh God— p-please! I’ve been so good..” You cried out into his ear as your words started to slur together. Your lips were quivering as he kept slamming his cock into your tight hole over and over again, sending you right over the edge.

“Yeah, you gonna cum? Mmm, good girl, just like that,” He whispers softly as he pounds into you more as you spasm around him. He feels your little cunt go tight around him and let out your juices. He grunts at the feeling, burying himself as deep as he could as he closes his eyes and leans his head back, relishing in the feeling of cumming inside you for the first time in eight heat.

“Yeah, sweet little baby. So good for me.” He groans as he fucks you gently through your orgasm, listening to your shaky moans and cries as your release keeps getting dragged on and on, more cum leaking out from your hole.

With a shaky sigh, he makes sure he has completely milked you out before slowly pulling out, small squelching sounds filling the silence. Your breaths were shaky, and so were his, both of you exhausted after the passionate love-making session.

“Rick..” You mumble tiredly, looking over at him. You lay limp on the bed, your pussy a mess with both your cums dripping out.

He smiles and looks over, now standing up and reaching for his boxers. He leans over you and pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, his thumb squishing your cheeks together.

“I’ll clean you up, kay? Gimme a sec, hun.” He says sweetly before pulling away once again and walking off to your bathroom.

A few minutes later the two of you laid in your shitty bed together, the mess between your thighs cleaned up. You were currently receiving a back massage from him, oddly enough. You laid on your belly as his large hands worked on your back muscles.

He stared down at you, admiring every little change in your body. He wished he was there for you all those years he wasn’t.

“What happened?” You asked softly, peering at him from over your shoulder. You felt him press his thumb down on a knot in your shoulder, making you whine softly.

“…You want me to start from the start?” He chuckles dryly. You give a hesitant nod.

“…Anne found me.. half dead on the riverbank. She was working with the CRM and turned me in, saved my life.” He spoke with a small hint of gratitude in his words, masked by his deadpan tone.

You continued to lay there silently, enjoying the back massage but still wanting him to explain everything. Was that all he was gonna say?

“..And? Did they— did they force you to stay? Did they hurt you?” You stuttered, wanting some type of explanation why he never came back. You wouldn’t be able to handle it if you found out he had willingly stayed here for eight years.

He was silent for a moment, his palm pressing down on your shoulder blades and rubbing in small circles. His eyes gaze down at you, wondering what to say to make himself not sound like the bad guy.

“No.” He mutters after a moment.

You felt like your entire world had shattered again, like he was being ripped from your arms like that day on the bridge.

“Why didn’t you try to come back?” Your voice cracked, making him realize he had screwed up. He hesitates on what to do before quickly pulling you into his arms, rubbing your back gently, and nuzzling your face into his chest.

“I did, sweetheart, promise. Tried a few times, but they stopped me. Made me realize what this place was. It’s life-changing, baby, you gotta give it a chance. I want you to stay here with me, kay? For me? Please, you gotta do it. If you loved me you’d stay, wouldn’t you?” He whispers soothingly, his words like daggers as he holds you tighter with every passing second.

“W-What? Rick? No— I can’t—“ You attempted to pull away, making him growl and push you down on the bed, crawling over you and planting his arms on each side of you.

“No, you gotta listen to me.” He says firmly, his eyes dark. Who was this man? Why was he treating you like this? The Rick you knew would never speak to you like this.

“Rick—"

He shushes you.

“You’re staying here with me, got it? It’s safe here. You’ll be safe. Don’t you wanna stay with me? Don’t you want tonight to happen over and over again?” He whispers, his dark tone turning into a sickeningly sweet one, his hand coming to cup your cheek and gently caress your skin.

“I can't, Rick. What about A-Alexandria? Judith? Maggie and Daryl— they’re all— you need to come home! This place isn’t good, good for you, good for us.” You attempt to plead.

Your words fall on deaf ears as he shushes you again, the dark look in his eyes coming back. He stares down at you in an almost offended manner.

“Are you trying to manipulate me?” He scoffs, sitting up and giving you a disgusted look. You freeze, quickly sitting up and attempting to reach for him. He clicks his tongue and pushes you away.

“I cant believe you sweetheart, just got me back, and is already trying to fall for your words. I thought you loved me?” He whispers slowly, glaring at you with narrowed eyes.

Your heart stops as his words settle in your throat, your eyes wide. Panic overtakes you as you quickly pull him back in and hug him tightly, trembling now.

“N-No, no, I swear— I wasn’t, I’m sorry, I’m sorry Rick, please don’t leave me.” Your words are small and fearful, fearful of him leaving you after you just found him.

His eyes soften as he keeps the sick grin from overtaking his face, his hands going to gently cradle you in his chest. He hums sweetly, rubbing your head.

“It’s okay, I know you’re just a lil’ confused. I’ve gotcha, sweetheart. I love you, okay? I’ll keep you safe and sound, just gotta stay here with me, can you do that? For me?”

“Y-Yea— yes, yes, anything for you.” You stammer, curling into his arms with watery eyes and shaky limbs. You didn’t want him to leave you, not again.

“Good girl. Knew you’d snap back to reality.” He chuckles dryly. His large hands hold you close to him, humming gently into your ear and rocking your small body.

The two of you lay there for a long time until you were asleep and gently snoring, and he was staring down at your vulnerable form, thinking.

You weren’t gonna go anywhere, and he’d make sure of that. He had searched for you for too long to let you slip away now, he’d rather die than watch you leave. He just needs to find a way to get Judith here, and you’ll all be the happy family you once were.

He’d make sure you had nowhere to go, even if it meant hurting you and twisting your sight on the world.

lmk if u want a part 2? idk what i could make happen but there's def potential

[sebuckyverse]

roommates [chapter 1]

modern!eddie munson x fem!reader

series summary: Eddie Munson broke your heart once. Now, you have no choice but to move in with him. warnings: 18+ cussing, angst, sort of enemies to lovers lol; lmk if i missed anything word count: 1,8k a/n: hello i'm back!! happy valentines day to all my besties and my wife of course! i'm celebrating my birthday today so as a gift to you, i give you a new series! i'm nervous about this bc i'm convinced this is trash lmao LET ME KNOW WHAT Y'ALL THINK babes ps! i originally didn't intend to give this an era, but due to some things that happen in future chapters this turned out modern again lol sorryy

masterlist ↡ askbox ↡ next chapter ↠

chapter one ♫♪♩·.¸¸

''Absolutely not!''

''Come on, he's not that bad.''

''No, Steve. I'd rather sleep on the streets.''

''You'd rather be homeless then live with him?''

''Yes.''

Steve sighed, hands on his hips, striking his signature mom pose. ''What the hell happened between you two, anyway?''

''What, he hasn't told you?''

''He's told me his version of events. You on the other hand, never seem to want to talk about it.''

Sighing, you stared into the glass sat in front of you, filled with clear liquid with a greenish hue underneath, twirling the small paper umbrella Steve added as a joke.

''It doesn't matter. What Eddie Munson and I once had, or didn't have, theoretically, is in the past.''

''Then take the room. You're both working, you'll hardly ever see each other.''

Dragging your words, you nervously played with the ends of your hair. ''I don't know...''

''Look, I gotta open the doors. You can stay in the back office tonight if you want, there's an uncomfortable leather couch with your name on it. I'd let you crash at ours, but Nance has been... emotional.''

''She okay?'' you winced, hopping of the barstool you had been sitting on the last hour.

''She thinks she can feel the baby kicking but then she realizes that it's far too early for that and starts crying.''

''Oh,'' you cooed. ''She's just excited.''

''Yeah, I know. I'm excited, too.''

You closed the door to the office space that would be your bedroom for the night. It was small, but held a small desk with various papers scattered on it, a bookshelf half empty and as promised, a worn out brown leather couch. Dropping your purse on the desk, you retrieved your phone and sat down on the couch. You rested your head on the back of the couch, eyes closed, nearly falling asleep if it weren't for the sudden rock music booming outside. You'd almost forgotten you were at Steve's place of work, a bar downtown called the Black Room.

Staring at the bleak ceiling, you bit the inside of your cheek when you felt your eyes getting watery. For the past year, after graduating high school, you had been working your ass off at a local diner across town. You were saving money for college, and other things, since you didn't receive the scholarship you hoped would change your life. Every time you got a paycheck, you withdrew some of it and kept it aside. In the year since you started working, the saved amount wasn't big, but it was still significant to you and you were proud of yourself for keeping it and not spending the money like that little devil on your shoulder keeps suggesting sometimes.

But all of that was now gone, and all it took was a simple mistake of trusting the wrong person and all of your hopes and dreams came crashing down, taking your money with it. To save some money, you moved in with an old friend from high school, Jennie. What you didn't know, was that Jennie was also a pathological liar, who was in financial debt and to ease those debts, found the money you had kept hidden under your mattress (a dumb place to hide money, you know that) and stole it to pay off some of her debts.

Throwing Jennie out was not an option unfortunately, the apartment lease was under her name, so without much thought, you turned on your heel and marched right back out. Heading down the street, you had no idea where you were going. You made it two blocks from your home and nearly collided with a lamp post, when the sound of a bus horn somewhere behind you brought you back to reality. You hopped on the bus that stopped a few feet away from you and headed straight downtown to the Black Room, where you knew Steve would be working tonight.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

You must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing you knew, something was kicking at your feet.

''My, my... Look what the cat dragged in.''

You'd recognize that voice anywhere; deep, sometimes raspy from all the cigarettes he likes to smoke, or at least he used to. It's the voice you used to hear late at night, reading a book out loud when you couldn't sleep due to the thunder outside, or when that same voice used to whisper sweet nothings in your ear when you weren't feeling well. It's also the voice that, one day, in less than 12 hours, turned from sweet and caring to cold and distant.

Right, you forgot he worked here too.

You were laying on your side, feet hanging off the couch. You opened your eyes and the first thing you saw were pair of black jeans, ripped from the right knee and left thigh, one of his Converse clad foot was kicking your heels. A black Henley with the front tucked into his pants, the unforgettable handcuff belt on full display with the black leather more worn out than the last time you saw it, Eddie was looking down at you like a God above, the ceiling lamp above him casting a glow around his hair, still the same as it was in high school - at least some things never change.

''Edward.'' You pushed up from the couch, wincing at the tired muscles of your back. Steve was right, that couch was shit.

The use of his full name always used to irritate him, but if it bothered him now, he didn't show it. Instead, he clicked his tongue and took a few steps to his left and sat on the desk, his hands resting beside him, gripping the edge of the table. ''Whatcha doing here, sweetheart? Haven't seen you in years.''

''First of all, don't call me that,'' you sighed. ''Second, that's none of your business.''

Eddie smirked. ''You're at my place of work, it's kind of my business.''

''What time is it?'' you felt around for your phone, but didn't find it.

''Oh, it's uh...'' Eddie pulled a phone out of his back pocket, your phone. ''02:14 am.''

''Hey! Give me that,'' you held your palm up.

Eddie looked at your hand for a moment, before handing the phone back to you, the back of his knuckles grazing your palm. You swallowed down the spark you felt speed across your arm. The sleeves of his shirt were pulled up to his elbow, exposing tattoos you had never seen before as well as his toned arms. Doing a quick once over, you noticed his physique was fuller... everywhere. Does he work out? He was pretty tall and lanky back in high school, but now he looked like he had grown into his body; the jeans were hugging his thighs and his shoulders seemed more defined.

Clearing your throat, you asked, ''Why did you even have that? Is stealing your side hustle now?''

''It was laying on the floor, pardon me. Didn't want to step on it.''

''Fine. Thanks for not stepping on it, I guess,'' you mumbled, keeping your eyes trained on the bookshelf.

''Aren't you gonna ask me what I'm doing here?''

''Don't you work here?''

''Yeah, but not tonight.''

''Okay, I honestly don't care, so...''

''Oh, don't be like that. After all, I'm here to save you.''

You turned to look at him, and that turned Eddie's small smirk into a big Cheshire cat like grin. ''Save me?''

''Steve called me and told me about your predicament.''

Groaning, you threw your head back against the couch. ''God damn Steve.''

''Look, I know we have... history and everything, but I'm only here as a friend. Consider it an olive branch for how things ended back in high school.''

You gaped at him, your eyes bulging and your mouth hanging open. ''Wow. Okay. No, thank you.''

Eddie rolled his eyes. ''You have nowhere else to go.''

''Yes, I do,'' you lied, and very obviously so. You were never any good at it.

''Then why are you sleeping on this fucked up couch?''

Gritting your teeth, you rolled your eyes and looked away from him. Damn Steve and his loud mouth, you were going to hit him on the head. Eddie sighed and got up from the desk, coming closer and crouching next to the couch.

''The offer stands 'til the end of the week. You need a room and I need a roommate now that Steve's gone. I work here every Wednesday through Saturday and after that I usually sleep for two days to get ready for my next shift. We'll hardly ever see each other.''

''Tonight's Wednesday and you're not working.''

''I needed a personal day,'' he winked.

''You know, I've heard about your gigolo way of life.''

Eddie laughed, his eyes shining in the process. ''Gigolo?''

''You're a manwhore.''

Snorting, Eddie rested his hand on his palm, covering his mouth. ''Is that what Steve told you?''

''Are you denying it?'

''No,'' he mused, his voice muffled behind his fist.

''See, that's why I can't move in. I don't want to hear that every night.''

''You used to like hearing me moan in your ear.''

Eddie must have seen the hurt flash across your eyes, since he suddenly grew quiet himself.

His voice was lower now, more serious. What he said next, made you whip your head around and look at those big, chocolate brown eyes that you used to miss so much. ''I know you hate me, I understand that. Despite what happened back then, I still care about you. As a friend, of course. Yes, I sleep around and I am a man so the place is probably messier than you'd like, but I'm offering you a free place to stay. I know you don't have any money either, I'm good to cover us both for a while. Take it or leave it.''

''Why would you do this?'' you asked, looking deep into his eyes, like you were searching for his soul through them.

Sitting so close to him, your chest constricted at all the memories and what if's that have bombarded you throughout the years. Three years after you fled high school, never looking back, he still had a hold on you and you hated him for it. Hated the way he smelled exactly the same but new at the same time, the way he looked like he used to but more mature, the way you still felt your heart nearly burst out of your throat when he looked at you with those stupid brown eyes. You despised him, because after all this time, you still felt the same. If you do this, you had to keep your heart closed, lock it away and swallow the key. Eddie Munson broke your heart once, you won't let him do it again.

''Fine. I'll take it.''

[jimmy-j-james]

REPLACEMENT

- M!reader x TF!141 (more so reader x Soap, platonic style)

- Proofread: Nope (Will be soon)

- Genre: Angst/Comfort (Originally wasn’t gonna be comfort, I was in an angsty mood and it shows)

- Synopsis: M!reader had to come to terms with the fact that new was better than old. Being tossed aside like an older dog when a family gets a puppy. Kicked to the curb and left alone. Of course, a certain ‘puppy’ just wanted the other’s attention and respect..

- Pt. 2

════════════════

It wasn’t uncommon for people to turn back to their roots. Of course not. But.. for a whole group to regress to the mindset of a child? “Out of sight, out of mind.”, that’s what they say, right?

How stupid did he have to be to not notice? He noticed the first day it started. Soap was happily welcomed to the team, treated with such care and love despite his recent joining. And, much to his disliking, he was left alone.

No one was checking in on him anymore, instead all attention went to the new guy. ‘He wasn’t special’, he’d bitterly think, ‘I was alone too’. Not that anyone cared though, of course not, he was perfectly able to handle himself after all. Instead, they paid mind to their new young and foolish sergeant.

It didn’t end there either. His daily encounters with Ghost were stolen, being replaced with Soap. Training with Gaz? Soap was there instead of him. Smoking with Price? He was there too.

It never ended. And the breaking point, as foolish as it was, was the moment he headed to the mess hall for lunch. The teams regular booth was filled, only his spot taken by the rookie.

He knew it was childish. He could have easily dragged a seat over, but it seemed that no one noticed his lack of appearance anyways. He took it as a word from above. He was better off alone.

He didn’t need them anyways. He was perfectly fine with this new routine. Perfectly capable of fending for himself.

He started avoiding them. Removing himself from their lives as if he’d never been there. His schedules shifted, eating within his room, and locking himself away. He trained late at night to avoid others, slept during his moments of free time.

His new habits proved awful for his mind and body, but they worked. Seemingly so, no one even noticed he was gone. They lived their lives with the new guy. Replaced and forgot him with so much ease it hurt.

It felt suffocating. Knowing the people he thought of as family, felt nothing of similarity. It had him wondering so many things. Thoughts he wouldn’t wish upon his greatest enemies.

It never ended. And irregular habits went to unhealthy in a matter of days. He stopped eating as much. Barely slept. Trained until failure in all aspects.

He took everything out on himself. A shell of a man that used to be. It got to the point that he was without care. Life didn’t seem to matter in the case of ‘life or death’.

In his eyes, death had never seemed so welcoming. Like the arms of a loving parent. Coaxing the words of admiration in a tempting manner.

In a blind sighted manner, he craved the release his demise promised. The satisfaction of feeling wanted, no matter what called upon him.

Perhaps, this is the fate he was meant for? He proved his worth, and was denied any sense of reward. But maybe, maybe death was rewarding enough.

Awaiting his chance of freedom, he lied on his bedroom floor. His phone lied idly, playing music he chose to ignore over his own taunting beliefs.

“Sergeant (l/n)?” That voice, one he’s grown to mindlessly hate, calls through the door. It’s followed by a hesitant knock. “Team’s goin’ out drinkin’, thought ya would wanna come..”

It’s clear by his tone that he’s hesitant, or at most anxious. Likely forced down here by the pity of the other’s.

Perhaps if he remained silent the Scotsman would leave him alone. Lowering the volume of his phone and keeping quiet.

“I.. I know yer in there, if it’s worth anythin’ to ya..” The moment is awkward, but he refuses to give up his moments of peace for a pity party. “Ya don’t have to.. just thought it might be awfully lonely in there.”

“Rather not.” He doesn’t even remember allowing himself to speak, body against mind as he shuffles up to sit.

“Oh..” Another awkward minute of silence. “Is it ‘cause o’ me? I didn’t mean to upset you, however I did so..”

“Don’t you have a ‘party’ to get to?” His tone is bitter in reply, though his truth is sorrowful.

“Ay… can I,” He pauses to hesitate “can I come in?”

The man pauses his self pitying, turning to face the door behind himself. He’s sure the boy would have left by now, though he’s proven determined.

Soap feels awkward, shifting weight between legs as he stands on the other side. The door opens, slowly, but surely, revealing the mess of a man before him.

It’s hard to hide his grimace, scanning over his mutual sergeant with concern. He’s thinner, and paler, with heavy bags beneath his eyes. No expression is shown on his face. A hollow show of what used to be.

“You…” Soap cuts himself before he can speak, though it’s clear the other understood.

A frown tugs lightly at his lips, biting against the skin of his cheek as he avoids the Scots eyes. “Yeah.. whatever…”

“Do.. do ya want to watch a movie?” The request is simple, but proves to be shocking as the other snaps his eyes to Soap’s.

“Aren’t you meant to be drinking tonight?” He muses, expecting the sergeant to remember and run along.

Instead, Soap pushes his way into the room and breathily chuckles. “They ‘on’t need me.” He replies, taking a seat on the messy bed.

There’s a smile on his face as he watches Soap, whether he knows it or not, he’s happy. For once more in his life, he feels wanted. Soap chose his presence over the team’s.

“Can.. can we watch Ratatouille? It’s dumb.. but I always watch it when ‘m upset..” He’d mutter, shutting the door before dropping himself down on the bed.

Soap’s smile grows soft, something he’d yet to seen in the boisterous Scot. “O’ course we can. I’ll get us some snacks, fancy anything specific?”

“Anything works..” He mumbles softly, rubbing against tired eyes as he sets up the movie on his laptop. Soap nods, leaving for the commons room before returning.

Within his arms he carried varieties between chips, candies, and beverages. A goofy smile on his face as he sits himself back beside the other.

With the movie started, and a share of snacks between them, he grows rather exhausted. His eyelids droop and his attention shifts blank. Without thought his head drops against Soap’s shoulder.

The Scot welcomes the other, smiling softly as he shifts them both to lie more comfortably. He was glad. Glad to see that his newly favourited comrade was growing relaxed in his presence.

Like a new puppy and an older dog. Soap worked to grow close to the man he looked up to, and the other worked to better accept the Scot’s company. But, despite their differences, they grew to form a pack, in a sense.

════════════════

© Copyright @jimmy-j-james, 2023

All rights reserved

do not copy/paste, claim as your own, post on different sites, or translate without prior consent from me

[planete777]

WHAT YOU HEARD・⁠｡♪ LN4

( lando norris x fem!reader )

IN WHICH. y/n senselessly drags lando for a swim at midnight, high and all. she just forgets to mention they'll do it naked.

WARNINGS. 16+, smoking and getting high (don't do drugs yall, this is just for entertainment purposes!), make outs, night skinny dipping, mentions of sexual activities, once again high hotness

NOTE. back again with the high!lando agenda. something about it just gets my brain all scrambled. anyways, as i said, don't do drugs, listen to 'what you heard' by sonder, and enjoy luvs <3 (wondering if i should make this a series.....)

SIDENOTE. my askbox is open! feel free to send in any thoughts, scenarios, requests etc about high!lando, or other tropes if u want. 🤍

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

even when he can't piece two cents of his thoughts to construct a legible sequence, lando is sure that, no matter the state he's in, y/n can persuade him to do whatever, as if her words were a siren's call. in his mind, she has this way of curling her tongue around every sentence she says, as if they're something so sweet, so good, and it beckons him closer, pathetically. yet, lando indulges in it like a fucking mad man, and every time he has to leave y/n, he finds himself itching for everything she makes him feel.

but, right here, right now, he'd rather lose himself in the swirling puffs of smoke that have him feeling he's levitating with it. sprawled on the girl's couch, legs and arms weightless and completely non existent, in a room that's so unsuspecting to delinquent dallying.

that's what makes him love her even more.

they're the same. from the wisp of their hairs to the tip of their toes, they both crave an escape from everything and everyone, and don't care how they get it. live a dual life of forced smiles to the world and adrenaline rushes from a drug that drains every feeling possible from their flesh, but could tip their lives on their heads without warning.

it's like their own little secret, and knows that if he were to tell anyone, they'd instantaneously talk him out of it. beg him that he could get hooked and spiral, yet he'll be damned if he allows himself to lose the only sanity he has with the girl that he's addicted to.

the breeze whispers on his skin, soothes it somewhat as the forecast had been cooler the whole day, and the spliff between his fingers remains an inch-long bud, incinerated away in mere hours. his eyes are ajar, just the tiniest bit, and remain trained on the open back sliding doors. watches as ripples glimmer and twinkle beneath the moon's shine upon the pool's surface and his mind undulates with the tentative viscosity of thick honey.

speakers drone whatever playlist y/n has chosen for the night, and he finds himself subconsciously tapping his fingers to the beat. nothing else but music needs to fill the room, each other's presence speaks for itself, and lando loves this unspoken normality between them.

he's on the brink of unconsciouness, rocking between the borders of sleep and awareness, but he's slowly justled awake as y/n walks up to him.

she gently grabs his arm, pulling him upright, "come."

his movements are slow and hesitant, "where we going?"

"swimming."

for a second his mind agrees, so he relents, but realising that he's wearing a tank top with jogging bottoms, and y/n the same but with leggings instead, he grows confused again.

he doesn't get time to question, mind too slow and sticky to even get further words out, as y/n lets go of his hand and turns to him.

then with speed that aches with tease, she tugs her top off, flinging it off to the side and lando stops breathing. he sees everything, how they curve and smooth back into the inward slope of her waist and he trembles so much that he has to clench his fist to urge it away. she's so beautiful drenched in blue, easing its way down her legs as she shrugs them off, and lando's eyes burn as they weld into every dip of her body.

"join me."

that's all she says, with that pretty smile on her face, before she swivels on her feet and dives into the water with much precision she barely marks a discrepancy upon the surface of the water. lando is hypnotised, barely moves from his place as she watches her glide and twirl in the water as if that's where she's meant to be, and then his body cries to join her.

it doesn't take long for him to hover next to y/n, right in the centre of the pool. the cool water washes some highness away, but they're both inebriated enough to retain the red glaze in their eyes and slow movements. lando's sick, seeing y/n so etheral in nothing, looking at him as if she wants him flowing through his veins, and he no longer fights the impulse to get closer and gather her in his arms. she smiles, wide and white, circling her arms around his neck before jumping on his waist. he fumbles slightly, with a huffed out laugh, then her thighs are tight around his hips and he can feel everything.

"you're hard already?" she asked, amused. her hand plays with the curls on his neck and he feels like he's dissolving.

"do you blame me? look at you."

"well," her finger traces his chest, light and completely burning, "we're not fucking in my pool."

he chuckles, figures cum is a hard thing to clean out of water, "at least let me eat you out?"

she pretends to think, "maybe later, but right now, i want you to fucking kiss me."

lando doesn't waste time doing so, lips pushing into hers with great urgency as if it's his last kiss on earth. y/n's mouth is wet, warm, sweet and so inherently y/n that lando moans, deep and loud, sliding his tongue deeper. it's not enough, not the kiss, nor the way her body radiates immense heat directly into his, and lando craves to be one with her. absorb into y/n, like a water to a sponge, and remain there forever.

air runs out, way too quickly for lando's liking, and y/n moves her head back, half closed eyes staring back at him. he's hot, bothered, hungry for so much more, and squeezes the flesh of her thighs to suppress just how much his flesh aches for her.

"i want to have you so bad," y/n sighs out, a splayed hand flush against lando's chest, and oh does he want her to completely take him. do whatever she wants, however she wants. he craves to say so much but his mind can only come up with so little.

"then fucking have me, y/n."

[lanaslovelyletters]

Anakin is roommates with reader and has an addiction to smoking. Reader tries to help him with it and Anakin decided it’s not enough and wants something stronger. He thinks sex will help.

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐠

Roommate!Anakin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ content (general smut), swearing, mentions of substance abuse (nicotine)

Summary: You’ve never had a great relationship with your roommate… one night you get home late and see him smoking. You remind him that smoking kills and although you hate him, you want to help him… it goes to rather drastic measures.

Word count: 3.2K+

Author’s note: Where did you get this idea??? I love it. Also, there are psychological terms being used here— I’m a Polisci and not a psych student and will be using terms I learned when I took AP Psychology sorry lol. Also, read the prompt as if it should be on the shorter side? So I made it as short as I could, hope it's good enough<3 (Btw this is def not beta read. We die like Padme on the table)

You never really got along with your roommate. He blasted loud music and often came home at odd hours of the night. God, you hated the careless way he lived his life. Hell, you didn’t even know what he did for work. He always paid his part of the rent on time, so you kept him around. Besides, there weren’t many other offers and he was willing to pay half.

On a particular night, you came back from an evening shift at the local mental health clinic. The bag that was lazily slung over your shoulder was dropped to the ground as you walked into the living room. There he was. His lips held a cigarette between them, as he strummed his bass. It was loud and obnoxious.

“Okay, Slipknot, could you turn that down a little?” You let out a heavy sigh and crossed your arms over your chest. He rolled his eyes at you, and took a drag of his cigarette, blowing rings in your face. It caused you to cough and waft it away immediately before you took it out of his mouth and put it out in his ashtray.

“What the hell! That was my last one!” He threw his arms up in the air as the smoke subtly settled in the glass.

“This stuff is a slow death, y’know?” You said with a tone that screamed ‘as a matter of fact’. He was clearly pissed at your actions.

“—and? Does it look like I care?”

“Look, I get that we don’t see eye-to-eye on things, and we’d both rather not be living together… but the only reason I’m willing to live alone without you is if you move out. Not if you die on this fucking carpet.” You clicked your tongue and pointed at the scruffy rug beneath your feet.

“Why do you even care?” He raised an eyebrow and scoffed at you. Yeah… why did you care anyway? The question stumped you for a brief moment before you finally thought of the perfect response.

“Who else is going to pay half the rent? Besides… I don’t want to clean up a cancerous body in my house.” You were still standing there in front of him with arms covering your chest.

“Whatever… I’ll try.” Wait. It was that easy?

“Wait, are you serious?” You were a bit surprised to see him nodding along and agreeing.

“Yeah, I guess. My mother would hate to bury her own son… or whatever…” He trailed off as he stared at the worn cigarette bud in the ashtray.

“I knew you had some sense in there.” You joked as you poked his forehead before leaving for the kitchen to make yourself a late dinner. Anakin followed you like a lost puppy, as you pulled out some fruits and readied a blender. He watched as you cut up the fruits neatly before you added them to the blender.

“Hey so—” he didn’t get to finish, because the blender started going.

“Oh sorry about that. What were you saying?” You stopped the blender for a second.

“What could—” The noise dialed back up again,

“Oh, sorry,” you chuckled and poured the mixture into a bowl with some yoghurt.

“Very funny,” he said with a roll of his eyes as he leaned forward in the barstool he sat in,

“No, but really— how am I supposed to beat the cig cravings?”

“Via Pavlovian psychology, of course.” You gave him a curt smile.

“I’m not a dog.”

“Didn’t say you were. Look, the hypothalamus controls cravings… sex and food mainly. This means— you can try replacing it with chocolate. Maybe carrots?” You mentioned and took a bite of your yoghurt mix.

“Yawn. Don’t like the sound of that.” He rested his face against his palm.

“There’s a thing we do down at the clinic… for alcoholics mainly. We slip something disgusting or nauseating into their drink and they’ll associate drinking with this icky feeling… works like… most of the time… sorta…”  You shrugged and took another bite.

“Right… well there’s just the problem of— I’m not an alcoholic and you also said that only works some of the time,” he said. His elbow dug into the table as it supported his heavy head.

“Why do you smoke anyway?”

“Stress. Smoking calms me down after a long day.” His sigh was heavy and rough.

“Well then, something to destress whilst also eliminating your addiction… I really think something like chocolate would work.” By now, you’d finished your bowl and you put it aside to wash later.

“Yeah… whatever. I guess it’s better than nothing.” He got up from his stool and went straight into his room. Something told you he wouldn’t survive the first week without a cigarette…

A week had gone by fairly quickly and he hadn’t smoked since the night you lectured him. However, he ate chocolate in unreal masses. Even then, as he was sitting on the couch this afternoon, he had bought a pack of cigarettes. Referred to them as ‘emergency cigs’. Just in case. He stared at the packaging, letting his thumb trace over the ‘M’ in ‘Marlboro’. Oh, he was so tempted. Just one drag and he’d feel the relaxation settling in his shoulders and the sounds of birds chirping and children laughing in the streets. Just one won’t hurt. He peeled the plastic film off and opened the lid. He could already feel it against his lips. Just one—

“What the fuck, Anakin.” You came up from behind him and took the pack out of his hands. He groaned as you did so, desperately grasping for it.

“You were doing so great with the chocolate, why the hell did you buy these?!” You spat and hid them in your back pocket.

“The chocolates didn’t work well enough. I need more. I need something better.” He complained and sighed, leaning back on the couch.

“Fine. I’ll go out and buy you some nicotine patches. Just promise me you’ll kick this habit, okay?” You rolled your eyes and went outside to the garbage bins. You threw the brand new pack of cigarettes in there and wheeled it out front.

When you got back inside, Anakin had already left for his room. The two of you had an established set of rules, one of which was to not enter each other's rooms unwarranted. If any of the patients at the clinic taught you anything, it was that addiction was hard to beat. No matter what kind it was. As much as you despised having to live with him, he didn’t deserve to die an early death because of something he couldn’t control.

“Anakin?” You knocked on the door gently, but there was no response.

“Come on, man.” The knocking became a little more frantic, but there was still no answer. 

“Whatever.” You walked away and found your purse before heading back outside to uphold what you said you’d do earlier.

After you got back, you heard him watching something on the TV. It was a car commercial for a new Ford model.

“Catch.” You got in front of the screen and threw him the packs of nicotine patches you’d bought. He peered up at you with lazy eyes and slowly unpacked one. You hadn’t really taken note of it before, but he was fucking hot. His hair was messy and his body was chiselled. He was shirtless and only in a pair of very unforgiving sweatpants.

“Thanks…” he mumbled and stuck a patch on his chest.

“Feel better?”

“Don’t know yet.” You took a seat beside him and cast Netflix to the screen,

“Anything you wanna watch?”

“Nah… I’m good.” He seemed as if he was giving up. He was all sluggish from not having had a cigarette.

“Okay…” you turned off the TV to sit and soak in the uncomfortable silence. Nobody said a word for at least a few minutes before Anakin finally spoke up,

“It feels okay… just… doesn’t beat the real thing.” Your head turned to look at him as he said that. 

“I’ve tried everything, okay? I have tried to help you. For some reason, you always need more. What more could you possibly want?” You sighed and brought your knees to your chest.

“You said… the hyper something? was responsible for sex and food cravings, right?”

“The hypothalamus, yeah. That’s why we tried chocolate.” 

“That’s food… what about… sex?” He took a gander at you with those intoxicating tired and beat eyes.

“Like… jerking off? I mean, maybe?” You shrugged.

“No, sex,” he said, staring right at you.

“Oh… well… knock yourself out, I guess? You have a girlfriend?”

“What about you?” He moved closer, still staring deeply into your eyes. His velvety blue ones captured your very soul with just their existence.

“I’m… um… I don’t have a boyfriend…” you swallowed harshly as he leaned into your neck. His breath hit your ear,

“I’d say that’s pretty convenient, no?” He grinned, letting you feel the electricity surging through your spine. You shuddered before swallowing hard,

“What are you insinuating, Anakin?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I need something better than chocolate. Something better than nicotine patches. I can’t just sleep with random girls every day and hope I won’t get an STD. You are single, and I’m guessing you don’t have any weird illness.” His smirk was evident, even if he was practically buried in your neck.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Anakin.” You sighed but didn’t resist his antics.

“Mmm ‘don’t think so. I have a pretty great plan mapped out in my head.” He began to nibble away at your skin, several sighs escaped your lips as he did so,

“Anakin…”

“Yeah, that’s right. Say my name just like that.” He ravaged your neck now, littering it with bruises and marks. He pulled away briefly and got up from the couch, taking your hand in his as he helped you up. Almost immediately, his lips crashed onto yours. He pushed you up against the cold wall, clawing at your waist,

“Jump.” You did and he grabbed your legs, wrapping them around his waist. He then carried you to his room, where he roughly threw you on the bed. Your breaths were heavy and he swallowed up every single one with his mouth. His tongue massaged yours as his hands massaged your clothed tits.

“Anakin—“

“Ani. Just Ani.” He captured your lips again. He loved those pretty little whimpers and gasps you’d make. It drove him wild. The way your hands were pulling at his hair as your lips desperately reached out for his… It was like a drug.

He pulled off his shirt and helped you get yours off too. You unclasped your bra, and he revelled in the sight. They were fucking perfect in his eyes. The embarrassment on your face as he stared only made him more hungry. He unbuckled his pants, pulled them down and discarded them somewhere in a corner. Shortly after, he got yours off too. Your panties were damp and when his two fingers went to investigate, he just had to point it out to you— essentially mocking you.

“Look who’s getting so worked up when I’ve barely even done anything?” He scoffed. The mocking only worked to turn you on even more, and the face you made gave it away almost immediately. Dumb mistake or was it served on a silver platter?

“Don’t tell me you get off on that,” he snickered and massaged your hips, one hand worked its way further down and ripped your panties off. 

“Hey, those were expensive…” you mumbled, but he didn’t care. The whole house could catch on fire and he wouldn’t give a fuck, because he was here with you. 

“I’ll buy you new ones.” He placed his thumb on your clit, slowly rubbing circles. You clenched the sheets with whatever little power you had left. Even with gestures as small as stroking your sopping cunt, you were at his disposal. Through and through.

As it got more intense, he added a finger, then two then went ahead and added a third— finger fucking you until you went cross-eyed, flicking as hard as he could. Your cries and moans were like music to him. Better than whatever garbage he played anyway.

“All for me? You spoil me, darling.” Fuck, that sent you toppling over the edge, clamping down eagerly on his fingers. With a final moan of his name, he felt your essence coat his fingers. After pulling them out, he licked and sucked them clean,

“You taste fucking heavenly. Better than the chocolate, that’s for sure.” He pulled you by the hips and kneaded them nicely, listening to how you panted like the needy little thing you were. One hand slowly travelled up to take a squeeze at your nipple before travelling back down. His hand grabbed the base of his cock as it rubbed against your sensitive folds. Fuck, he was good, but you were growing impatient. Surely bucking your hips would work?

“Fuck, you’re desperate, aren’t you?” He mocked you and snickered. It was embarrassing. Downright humiliating. Yet you relished in it. Oh, you needed him so bad your ovaries were going to explode.

“Come on… Anakin,” you mewled and arched your back.

“It’s Ani, darling.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead gently, still teasing your needy folds,

“Now, let me hear you again.”

“You’re embarrassing me…” you diverted your gaze and turned her head to the side. It was clear as day to see that your face was completely flushed.

“That’s the point,” he scoffed and grabbed your chin roughly,

“Come on, you can do it, can’t you? Be a good girl, tell me what you want.” Good girl. You folded almost immediately.

“Please… just do it.”

“Come on now, you can do better than that,” he snickered. His relentless teasing just egged you on even more.

“Please, Ani. Please fuck… fuck me,” you sighed with exceptional need, as you arched your back.

“Don’t think I heard that… a little louder?”

“Fuck me, Ani! Fucking take me!” Your desperation was clear in your tone and the way your brows were furrowed. You were pathetic to look at, and oh how he loved it.

“That’s my girl.” He leaned down to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss, as you felt him finally intrude your walls. He swallowed every moan you made and even drowned them with his tongue. His size was unthinkably big. There was one protruding vein in particular. The way your walls clamped around it, allowed you to feel it from its start to its end. He wasn’t completely uncivilized though. He allowed you to adjust to his size before moving even a millimetre. In the meantime, he sucked at your skin, twisted your nipples, and moulded your breasts. By now, there wasn’t one spot on your neck that wasn’t bruised. As these appeared one after the other, the pain from his cock invading your insides slowly mingled with pleasure.

“You can move…” He did exactly that. As if it were a command typed into a computer. He almost pulled all the way out, before slamming himself against your hips roughly and sighing out your name.

“You’re so fucking tight, princess,” he groaned as he wasted no time bringing your knees up against your chest, as he began to pound into you. His pace wasn’t too fast, but rough enough to earn those ethereal moans of yours.

“Fuck, scream for me. Scream my name. Let the whole block hear you,” he sighed, speeding up his pace, rutting against you like a heathen. It was fucking filthy. He watched as every inch of himself disappeared inside you, massacring your insides with no mercy. Every pant and every moan contributed to his head falling back in pleasure, as he drove his hips vigorously against yours.

“Ani!” His name left your lips repeatedly like a broken record. He was fucking you completely stupid. What day was it? What time was it? What was your own name? Your cock-drunk self had only one thing in mind: Anakin Skywalker.

“Fuck, I’m close!” You panted as he thrust with even greater speed and strength. He was relentless and unforgiving.

“That’s right. Cum for me. Cum on this cock, baby,” he groaned as you started clenching down on him. He was struggling to move with the tightness but didn’t give up that easily. His tip hit your cervix repeatedly and you felt like your guts were being rearranged.

Finally, you couldn’t handle it anymore and you tipped over the edge,

“Ani!” You fell limp, but Anakin was far from done. He pulled out, only to get next to you and pull you into his lap. His face was flushed. His eyes were hooded and his lips parted. His hands were kneading your hips,

“Ride me.” What? You had no means. You were limp and tired from the pounding you just got. Now he’s trying to go for another round? But oh, how you wanted it. You wanted so badly to feel him again. To feel a new angle of him. Quite literally speaking.

With whatever strength you could muster, you slowly sank down on him, taking him by each delicious inch. It was far too much for you though, your arms immediately gave out and you fell on top of him. That was no issue though; he helped you. He grabbed your hips tightly and thrust upwards. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head with pleasure. You’d never been fucked that food before. Anakin let his face get buried in the soft mounds in front of him, as he arched your back for you. He was determined to make you finish for the third time in the evening, before finishing himself.

“Doing so good for me, baby, you’re doing such a good job.” He continued to drag your hips down upon his, but with one hand, he slowly let go and pressed it against your abdomen,

“You feel that? That’s my cock ruining you.” This man… your words were illegible by now. He removed his hand from your stomach and stretched the corner of your mouth with two of his fingers,

“You’re so pathetic like this. Where’s the smartass now?” He was right. He was fucking you into oblivion. You couldn’t even fully comprehend what he was saying anymore. You just whined and moaned at him. Just like the good girl, you were being for him. The overstimulation didn’t help. In fact, you were already getting close again. Your pussy was suffocating him and his drags were getting sloppier and sloppier— until he finally got you to release on top of him. He pulled you for a few more thrusts before pulling you off, having you fall backwards on the bed so that he could paint your stomach white.

The two of you both panted heavily as he fell back. It felt like you were going to pass out from the exhaustion.

“Beats the nicotine and cigarettes,” he sighed with a snicker. His eyes were fixated on the white ceiling above,

“So does tomorrow work too?”

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[gingiesworld]

Obsessions (3/?)

Wanda Maximoff x Rogers Fem Reader

Warnings: Angst.

Taglist: @sytoran @ginnsbaker @gb12d @lifespectator

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

18+ MINORS DNI

Wanda hated the idea of seeing Y/N flirt with other girls, although she would try to stop her from getting any further than a kiss. But even when she was alone, she couldn't get herself to cum as she thought of Y/N's fingers and remembering how they felt inside of her.

She found herself lay in her bed one evening as Maria was getting ready for a party.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" She asked Wanda who just sighed.

"I don't know." She whispered as Maria sat down beside her.

"I know you're nervous about seeing Y/N." Maria started as Wanda denied it almost immediately. "Wanda, I can see straight through you and your walls, because I am the same with Nat."

"I don't like her." Wanda groaned. "Besides, I made her life in high school a living hell. I even outed her to the entire school body."

"Wanda, I've seen that small photo album you have, I have seen you stare at it. I recognise Y/N as the other girl who used to be your friend." Maria started as Wanda just listened. "Maybe start by apologizing to her. Be her friend again."

"I don't think I can." She whispered as Maria patted her thigh.

"I know you can Wanda." She told her. "I have seen you without those walls you put up. I know the real you and I can see that you hate yourself. So get ready and come with me to the party."

Wanda never really had a choice as Maria started to throw her clothes at her before she pushed her towards the bathroom. Wanda sighed in defeat as she reluctantly got herself ready.

It was the first party since everyone had returned to college since the winter break. Y/N spent winter at home although Peggy went to Britain alone since Y/N didn't want to go. Wanting to work more on her art and the car.

Y/N walked through the frat house until she was pulled by Christine, straight through to the kitchen.

"Whoa, slow down." Y/N teased her as she just drank a full cup of beer. "What's got you worked up?"

"Stephen is here." She muttered.

"He's the ex who broke up with you right?" Y/N questioned as Christine just nodded. "Well, I can make sure he stays away from you if you'd like?"

"Really?" She questioned with hopeful eyes.

"Yeah, I can pretend to be your girlfriend?" Y/N told her as Christine nodded, happy with the plan. What Y/N never realised was that it would also make Wanda extremely jealous.

As the night wore on, Y/N and Christine were inseparable, Wanda stood beside Maria and Nat as she watched Y/N with the red head.

"What's the deal with those two?" Maria asked as she pointed to Nat's room mate.

"They're friends I think." Nat spoke unsurely as they all witnessed Y/N wrap her arm around Christine's waist. "Or more?"

"I need a drink." Wanda muttered as Maria gave her an apologetic look. It wasn't until Christine went to the bathroom that Y/N had walked to the kitchen for another drink. "Is she your girlfriend?" Wanda asked bitterly as Y/N scoffed.

"I don't need to answer that or you Wanda." Y/N told her firmly. "Anyway, why would you care? Jealous?"

Wanda just laughed as she shook her head, although her whole stomach said otherwise, she kept a straight face as she turned to her ex friend.

"Why would I be jealous of her?" Wanda told her as she leaned closer. "I will still have you first. Besides, you still have a job to do for me." She bit Y/N's ear. "And only your fingers can do it."

Y/N watched as Wanda walked away, but her gaze was soon diverted as Christine took the drink from her hands and downing it.

"Let's dance." Christine told her as she dragged Y/N with her to the group of people dancing. Christine was dancing up against her as Y/N's hands helped guide her movements to the music. Wanda's eyes burned into them as she watched Y/N pull Christine closer, their hips moving in synchrony as Wanda shook her head and disappeared.

"What's wrong Wanda?" Maria asked as she followed her room mate outside.

"I can't do this." She told her honestly, tears were threatening to fall as she stood before her friend. "I hate this feeling and quite frankly I don't really understand it."

"You're in love Wanda." Maria stated as Wanda shook her head no. "Love isn't really meant to be understood but you need to man up and tell her. Apologise for all of the shit you screwed up and shoe her that you mean it. Every damn word of it."

"I'm scared." Wanda whispered as Maria's look softened. "I bullied her, outed her because of my own insecurities. I was afraid of what everyone would think about the girl who is in love with her best friend from childhood."

"If those people loved you regardless, they wouldn't give two shits about who you love." Maria told her as Wanda wiped her eyes. "Now come on, let's enjoy tonight and maybe we can start coming up with a strategy. A way you can get Y/N to forgive you."

Wanda just thanked her and took her hand, allowing her to lead her back inside until her heart shattered at what she witnessed. Y/N and Christine kissing, well more like making out on the dance floor. Maria wrapped her arm around Wanda as she led her outside.

"I'm too late." Wanda whispered as Maria shook her head no.

"There is still time." Maria told her as Wanda looked away.

"There isn't." Wanda confirmed as she soon left the premises. Heading straight to her dorm room, making a decision that she should have made in the first place.

She sat at her desk, writing a letter to Y/N, pouring every heartfelt word onto the page. All of her regrets and apologies for all of the things she had done, all of the ways she had failed the one person who had helped her adjust to life in America.

The next few weeks went by without any sightings of Wanda, she didn't head to her classes, her bed was not slept in and her things were gone. Wanda was gone.

"What happened to Wanda?" Y/N finally questioned Maria as the end of the semester rolled around.

"She left months ago." She stated as she stopped in front of her door. "It was after that party. You were making out with Christine Palmer." Maria stated sternly as Y/N was shocked by her hostility.

"Look, that was one night and well, it was just a kiss." Y/N told her. "And why am I defending myself? I am a single woman."

"You need to figure this shit out with Wanda." Maria stated as she pointed her finger at her.

"Listen, I don't know what Wanda told you but it's really none of your business." Y/N told her as Maria laughed dryly.

"Wanda is my friend." She stated firmly. "So yeah, she is hurting and it's all on you!"

"Hey!" Nat came out as she heard the two. "What is going on?"

"How is her pain all on me?" Y/N questioned as the two ignored Nat. "I never caused her any pain, in fact, she was the one who made the last four years of my life a living hell. Her boyfriend would push me into the lockers, throw my books on the floor. Her cheerleader friends would soak my clothes so I would have to wear out dated shit from the lost and found. Her boyfriend even went as far as slashing the tires on the car that my dad and I worked hard on to get it road worthy. So tell me, what do I have to apologise for?"

Maria just scoffed as she went inside her room as Nat looked at Y/N who stood there, getting her breathing and emotions under control.

"What just happened?" She asked Y/N who retreated into their own room. "Y/N? What was all that about?"

"Wanda has gone and Maria is saying it is all my fault." Y/N told her. "I honestly don't know how it is my fault, I wasn't the one who broke a dozen promises. She did that freshman year."

"Maybe you should let it go?" Nat reasoned as Y/N shook her head no. "It's been years."

"No." Y/N shook her head. "All of the pain, playing on my insecurities has been happening for the last four years. She was the one who outed me to everyone. To my parents!! I never had the chance to have that heartfelt discussion with them. It was just a shrug of the shoulders and 'ok, you're gay.'"

"Y/N?" Nat tried as Y/N stood up.

"I need some air." She whispered as she left the room. Everything seemed to be coming down on her at that moment. Wanda's obsession to make Y/N's life a struggle had truly gotten to her. As she walked for a while, heading off of campus, she soon collapsed against a wall of a nearby club. Sobbing over the years of trauma and grief, grief that she should have had Wanda there for.

Wanda returned home, referring to her schooling for another year and going to a different college instead. She was asked to help around her mom's cafe in turn of earning a little money. Although she still looked at Y/N's social media, seeing her pictures at parties and with other people. Even seeing one of her and Pietro when she visited him in LA.

She always looked at the letter she wrote, everyday as it remained unopened on her nightstand. She was afraid of giving it to Y/N, afraid of Y/N's reaction to the words in it. So it remained unopened for a while, a few years it remained until she finally gave it to her, well she slid it under the door to the Rogers's residence.

[c0la-queen]

You | Tord x Reader

Here we go! I'm sorry if this isn't my normal quality, I wrote it while fighting off a headache... but also, I wanted to be a little silly! Because these are silly guys! I hope you enjoy the slight cliffhanger I left it on, hehe! Mwah, mwah!

Warnings: Tord is a bit of a weirdo, stalking behavior, obsession, Tord is 100% making assumptions about you and your personality, love this little freak <3

Words: 1.5k

---

Being a quiet person is not always an easy thing.

Some people would think it was. You never have to worry about saying the wrong thing. There were less chances of you offending anyone from your words.

Or, some people think the opposite. "I could never handle being so quiet" they say. It must be a headache to be around so much noise.

And… they were right, in Tord's opinion. It was nice to not have to get stuck in awkward conversations. He had the added bonus of being intimidating, so people eventually got the hint and stopped trying to talk to him. However, he also had to keep enough Advil on hand to tranquilize a small horse, considering he decided to live with the three loudest motherfuckers on the planet. Pros and cons, and such.

There were times when it proved to be nice, though.

Like right now.

The odd occasions where he had the day to himself. Tom and Matt were at work, Edd was visiting his parents, so that left Tord to his lonesome. What a great day.

As much as he would have liked to spend the whole day in the house, he couldn't. He needed to go grocery shopping - the fridge looked abysmal. At least it was warm and sunny outside. Still, he dragged his feet. He really didn't want to go to the store.

Ugh.

He was the son of the Red Leader. He had seen much worse shit. He had killed men in cold blood without batting an eye. He was not going to be bested by the looming possibility of social interaction.

…maybe he needed therapy?

…

Nah.

--

If Tord ever managed to invent a time machine, the first thing he was going to do was find the person who developed wireless earbuds and give them a kiss.

Being an intimidating looking person was a great way to ward off unwanted conversations. But there were always people who had no sense of self preservation and chose to try and talk to him anyway. Wearing earbuds while he was out helped with that. Nobody was stupid enough to try and deliberately get him to take his earbuds off. (Except Edd and Matt, but they know that they'll get away with it.)

The basket handle on his arm was starting to dig into his arm as he stood in front of the pasta aisle, watching his pet idiots (roommates) argue on the group chat over what type of noodles to get. Edd wanted Ziti, Tom wanted Angel Hair, and Matt wanted Bowtie… for some reason.

Tord was busy calculating the risk vs. reward of banging his head against the shelf until he bled out of his ears when it happened.

You happened.

Through his music, he heard the sound of laughing and giggling. He glanced to the side, expecting a gaggle of obnoxious, immature 20-something year olds with the sole purpose of ruining everyone else's relaxing shopping experience. And that's mostly what it was. But, standing in the middle of them was you.

Hello, you.

You were laughing, just like the others. But not the fake laughter of conformity - no, it was real, genuine laughter. Tord didn't think he had heard anything so beautiful. He even paused his music just so he could hear it in its pure form.

The more he looked, the more he saw of you. You were like the sun, so golden and bright compared to these others you were standing with. He could tell you weren't like them, he could tell you weren't using some made up personality to try and fit in.

What the hell were you doing with people like that?

Then, you were moving. Your little group had apparently decided the joke wasn't funny anymore, so you were moving on. Disappearing into the next aisle. Disappearing from his life.

Tord threw a couple boxes of noodles into the basket without even looking at it, shoving his phone back in his hoodie pocket and moving on to the next aisle. He pretended to deliberate over what brand of laundry detergent to get as he subtly watched your group at the other end of the aisle. He was able to get a better look at you.

You were wearing a brightly colored cardigan, wool by the looks of it, that perfectly matched the colors of your earrings and purse. You liked to coordinate your outfits. You had on a little skirt that teased just enough of your thighs to draw attention without being slutty, but you also had black tights on. You liked to look attractive while still feeling like you were being modest. Your earrings and the clip in your hair looked like they had been bought from the girls' department store in the mall right across from Matt's store, that was always playing mind numbing pop songs and had unicorns everywhere. You liked cutesy, almost juvenile things.

Tord wanted to know more. He wanted to know everything about you.

--

A peaceful day all to his lonesome where he would force himself to get groceries before wasting the day away on the couch quickly shifted - now, he was spending the rest of the afternoon with you.

Well, almost.

You and your friends were walking around town, enjoying the warmth and dipping into any stores that caught your attention. Tord was also walking around town, a good distance behind your group, enjoying your warmth and drinking in every detail he could get.

And he had learned plenty.

He had no idea why you were friends with these people. From what he could tell, you were stifled in this group. They would talk over you, ignore things that you pointed out, refuse to go to stores that you wanted to go to, tease and taunt you, and walk ahead of you. Despite it all, you always kept a smile. You kept shining, kept illuminating the area around you.

They don't deserve your light.

Oh, but you knew that, didn't you? You knew, but you were so sweet and gracious that you gave it to them anyway. Maybe if you shone bright enough, warmed their skin enough, they would finally give you attention.

Tord would give you that attention. He already was, and you weren't even giving him your sunlight.

And he never would ask you to.

No, your sunlight was going to be a gift that he had to earn. It would be a blessing that he was going to work hard to have bestowed upon him.

He would never exploit you.

Like they did.

--

Tord slipped into the coffee shop, running a hand through his hair. The warm weather was causing a light amount of sweat to gather on his skin.

He pretended to look across the overfilled menu, taking in the names of all the absurd drinks available. He already knew what he was going to get.

"Hi, welcome in! What can I get started for you today, sir?"

The barista was smiling at him too much. Her eyes drifted down his chest, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. Her pupils her dilated. She was checking him out.

Not that he cared. On an objective standard, she was pretty. But she didn't shine. She wasn't sunlight. She didn't brighten up the entire room just with her smile. She didn't make the birds sing by just looking in his direction.

She wasn't you.

"Iced Americano."

"Will that be all for you? We have a whole menu of signature flavors. I'd recommend-"

"Just an Americano."

The barista blinked in surprise when he cut her off. Typical. A pretty person with a shallow mind that couldn't comprehend the idea of a person not being interested in them. She huffed softly before ringing him up and telling him his total.

He paid, then turned to go sit and wait for his order to be made. He didn't get very far, though, before he almost ran into someone.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry! I totally wasn't looking where I was going!"

It was you.

You were talking to him.

You were looking at him.

You were so warm.

"It's fine."

As Tord fled like a fucking coward, you gave him a sweet smile. You smiled at him. And he just walked away. Asgardians above, his father would have been so disappointed in him.

His phone buzzed in his pocket as he sat at a window table, watching your friends snicker at the coffee shop mascot.

"Mate, you've been out shopping for like 4 hours. Where are you?"

Edd's voice drifted out from his phone speaker as Tord pressed the screen to his cheek.

"Something came up."

"Did you get the bowtie noodles? Did you? Tord?"

There was a muffled 'Matt, get off me' and some shuffling fabric before Edd's voice returned.

"The fuck do you mean something came up?"

Tord glared at the boy you were talking to, watching you give him an adorable pout. Oh, the things Tord would do to you.

"I found the perfect girl for us."