#i am mostly better from being sick. i can all the way breathe out of all my noses and didn't refill the trash with tissues today

[artemissoteira]

would love it if, when my body insists on involuntarily flinching for no reason, it could at least be normal about involuntarily flinching! it is too much to preemptively flinch in anticipation of involuntarily flinching in an echo of sneezing too much while being sick!

[deamonichusband]

When they are sick and you take care of them

GN Reader

Characters in this are: Tengen Uzui, Rengoku Kyojuro, Sanmei Shinazugawa, Giyu Tomioka, Obanai Iguro, Shinobu Kocho

(My requests are open if any of you want to request something)

Tengen Uzui:

-You and his wives knew he was sick before he knew himself.

-You may ask why and the answer is very simple: He gets really moody when he is sick.

-You better be prepared to force him to take his medicine.

-If he says no like a child, promise him candy that you don’t give him afterwards since he is sick.

-His hair is turning into a mess so you all make sure to brush it for him.

-Lots of whining.

-He complains at least once a day that being sick is not very flamboyant.

-He will demand a lot of cuddles.

-And soup. When this man is sick, he is consuming even more soup then usual. It makes you a bit worried every time but his wives assure you that he will be okay.

-He doesn’t get fever or throws up, he literally almost always just has a cold and a sore throat.

-He can be quite drama queen when he is sick.

-Refuse to cuddle him and he will whine that you don’t love him.

-“This is it, I can see the light!” . “Tengen, it’s just a cold!”

Rengoku Kyojuro:

-This man is so adorable when he is sick.

-His hair is a mess, his eyes are glassy and a bit unfocused and when you look at him, your feel your heart melt.

-He needs a lot of blankets when he is sick because he feels so cold even if he has a high fever.

-He doesn’t let you sleep in the same room as him in fear of getting you sick as well.

-“I don’t want you to get a fever as well, little flame.”

-You are upset by it but you understand where he is coming from. And to be fair, you really don’t want a fever as well.

-You make him a lot of delicious soups and teas.

-You give him one of your shirts and put it over a pillow so he at least has something that smells like you while he sleeps.

-He gives you a soft smile and curls up around the pillow.

-And your heart melts again at the sight of that.

Sanmei Shinazugawa:

-He is really stubborn.

-Like, when he finds out he has a fever, he ignores it.

-He continues to train and work until he almost gets hurt during a mission.

-Which earns him a scolding from you.

-You force him to rest.

-Which doesn’t stop him from trying to move.

-You threaten to tie him up or chain him to the floor if he doesn’t rest.

-Which has him groaning.

-But he finally actually rests.

-He sleeps really bad when he is sick, so you better stroke his hair while he sleeps to help him to sleep better.

Giyu Tokioma:

-This man is not complicated while sick. He is the tamest one out of everyone.

-He mostly sleeps through his fever.

-But then the coughing starts.

-It wakes him up multiple times during the night and he almost throws up by how abd it is in the first few days.

-You make sure that is a lot of water in the bedroom, so that he doesn’t have to go to the kitchen.

-He is even m ore silent then usual while sick.

-But he looks vulnerable, allowing you to see every emotions he has.

-You make sure he feels loved and that he knows you love him deeply.

-Be prepared to be the big spoon while he is sick.

-Before he falls asleep, he mutters something to you.

-“Thank you for taking care of me, my dewdrop. I love you.”

Obanai Iguro:

-He is a bit stubborn because he can bearly breath under his mask.

-You gently ask him to take his mask off and your heart aches when he hesitates.

-You have to give him as much comforting and reassuring words as you can, until he feels better.

-So he takes of his mask and you gently stroke your thumbs over his cheeks gently, asking him if breathing is better now.

-And it is.

-He takes the medicine you give him like he needs to.

-He definitely tries to talk his way out of disgusting medicine. But you are very insisting that he takes it.

-He feels useless and tells you as much.

-So you give him a kiss to the tip of his nose, which has him blushing and whining.

-“You always take care of me Obi. So now I am taking care of you.

Shinobu Kocho:

-Like Sanemi, she is really stubborn about it.

-She makes sure to write down medication that you need to prepare for her.

-Tho you 100% have to force her to not make it herself.

-She won’t rest when the fever slowly rises, so you have to force her to rest.

-She will say no at first. But then you give her big begging puppy eyes and how can she say no to that.

-You make sure to take care of her.

-But she still tries to help you take care of her.

-Ever heard that doctors are the worst patients? She is the perfect example for that.

-She has a list for what you can cook for her and get ready to make a lot of tea for her.

-If you catch her getting up before she is fully better, you better give her an earful.

Mitsuri Kanjiro:

-Mitsuri hates being sick. It always makes her feel really weak.

-You can see her usually happy expression fade into one of discomfort.

-You make sure that she takes her medicine, but sometimes you have to force her because she hates the taste of it.

-It's not often that she gets sick, which you are happy about, because seeing her usually happy and bright personality being replaced with a weak and sad one makes your heart ache a lot.

-When she is sick, she always has a stuffy nose, so you need to get as many tissues for her as possible.

-Her appetite is not there for the first few days, which makes you worry a lot.

-When it gets better, you make a lot of soup for her. You feel relieved when she slowly eats more and more again.

-Once she is almost completely recovered, she demands as much soup as you can possibly make her.

-The thing she hates the most about being sick is that she can't eat Sakura Mochi untill she has recovered.

Muichiro Tokito:

-When he is sick his eyes are even more dull than usual.

-He also forgets stuff a lot more, so you need to take care of him.

-You make sure to give him his medicine when he needs to take it.

-You make a lot of his favourite soup for him.

-When he is sick, he has a hard time falling asleep, so he forces you to sing lullabies to him while stroking a hand through his hair.

-He never complains when he is sick, but you can always tell that it bothers him.

-When he was sick once, you handed him a bucket after he woke up. When you said it was because he had thrown up, he blinked at you slowly.

-"I threw up?"

Gyomei Himejima:

-This man needs you the most when he is sick.

-He does not know what medicine bottle is what, so you need to help him take the right medicine at the right time.

-He asks you to clean his prayer beads once a day while he recovers, which you gladly do.

-You also make sure that Genya is checked on at least once every few days. Of course you let him see Gyomei, tho you make sure it is only a short visit and that he doesn't get too close.

-Gyomei gets nightmares everytime he sleeps while being sick, so you are always holding him while giving him comfort.

-When you end up getting sick from being so close to him, he does his best to take care of you.

-When Genya somehow managed to get sick, both of you take care of him.

[fantasynsuch]

Adam Stanheight SFW + NSFW headcanons

REQUESTS FOR SAW OPEN!

2.3k words

Sfw

How you meet!

you two meet probably in the hallway of your crappy apartment complex.

you run into him from the corner, he had his headphones in and was listening to it on full volume, and you were running late for work

crashing head first into neighbor? you dick he probably thinks to himself as he realizes he just ran into his neighbor.

he'd seen you around before: mostly rushing to whatever crappy retail job of the month you had

he had thought you were really beautiful, but he was a coward at heart, so never did anything about it

this time he didn't have the choice to not interact with you: well, without looking like a dick

"I am SO sorry. I'm such a dumbass." He rushes out before he can think

Youre still kinda in a little bit of shock, so you just look up at this incredibly handsome man who just face planted into you for a long while

he thinks your silence is you rejecting his apologies and he quietly apologizes and runs off

but you just were so enamored by him that you couldn't say anything

at work all you can think about is how you didn't accept his apologies and probably made him feel horrible

you were determined to make things right so after work you grab a couple packs of the smokes you always saw him with from the store and rush to his apartment

you timidly knock on his door and wait with bated breath

he sees you through the peephole and momentarily considers not answering it

but he sees the bag you have in your hand and is curious

he opens it, fully expecting to be yelled at for running into you

but all that happens is you raise the bag up quickly and say "i'm so sorry i didn't say anything, i feel so bad. i just was in shock because you're s-" you stop and say nothing after realizing your rambling

he looks in the bag and notices the smokes

you smile at him shyly

and that starts a beautiful relation

how you are as friends

you stay over ALOT

he tends to not eat the best so you make him alot of dinners and lunches to make sure he's eating regularly

his work as a professional stalker keeps him up at odd hours so those pre made meals are rlly a life saver

buying each other candy and snacks alot

when the other was having a rough month fiancially, you would try to pick up the slack andhelp them

that means buying the other small groceries and items to get them through till the next check

you stay over sm the other has toiletries like tooth brushes n soap at the others place

going to parties together but only talking to one another bc ur both not super extroverted

you just go for the free alcohol

speaking of which,,, taking care of each other when the other is drunk

he holds ur hair when ur sick in the toilet,

you rub his back when he's sick

when the other is actually ill as in cold or the flu, bringing each other soup n montioring each others temp

making sure the other takes their meds to get better

inevitably the other gets sick with the same thing, but it just ends up the same way with the other taking care of u

leaving notes in his mail slot when he's busy, and since its 2004, no fast messaging so "coming over at 5!! xoxo" in his mail slot

he lives kinda like a typical man with basically only a chair and essentials , bare ass living room

taking him to the thrift store to get like a decent couch n maybe an arm chair

helping him expand his wardrope to something beyond crappy second hand flannel n white shirt (preferably without blood on it)

helping him get through his trauma over the trap

you cant exactly help him get over it, but ur there when he has bad moments

holding him while he sobs in ur lap

just stroking his hair n reminding him hes here n not at the god awful bathroom

it really calms him down and reminds him he is present in this moment, not that one

he sometimes gets insecure about his scar on his shoulder and tries to hid it but you remind him that he shouldnt be embarassed for being strong enough to survive

helping him get back into normal non stalkery photographer- his need to make money to live kinda outweighed his desire to just take pics of birds

speaking of which: he def loves nature photography

he lives in new jersey, so its rare he gets to do that, but its a nice treat

road trips with him n he spends the whole time as a passenger princess asking you to stop n take pics of a dead tree that has a rlllly nice backdrop

ur crappy car probably breaks down once or twice but its part of the adventure

In a relationship

kisses. lot of f'ing kisses

neck kisses, forehead kisses, navel kisses. any types!

probably is the little spoon lbr

follows ur lead for the most part

want to go to the theatre? it may take out half his money but he WILL pay for the date

probably gets u sweet treats alot n writes a little note that says "love you babe!"

he def clings to you everywhere u go

got to go to the kitche? catch him hugging u from behind n not letting go

can't fall asleep without each other anymore

he used to have a twin sized mattress but he decided to buy a full after u moved intogether

speaking of which, he definitely moved into your apartment

you have a two bedroom n that allows him to have a red room for his photography and a bedroom

he probably only had a redroom and slept on the couch at his apartment tbh

typical man

very clean n likes to take showers with you

his fav thing is his hair being washed by you

the scraping on his scalp is incredibily grounding

he loves washing you as well, and not in a sexual way.

theres something so domestic about cleaning each other that he loves.

ultimately i think his interactions with cheating rich men has spoiled a bit of his view of marriage, but with you he really can see himself settling down and being a forever thing. beyond everything, he trusts you

he craves domesticity so he will enjoy providing for you and helping with the house

loves to cook, his mom probably taught him

doesn't really have a jealousy problem, though he can get jealous from time to time

very rare, but if he does, there might actually be a substantiated reason

doesn't want kids atm, as he can barely support himself and you.

waiting up for you to get home no matter how tired he is

wants to make sure you're home safe

rlly co dependent directly following the trap. can't be in the bathroom by myself, it reminds him too much of the trap. he needs you to be in the room with you while you speak to him through the curtain, or even better, being in the shower with you.

needs constant reassurance he isnt a burden on you

he feels like you don't deserve to be with a man who has so many problems

you tell him constantly that you will be there no matter what

holding hands just to remind him of your presence.

calms him down alot more than you expect

if you happen to be late getting home from work, he may partially freak out: thinking you left him finally

you'll find him sobbing on the couch curled in on himself

he's so vulnerable after lawrence left him there

he doesn't know that lawrence didn't break his promise intentionally so he holds alot of resentment for him

kissing his cheeks and telling him you'll never leave

onto more happy things:

MOVIE NIGHTS!!! you religiously watch movies together and spend most of the time talking about the stupidity of the characters or something.

never meeting his parents bc he's not on good terms with them

LOVES THAT YOURE ABOUT HIS HEIGHT, he's not a tall man and has never been insecure about his height, but the fact he's eye level with you makes it extremely intimate in his opinion

or if you're taller than him, his man brain goes ooga booga and thinks "tall woman/man" and all bets are off

NSFW

okay, to go ahead and put this glaringly obvious thing out there: HE HAS A THING FOR BEING A SUB!!!

He needs you to take control and tell him what to do

grab him by his hair and shove him in between your legs? yes ma'am

ask him to kneel and eat you out on a hardwood floor? done

he absolutely would do anything for you

he needs reassurance what he's doing is good: and rest assured, it is

he probably is a bit messy, and not very controlled

sloppy licks and desperate sucks are common

same thing for when he's inside you

ragged thrusts and a desperate pace

hes probably desperate bc you havent let him cum the whole session

his cock is probably a bit under average length wise, but good god is his girth something to marvel at

everytime he takes you he stretches you

very skinny man, and once you get your claws into him, he probably gains weight which gives him a cute bit of chub that you love to grab onto while he's thrusting into your hole haphazardly.

its almost like a leash

he absolutely needs direction the first couple times, hes so nervous he's shaking

you ask if he wants to keep going and he nods quickly n says theres nothing he's ever wanted more, but assuming this is following the trap, he absolutely needs someone to tell him what to do

could definitely get off from watching you cum (it's def happened before, his poor red cock hadn't been touched all night beyond the grinding on the bed he's hidden from you while eating you out and seeing your intense pleasure just,, he couldn't hold on anymore)

probably circumcised with a tasteful amount of hair, enough to be cute but not enough to be annoying

his nipples are probably so sensitive and he doesnt even know it, he's never thought to play with them

the first time you brush them he gasps and leaks precum

from then on they become a regular part of your routine when playing with him

PLEASE CALL HIM A GOOD BOY!!!

the first time you do, his head is thrown back in ecstasy from your mouth on his cock, and when you pull up, you tell him to look at you while still stroking his cock, and you say "youre my good boy. cum for me my baby boy."

he immediately cums and is embarrassed for weeks, even with your reassurance that it was the hottest thing you've ever seen

speaking of head, he loves getting it but he absolutely enjoys giving it more

theres something so sexy about being able to lick you to completion

when he gets head, he's so lost in his own pleasure that he forgets to breathe and when he remembers, he takes deep breaths

is so in love with your body

he thinks your the hottest person he's ever seen

would probably want to call you mistress or momma. i dont make the rules

RIDE HIM RN

he loves when you're on top, it makes him feel so helpless

alright so: he definitely wants you to peg him

grip his hands and place them above his head, and shove his head into the mattress

anything

his fav position is with his ass up in the air with his head shoved in a pillow and his cock hanging pitifully untouched. shove your strap into his ass while he begs you to make him cum

grab his face and kiss him while he wails out from the pleasure

shove your tongue down his throat,,, something!!

IN THE ODD OCCASION HE IS FEELING DOMINANT!!

rare

but it happens

he isn't some hard dom who leaves you bruised up

he will take care of you just like he does when he's subbing, but he won't let you order him around

grabs your neck and just holds. not enough to prevent you breathing, but enough for you to know its there

still sloppy either way

with him, aftercare is a must

thing is: you can't leave him alone after he's finished subbing, as it sparks some trigger that brings him back to the bathroom, where, in his mind, lawrence left him to die

you have to take him with you

you found out after he cries out and practically tackles you begging you to not leave and to stay with him and to not abandon him

its alot of rambling, but once you get him to calm down, he is pretty embarrassed, but you understand

you tell him to get up and hold his hand, or hug, while walking to the bathroom

wiping a rag on his oversensitive cock to clean it and seeing his face scrunch up is ur fav thing

you might make him eat his cum out of you to clean you up, but it just depends on how he feels. and it might start up a whole nother round so its a gamble

he probably doesn't fall asleep immediately afterward, and will stay there stroking your hair while you sleep to remind himself you're there, you aren't leaving and you love him

LOTS OF LOVE YOU'S DURING AND AFTER!!

something about you telling him you love him does something: it might be from him feeling useless and like a burden

when he finally sleeps, he's the little spoon and he whispers a quick,"thank you"before nodding off

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS!!! I LOVE ADAM AND SAW AND AND pLS REQUEST SOMETHING!!

[unforth]

I had a day off yesterday.

And I can already practically hear the assumptions that such a statement is prompting the reader to make. Those assumptions are wrong. I don't mean I didn't work. I did, for about 8 hours. That's not at all what I mean.

I mean my wife took the kids out at 9:30, spent the night with her mom, isn't back yet the next morning.

There are things I NEED people on this website to understand about parenting. And I've talked about it before, and I'll talk about it again, because honestly the way that Tumblr as a cohort talks about parents makes me sick. Multiple polls have shown that only about 2% of people on here are parents. We're a huge minority, and we're constantly talked over, ignored, or accused of being bad parents (like, personally, I have had people reply to my comments or come on to my posts and tell me I shouldn't have my kids). In my case, being a parent means I'm almost 41, I'm married to @ramblingandpie, and our children are inching up on being 8 and 6 years old.

My entire day, and therefore my entire life, revolves around them. I'm up most mornings at 5 AM, because that's the earliest they're "allowed" to wake up, and so my brain just defaults to being awake around then - better to wake up before them, at least then I get a few minutes in the morning. Between 5 and 7, I sit with them, do my social media, work on side blogs, study Chinese. Then it's helping them get ready for school, then my wife or I or both get them on the bus, and then I work until the last possible minute, which is either when I need to go pick them up for an after school activity or when I need to go down and meet them off the bus. My afternoons are after school activities, chores such as washing the dishes and cleaning up toys, talking with them, working with them, playing with them. Their bedtime starts at 7:40, and my son gets scared if I leave before he falls asleep so I sit with him until about 8:15. As soon as he's asleep, I go fall on my face, sleep as best I can, then wake up and do it again. Overnight, it's hard to sleep deeply, because about once a week someone will wake up in the middle of the night and need help. That could be as minimal as a hug or as complex as having to completely change the bedding on a bunk bed at 2 AM while also comforting a child who is afraid they'll be in trouble, or afraid they're sick, or afraid of their nightmare, or, or, or. Further, if a child is awake, there is always noise. I usually study Chinese with two or more competing sources of noise. I read the same way. My life is loud, and active, and consists of constant interruptions.

I adore my family, and I love my children, but this is terrible for me.

I do all of this as an neurodivergent introvert. My clinical depression is at least medicated, mostly because post-partum depression after I gave birth the first time nearly drove me to suicidal in under a week (we were expecting this and were prepared, fortunately, getting help was as simple as a phone call). The constant noise and interruptions and forced socialibility are about the worst combination of home-life I could be subjected to. I spend far too many early mornings just breathing deeply and gearing myself up to be subjected to the wall of Loud, Boisterous, Needing-My-Attention that is every minute when anyone else in the house is awake.

So what did my day off look like?

I helped get the kids ready to go and did some morning chores. I'd been up at 4:30 AM so I also had already social media'd and studied. Then, while my wife finished the preparations, I started work, and I worked from about 8 am to about 4 pm, straight. I didn't get hungry so didn't bother stopping for lunch. No one interrupted me, no one asked me to look at anything they'd built, no one broke my concentration, no sounds could be heard except those I'd chosen myself.

I'd been out the day before at a local shopping street and listened closely to the things the kids said they wanted, so at 4 I grabbed a couple orders I needed to ship for work and drove to our local downtown, dropped the orders in a post box, then went back to the shops and did some Christmas shopping in the 45 minutes or so before everything closed. I think I'm basically done with what we'll get them - other bigger things will be left to grand parents - so that's a load off, I literally had a stress dream earlier this week about it being 12/24 and having forgotten to do the shopping and having to go to (oh horrors) the mall on the day before Christmas. (Reminder: I'm a Jewish atheist. It's just virtually impossible not to Holiday in the Culturally Christian Hellscape that is the US. Also, my wife is Christian. So.) Found something cute for my wife, too, even tho I already know the main thing I'm getting her. Then, I realized - one of my favorite restaurants is on that block. So. I went there. I sat by myself at a table, only the indistinct restaurant hubbub around me. I read four or five chapters of my book, and ate a savory crepe, and drank lovely fruit tea, and got a scone to-go that I'll eat for lunch today. It was more than I probably should have spent on myself - about $25, including tip - but fuck it. I only get maybe a handful of days off all year, and I'm allowed to indulge a little.

Then I came home. There were no lights on. There was no noise. I had considered doing some more merch work while watching TV on the actual television (my kids are too young for subtitled shows, so usually if I want to watch My Shows I either have to do it on my computer when they're not around, or put them on and read all the subtitles aloud while trying to keep up and process the actual meaning of what I'm reading). But when I got back, the quiet and dark was so goddamn NICE that instead I curled up on the couch and read more of my book. I did that until bedtime - still about 8:15, because I'm exhausted. Then...I went to bed. And I slept long and deep, knowing that there was no chance I'd be interrupted and woken up, I didn't have to be, even in sleep, alert to every noise and possibility that I'd be needed.

I'm still exhausted and burned out, but even one night to myself felt really, really nice.

Saying "Tumblr does X" as a universal statement is doomed to failure, but generally speaking, the parenting posts I see on Tumblr, the ones with tens or hundreds of thousands of notes, speak what's apparently widely seen as a truism on here: that unless someone wants to spend 24/7 with their kids, to be 100% emotionally available at all times, is always kind and patient and perfect, they are a bad parent, maybe even abusive. I remember when covid started, there were multiple posts actively mocking the "oh god, my kids are now home all the time, how am I supposed to do this?" attitude that a lot of parents posted in despair. WhY dId YoU hAvE kIdS iF yOu DoN't WaNt To SpEnD tImE wItH tHeM?

Look at what my usual day looks like.

Look at what my day off looked like.

Do you really think I don't want to spend time with my kids? Do you really think I don't love my kids?

But I'm not a fucking MACHINE. I'm a PERSON. That's what people on Tumblr seem to forget. PARENTS ARE PEOPLE. The same tumblrinas who post ~uwu be kind to yourself rest if you need to, you should forgive yourself for that mistake you made~ will turn around, with zero sense of irony, and post "you're a bad parent if you ever raise your voice around a child."

Expecting parents to be perfect means expecting parents to be inhuman. It also means that a parent can't be poor (can't spend all your time being the perfect parent if you have to work multiple jobs or weird hours!), can't be introverted (can't be a perfect parent if you're not completely emotional available, god forbid socializing is exhausting for you), can't be on the ADHD or autism spectrum (what do you mean you forgot to get your kid to a doctor's appointment once? what do you mean over-stimulation can make you angry? how dare you get angry at a kid!), can't be depressed (gotta get out of bed every single day, gotta always be upbeat, patient, happy, or else that's Evil), can't be (like my wife) physically disabled (what do you mean your hands hurt too much to hold a child's hand? are you denying them touch?? CRUEL). And when the only answer you can offer to that is, "if you can't be that perfect you shouldn't be a parent," then you're saying people who aren't middle class to wealthy, people who aren't neurotypical, people who aren't physically able, shouldn't have children.

And honestly...what the fuck is your problem?

I'm not perfect. I tell my kids to just leave me alone sometimes. I raise my voice, especially when one of my kids starts punching the other, but also sometimes just cause I'm exhausted and Can't Anymore. I've forgotten an appointment by accident and felt like a total fucking idiot, and I've skipped an after school activity because I just wasn't up for taking them. I've served them more unbalanced, unhealthy meals than I can count. I've made many, many mistakes, but I've also done my best, and I love my kids, and I hope that when they grow up, they'll still love me even as they recognize that I wasn't perfect, just as I've come to accept my own parents' short-comings while still loving them very much. They're people, too, and the older I get, the more I understand where they were coming from.

When I fuck up, I apologize.

When they tell me they're unhappy with something I've done, I apologize, and I try to do better. Sometimes I even succeed.

This shit is hard, yo. And it's getting harder every year.

I'm BEGGING Tumblr: you need to start seeing parents as people. The way y'all talk about parenting on here is toxic, and genuinely harmful, and frankly exhausting. You have no idea what the reality of raising kids is like, and you need to shut the entire fuck up.

I had a day off yesterday.

I might get one more before the end of 2023.

I already can't wait. I am so, so, so tired. sigh

(if you actually read this whole rant and even a single word of it resonated for you, please reblog it. I'm tired of never seeing positive posts about parenting while I see negative ones with a bajillion notes.)

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Can I get a Derek Danforth x shorter Male Reader where reader is like the only person Derek cares about. Reader is very cuddly but Derek isn’t big on PDA but when they are alone Derek loves holding the reader in his arms.

If not it’s ok!

OFC YOU CAN!!!

I had like fifteen different drafts for how this story could go and I couldn't make up my mind until literally last night, thus why it took so long. I hope this is okay!!!

Tangled

Derek Danforth x Male! Reader

Summery: The holidays are a miserable time of year, especially when ones mother won't even talk to them to let them know she's not coming, sending Derek into a breakdown and wrapping you up in the process.

Tags: No use of Y/N, short! Reader, hurt/comfort, mommy issues, drug use (marijuana), arguing, breakdown, banter, comedy, injury, eventual fluff, holiday fic. (I don't give a fuck that it's Febuary, shut it.)

Notes: honestly I was HYPED when I saw this request. I fucken GOT YOU babe and I am so sorry it took this long. I hope this was worth the wait <3

•°○《▪︎☆▪︎》○°•

I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to be honest; who likes the holidays?

The decorations are nice. The food's better. But in the matter of family and visitation, could anyone honestly say they liked the whole routine? Picking who to see, booking flights, trying not to lose yourself in a bottle of liquor that you bought on the way to their house.

Maybe not every detail is the same, but you get the general idea.

"Please sit down," I begged Derek, watching him pace the floor. All week Derek had been in a mood, which isn't totally uncommon I will admit. But usually he could be coaxed out of it, sweet words whispered in his ear finally bringing him off whatever edge he was ready to fling off of and convince him death was for another day. This week however was different, Derek always tapping his foot, glaring at something. And pacing. Neverending, always thinking, lasts through the night pacing. I was beginning to feel sick from the anxiety, and my mood was making Derek even shorter in his.

"I'm fine," he snapped.

"You're clearly not," I said. In his hand he gripped his pen, clicking it to life with five rapid clicks before taking a long pull like he couldn't breathe without it. "Derek."

"I said I'm fucking fine."

"I have never seen you as more of a mess, will you please just sit down for one moment?" I pleaded, shifting closer to the edge of the plush loveseat kept in front of our bed. "I'm worried about you."

He wants to snap. His jaw is tight, teeth gritted as he spins on the heel of his black, pointed boot, mouth opening as he begins to point one finger at me. But the minute he actually makes eye contact the edge drains, his shoulders sagging slightly as he exhales his smoke, bags appearing under his eyes. Derek had a reputation for being a hard-ass, but when we were alone and I grabbed his attention, his demeanor would shift into one more gentle, more honest. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he finally crossed over to me, sitting beside me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

"I'm fine," he said quietly, tucking my head under his chin. His hand strokes up and down my back, his heart still pounding but beginning to calm as the smoke begins to work into his bloodstream, allowing him to focus on me more than his thoughts. His cologne compliments mine, smelling mostly of cinnamon to match the winter season. The silk material of his red shirt is soothing against my skin, little silver snowflakes decorating it. Always a pattern with him.

"Is it your mother?" I asked quietly. He stiffened, his heart rate picking back up against my ear.

"I don't want to talk about this," he said quickly, beginning to pull away. I gently grab his arms, making him look down at me before he can close off once more.

"We've been together for almost a year and you won't say anything about your-"

"I said I don't want to talk about this."

"We have to talk about this at some point or you're going to have a giant fit and I won't be able to help you."

It isn't meant as an insult, but I hear it as soon as the words come out. Derek's eyes narrow into slits, bitterness seeping through.

"Fuck you. I don't throw fucking fits." He pulled away quickly, the battery of his pen glowing as he took another hit, long and deep, blinking rapidly to show he's hit his limit.

"You are on the cusp of one right now. You're in denial," I said concerningly.

This time he really is about to snap when someone knocks on the door, popping her head in to announce dinner will be ready shortly.

"Is she on her way?" Derek asked the redheaded assistant, blowing his smoke out through his nose, hands on his cocked hips. The woman presses her lips together tightly, glancing between the two of us before speaking.

"I haven't heard anything from President Danforth for a few hours, sir," she finally said. Derek sighed deeply, looking down and pinching the bridge of his straight nose as he taps his foot at impressive speed.

"Thank you," he said quickly, not meeting anyone's eyes. She takes the opportunity, quickly nodding at me and ducking out of the room with the quick click of the door, leaving us alone again.

I simply stare at him, hands folded on top of my lap as I wait for him to say something, do something. When he goes to take a third blinker, I finally stand.

"Don't you fuckin' dare," Derek warns me, holding out his palm.

"You are going to get stoned to the point that you'll fuck up this dinner the you have been worried over for the past week. What the fuck is wrong with you?" I hiss, stepping closer.

"There's no fuckin' point, she's not coming," he said, shrugging harshly and scoffing.

"And that bothers you. Will you just admit that?" I said. I step closer, close enough to reach for the pen, but I wait, letting him narrow his glazing eyes at me first.

"What is your obsession? You want me to break down? Cry? You wanna fix me, huh?" His tone is harsh, paranoia settling in as he takes a step towards me. "Whatever savior shit this is, I'm not taking."

I snatch the pen quickly from his grasp, only to have his hand grab my wrist without any real thought. Derek towers over me, gripping me tightly enough it hurts.

"Drop it," he growled.

"No," I growled back.

"I'm not asking."

"Tough shit."

"What is your-"

"Derek." The snap does something, my voice bouncing around in his ears as he glares at me, but releases my wrist nonetheless. I step away quickly, tucking the pen into the inside pocket of my evergreen blazer. "You'll get this back tonight," I tell him, not looking back. Derek mutters under his breath, brushing past me to exit the suite. Fine. Let him hate me. See if I care.

Derek never liked public affection in the first place. Growing up in a house with a politician for a mother he was hyperaware of all the right and wrongs to a public reputation. I think he also just had no desire to be seen as any kind of vulnerable in a crowd. But tonight it's different. Tonight there is a tinge of hate with the distance he creates, and my side feels cold without him. With each step forward he takes five back. People filter in and out of each room, some I'm sure just here with a friend of a friend for the free food. But if there's anyone I never see through the passing hours, it's Derek's mother. I can see him checking his phone every five, three, then every other minute.

It was a touchy subject. Derek loved his mother, adored the ground she walked on. And when she would visit him or welcome us over to wherever it was she was staying it was obvious she loved him too, allowing him to get away with things most mothers wouldn't. But her head was always in work, her eyes always scanning a document with a pen in her hand to sign off on anything at any given moment. There were times we'd spend the visit gathered in silence lest she retreat to an actual study, claiming she could not focus with our chatter. Derek loved his mother, but it was obvious he was neglected by her too.

He'd been planning the party meticulously. Ordering dozens of sample just for garland, asking my input on plates. Yes, Derek was known for throwing elaborate and wonderfully tasteful parties, but if he thought his mother would be in attendance he would go the extra mile, not sparing an inch of detail and making sure that it was so perfect she'd have no choice but to attend.

Problem is, Madame President has many choices for her perfect Christmas party.

It isn't until the clock strikes ten and security begins to push people out that he finally locks eyes with me, the hate draining and giving way to the exhaustion underneath. He disappears through a doorway, and I follow after him, watching his snow white suit that matches my shirt perfectly work its way quickly through the endless halls as I chase him down the rabbit hole. Oh yes, don't think I escaped his scrutiny just because I'm a living being. I didn't even know we'd have complimenting outfits until I stepped out of the shower that morning while he worked on a cigarette, waving it around between his fingers on one hand with the hangers in the other and a phone pressed between his shoulder as he shouted something in Spanish at the poor assistant on the other line.

He doesn't bother shutting the bedroom door behind him whether he knows I'm following him or not. But when I gently push the door shut behind me, finally turning away from him, I feel his warm body press against mine from behind. His arms wrap around me, one around my waist and the other around my shoulders, alcohol thick on his breath as he buries his head into the crook of my neck. His hand finds my hair, burying his long fingers in it as he takes a deep inhale of the pine scented cologne dabbled on my neck. His body is heavy against mine, swaying slightly from exhaustion.

"Hi," he says softly.

"Hi," I say just as soft, reaching up to find his curls. I smile slightly at the feeling of his fried ends, tainted from overprocessing. "You wanna talk?"

"No," he maintained. But his voice cracks, and the collar my shirt is starting to feel wet. Not to mention his arms are shaking.

"You wanna not talk on the bed?" I ask him.

"I'm fine right here," he says in a broken voice. But when he softly sniffles and takes a tiny gasp for air, he's finally done in and dragging me towards the oversized bed, not bothering to actually open the canopy as he flops himself down onto the lush, green and gold duvet.

"It's fine, I'm fine," he insists even though he's dragged half of a gold chiffon curtain down and around him and he's too high to figure out how to get it off. "She has meetings, this happens."

"Yeah, well. It happens a little too often," I say gently, trying to help him before he gets this thing wrapped around his neck. In his vulnerable and understandable fit he's making this curtain situation much worse, actively reweaving whatever I untangle from him in his blind confusion.

"I mean, I get it. Running the country, having a conversation with your own son, it's fine," Derek hiccuped as he gestures his hands like scales weighing the options, one drastically higher than the other. His face is as red as his shirt, large tears streaming down his face as he paws uselessly at the fabric. He swipes frantically at them, clearly becoming frustrated at being unable to control his raw emotions. "I mean, priorities shift so what the fuck am I complaining about?"

"Honey, I think you're sitting on it."

"What?"

"The curtain."

Derek moans inconsolably as he throws himself against the bed, taking down the rest of the gold chiffon and covering us both in the material.

"What does it matter?" Derek cries pathetically. "I could hang myself with this and she'd have a fucking meeting in Germany!"

"Your mother would come to your funeral," I say softly, stroking his hair as I press my lips together, letting him heave out his sobs. He brings a bundle of the fabric to his face, bunching it up and sobbing into it before raising his head once more for another comment.

"Probably have a flood in Uganda day of. I'd fuck up my own suicide day," he snaps to no one in particular.

"No you wouldn't," I say, continuing to run my hand through his hair. Derek sinks into the golden bundle once more, curling in on himself like a child. Then suddenly his eyes grow cold again.

"And the fucking appetizers were cold!"

The comment is so out of left field that a short laugh escapes me, my hand immediately covering my mouth. I instantly feel awful, looking away as I try to compose myself from the dramatic change in complaint.

"Don't laugh at me," Derek snaps. "I paid good money for those."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, that was just a bit random. Would you like to get off of the curtains you also paid for?" I ask him softly, fighting the fit of giggles his hateful eyes inspire to continue. I try to wrap my arms around him in comfort but he moves away in irritation. Or tries. This curtain is keeping us pretty close, which only adds to the whole thing.

"No," he says as he finally gives up. He crosses his arms in irritation and huffs, but after a long moment and a glance at my bemused face he moves to get the curtain off of his own. "Yes. Get this off of me!"

"Okay, I'm coming."

"Where the fuck is the end?"

"I told you, I think you're sitting on it."

"Your mother is sitting on it!"

"Let's not bring anymore mothers into this-"

We struggle in the cocoon of chiffon, twisting and turning in the same and opposite directions, both of us bickering over who has what and who's preventing our freedom.

"This shouldn't be fucking hard!"

"Quit moving, you're making it worse."

"Fuck you!"

"Fuck you!"

"Hang on, I think I-"

With a forceful tug I pull the end out from underneath of Derek. Unfortunately, Derek had shifted himself to move off of the end at the same time, leaving me to fling off the side of the tall bed and hit the lush rug underneath that hardly cushions the oak floor with a loud 'thud' that makes the artifical blond gasp.

"Fuck! Are you okay-?"

Derek scrambles to the edge to look down at me, but he's too high to realize he's overshot his position and sends his larger body crashing on top of mine, making me cry out as I break his fall.

"Eat a salad," I groan, curling in on myself as I try to catch my breath.

"I did, that's why I'm the tall one." Derek and I are once again tangled in the curtain, laying on the floor in a pile of limbs and half of Derek's face is burned from the rug. "Are you okay?" He asks worriedly, looking over my body for obvious injury.

"Have roses at my funeral," I cough, clutching my stomach.

"Rose's are cliché."

"Rose's are fucking iconic."

"If you have basic taste, then yes."

"I don't mix snake and cheeta."

"It's French."

"Then get fucking cheeta print rose's."

"Don't be hysterical."

I shoot him a look and finally he manages a laugh, wiping at his nose with the cuff of his blazer and smiling.

"Maybe I'm a little hysterical," he offers.

"I think I have a concussion."

"Oh, you don't have a concussion," Derek says dismissively. He cups my cheeks gently, his soft hands forcing my eyelids open wide as he checks my eyes. "Oh, fuck. Yeah, you have a concussion."

I laugh, pulling him close and keeping my eyes closed to keep from getting sick.

"Mister 'I Don't Throw Fits,'" I tease.

"I can just not take you to the hospital."

"Bitch."

"Cunt."

"Dickhead."

"Fuckface."

"Fashionably handicapped."

"Poor."

Derek finally figures out how to free us from our prison, pulling away the fabric and looking down at me from above with a gentle smile on his tear stained face. "You've got good bone structure, though," he says.

"It's my daddy's," I tell him.

"I don't remember buying you that."

I smack Derek's chest playfully, groaning as I try (and fail) to sit up. "You're awful."

"You love me," Derek says softly, sitting beside me. The statement is true and meant as a playful reminder, but it's the way his bloodshot eyes still glisten with leftover moisture that makes me cup his face. Or try. I can't see.

"I love you," I say softly.

"That's my chest."

My hand moves.

"Knee."

My hand moves again.

"That's my dick."

"Jolly good friend," I say with a squeeze and overexaggerated British accent. This knocks the last bit of sorrow out of Derek, making him laugh loudly as he finally lays down beside me. He wraps his arms around my smaller frame, pulling me close to him as he presses a soft kiss to my forehead.

"I'm sorry,' he says softly.

"We really do need to talk about your mother at some point," I tell him, stroking his arm that lays across my chest.

"I know." Derek's voice is soft, his fingers playing with one of the buttons on my blazer.

The silence is sweet, the sound of Derek and I's breathing the only sound in the room. And the slight ringing in my head.

"I think you need to call someone," I tell him.

"My problems aren't that bad," Derek says in a hurt voice, moving to look down at me.

"For me."

"Oh!"

▪︎《•☆•》▪︎

I'm going to be so fr, I haven't watched 'The Beekeeper' since it was in theaters so if the mommy issues are inaccurate that's on me. But y'know what it works better for his character so it's °~*accurate to meee*~°

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

Masterlist

[pedroshotwifey]

To the Flame chapter seventeen

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Chapter w/c: 2.6k

Chapter warnings: physical abuse, mental abuse, toxic behavior, infidelity, reader is suffering some severe depression among many other things, mentions of vomiting (not descriptive), trauma, unhealthy relationships, disassociation as a coping method, victim blaming, angst, hurt/comfort?, suicidal ideation

Chapter Summary: Javi takes something from you, again.

A/N: This should go without saying, but I am so, so sorry for how long it's been since the last update. I'm still not doing very well, but here's this, so. Yeah. Love you all and I beg you to forgive me ♥

****

It still hurts when you wake up, still an overwhelming pain throughout your entire body. Still a sore and swollen throat, throbbing head, and struggling lungs. It’s been almost a week, and nothing’s gotten much better. You’re still you. Weak, useless, aching you. And Javi’s still…Javi. Not Javi from the hospital, or your Javi from Texas, but Javi from the last few miserable months. Not rageful, exactly, but definitely distant and agitated. Enough so that you decide to steer clear. 

You thought—hoped—for a minute that he really did change after that night. But you’ve come to understand that hope is a feeble thing. A foolish thing. 

You mostly stay in bed all day, choosing rest—pretend or not—over facing whatever Javi might try. You think he may still feel a little guilty, and that’s why he lets you stay in bed. There’s no way he doesn’t—not after that. He tried one day to get you up, but you did your best to make it seem like you were exhausted, when really you were just terrified. You know what he was after. He was drunk and hurling names at you left and right. You’re surprised he didn’t take you anyway. No, he just left. Walked out of the apartment and let you shut your eyes again, too worn down to care. 

He’s gone at work right now. You’re still in bed. It’s probably sundown at this point, but you don’t really know because you’ve been staring up at the ceiling for what seems like hours. He’s supposed to be back at nine tonight. 

It’s Friday, which means that Steve and Connie will be coming over for dinner tomorrow. You should be making desert right now so you don’t have to do it in the morning. That would be the smart thing, at least. You should probably eat, too. You’re not sure when you last did that. 

You feel a little sick if you’re being honest, probably from the lack of food and water. Being confined to the dark bedroom for days straight surely isn’t helping that either. You huff a sigh, ignoring the way your throat constricts around the air. You reckon it would feel a little better by now if you’d been using it—talking and drinking some fluids. 

Before you can give yourself the chance to change your mind, you slip out of bed, your feet hitting the cold hardwood for the first time since yesterday morning or so. You drag yourself into the bathroom, leaving the light off as you pee. 

You’re still groggy as you make your way into the kitchen, halfway in a trance as you sit down at the kitchen table. It’s going to take you a minute to fully wake up, but you know you should take your time so you’re not cooking half asleep. The last thing you need right now is another injury. 

You watch the clock as you wait, your eyes following the small hands as they tick away at precious seconds. It probably won’t be long at all before he’s home. It’s already late—later than it should be with the time he was supposed to be off work. You know better than to think he’s working overtime. 

You take a deep breath, pushing unwanted thoughts from your mind, and stand up. Keeping your mind numb has been getting easier as of late. It takes a massive effort, but you would rather have to do that than brew on your current situation. 

It’s hard sometimes, when you get caught up in it, to fall asleep. It seems that night is the worst time for it. Your mind won’t turn off and you end up silently crying until your pillow is soaked and you have to turn it over to sleep when you finally stop. It spirals, your brain wracking up every pitiful thought it can to keep you falling down that damn rabbit hole. Past, present, future, there’s nothing you can think of to comfort you. Only regret and dread swirling around in your dizzy head at every cognizant moment. 

Just like now, as you gather ingredients for PB&J from your cabinets and set them on the counter. You can see now that the sun has indeed already gone down, leaving the dull, yellow, overhead bulb your only source of light. The hue it casts makes you sick to your stomach. 

You glance at the clock again. This may be the latest he’s ever stayed out. A sour taste forms in your mouth as you realize you aren’t worried. It’s a harsh realization. Such a stark difference from how concerned you were the first time he was gone like this. 

But you don’t think about where he is as you make your food. It’s not that you don’t care, it’s just hard to convince yourself of it. He could be down the street or halfway across the world. He’ll come back. And you’ll be here. 

You watch the clock as you eat at the table, the only sound to be heard the ticking of the hands and the occasional traffic in the distance. It’s enough for you to keep your idle mind undisturbed. Enough to keep zoning out. 

It’s not until you’re taking your last bite that the phone rings, making you jump. It’s like you snap halfway back to reality, your vision focusing and your hearing coming back full force. You sit at the table, ignoring the ringing in favor of trying to get back to that safe place. You can feel your emotions knocking at the door, can almost hear them. 

It’s a steady pounding, gentle enough for you to try to push it back, but prominent enough to make it difficult. You think you’re almost there when it suddenly stops and is replaced instead by the sound of metal jingling together. Almost like a set of—

And you’re back, completely and wholly alive in reality, listening to the phone ringing and your husband unlocking the door. Your breath picks up instinctually, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment. It’s a lot, but you have to handle it. You think about trying to get back to the bedroom before Javi comes in, but he’s already closing the door behind him by the time the thought breezes through. 

“Sweetheart?” You hear him call out. He must see the light on. The phone is still ringing. You wish it would stop. 

“In here,” you rasp. That name coming from his sober tongue feels like a stab to your chest.

His footsteps start to head your way, steady. Your stomach twists, but you’re not sure why. He doesn’t sound drunk. 

“Javi?” You call again even though he’s almost to you. He walks through the doorway not a second later. 

He stands there and watches you for a moment. You know you must look like a mess. But all you can focus on right now is how clear his eyes look, how present he is. He’s there with you. You feel small as you get up from your seat and walk to him with tears swimming in your eyes. You recognize how pathetic it is as you wrap your arms around him and start to cry into his chest, but you do it anyway. He’s there. You’ll take what you can while you have it. 

He stands still for a moment before reciprocating your affection and holding you back. But when he does, he molds you to him, leaning down a bit and rocking you gently. 

“Shh, it’s okay” he coos, “what’s wrong baby?” 

You open your mouth to respond, but the truth is that you have no idea. It doesn’t matter though, because that’s the exact moment the answering machine picks up. It’s faint from where it’s coming from the hall near the living room, but it’s the loudest and clearest thing to ever hit your ears. 

“Hey, Javi, it’s Melissa. It was so much fun hanging out with you tonight! These last few weeks have been amazing, honestly. Call me back, I’d love to schedule another little date back at my place. ‘Kay, let me know, bye!” 

You’ve stopped moving, stopped breathing, stopped crying. Javi’s frozen in place too. You’re just two people frozen in time, standing, embracing each other in the nauseating yellow light of your kitchen. God, you want to puke. 

And then you’re heaving. You’re pushing him off of you, staggering back, trying not to scream and cry. Of everything he’s ever done to you…

“No, no, no, baby, please it’s not what it sounds like,” Javi tries to defend himself with rushed words as he steps carefully after you. You almost don’t hear him through the pounding of blood in your ears. 

“Mm, mm,” you squeeze the sound out through your lips. You’re bent over, hands on your knees with your face toward the floor. Tears drop rapidly, blurring your vision but making clear droplets against the tile. Bile burns in the back of your throat, and you realize you really are about to throw up. 

You head toward the bathroom. You don’t rush, scared of falling down. But you make your way there. Javi follows behind. He’s talking but you can’t hear a thing. He stands in the doorway when you get to the toilet, watching you get on the floor in front of it just in time to throw up all the content in your stomach. 

He flips on the light and gets down behind you, petting your back in what could be a soothing manner if you weren’t trying to push him off. 

“Getoffame” you moan, words streaming together. Everything feels fake again, but not in the way that helps tame the pain. No, this nightmare state is more like watching your husband in the damn yellow light of the kitchen as he takes you, unwilling, for the first time all over again. This time though, he’s taken something you’ll never try to understand, never try to forgive. He wasn’t even drunk. He was there tonight while you were alone and hurting. 

He says something again. You have no idea what. You hear the timbre of his voice, feel it in your bones, and don’t care what words formed from it. You sit dazedly in front of the toilet when you’re finished, staring blankly ahead and wishing you would just die. What did you do? Why do you deserve this? Why is it you living through this right now? 

“Get out,” you whisper. Almost too quiet to hear yourself. You come back again. Not completely, but enough so that you have to feel every ounce of hurt in your veins right now. 

“Sweetheart, please listen to me—” 

“Get out.” 

He comes closer, too close, trying to decide if he should get you up or let you stay down. 

“Baby, please get up so we can talk, I—” 

“Get out! I fucking hate you, get out!” Your tears have dried, but your wail makes it sound like you’re still crying. It makes your heart clench in a way you’ve yet to experience as the words come out of your mouth, but you can’t take them back. You don’t even know if it’s true, but it feels like it is right now. 

Javi stops for a moment, and you think for a second that he may actually listen. But then his hands are on your biceps, pulling you up with enough force to make you stand. He has you flipped around to face him and pinned against the counter before you can protest. It doesn’t stop you though, once you get your bearings. 

Your hands are on him now, shoving and clawing and slapping against his arms, his chest, anything to get him away. 

“Get out, get out, get out!” You’re crying the words again, over and over again to drown out anything that he tries to let spill from his lying tongue. 

When his palm stings your cheek, you don’t even flinch. Your breath hitches, but that’s about the extent of your reaction. He can’t do anything now to hurt you more than he has already. 

“Fucking listen to me,” he booms, taking the opportunity of your brief silence to let his words slice through. You’re too tired to do anything, too gone. You stare at him, ready to listen to whatever bullshit he’s going to try to sell. 

“What the fuck was I supposed to do?” He seethes. “You didn’t want to get out of that bed, much less let me fuck you. I did it for you.” 

At a loss for words, you stare at him. Did he hear the words that just came out of his own mouth? 

“You slept with another woman…for me?” Your anger is starting to show despite how hard you try to quell it. It’s a strange type of anger, though, because you find yourself almost wanting to laugh. “You know, Javier, you told me a while ago that I’m a slut, but I’m pretty sure that’s you.” Your tone is cold, ment to cut through skin in a way you’ve never attempted before. 

His jaw clenches, but that’s the only hint he gives away that shows you affected him at all. 

“Don’t say things that aren’t true to make yourself feel better, carino.” 

“Exept you fucking know it’s true, Javi! You fucked another woman! You put your nasty dick inside of a woman who is not me, not your wife!” You know you sound like a lunatic as you yell at him, but you don’t care. You’ve never been so angry, humiliated, and defeated at the same time. It’s an overwhelming rush of emotion. “And you say it’s because I was sick in bed? You fucking put me there!” 

“Not on purpose, fucking christ! You make it sound like I want to hurt you, but you don’t understand that everything I have done since the day I met you, has been for you! It’s about time somebody tells you how much of an entitled, selfish brat you are. I do everything for you, and you don’t give a shit!” 

Out of everything he’s said, you don’t know why those words cut the deepest. But you feel your cheeks heating with embarrassment. Are you acting like a brat? You look into Javi’s eyes, and you can tell the exact moment he clocks what happened. 

“You act like a child, annoying and immature. There’s a reason I have to do the things I do.” His tone is softer now, soft like the tears streaming down your cheeks. You barely feel them. You think your subconscious is fading again, because your emotions start to go again until you’re simply numb. Maybe this is all your fault. 

Through everything, you can’t hate yourself for it this time when you wrap your arms around him, silently begging him to hold you, to forgive you, to stay with you so you’re not alone. You don’t want him to be mad at you, and you don’t want him to really think you’re a child. 

You want to kill that primal instinct that keeps giving in, keeps wanting comfort. This is wrong, a small voice tells you. You know it is. But the louder voice that says you need Javi over anything, is so much easier to listen to. It loves to tell you that maybe if you forgive these things, you can make everything good again. Maybe Javi can forget, too, and you can be happy again. 

It takes longer this time for him to tuck you to him, but when he does, it feels like you can breathe a full breath again. In and out, in and out. He’s here. You can put everything that happened tonight in a little file in the back of your head, push it away, try to forget it. All you want is for things to go back to the way they used to be, so you let yourself pretend. You aren’t sure you can handle anything else right now.

You have a feeling, though, that you’re going to feel very differently in the morning.

******

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[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Storm

What is this?! Two drabbles a day?! (it is more likely then you think @spotaus)

Just this once. mostly because the other one give me ideas for this one! :D It was just meant to be a tiny bit of an intermission or a quick overview to show a bit of where we left off... I got no chill as always.

Ironically this is happening a week after Godly Lessons. Timeline is: Nightmare got deaged 6 months ago. The guys have been in Farmtale for 3 months.

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Also ssshhhh don't worry about the few implications in here. Maybe I am just being silly. Maybe stuff will be expanded on. :3

*---------------------*

Dust feels the static in his being. His magic is charged and he needs to move. It has been building a while now and it needs to be released.

He regretfully lets go of Nightmare and manages to maneuver his way out of their nest. He stands by the side for a moment to make sure all four are still asleep.

They sleep on and Dust quickly leaves towards the exit and their small porch.

Dust holds the railing tightly as he breaths out. He glances up and sees the clouds start to circle and swirl. That is probably not good.

Yeah he can feel his magic building. He needs to go release some and-

"Dusty?"

Dust stops and turns around "Nightmare. You should still be in bed."

Papyrus snarls in his ear, soft with Nightamre this close but almost like static Great job! you woke the baby! Once to be expected! Just wait until he goes near and you hurt him-

Nightmare is suddenly by him and hugs him. THen he looks up sleepily at him. He rubs his socket and yawns "Storm?"

There was never another option. Dust leans down adn picks him up before giving him a tight hug, careful to make sure Nightmare doesn't lose his small octopus doll, "Yeah. I think I am making it worse." Nightmare is wearing Cross's shirt this time. It looks way too big and more like a sleeping dress than anything. It is cute.

Ngihtmare frowns but seems to get it "Overcharged?" he pushes closer against Dust.

Dust looks to the side but nods "Yeah. Need to release some steam." he puts Nightmare down again.

Nightmare frowns "Can't i come wiht?" he reaches for him again. Dust wants to pick him back up so badly.

Dust laughs and shakes his skull "probably better if you don't."

Nightmare frowns as he rubs his side "I can't help?"

Dust nudges him back to the door "It is okay. Easy fix for me. I will be back real soon."

NIghtmare frowns at him "promise?" a pinkie held up with a stubborn look on the tiny face.

Dust nods as he finishes the pinkie promise "promise."

That puts Nightmare at ease a bit and Dust walks off the porch and by the side of the house. He follows the path deeper into the field nearby.

----

Dream hugs himself in his sleep. A storm going over Omegaverse and he hates the sound.

He always hated storms and lightning and thunder. He hated it even more now that he doesn't have Nightmare with him anymore.

Nightmare used to hold him through ever storm. To reassure him it was fine and that mother would keep them both safe.

He is gone now.

Dream shakes his skull as he holds the sides "he isn't gone. he isn't gone. he isn't gone." he can't be gone. he can't be!

there is no way right?

Dream rolls unto his back and stares at the ceiling. tears still leaving his sockets as he hears another crash from thunder.

He messed up but he can't even apologise. everything is falling apart around him nad he doesn't know how to pick up the pieces or even start fixing the things that are broken.

He had searched the last few days for any sign of Nightmare. Or any of the gang. but no one.

Blue had offered that if Nightmare was wounded or sick that it would make sense for them to stay put. For them to remain in their base or hideout or anything. If only he knew where-

He sits upright. Wait. If the magic of the apples is disappearing... and if it is gone for as long as they don't pick a new domain... Does that mean that whatever hid his universe shoudnt hide it anymore?!

Dream focusses for a moment and feels the magic of the multiverse. he thinks of his brother. the one that had kept the balance and guarded the negativity. the one who took others in and made a team-

It connects. He feels a path along the multiverse.

Dream feels his hope return as he rushes around his small house to get ready. he grabs his things and his staff, mostly to help him focus his magic, and grabs his phone. he calls Blue as he gets dressed.

One short conversation later and Blue is next to him, just barely dressed and looking a bit dishuffled as he yawns but there!

Dream lets the portal connect as he rubs down his clothes nervously. He packed food and medicine and extra clothes and he isn't sure what his brother will need but he is going to sit by him. apologise. listen to nightmare yell and scream at him for being a blind idiot. apologise again and hopefully they can talk.

Blue rubs his shoulder as the portal opens up.

They step through it together and enter a dark forest. it looks old and a glance upwards shows it is dark but still stormy.

Dream feels shaky as he hugs himself "makes sense! Night loved the rain and storms!" he rubs his arms. deep breaths. deep breaths.

Blue takes his hand "You sure this is a good idea?" he looks worried "If he really is hurt as you think he is the others may not take kindly to you barging in and.. .well... you are weaker... don't you want to clal Ink as extra backup?"

Dream shakes his skull "ink can be... insensitive... if Ngihtmare is hurt he won't like to be seen like that by others..." probably. Dream doesn't get why he thinks he still feels like he knows his twin.

Blue frowns but accepts it "Just as long as you are ready to leave. if things go wrong..."

They follow the path and it leads to a beautiful old castle. but it looks really old and poorly maintained and... and... abandoned..

Dream walks closer quickly and opens the unlocked door. A glance around confirms what he had thought. It was the right place, or it had been as it was now empty.

The storm outside just grows louder.

--

It didn't make sense.

Reaper goes to the next universe as he does his job to reap the souls. weird another storm in this one.

Reaper shakes his skull nad concentrates on the actual issue for now. He had been thinking about what Dream had said. about what he had feared.

He even checked with his brother.

Nightmare isn't dead. That much he is sure.

Nightmare is a god, if he had been dying it would have been his job to reap him. As any god dying is a big deal. Especially if they are talking about permanently dying and not just reviving again which a lot of gods do.

Meaning he isn't dead. And Asgore already said that Dream isn't a god of balance anymore. Meaning that most likely neither is Nightmare.

But where is he?

That part doesn't make sense.

From the view interactions Reaper and Ngihtmare had had Reaper had always thought that Nightmare was rather on top of knowing his duties as god and what he was suposed to do.

Reaper would assume that would mean that Nightmare would know that he would have to decide on a new domain.

Then again, Dream hadn't known so maybe Nightmare doesn't know this part of god knowledge either. Hell Reaper didn't even know this was possible.

If that is the case and Nightmare just thinks he finished what he needed to do he is most liekly hiding somewhere. Either alone or with his gang.

Reaper does regret not trying to figure out how close the gang is now. It is possible that they are very close and are still all together moving as an unit. The other option is that Nightmare noticed what was happening and decided to leave on his own after disbanding the gang.

But then why wouldn't that already be old news at this point? Gang members have been seen around the multiverse, at least a few months ago still. But no one ever said a word about nightmare and people just assumed they had been doing missions for him.

Reaper flies over the runaway soul and reaps it before it can try to escape again. job done.

He sighs as he portals away again. leaving the sound of thunder behind to search for the next universe he needed to do stuff in.

It is a matter of time before the multiverse realised what happened. and reaper is not looking forwards to that mess.

*--------------*

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[aenwoedbeannaa]

Not So Fast, Darlin' || Joel x Reader

Summary: You know that venturing out into the abandoned QZ was a bad idea–especially alone. But with your rations dwindling to next to nothing, you know that raiding the old settlement for whatever you can find is your only option. You expected runners, maybe a few clickers. What you absolutely did not expect to find was a way too attractive man pointing a rifle square at your chest.

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: 18+, this is pure smut lol, I guess age gap but reader is in late 20s and this is only 10 years after the outbreak, unprotected p in v sex (don’t do the pull out method irl, guys), soft!Joel

A/N: I am so used to writing for Geralt, so I hope I manage to give them different voices. Thanks for reading, and maybe consider reblogging if you enjoy! Anyways–kofi here, masterlist here, taglist here. Enjoy!

You rifle your hand through your backpack once again, as if you’ll find something new inside. Your stomach grumbles and a wave of nausea washes over you. You’d think after all these years spent surviving on whatever scraps you could find would have made you stronger by now, but the lack of food is making you sick.

Groaning, you pull out the crinkled map you’ve carried with you since you slipped out of the Chicago QZ years ago. It’s a FEDRA map, so QZs are marked on the glossy paper, as if they were some bastions of society. You scoff, shaking your head at the thought. 

You’re not far from another one now. You’ve spent three days in the forest, atop a hill, watching the settlement below. You know it’s abandoned. You haven’t seen a single person go in or out. No FEDRA officers on patrol, no armored trucks carrying “fresh” rations. 

It should be safe enough, you tell yourself. 

Taking a deep breath, you gather the rest of your things and toss them unceremoniously into your backpack and throw it over your shoulder. You had better go now, while there is light left. Sneaking into a possibly infected-infested old QZ at night could be a death sentence. Granted, sneaking into a possibly infected-infested old QZ in the daytime could also be a death sentence. But, shit, you’ve got no choice.

It takes you nearly an hour to pick your way through the woods, down the hill, and to the perimeter of the abandoned settlement. After being on your own this long, you have learned to trust yourself. No sound, human or infected, can be heard anywhere. Still, you hold your pistol firmly in both hands as you walk as silently as possible toward the gaping hole where the entrance to the QZ must have been. You can never be too careful.

Once inside, your eyes scan the many buildings–mostly falling apart, this hasn’t been a QZ for a long time–looking for any sort of convenience store, grocery store, or anywhere you can possibly raid for ten-year-old canned goods. Down the block, you spot an old building that you are fairly sure must have been one of the QZ market centers. 

Ok, best place to start, you confirm, moving silent as a shadow from building to building until you reach your target. You approach the shattered window and peer inside, barely suppressing a small outburst of happiness upon seeing that there are still cans on shelves, still boxes stacked towards the back. 

Perfect. You are careful not to step on shattered glass in case any clickers are hiding around. You have no idea why this QZ was abandoned–whether it was just one of FEDRA’s many failures or some sort of civilian uprising. No matter how this place ended, you know that there is a high possibility that there are infected lurking around. 

You are so focused on the task at hand and listening for infected that you are completely oblivious to a man hiding just behind an old counter. Well, at least until he sprung to his feet, rifle in hand.

“Not so fast, darlin’,” he says with a rather thick southern accent. 

You jumped at his appearance, but you are used to situations like these, so the fear doesn’t rise in your gut like it used to. Every other day, it seems, someone is pointing a gun at you or you are pointing a gun at someone else. What a way to live. At least he wasn’t a hunter. Or, you are pretty sure he isn’t. They tend to shoot first, talk later. 

You raise your hands, not letting go of your pistol, “I’m just here for–” 

“Food’s taken.” 

First of all, you don’t enjoy being cut off, and second–there is so much food left in the old store that this one man couldn’t possibly take it all himself. Unless there were others with him… But you didn’t see or hear anyone, and certainly if he had any travel companions with him, they would have surrounded you by now. 

“Really?” you cock an eyebrow, “All of it? Bullshit.”

“I suggest you turn around and go back to wherever you came from, little lady.”

“Come the fuck on,” you roll your eyes. “There’s so much here, there’s no way you’re taking it all.”

“Got people that count on me.”

“Well, I don’t,” you don’t back down. “I’ll take a few cans and you can take the rest.”

He seems to ponder your words for a moment, lowering his rifle. 

“You ain’t got anybody with you?” 

“Oh, first you point a rifle in my face, and now you want to play twenty questions? Because in that case, I have a few questions of my own.” 

“Gotta answer mine, first.”

You scowl, slipping your pistol back into its holster and crossing your arms, “Yeah, I’m alone.”

“Fine,” he says gruffly, gesturing to the loaded shelves, “Have at it.”

Despite the fact that your stomach is still screaming at you, you stay where you are. You hate yourself for it, but there’s something about this man that entices you, draws you in. Brown curls, beard, captivating eyes, and damn, his muscles. You can tell just from his bare forearms visible thanks to him rolling the sleeves of his flannel up that he is practically made of stone. 

Even in the apocalypse, I’m still horny, you think, cursing yourself for it. 

“Not yet,” you break the silence, “I have some questions of my own.”

You see the man look from you to the shelves of food, contemplating his next decision. 

“I haven’t eaten yet, either. Why don’t you grab a couple cans and we can sit.”

“Hm,” you consider, “Fine. As long as you promise not to shoot me.”

In response, he simply slings his rifle over his shoulder, “No shootin’, got it.” 

“No shooting,” you confirm. 

You turn to face the still stocked shelves and scan the labels. Chef Boyardee. Shit was full of preservatives and other unnatural ingredients even back before the cordyceps infection broke out, so you’re pretty sure it’s safe. You grab two cans and head to the back of the store where the man is still standing.

“Alright,” you say, “You gonna sit?”

“Yeah, guess so,” he says, lowering himself to the ground. You follow suit, extending an arm to hand him one of the cans. “These won the Least Likely to Give Us Botulism Award.”

His stoic face actually cracks into a small smile at that. “Let’s hope it don’t.” 

“That would be pretty embarrassing,” you say as you open your backpack to dig around for a knife so you can open the ancient can. “There are literal zombies walking around but you just puke yourself to death.”

“At least we know for sure now that expiration dates are a scam.”

The two of you are silent for a moment as you open your respective cans of ravioli. It isn’t as uncomfortable as you’d imagine. 

Still, you break the silence, “Y/N.” You extend a hand in greeting. 

He pauses for a long moment before finally extending his own, “Joel.”

You almost shiver at the way your hand feels clasped in his. You’ve been on your own for so long, you forgot what human interaction felt like. It’s not horrible. 

“So, Joel,” you like the way his name sounds on your lips, “What do you need an entire store full of food for?”

“People.”

“You have a family, then?” Despite your immediate attraction to this man, your hunger wins out and you rather aggressively stab a piece of ravioli and shove it into your mouth.

“No.”

“You’re not much of a talker, are you?” 

“Mostly I’m just wonderin’ how you haven’t got yourself killed yet,” He dodges the question. 

“I have my ways,” you smirk. 

“Looks like you haven’t eaten in weeks.”

“They used to call this look Heroin Chic.” Now they just call it Literally Starving and Trying Not to Get Bit or Ripped Apart. 

He bursts into laughter at that, but his eyes don’t quite match. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he looked concerned. “Are you even old enough to remember that shit?”

“I was 19,” you clench a fist at the memory, “Plenty of time to learn things.” 

There is silence while the two of you eat before you do what you usually do and break it, “Are you even young enough to understand ten-year-old pop culture references?”

He smirks, looking too damn good while he does it. “Do I really look that old?” 

He actually sounds serious, so you laugh and shake your head, “Nah. You look… good.”

Well, fuck me. 

You can’t take the words back, though. You don’t think you want to take the words back. 

“Good, huh?” There is a glimmer in his eye. The type of glimmer you haven’t seen since before you fled the Chicago QZ. Your insides are in knots.

Well, since you’re fucked either way–”Very.” 

“You tryin’ to flatter me, darlin’?” 

“That depends–is it working?”

“It’s workin’, alright.” 

Forgetting about the Honorable Chef Boyardee, old pop culture references, and all the horrible shit that went down that night nearly ten years ago, you scoot closer to Joel, allowing yourself to fall into old patterns. You haven’t fucked anyone since you left the QZ, and goddamn do you want to fuck Joel. 

For a moment, Joel seems like a deer in headlights, only more stoic than scared. You almost shrink back–maybe you had misinterpreted his words? But a moment later, he sets down his half-eaten can of ravioli and shockingly casually slings his arm over your shoulders. 

The feeling is strange and familiar all at once. When was the last time you had even felt the touch of another person that didn’t involve being kicked in the head or otherwise injured? You can’t recall. Still, you lean into him.

“Tell me, lil’ lady,” he pulls you in closer, “How the fuck you’ve been survivin’ on your own?” 

“Just shut up and kiss me,” you evade yet another question. 

“Since you asked nicely.” He places a rough, calloused hand, under your chin, tilting your head to be even with his. Your breath catches in your throat the way it always did at this moment - the moment before the kiss. The moment where everything is still new and pure and lovely. Except, this wasn’t like those old times. 

Ok, you lean in closer so your lips are just inches apart, maybe not exactly pure. 

Joel closes the distance, pressing his lips against yours. For all his gruffness and rock-solid exterior, the kiss is gentle at first - hesitant. It is nice, sweet. But then again, it is the apocalypse, there is no time for hesitation. 

You deepen the kiss, parting his lips with your tongue. When you do, it seems to flip a switch somewhere in his head. His lips crash against yours, his tongue pushing past your parted lips, vying for control. And you let him take it. 

Jesus fuck it’s been a long time. 

You let him pull you into his lap, sliding your hands up his muscled chest and gripping his shirt so tight you might end up tearing it off. He responds by running his hands down from where he had been holding your face, fingers ghosting over your neck and collarbones. He stops there, pulling apart only inches. The two of you take heavy breaths, eyes locked on each other. 

For a moment it is quiet as you catch your breath. 

“Let’s take this somewhere private.” He smirks, and it’s enough to make heat pool in your core. You need this. You need him. 

So, you follow. 

***

A makeshift tent made up of a tarp hanging over some ropes tied to trees hardly seems more private than the old shop, but you don’t complain. 

“We’re here, darlin’,” Joel murmurs, wrapping his arms around you tightly, almost possessively. He doesn’t even bother to usher you into the “tent.” 

Before he can kiss you, you pull back slightly, “Shouldn’t we be in there?” You jerk your head toward the tarp blowing in the breeze. 

“Ain’t nobody comin’ out all this way,” he laughs, vibrating his chest and making you feel too warm and fuzzy on the inside. You’ve made it a point not to let anything or anyone sweep you off your feet - but Joel seems to be the exception. 

Without warning, his fingers gently brush your cheek before he rests them under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him, “Do you trust me?” 

You don’t even have to think about your answer before nodding in response, “Yes, sir.” 

“Mm,” he growls, “Good.”

When he pulls you closer to kiss him, your knees buckle and you quite literally  lose your balance and fall into the soft grass.  Rather than lean you pick you back up, he simply shifts his balance, so he is positioned over you, most of his weight resting on his elbows. Those strong forearms… There is no more need for words as he leans down and brushes his lips against yours, kissing you slowly and deliberately.

His tongue traces your bottom lip gently and you part your lips for him, sighing contentedly as his tongue begins its careful exploration of your mouth.

The warm sunlight bathes your exposed skin in its warm amber glow, making the process of removing your flannel and jeans all the more pleasurable. Joel is surprisingly careful and deliberate as he pushes your top, over your shoulders, and slightly less so as he pulls your tank top over your head. A growl of appreciation escapes from somewhere in his chest as his eyes rake over you, deft fingers finding the clasp of your bra and unhooking it easily.

Wanting something more to look at yourself, you reach up and grasp at his shirt, pulling at it with much less care before Joel finally pulls it off himself. Your eyes widen at the sight of him - bare chest and arms. Muscles rippling beneath his skin. You indulge yourself, letting your fingers trail down his chest and stomach, stopping when you reach his jeans. 

You are about to start undoing his belt, but he stops you with a stern look. “Uh uh, not so fast, baby girl.” You melt at his words, “I got a few things I’d like to do first.”

His mouth travels the whole of your body, drawing small gasps and moans as his tongue explores that sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder and pulls each nipple gently into his mouth, flicking them first gently and then harder, nipping one and then the other between his teeth, making you gasp. 

Your hips buck up to meet his, and a small moan escapes your lips when you feel his hard length between the layers of fabric separating you from him.

“Patience, darlin’,” he drawls, moving away from you to unzip your jeans and pull them along with your soaked panties off your hips, tossing them into the grass.

Before you can conjure up an adequate reply, Joel slides a calloused hand up your thigh and rests one finger on your sensitive nub. You moan louder as his finger traces back and forth with the perfect amount of pressure, just the way you like it - however the fuck he knows that.

You are dripping wet by the time he pushes one large finger into your entrance, gently massaging that sensitive spot inside of you, making you buck your hips in response. “Fuck,” you breathe.

He smirks as he lowers his head, dark curls ghosting over your exposed skin. You can’t help but bury your fingers in those curls as his tongue picks up where his now occupied finger left off, lapping at your clit with fervor while one finger becomes two rubbing against that spot inside you.

It is only a matter of moments before you fall apart under him.  “Joel, oh fuck, Joel!” you cry as you come undone. You’d be embarrassed at how quickly he made you cum, but hell - it’s been so long, and he is just… so good. 

For a moment you just lay in the grass, the world coming in and out of focus as he continues to work his fingers, more gently now, helping  you come down from your orgasm. When he sees that you are spent, he removes his fingers and brings them straight to his mouth, savoring every last drop of you.  But without his large digits inside of you, you are already yearning for more. You need to feel him inside of you. Thankfully, he is already in the process of removing his pants.

“Please,” you whimper, urging him to move faster, “Please, Joel.” 

“Please, what, baby girl?” 

“P-please fuck me. I want you to fuck me.” 

“Well, since the lady asked nicely,” he smirks, finally kicking off his boxers revealing just how large he is. 

“So big…” you murmur, not capable of much more speech. “Holy shit.” 

First, he smirks at the compliment, but a moment later his face grows serious, “Now darlin’, if I hurt you, just tell me and I’ll st–”

“No,” you cut him off, “I don’t want you to stop.” 

“Well,” he growls, “Have it your way then.” He is clearly enjoying this.

When he enters you, it is with the same care that he has exerted this whole time.  So different from the gruff man who pointed a gun at you over some ten-year-old cans of spaghetti-os. He could be as rough as he wanted and you’d still enjoy yourself.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck so that with each thrust, his breath tickles your ear. The grunts that escape his lips rumble in your ear and make you shiver. Goddamn, you would never get tired of this. 

His thrusts come faster and faster as both of you cry out into the empty forest around you. His thrusts, each more bruising than the last, fill you up, his member lusciously raking over that bundle of nerves you can never seem to reach with your own fingers. 

He reaches a hand down, still effortlessly holding himself up with his other arm so as not to crush you beneath him. The pad of his thumb rubs circles on your clit as he thrusts harder, bottoming out with each one, making you a writhing mess beneath him. 

It isn’t long before you feel your second orgasm creeping up on you. It’s just too much, you can’t take it. “Joel, I- I’m–” 

“I know, baby girl, I know.” You had no idea a nickname could have such an effect on you, but here you are. “Cum for me, one more time.”

That was about all the encouragement you needed. You are a writhing mess, the walls of your pussy clenching around him frantically as he fucks you through your orgasm, his breaths growing more and more frantic with each thrust. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m–” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before forcing himself to pull out, finishing with a groan has he spills all over your stomach. You like the way it feels, being covered in his arousal. It makes you feel like you are his. And, fuck, you realize how much you really want to be his. 

But there are too many unknowns in this world, and you know that after this, you will both return to your lives and this will fade into memory. But for now, you can enjoy this moment. 

He rolls off of you and into the grass, and you can’t help but snuggle up close, feeling safer than you have felt in ten years with his arms wrapped around you and your head on his chest. 

You don’t speak. You don’t want to ruin the moment. But, finally, he does.

“I know solo travelin’ can be good,” he says slowly, as if he’s been thinking long and hard about the words he is about to speak, “But I got a group. A few people. Plenty of room for one more.”

“I–” you certainly weren’t expecting this, “I–Yeah, a group. That sounds… nice.” No more sleepless nights with no one to keep watch, no more being hopelessly outnumbered at every turn. And, more importantly, Joel. 

You could get used to his company, that’s for sure. 

[didhewinkback]

a something old blurb to celebrate the impeccable street style

---

You tilted your head towards the sky, basking in the early June sunshine, the sounds of the busy London streets far away, that horrible eight am meeting nothing more than a distant memory. You can feel his heartbeat from where your back is pressed against his chest and you close your eyes, feeling a bit dazed at his ability to make everything better, the stress of your morning instantly melting away when you saw his surprise “Got sandwiches. Lunch break’s at one?” text.

 A wide grin on his face when he met you outside your office, explaining that he “was on a walk in the area, figured I should stop by” before he took your hand and headed to a secluded spot in the park, laying out the blanket he packed alongside the lunch he brought, a proud smile on his face.

Lasting all of five minutes before he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into him, settling against the nearby tree with you sitting between his thighs. And that’s where you stayed, eating lunch and laughing together, conversation dwindling to companionable silence, your fingers drawing mindless patterns against the grooves on his shorts. 

“Have to go back soon,” you say regretfully, and you can feel his grumble as much as you hear it. 

“Y’ should play hooky.” 

“Yeah? You reckon?” you say with a laugh. 

“‘M being serious,” he says, nudging his nose against your neck before planting a line of kisses against the skin. “Play hooky with me, baby. Call out sick for the rest of the day.”

“H, they all saw me leave for lunch break. They’ll know I’m lying out of my arse.”

“Don’t know, love. Pollen’s really bad this year.” he says, laughing when you do.

“C’mon, we can go for a walk…” he says, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder. “Can get some drinks by the water…can take y’ home and have my way with you…”

“Mmm. It is hump day after all,” you say, giggling when he honks out a delighted laugh. You turn to face him, his legs sliding down to hold you in his lap, his hands immediately sliding up under your shirt, fingers drawing up and down your spine. 

“Please?” he says, before licking his lips, his eyes grazing across your features. “Just wan’ to spend time with you.”

“Gonna be with you for the whole summer. You’re not gonna get sick of me?” you ask, mostly as a joke, heart clenching when he shakes his head immediately, looking at you with such open affection it makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Not possible.” he says softly, his hand coming up to hold your cheek. “Come here.” 

He pulls you towards him, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. He kisses you softly, gently, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he drags his lips against yours. You could stay here forever, slowly melting into him as he pulls you closer, taking you apart kiss by kiss.

“Have to -” you say breathlessly as he starts to kiss a line down your face, mouth resting against your collarbone as you both catch your breath. “Have to text my boss. Tell her I’m not making it back today.”

“Get innn,” he says, pumping his fist, looking up at you with mischief twinkling in his eyes. 

“You are a terrible influence.”

“And proud of it, love.”

---

[hoedamn-eron]

baby, please - part 6

You meet up with Santi, again, about your news, and it goes much better than last time. Also, your friends are the best people you know.

Warnings: Mentions of being sick, so emetophobia warning. Abortion mentions (I am personally pro-choice). An awful lot of dialogue. Reader refers to her friends as 'guys' and Courtney refers to her as 'dude' at one point, and 'girl'. Swearing. I'm from the UK so I'm not 100% sure what happens in America regarding doctor/midwife appointments, but from what I've researched, it looks a little similar, so I'm going to try and be as accurate as I can moving forward. This hasn't been my favourite chapter so far, it's mostly been just a filler. Slightly proofread. Word count: 2,833 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Part 5 ● Series Masterlist ● Part 7

These are your texts. These are your friend's texts. Initials will be at the start of each text in the GC.

You both agreed to meet back at the coffee shop after work. You made the effort to finish at a regular time, that your clients could wait until after the weekend. Nothing huge was coming up for a while, so you had the time to relax, just a bit.

Which reminded you, you needed to organise something with your friends. You haven’t contributed to the group chat for nearly a week, and they’d been texting you separately to see if you were okay, and you’d been overly short with them.

You walked through the door of the coffee shop, looking around before your eyes land on Santi sat in a corner, looking at something on his phone. You take a moment to just check him out.

You’ve said it once, and you’ll say it again (probably forever), he was still so good-looking. Even with the nervous energy he had, he still made your heart skip a beat. He looked like he hadn’t shaved for a few days, his beard matching his mixture of black and salt and pepper curls. He was dressed in a simple t-shirt, and jeans. You didn’t understand how someone who could dress so simply could still look so well put together.

Taking a deep breath, you make your way over to him. He looks up from his phone, his eyes widened as you approached the table. You gave him as small smile as you approached.

“Hey, thanks for meeting me,” Santi greeted you, standing from his seat and motioning to the empty seat opposite him.

“Thanks for reaching out,” you said, sitting down and placing your bag by your feet. He nervously sat back down, wiping his palms on his well-fitted jeans, a cappuccino and an iced latte already in front of him. You melted at the fact that, despite how badly your last meeting ended, he still remembered what drink you had in front of you.

“How are you doing today, are you doing all right?”

You huff out a small laugh. “Well, I threw up about ten times today, I think it might be a new record for me. I’m bloated and constantly hungry…” you bite your lip as you saw him avert his gaze awkwardly, his hands still rubbing against his jeans. You sighed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to rant. I’m fine.”

Santi nodded. “I’m sorry again about how I reacted on Sunday.”

You shake your head at him. “Really, you don’t have to say you’re sorry – “

“I said some not very nice things and it’s been playing over and over in my head, and it wasn’t right.”

You hesitated for a moment before you nodded. “What you said was kind of uncalled for. But I get it. I just threw this bombshell on you.”

“It doesn’t excuse it. I’d take it back if I could. Or never say it at all, because that’s not what I think of you.”

You nod at him before picking up the iced latte. “You’re forgiven. Let’s just forget it ever happened.”

Santi nodded, his hands finally stilling on his thighs. “Okay. Yeah.”

You take a sip of your coffee. It was a little stronger for what you would order usually, but you appreciated the effort. You take a deep breath and swallow nervously. “I know it's a lot to take in, but I think we need to figure out how we're going to handle this.”

Santi’s shoulders relaxed, and he gave a subtle sigh of relief at you bringing up the elephant in the room. “Yeah, I agree. Have you made any decisions yet?”

You shake your head. “No. Well…I've been doing some research, and I’m leaning towards keeping it. I did look into terminating. But I’m not sure yet.”

Santi gave a single nod. “Okay.” he rubbed the back of his head. “Uh, what role do I play in this? Do you want me to be involved, or what?”

“That's entirely up to you. I don't want to force you into anything you're not comfortable with.”

Santiago went quiet, reaching over for his coffee and taking a sip. You both sat there in silence for a few moments, just drinking your coffees as you take in your situation.

You didn’t want to push him. You really appreciated that he reached out to you to talk to you about this, to get his input. If he wanted to be child free, then you could come up with some sort of agreement, where he wasn’t involved and wouldn’t have to pay child support. He could sign away his parental rights before the baby even arrived.

Or you could terminate, like you had looked into.

You shake the thought from your head. You have your first appointment with your doctor next week, you could explore your options then.

“Have you told anyone you’re pregnant yet?”

You were surprised by the question, merely because you weren’t expecting that to be his next one. You shake your head. “No. Have you?”

“No.” Santi placed his now empty coffee mug on the table. “You’re one hundred percent sure you are?”

You nod. “I took four tests, and they were all positive. I have a doctor’s appointment on Wednesday to confirm, but it’s more of a formality thing. And to get me on the books.”

“Yeah. Okay. Right.” Santi frowns at you. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Your breath hitches at the question as you suddenly felt exposed…stunned, and honestly, you felt a slight lump in your throat. You swallow nervously as you avert your gaze for a moment before you look back up at him. You didn’t think to ask. You assumed he wouldn’t want to go. But, really…you didn’t want to go alone. “If you wanted. You don’t have to decide now. But I would appreciate it if you could be there for emotional support.”

Santiago nodded. “I can do that, I’ll be there.”

“I appreciate that. And we can talk about a DNA test to confirm the paternity, if that’s something you want to do.”

Santi was already shaking his head. “No, I believe you. I don’t…we don’t have to do the paternity test.”

Your breath hitches slightly, tears finally filling your eyes. “Okay. Thank you.” You place your half-drunk coffee on the table before you lean forward. “I know this isn't what either of us planned, but I'm glad we're able to have an open and honest conversation about it.”

“I never thought I would be in the position,” Santi said. “Someone telling me that I’m gonna be a dad.”

“Never pictured yourself settling down?” you asked, sniffing as you wiped at your eyes. You pick up your drink again, finding you needed something to do with your hands, and take a large gulp.

“No. Not with work, or my lifestyle,” Santi replied. “Was never in the cards for me.”

You nod, understanding. “I get it. With my dating life, I didn’t think it would happen with me either.” You both settle into an awkward silence. You finish your drink and place it down on the table before clearing your throat. “So, the doctor’s appointment is after work, at five-thirty, do you want me to text you the address?”

“I can come and get you after work, if you want,” Santi replied.

You weren’t expecting that. “Oh, really, it’s okay. It’s a little out of your way – “

“I don’t mind.”

“I’ll be taking my car to work anyway, so…”

After a few moments, Santiago nodded. “Okay then. I’ll just meet you there.”

You gave him a small smile before grabbing your bag and standing, digging through it for your purse as Santiago quickly after you. “How much do I owe for coffee?”

Santi waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But I – “

“I’m sure you paid for mine on Sunday when I stormed out.”

You gave him a look before continuing to dig through your bag. “I insist, Santi.”

“Really, don’t worry about it. I got you pregnant, so the least I can do is get your coffee.”

You look at him, seeing him raise his eyebrow at you and give you a pointed, unamused look. You sigh before closing your bag, giving him a small smirk. “Fine.”

He walks you out and down the block to your car, making small talk about work and how well the launch went, since you mentioned it on your date.

“It went great. I threw up during the big speech. Emily followed me to the bathroom.”

Santi groaned. “She doesn’t know, does she?”

You shake your head. “She hasn’t said anything to me, but I think she knows something is going on.”

“I wouldn’t hear the end of it,” muttered Santi, causing you to giggle as you reach your car.

You turned to Santi, giving him a smile. “Thanks again for…this. I really didn’t know what I was going to do.” You unlock your car before opening the door. You turn to look at him. “See you on Wednesday?”

“See you on Wednesday.”

You don’t hug. You don’t kiss. You don’t even shake hands. You just stare at each other for a moment before you climb into your car, giving him a small wave as you start it and back out of the space, driving away. You watch him for a moment in your rearview mirror, seeing him standing, watching you drive for a few seconds before he turns and walks away.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. Why was that so awkward? The guy had seen you naked, had sex with you, and got you pregnant. Surely you were past the awkward stage in your not-relationship? You shake your head, clearing your thoughts. It was probably awkward because you were pregnant with his child. You barely knew each other.

Maybe he just needed a few more days for it to sink in. He hadn’t been around you much, after all, since you announced you were carrying his child.

You arrive back to your apartment, biting your lip as you stare at your phone screen, contemplating telling him you got home okay. Was that a bit forward? He might need just a bit of space after your meeting. You decide against texting him.

You get yourself out of your work clothes and into your comfiest pyjamas, slipping your feet into the fluffiest socks you own. You made your way into your kitchen, intending to heat up some leftovers, not really feeling like cooking much tonight. You turn on your oven, waiting for it to heat up.

You meander out of the kitchen, grabbing your phone from its place still in your bag, seeing that your group chat has been a little active since you left work to meet up with Santi. It wasn’t anything important, just your friends talking about their days. Gabrielle was dealing with two kids with chicken pox, and Beth’s newest client was being a nightmare and difficult. Courtney had offered her usual down to Earth responses, both in support of her friends.

You smiled. You wondered what they would say when they found out you were pregnant.

You. The perpetually single friend.

You type out a quick text, telling them exactly what was happening before you delete it all, and rewrite it. You stood there for a full ten minutes, contemplating letting them know what’s been going on over text. You should tell them in person. These were your girls, your family. They deserved better.

Sorry I have been MIA ladies. Been going through some stuff.

You sigh as you send the message in the group chat. It was simple and kept to the point.

It wasn’t long until you got a response.

B: Jesus, finally. Thought you’d died. You okay?

G: Do you need anything? I can come by tomorrow and drop some stuff off for you.

C: Glad you’re okay.

I’m okay, thanks guys. Is everyone free next weekend? We could have lunch somewhere.

G: I’ll see if I can get a sitter. Matthew is away with his brother for their cousin’s bachelor party.

B: I am free. I have something to ask you guys about the wedding.

G: Bridesmaids!?

B: You’ll just have to wait and see.

C: I’m free after 1pm. Got a work thing.

B: On a Saturday?

C: Rude, not all of us are our own boss.

B: Shut up.

Great, I can book a late lunch on Saturday. 2pm good for everyone? I’ll take a look at what’s available if not.

G: I’ve heard Bella Cucina is good, not sure if they’re open for lunches though.

They’re not, just the evenings. That’s where I went for my date with Santiago.

C: Lol.

You sent a not-very-ladylike emoji to Courtney before telling them you’ll send them lunch details when you can. You snort at Courtney’s not-so-ladylike reply back with a similar emoji before she sent you a message privately.

So, what’s going on? Did you take a pregnancy test?

You bit your lip. You appreciated that she asked you separately from the group chat, but you also wanted everyone to know what you were going through in person. It wasn’t like you didn’t trust her, Courtney wouldn’t breathe a word of it, but you just weren’t sure what was going to happen in the next few weeks. But you know that if you don’t say something now, Courtney will be suspicious. You could lie, but it would seem silly to.

You just had to bite the bullet. With Courtney anyway.

I did.

You immediately put your phone down, the panic rising in your throat. You did it. You were ‘publicly’ acknowledging your pregnancy to someone to wasn’t Santiago. You busied yourself with your almost forgotten leftovers, putting them in the oven and setting a timer. You went to your bathroom, took off the day’s make up, and placed on a face mask. You set up your couch, where you planned to plant yourself and watch Netflix all night, ignoring your phones constant chimes of Courtney’s messages.

You pottered around a bit more, closing your curtains, putting away your clothes, and cleaning up a few dishes you had left out that morning. You removed the face mask and moisturised your skin before finally going back to your phone.

And? Are you pregnant?

Come on, you can’t just throw that on me and disappear.

Seriously. Are you pregnant or not!?

I know you’re doing this on purpose, you haven’t just put your phone down and got distracted by something else!

You’re not subtle.

Girl, if you don’t answer your phone!!!!!

When she sent you your full name in capital letters, you thought it best to reply.

I’m pregnant.

Holy shit. How are you feeling?

Life has been a little upside down. I’ve been dealing with it.

Does Santiago know?

Yeah, it’s why I’ve been MIA. It’s been a challenge.

Fuck, dude, are you okay?

It’s fine. Well, it will be fine. I have an appointment on Wednesday with my OB, Santi will be there. So he says. I won’t blame him if he changes his mind, it’s not exactly an ideal situation.

Are you keeping it?

You hesitated, because you didn’t know how to answer that. You obviously took too long to answer because Courtney rang your phone. You took a few seconds to answer it. “I don’t know if I’m going to keep it.”

“Is it because of Santiago?”

“Well, partly. It’s his foetus too.” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “And other factors. Obviously. Money. My living situation. Work. It’s all just…overwhelming.”

“You know we won’t judge you for what you choose to do, right?” Courtney said. “Is that what lunch is about next week? You don’t have to say anything to the others if you decide not to keep it, don’t feel pressured to let the others know.”

You try to hold back tears, sucking in your lips and biting down on them before you take a shaky breath. “I know.”

“We’ll be here for you, whatever you need. Do you need me there on Wednesday?”

“No, really, I’ll be okay.”

“Okay…you know Andy is a cop, right, he knows how to hide a body where no-one will find it if Santiago fucks you over.”

You let out a watery laugh, wiping at your eyes. “I know. But Santi’s a good guy.”

“The offer is there.”

Your timer goes off in your ear, causing you to flinch. You turn it off, before finally telling Courtney that you had to go, you were about to have dinner. You told her you would tell her all about the week you’d had another time, and that you would keep her updated on anything regarding the baby, and/or Santiago. She told you that she would always be available for you. You both hang up.

In that moment, you knew you’d be okay. You’d be fine. No matter what happens with the baby and Santi, at least you had your friends. And that was all you needed.

Tagged - @khonsulockley

[scoops-stevie-archive]

✨ stranger things fic rec pt 3 ✨

the last installment! see you at the end of the year!

mostly steddie with some ronance/fruity four/platonic stobin sprinkled in. heed the ratings, there's a healthy amount of smut.

fics in this installment: 66 fics in total: 196

as per usual:

-all fics are in alphabetical order -please tell me if the links are broken/linked wrong

more fic recs my own works

and, as always, please leave kudos and comments, and reblog this post!

quels beaux minets ont adopté un chat - T, 1.5k, 1/1 orangebandit

In all my rage, I am still just a tiny black kitten in a cage. Or Eddie brings home a stray.

Right Locker, Wrong Time - E, 10/10 FeatherForARose (@steddiealltheway)

Way before Hawkins goes to Hell, Eddie gets a note from Steve Harrington to meet him in the bathroom. Of course, the note isn't meant for Eddie, but both boys are surprised when they wish it was. This leads to a series of secret hookups and the inkling of a secret relationship.

Safe Space - G, 2/2 wayfarers0

He doesn’t respond. A tape falls from the shelf, and he doesn’t try to pick it up. He feels the world spinning around him, patterns forming in his vision all of a sudden. He hadn’t eaten breakfast, and he wonders for a second if he’s just feeling woozy from hunger, but as he blinks over in Robin’s direction, it’s taking him more time than usual to form words. To be able to interpret the scene he sees before him. He closes his eyes and sees the characteristic blur of light making his field of vision resemble broken glass which signals that pain is on the horizon. ________________________ When Eddie is out of town over New Year's, Steve gets hit with the migraine from hell whilst at work and his options for a ride home are limited.

Shotgun My Love - G, , 2.1k, 1/1 mctav1sh

Jonathan's first time smoking pot, romance ensues.

Six Kids and a Winnebago - E, series Oddree13

The story of how Steve Harrington gets his six kids and Winnebago...in the way he least expects to.

smoke in my throat, your hands in my hair - T, 1k, 1/1 perseuswrites

Eddie tilts his head up, Steve can't seem to make his blush go away. Eddie lifts the joint to his mouth, breathing in the smoke. Eddie leans down, using his thumb to nudge Steve's mouth open. He blows the warm smoke into Steve's mouth, "Breathe in and hold it until I tell you otherwise but let it out if you feel like you can't do it okay?" Eddie's voice is dripping with love and gentle warmth and Steve is drowning in it.

Sonnet 47 - E, 1.9k, 1/1 ZachwyBuwnzie

Eddie reads Steve some poetry, too bad Steve has a voice kink.

soothe your soul, just take his hand - T, 6.3k, 1/1 releaseideas

“Where did you go, Steve? Backstage to blow him real quick?” Robin teased, elbowing Steve’s side. “No you freak, he was showing me the back room so if my migraine starts acting up I can lay down.” Steve kept blinking, but his vision wasn’t getting any better. “Steve, if you’re expecting a migraine are you sure you should be here?” Nancy asked with such sincerity. “I mean, probably not? But I really wanted to come and only after Eddie asked did it start acting up.” “Doesn’t mean you should be here. Dude, you gotta take care of yourself before coming to watch your hot boyfriend play guitar,” Argyle supplied, which he was absolutely right, even though he wants to listen to his boyfriend’s band and watch his curly hair bounce from the head banging, he shouldn’t be here. “Thanks, dude. You’re right, but we’re already here. I’ll just stay for the first hour and I will leave right after. You guys stay if you want, alright?” - aka: steve goes to a corroded coffin concert but doesn’t realize how much live music will trigger his migraines.

soothing like honey - G, 5.2k, 1/1 RejectsCanon

Eddie hates being sick. The one thing he hates more than being sick is being sick alone. He absolutely hates it. He does everything in his power to avoid getting sick. He avoids sick people like the plague (ha). If someone he sits by in class is sick, then he’s skipping that class for the week. If one of the Hellfire members is sick, Hellfire gets canceled that week and he eats lunch outside. If Wayne gets sick Eddie plies him with chicken noodle soup and vitamins and medicine until he’s better again. But then, after being in the Upside Down, after the world has almost ended, after it’s all over, Eddie gets sick.

Steddie Amnesia Verse - E, series purpleweekend (@blushweddinggowns)

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked, all wide-eyed and caring. Eddie gaped at him, fully aware that his entire face must be red. He was trying to form words, he really was, but Steve single handedly put the brakes on that. Why was Steve Harrington holding his hand? Why was Steve Harrington calling him baby ? Why did he kiss him, like it was the most natural thing in the world?

Steve Harrington Needs A Hug - T, series Babybuckleydiaz

“My old man was an asshole, and my whole life I thought I would be glad of the day he was finally gone.” Steve finally started, and this time Eddie does feel startled by the sudden confession being made, but of course that was no secret to either of the Munson men. John Harrington was in fact an asshole and Steve has been so much better off without the man in his life, both him and his wife who never lifted a single finger to keep her only son safe. - - - “You still loved him, Stevie. And that’s okay, you’re allowed to mourn the father that you could have had. You’re allowed to.” - - - “It doesn’t make you a bad person, Steve. For that part of you to be glad he’s gone because he can’t hurt you.” Steve snorts. “Doesn’t it? He was a father, Max.” - - - aka: Steve's father dies and he has no idea how to feel about it

Steve's House Becomes A Home - G, series cat1beth

Steve and Robin have a bunch of sleepovers after the events of season 3 (and eventually 4) to fight the nightmares and loneliness what happens when it starts affecting things his parents will actually notice, like the grocery list?

stuck between your tongue and teeth - E, 3k, 1/1 Adure (@toburnup)

Steve notices it from the very first time he and Eddie have sex. Eddie is - quiet.

subtext (something i can't quote put my fingers on) - T, 3.4k, 1/1 Adure (@toburnup)

"What's that?" Robin points directly. The mark is red and dark, sitting low on the back of Steve's neck. Steve slaps his hand over it and turns away, his magazine abandoned on his lap. Robin continues, "Is that a bug bite? It's tick season, Steve. Seriously. Ticks can you give you lyme disease, are you feverish? If you feel lethargic-" "No! Jesus, Robin." He's blushing now, tips of his ears bright red and averting his gaze. "It's nothing, leave it alone. It's fine." But he's keeping his hand covering it and she can't help but eye him suspiciously. "Is that a-" "Please stop." "- love bite?" (Five times Robin suspects something between Steve and Eddie, and one time she figures out she's right.)

talkin' sweet and lookin' fine (i get kinda hectic in side) - T, 4.5k, 1/1 coupe_de_foundre

Sinking back against his pillow, Eddie kisses back with fervour, fisting his hands in Steve’s hair and tugging until he draws an intoxicating whine out of Steve, swallowing the sound eagerly. They’re so lost in one another that they don’t hear the door to Eddie’s bedroom opening, don’t realise that they’re no longer alone until there’s a very much disgusted groan from the other side of the room. “My eyes!” Max squeals, throwing her hands over her face. But not before launching a random shirt their way. It lands on Steve’s bare back. “Gross! Guys, it’s seven-thirty!” “Exactly!” Steve cries back, dropping his head onto Eddie’s chest with a frustrated groan. “It’s seven-thirty, what the hell are you doing here?” * or, 5 times they can't get any privacy, and one time that they do (well, sort of)

temptations of trouble - G, 2.8k, 1/1 MacksDramaticShenanigans (@stevethehairington)

Eddie ignores the flip flopping in his stomach as he meets Steve’s gaze and fits his palms to either side of Steve’s jaw. Cradles his face like he’s something special now. (Because he is.) And then he leans in to kiss him. Right on those pretty pink lips of his. It’s short and sweet like it always is, but when Eddie pulls back and opens his eyes, he’s met with Steve’s, wide as fucking saucers, goggling unblinkingly back at him. He can feel Robin’s stare boring into the side of his face, can feel the tiny pinpricks of Nancy’s and Jonathan’s and Argyle’s on his back too. The whole room is quiet enough to hear a god damn pin drop. Eddie is about to open his mouth and ask what the hell that’s all about when it finally catches up with him. He just fucking kissed Steve fucking Harrington. On the mouth.

Ten Long Years - N/A, 3/3 Blink23

It’s addressed to Edward Munson, but the preprinted Hawkins High address makes Steve flip it over and break the seal with his finger, knowing Eddie won’t care. It’s probably some sort of fundraising thing; they need a new gym, last he heard from Joyce, and had been annoyingly trying to get money from everyone in the town. That's not what it is at all, and Steve has to read it twice to make sure he hasn't lost his mind. Hawkins High Class of ‘86 Reunion! Steve snorts. Please join your fellow Tigers for a day of fun and reminiscing after ten long years. It’s the last thing he wants.

Thanks for the Memories - M, 10/10 oceanwaves23

Robin Buckley thought nothing could be more confusing than waking up with a pounding headache, in a room she didn't recognize, next to Steve 'The Hair' Harrington. But that was before Steve informed her that it was 1986 - not 1984 as she previously believed - and that apparently they were best friends. Or: After a bike accident, Robin loses 2 years worth of memories and has a lot of questions about how her life turned out. Much to her surprise, Steve and Nancy are there to help.

the aftermath (as documented by eddie munson) - T, 20k, 1/1 ikawritesthings

A look into the effects of the Upside Down on Steve Harrington, through the eyes of his boyfriend, Eddie Munson. (And the one time it has effects on Eddie, too.) 5 + 1

the backseat lovers - T, 1.9k, 1/1 froggieyama

maple syrup and purple sweaters. or: steve harrington really loves eddie munson

The Best Thing - N/A, 1.1k, 1/1 Katie_Armstrong

Eddie and Steve spend one morning together before school, loving each other and longing for a better future, one where they don’t have to hide inside a small trailer.

The DMs - G, 1k, 1/1 Lullabyebye

Will talks with Eddie about Dungeons and Dragons, and homosexuality. Kind of.

The Hellfire Shirt Incident - T, 4.9k, 1/1 god_hates_tyler (@bisexual-cryptid)

Steve wears Eddie's Hellfire shirt to work after spending the night at his place. When the kids come in to ask him for a favor, they come to the logical conclusion that Steve must have joined Hellfire Club. Steve, at a loss for what to do, confirms their suspicions so he doesn't have to explain that he didn't actually join Hellfire, he and Eddie are just dating.

The Monster Mash - E, 4.3k, 1/1 kazookakaka

Steve and Eddie throw a Halloween party, but get distracted getting ready. Steve ends up helping Eddie make his costume look a little more authentic.

The Most Popular Make-Out Spot - M, 5.2k, 1/1 Sociopathic_Otter

After watching season 4, I had to make a fic for the love between Hawkins' mother and Hawkins' hero. It's inspired by Steve's little conversation to Dustin about Skull Rock. Steve and Eddie have been in my brain non stop - and as a fellow D&D metalhead/punk freak, Munson owns my heart. Right on the kin list, and right in the special interest box he goes.

The Parentification of Steve Harrington - E, 8.3k, 1/1 IAmTheUnsub

“I didn’t know you had a sister, Harrington”. Steve laughs, but it’s a shaky imitation of the laughter Eddie had heard plenty of in the year since they’d walked through hell together and come out the other side. “Neither did I, until last night. My mom just turned up and dropped her off. She hasn’t been home in like a year, man. I didn’t even know she was pregnant”. Dustin, as per usual, has no tact when he asks, “So she just left her here? She just gave you a baby? Are you a dad now?!” *** Steve and Eddie have been pining for a year and all it takes for them to get their shit together is Steve becoming a dad.

the songs on the radio are okay, but my taste in music is your face - G, 1.7k, 1/1 Lullabyebye

Steve likes roadtrips and Eddie agrees to go on one with him.

the steve situation - T, 2/5 shrack

Eddie and his friends go to Scoops Ahoy, but Eddie's not expecting Steve to be standing behind the counter.

Third Wheel - T, 1.1k, 1/1 ticklishraspberries

When Dustin finds out that Steve and Eddie are dating, it’s like nothing changed.

Three years in Three Days - M, 2.9k, 1/1 dragonfruiit

Steve needs a cry

thunder only happens when it's raining - T, 936, 1/1 fragilethings

In the spring of 1987, a year after the world ends but doesn’t, Steve buys a little two bed house on the outskirts of Hawkins.

Thunder Road - T, 2/2 stellarpoint

Steve’s right hand leaves his hip and curls around Eddie’s arm, pulling it closer to study the black bats swooping down his forearm. He traces the swarm, and then slides his hand up to Eddie’s bicep, running over the wyvern curled on the underside of his arm. His touch moves up to brush Eddie’s hair away from the spider tattooed just under his clavicle. He glances up and sees Eddie staring down at him, biting the inside of his cheek. “Can you try something for me?” Steve asks. “Yeah.” “Close your eyes,” Steve instructs. “Please. Just focus on how it feels. Don’t think about how it looks.” Or: Steve has nightmares; Eddie has scars. They work through that together.

Tiny Geniuses - T, 3.9k, 1/1 crow_of_crimes

Robin’s ears are tiny geniuses. She is five years old, and already they hear and repeat English, French, and Italian fluently. Her favorite songs are in Italian, her favorite books in French, her favorite jokes in English. Her parents adore their little genius and fill her up with as much as love and art as her tiny self can take. And she’s always, always looking for more. She’s going to be a genius one day, they think. A famous actress, a singer, a brilliant writer. Whatever she wants to be. Robin’s ears are tiny geniuses, and they hear love. - Steve’s ears are tiny geniuses. He is five years old, and he knows a language of growls, glares, and heavy footfalls. He’s going to grow up to run their business, they tell him when they’re sleepy enough not to be angry. And he can’t do that if he’s stupid or a pussy, you understand? He understands. Steve’s ears are tiny geniuses, and they hear anger.

to live my own way - E, 21k, 1/1 Macellarius

Under a much different circumstance, Eddie would have loved to have Steve’s eyes looking over him like that, would love to have that determination focused on him, but Eddie is very much dying, he knows it, so he smiles at Steve’s misplaced confidence instead, “High expectations, Stevie. Where’d you learn to swing like that anyway?” “I’ll tell you,” Steve’s voice is a bit shaky, his tone wavering, even as he puts on a brave face, “but you have to stay alive, Munson.” If he had more strength, he’d consider testing his luck one last time, tease Steve by asking if he swings for Eddie’s team, but- he’s tired. Dying young. What a fucking nightmare. Or, what if the Party defeats Vecna in time, and Eddie lives?

Turn To Hate - T ,3k, 1/1 dontshift2me

Setting aside the awkward nature of 'I used to date your sister and it's still kind of weird', aside, Steve Harrington is pretty sure he’d kill a guy to keep Mike Wheeler safe if he had to. Fighting off demonic monsters from the hell dimension resting below your hometown tended to craft a bond that not even the moody temperament of a teenage boy could break. Which is why Steve wasn’t exactly shocked to receive a phone call at 11am on a Tuesday to “Please come pick up Michael from school and sign his suspension slip.” AKA Mike Wheeler punches a guy at school, which makes Steve both proud and absolutely terrified.

Twistin' Like a Flame - G, 885, 1/1 BoudicaMuse

It's 2am, the night after they just moved into their new apartment. After a long and tiring day, Eddie should be passed out, but the heat's keeping Steve up. And if Steve can't sleep, then neither can Eddie.

Under Pressure - M, 28k, 1/1 ForgottenFrog

When he finally did present, Steve was pretty sure he was cursed. He believed this for two reasons; one was that his parents were home, something that happened a few times a month at the most these days. The second was that he was an omega. - Steve tries to hide away all the sharp-edged pieces of himself until he can't anymore.

Unsafe Bet - E, series LexiRoseWrites (@lexirosewrites)

This is the A/B/O teen drama movie you’ve always wanted to read. You know your favorite cheesy/angsty/emotional flick that you still put on regularly, knowing exactly how it will end? Yeah, it’s that. There’s hormones, hijinks, and Harrington. What more can I offer you?

vampire murder boyfriends &lt;; 3 - E, series PettyMermaidsGf

And Eddie can’t fucking take it anymore, can’t hold back any longer, a growl tearing from his throat before he bites Steve all the harder, sinks his teeth and tongue into the wound and *drinks*. The hunger still burns at the back of his throat but the worst of it’s abated as he laps and sucks at the blood there. Steve lets out a deep, shuddering breath at the insistent press of his mouth, his sleek, sharp fangs, and murmurs, “Please…don’t stop, keep going” as Eddie mouths at his neck and gives a mindless, sharp thrust into the delicious heat of Steve’s body.

Wait By The Phone - M, 6.4k, 1/1 thefatedthoughtofyou

Steve's aunt comes to town while his parents are away. Steve may or may not tell her about Eddie. She obviously can't wait to meet him.

We Are Not Bullshit - G, 1k, 1/1 sakinneadua_x

Robin convinces Nancy, Steve, and Eddie to go to a party. Steve has to make sure Eddie knows that he loves him. ---- or Steve tells Eddie that he isn't bullshit.

We're Words Without a Rhyme - E, 4.5k, 1/1 emchant3d

Eddie's always restless, always fiddling, and Steve can't help how his eyes drop down to how he's twisting a ring around his pointer finger. The things should look gaudy, all bulky and bright silver, but somehow on Eddie they just look right. Like they belong on his hands, specially picked just for him. Steve's got a thing for Eddie's rings. They escalate from there.

What Your Best Friend Knows - T, 1.2k, 1/1 Fitzgi

“Why do you look so nervous all of a sudden?” Robin asked, almost sounding a little hurt. “Why are you sweating so much? Why do you look so tired? And why do-” Robin cut herself off and at first Steve was confused. He out if everybody knew just how long Robin could go once she got started. He looked at her, confused, until he noticed that she was staring directly over his shoulder. Steve whipped his head around and let out a sigh. Eddie was shuffling his way down the stairs. Completely shirtless but wearing what looked to be an old pair of Steve’s gym shorts. OR Robin shows up unexpectedly and learns more than she wanted to.

when it rains, it pours - G, 2.2k, 1/1 winterbxar

To Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is home. OR Eddie reads The Hobbit to Steve while it's storming out, and they're so, so in love.

when no one's there (please take my hand) - G, 1.5k, 1/1 coupe_de_foundre

Steve chooses that very moment to speak up and Dustin jolts, worried for a second there that Steve had spotted him. But, he soon realises, Steve’s eyes still haven’t strayed from Eddie. “You should tie your hair up more often.” he says in a gravelly voice, lips quirking up into a half-smirk. Eddie swivels, spatula in hand that he points Steve’s way, and he lets out a light-hearted laugh that sounds foreign coming from him. “And why is that, Stevie?” Steve shrugs, taking a slow sip of his coffee. “You look good. Do I need a reason?”

where the flowers bloom - T, 1.5k, 1/1 hydrangea_bush

It's the opening night of Hawkins High's fall production, but the lead actor and the head of stage crew are nowhere to be found. Or // Eddie and Steve make out in a prop closet and it's cute

who are you? (the right one) - T, 3/? percylicious39

"Now, Wayne obviously knows about his nephew's preferences in partners, that one time a glaringly indisputable proof, but he couldn't quite frankly give a single damn about it, love is love and all that crap. Not that he'd understand anything about that crap. Anyway, he has seen Eddie shove enough boys out of his tiny bedroom window to know that they never get to spend the night, and they never get to prepare Eddie's favorite tea at four in the morning on a Wednesday without Eddie even being present in the room. So what the actual hell is this one doing here? And where is Eddie?" - Or five times Wayne meets Eddie's boyfriend and that time he finally learns his name.

wingman - T, 3.2k, 1/1 vampireboyluvrr

Gareth needs Eddie's help finding the perfect present for Jeff's birthday. Eddie ends up convincing Gareth to confess his feelings instead.

With a Capital P - G, 1.2k, 1/1 FallingUpTheStairz

Steve's love language is physical touch and Robin learns to work with that.

won't somebody help me chase the shadows away? - T, 1.7k, 1/1 vivahate

“I just got you.” Eddie rasps out, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m not losing you to this. You hear me?” And it’s a threat as much as it is a promise. I’ll live for you if you live for me. (or; desperate kisses are shared while uncertainty and danger loom ahead)

You and Me, Forevermore - N/A, 1.2k, 1/1 slayorswift23

Steve unpacks his sadness about Robin going away to college, and Eddie is there to support him.

You are the reason I stay alive - E, 3.5k, 1/1 makesometime

“How’s uh. Human rank on that scale?” Eddie smiles. “I don’t know, Steve. I haven’t exactly had a chance to try.” He thinks he’s gotten away with it when Eddie turns back to his mug and drains it, putting it down on the coffee table and picking up the remote. “Why? Are you offering?”

you got a lot on your mind (and your heart it looks just like mine) - E, 3.7k, 1/1 picklebaby

Steve was having a day. He hadn’t quite decided if it was a bad day, but it definitely wasn’t turning out to be a good one. or Steve wakes up with a migraine and Eddie knows just how to take care of him.

you have been bruised and broken - T, 2.3k, 1/1 likes_koolaid

Steve and Eddie are just watching a movie at Steve's house, nothing more. Then his parents come home.

You Make Me Live Now, Honey - E, 15k, 1/1 GrasshopperKatie

Eddie loves the little idiots, but he’s thankful that it’s just Robin, Steve and himself on this trip. Steve is stressed enough about a cross country road trip without adding that he would have to take care of seven children on top of that. Nancy has provided them the perfect opportunity for an escape. She’s been attending classes at Emerson for two months now and invited them out to spend Halloween weekend at her place. They all jumped on the idea of getting out of Hawkins for a few days.

You Rule, You Suck - G, 1.6k, 1/1 lodiononhaunantidoto

The last thing Robin expected was for her to enjoy working with Steve Harrington the whole summer, but life really never stopped surprising her

you told me to call (said you'd be there) - T, 1.4k, 1/1 Mighty_Huntress

They pull up outside Dustin’s front door. Steve is immediately proven right—he doesn’t even wait for the wheels to fully stop rolling before flinging the back doors open and full on tackling Steve. Which, hey, dangerous, and also hey, ow. Eddie looks over his shoulder at the sound of him wheezing after the direct hit to the solar plexus he just got, and raises an eyebrow. “Are we visiting rather than kidnapping you, then?” Dustin starts bawling.

you wanna kiss me soooo bad - G, 1.3k, 1/1 KaeyasManBoobies

Steve and Eddie have a recurring date night- but what's also recurring is their lack of ability not to be smitten idiots in love. Their refusal to focus on the task of cooking a goddamn meal leads to a kitchen make out session.

you're just like a dream - T, 3.4k, 1/1 joehardys

Eddie still finds it all hard to believe. If someone had told him at the beginning of the year that he’d be in a relationship with Steve Harrington come summertime, he would’ve laughed in their face. Like, yeah right. Or, Steve, from Eddie’s point of view.

You're Kind of Incredible - M, 10k, 1/1 god_hates_tyler (@bisexual-cryptid)

A re-write of the last two episodes of season 3 where Eddie finds Robin and Steve after they are drugged by Russian soldiers. Steve confesses he has feelings for Eddie in the bathroom scene, but they are interrupted by Dustin before Eddie can reply. Eddie is there for the shit show that is the battle of starcourt, he and Steve working out their feelings within the chaos.

You're Not Bullshit (The Steve & Eddie Love Story) - E, series Melody_Dimas

After the party where Nancy calls Steve, his love for her and their relationship bullshit. Where Nancy tells him how they pretended that they didn't get Barb killed and everything was just fine was bullshit, Steve storms out and finds someone unlikely to tell him that he's not bullshit.

your eyes look like coming home - E, 1.4k, 1/1 writerbri

Steve doesn’t wake gracefully these days. Hasn’t in years, since the first time he took a hold of a bat full of nails and swung it with purpose at an impossible thing. His morning routine nearly always begins with choked gasps and lingering flashes of what haunts his dreams. So it’s odd and confusing and entirely welcome when, for once, the shift from sleeping to wakefulness comes slowly and gently, with contentment woven deep into every inch of him. It’s warm and it’s quiet and it’s callused fingers from endless days of plucking at guitar strings tracing nonsense patterns along the length of his spine.

Your Hands Around My Throat - E, 1.9k, 1/1 asarcasticwitch

Eddie’s hands are criminal—the rings, the calluses from playing his guitar, and the way he always crooks them just right, hitting all those spots that make Steve’s body sing—and Steve has long since given up pretending they don't turn him on like crazy.

your love is a turning page (where only the sweetest words remain) - G, 924, 1/1 writerbri

“Your daddy thinks he’s sneaky, y’know,” Eddie murmurs quietly. Steve blinks, his own cheeks warming as he realizes that he’s caught. Eddie glances up from where he’s been gazing at Charlie, a soft smile lingering as he meets Steve’s eyes like he’s been aware of him this whole time. “You look really good like that,” Steve says, unable to keep quiet about it for a second longer now that he’s been called out. Eddie predictably blushes as Charlie stirs at the sound of his voice.

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

bet | min yoongi

it's missing yoongi hours so here is this lil yoongi blurb to remind you he's the cutest ever <3 warnings: yoongi being a rizzler (jk), trash talking

It's game time.

Or at least it has been.

For the past three hours.

As Yoongi posts up for another round of one-on-one ball, you shake your head. "You like to nap more than anyone I know. How have you not gotten sick of getting your butt kicked by now?"

He grins. "You had enough? I'm pretty sure I've won more than half the games."

"What?! That's outrageous." In reality, it's probably close to even, but this is part of the fun -- the trash talk. And nobody does it better than Yoongi.

"Listen, if you're too tired to keep going, you can quit," he reminds you, a devilish glint in his eyes. "People your height aren't usually very good at basketball."

You laugh. "Min Yoongi, you are short."

He smirks at you. "Weak comeback," he says. "But I was thinking."

"Yeah? About how to stop getting your ass kicked?"

"No," he says with a chuckle. "Why don't we raise the stakes?"

"A bet?" you guess. He nods. "What are we wagering?"

He smiles, runs over to his bag, and pulls out a pen. "Write something on your hand you'd want me to do, and I'll do the same. Whoever loses has to do what's on the winner's hand."

Odd, you think to yourself. But you write on your hand -- "dance with me", something you've always wanted to ask him to do -- and hand the pen back to him. "Deal," you say lightly, although the laughter on his face as he writes on his hand makes you nervous. Is he writing something super embarrassing? Last time you lost a bet to him you had to climb a tree at 3 AM and pretend to get stuck so that the nearest passerby would have to help you out. You actually did get stuck, and Yoongi has never let you hear the end of it.

"There better be nothing about a tree on your hand," you call to him as you go to pick up the ball. You can hear him laugh.

The game is one of the best ones you've played against him. You're both playing extremely well, and you think you might actually have him beat -- until he aces a 3 from almost half-court. Then, the momentum is all his. You're tied up until the game point.

"What's on your hand anyway?" you ask Yoongi, out of breath.

He smiles, brushing some sweat away with his arm. "The only way for you to find out is to lose." And then he turns around and lobs the ball over his head.

Unbelievably, it swishes in.

Your jaw drops. "You did NOT just do that," you exclaim. "That was literally one of the coolest things I've ever seen in my whole life."

He shrugs. "I'm always motivated by the reward. What's on your hand?" he asks, grabbing it before you can dodge. He reads it and then his gaze flicks up to you.

"Dance with you?" he says quizzically.

"Uh..." Suddenly, you're embarrassed -- although you're not sure why. It's just dancing, right?

He pats your hand. "Don't worry," he says, misreading your embarrassment for worry. "There's no mention of trees on here." He hold his hand up.

"What does it say?" you ask, mildly dreading the answer.

"You'll find out tonight. I'll meet you at six at the square. Wear your normal clothes," he says, already walking away.

"What?" you say. But he's already gone, waving you away.

At six you stand anxiously in the middle of the small town square. The streets are mostly empty -- it's a sleepy little place, and most of the locals are inside with their families.

Suddenly, you hear a voice calling your name behind you. For some reason, this time around, it brings a chill to your spine.

When you turn, Yoongi stands there with a single white flower -- a daisy. Your favorite. He beckons you over with his head, the hand not carrying the flower hidden behind his back.

Gripped with curiosity, you move closer. "Okay, what's that about?" you ask, gesturing to the flower.

He sighs. "Gosh, do I really need to explain everything to you?" He laughs when you look confused. "It's for you."

He hands it to you. And then, from behind his back, the music starts -- a nice slow waltz playing on the speaker he had hidden in his other hand. He sets down the speaker and offers you his arm, and suddenly you are spinning onto the dance floor escorted by Min Yoongi.

"How on earth do you know how to waltz?" you ask him.

"This is by far the easiest dance I've done in awhile," he says. "Plus, you wanted to do it, so I learned after the game."

"You learned this in like two hours?" you ask incredulously.

"I'm actually pretty good at dancing," he reminds you, pushing you under his arm for a spin.

"Okay, you're right. But the real question remains." He raises his eyebrows curiously. "What did you write on your hand?"

He smiles and stops dancing. Taking both your hands in his, he places the hand he wrote on on top of your opposite one. In his neat handwriting, you read the words:

"Kiss Min Yoongi."

You look up at him, alarmed. "Is this a joke?"

He scoffs. "Why would I joke about that?" He tugs your arms so they rest around his neck. Your faces are almost nose to nose. He smiles gently. "Is it okay, though?"

"Okay?" you choke.

"Like, do you want me to?" He looks suddenly worried. "I won't if you don't like me like that. I just thought --"

But before he can finish, you make up your mind. Standing on your tiptoes, you kiss him.

His smile when you pull away is brighter than the sun. "Out of curiosity," you say, still stuck in his embrace, "what were you planning to do if you lost?"

He laughs. "There was no way I was going to lose that one."

[nomoreusername]

Girlfriend Guilt

Pairing:Harriet x female reader

Summary:After the incident in the Maze, Harriet keeps acting distant.

I don't want to sound paranoid or ungrateful. I don't want to seem indifferent to the fact that I’m here. I mean death is pretty much a guarantee without the Safe Haven.

It's just that Harriet’s been acting so strange ever since we got here. When we first reunited she ran into my arms and wrapped me in the biggest hug only to immediately pull away. She had been giving me one word responses to everything I asked before WCKD took me. It was as if she was looking through me instead of at me.

I thought she was just a little thrown off at first. Six months of separation should have been more than enough for her to get over the shock though. She should be fine now. We should be back to gentle kisses, holding hands, soft words, and long stares.

She won't even look at me, and she won't admit that something is wrong even though it's so obvious it's basically an insult for her not to.

I want to be understanding. We’ve all been through a lot, and everyone processes things in their own way. There's mostly no right or wrong way to do that.

When I can watch her laugh from afar with Sonya though and know the second she’s able to spot me her smile will fade, it feels like there is. I feel like I’m watching a tutorial of how to neglect your girlfriend.

I was stupid for thinking it wouldn't be difficult today. I was stupid for thinking she would actually want to talk to me. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“It's okay. I’m sure it's nothing bad,”Aris coaxed. Shaking my head, I kept my face buried in my hands as I silently cried. “She’s probably just got extra stuff on her mind. She still loves you.”

“Then, why won't she act like it?”I pointed out, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand as I sniffled. Staring at me with pity in his eyes, he gave a small shrug and patted my shoulder. Tearing up even more, I pulled my knees to my chest as I sobbed harder.

“It’s okay. You just have to talk to her.”

“I’m-I’m trying. She just . . . she keeps ignoring me?”

Running out of things to say, he nodded his head.

“I just want to be alone for a little bit?”I requested.

“Okay. Do you want me to try to talk to her for you?”

“No. I just . . . I think I’m gonna have to break up with her?”

Giving me a sympathetic nod, he quietly told me it was going to be okay. Drained of all energy, I stayed silent. Understanding that nothing was going to make me feel better right now, he did as I asked after another strained, pity smile.

I stared out at the water as I listened to him walk away. Wiping my still falling tears, I attempted to take deep breaths only for them to be short and heavy. My heart ached in my chest as I felt sick to my stomach. Every last part of me was exhausted, zapped of all energy.

I think she broke something in me. Maybe not on purpose but still. This is a kind of pain I never thought I’d have to have. We’ve always been great at talking to each other and communicating what we needed. This is completely unlike her.

I want to be supportive, but I can't help if she keeps pushing me away.

I also can't sacrifice my sanity for the dimming sliver of hope that she’ll open up again.

♡ - - - ♡

I should have been doing something. I should have gone and helped with something or hung out with someone or even just rested up.

I couldn't though. I swear that I can't even move.

I just sat in that spot, wondering what was next. Why was she being like this? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt her and don't remember? Is she grieving and doesn't know how to tell me? Is she going through something and doesn't want to share what? Am I really supposed to leave her now, or do I give her another chance? How many chances is too much?

“Hi.”

Snapping my head around at the voice, I found myself face to face with the girl who was currently and slowly breaking my soul.

Turning back around, I made it clear I had nothing to say to her.

“Okay. I guess I deserve that.”

“Yeah. You do,”I said firmly.

Sighing, she walked over. Without an invitation, she sat beside me. As she tried to hold my hand that was on the ground I snatched it away and into my lap.

“Y/N, I know I’ve been not the best girlfriend lately,”She said slowly.

“No. You’ve been the worst. You’ve completely ignored me after we were separated for months. You've acted like you're just too good for me, like I’m less than the dirt beneath your boots.”

“I know, but I promise it wasn't like you’ve been thinking. I’m not mad at you or wanting to leave you or anything like that.”

Staying silent, I turned to face her. Her eyes shone with remorse as she met my gaze. Keeping my expression blank, I waited for her to speak after so long.

“I love you, soldier. You’re the strongest person that I’ve ever met. You’ve gone through so much, and you’ve still got a heart of gold. You're a great listener and know how to comfort anybody. You've been through hell, and you still keep your head high and don't lose your spirit. Physical strength is one thing, but you have something better. After all you’ve been put through, you are still you. You're still the most perfect girl that’s ever existed. You're still so wonderful and the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

“Then, why aren't you acting like you feel that way?”

“Because I know that I haven't been a good girlfriend. Not since,”She started before closing her eyes. Taking a shaky breath, she wiped a tear from her cheek before meeting my gaze. Her beautiful caramel eyes were shining with regret. “Not since I left you at the Maze,”She whispered.

“Oh Harriet,”I unintentionally whispered back, realizing what was going on.

I hadn't wanted to leave the Maze. I was afraid of what was in there and whatever the world may have been. I had been convincing Harriet to stay while she had been trying to get me to leave. In the end, she led everyone out. I stayed for around a week before giving up. I had ended up running into Aris and his group in the Scorch and joined them.

“Oh honey,”I sighed, opening my arms for her. Accepting my embrace, she wrapped me in a tight hug, burying her face in my neck. Rubbing her back, I clung to her just as much. “I understand. You had a job to do. You had to protect everyone.”

“But that meant I didn't protect you,”She mumbled against my skin.

“I didn't go with you either,”I pointed out.

“I know. I just-I just wanted to do the right thing.”

“And you did. You're out, yeah? And I am too. Everything worked out in the end,”I reminded her, pulling away but keeping my hands on her shoulders.

“I just know that I should have been there for you earlier.”

“You did what you had to. You did great, and I’m so proud of you. So very proud,”I promised, cupping her cheeks and wiping away her slow falling tears.

“I’m sorry. I am. I just didn't know how to talk to you after that. I didn't know how to face you.”

“I was never mad at you though.”

“I didn't think you would be, and that made the guilt so much worse.”

“Oh honey,”I sighed, kissing her temple as she sniffled. When I pulled away I kept my hands where the were, not quite ready to not be touching her yet. “You don't have to feel guilty for that. There was no way of knowing what the right thing to do was, and we disagreed on that. That's okay though. We won't think the same thing all of the time, right?”

“Yeah. I know,”She nodded, resting her head back in my neck. Wrapping my arms around my girl, I placed my chin on her shoulder.

“It’s over now. Just let everything be over so we can move on and be happy together. Let's just be happy here and move on, Harriet. Please?”

“Yeah. Okay,”She agreed, her shoulders dropping a little as she relaxed.

With a small yet genuine smile, I felt mine do the same as I savored the mystery of her ignoring me being over.

We’re fine now. We’re going to be okay. Even if we’re going to be dealing with the aftermath of things that have permanently altered our brain chemistry, we know we’ll never be alone. Until the day one of us leaves, we will always have each other.

[rival-the-rose]

So, last week, just before my birthday, I developed dysphagia, gastroparesis, and ileus due to a weird viral infection (came with a fever and sinus inflammation but nothing else). In layman's terms, this basically means all of the muscles in my entire GI tract have stopped working - esophagus is not moving food to the stomach, stomach is not opening to allow food nor is it opening to release food, and my intestines are not moving things along, just being inflamed and full of gas.

This is obviously deeply uncomfortable, I have been on a liquid diet and barely reaching BMR, on top of being dehydrated bc plain water causes a lot of pain (adding a neutral-basic substance to high acid environment=bad).

On top of that, I am not a layman, and therefore I know that generally this suite of symptoms are associated with the Big Bad Diagnoses and once they show up they are frequently lifelong and not infrequently fatal. I also know that my history and symptoms don't match any of the Big Bads and it's more likely a weirdly dramatic response to viral inflammation, and I think we confirmed that with my doctor today. She's an osteopath who used to specialize in post-GI surgical care and felt that my intestines responded to manipulation in a way that was more similar to inflamed intestines than intestines that are no longer enervated. I would tend to agree and also she relieved so much pain today, I can take deep breaths again.

However, she hasn't seen or heard of this before. She expects that if there's no active damage being done, the inflammation should be mostly resolved in a week or two, but that's based on physiological knowledge rather than specific disease etiology.

So I'm having a lot of emotions. Anxiety, bc these are serious issues that I don't have a solid timeline on resolving. Anxiety 2, bc any time my body does something weird I become paralyzed with fear that this is going to spiral into profound disability again. Shame about Anxiety 2 bc I feel like I'm being dramatic and also being paralyzed with fear makes me feel bad about myself. Concerned that this is going to trigger an eating disorder relapse. Excited that I get to relapse "legitimately" and the fact that I've been on half rations for awhile is relieving the thoughts around how much weight I've gained since getting back from Vermont. Concerned bc I'm already feeling some of the emotional effects of calorie restriction (weepy+fussy) and physical (so tired.) Shame bc I feel like I should be done being sick and I'm tired of cancelling things I really want to do and also bc I look fine and I do feel ok as long as I haven't eaten recently. So I feel like I'm letting ppl down for no reason/I should be toughing it out more. ???Bad bc this is the eating disorder dream and why can't I be functional while doing it (aka being confronted with the reality that I can't indulge my disorder in a safe way which is so scary). Fussy bc I don't actually feel sick so I still want to do things but then I do and I'm uncomfortable/tired/frustrated immediately. Shame about just lying on the couch so much. Fear bc I want to start T and I'm in the process of applying to vet school and I can't do either of those things if I keep having organ systems shutting down (I really thought my lungs were doing better but they're apparently still not deflating appropriately).

Logically I can see that if someone told me they had these symptoms I would be like "why are you not in a hospital" (as long as I can keep up on calories and liquid reasonably it's not necessary). But I'm the one experiencing it and it's not that bad so why can't I do more stuff. Even though I worked full time this week and went to a doctor appointment today and OT yesterday. But I cancelled hanging out with my bestie on her birthday today so I feel really bad about that.

Idk. I just want to feel better. Except for the part of me that wants to starve to death. I'd say that's the core of the issue lol.

[emeritus-fuckers]

Hi ❤️ I know requests are closed so feel free to delete this, but I am really struggling and I could use some comfort if possible. Could I get the papas comforting a reader with extreme health anxiety? Like a reader who is always afraid that they are really sick (whether they actually are or not). Tysm, your blog brings me so much joy ❤️

Hey, no worries. I said it myself, even if requests are closed, comfort asks are always fine. - Jez

Papas with a darling who has extreme health anxiety

Primo

He listens to your worries and tries to soothe your nerves.

He has some experience with somewhat similar issues (Terzo was a hypochondriac when he was younger), so he has a general clue on how to help you.

"Darling, take a deep breath. Let's take some breaths and calm down together, alright?"

He stis with you as long as you need him to before he finally talks about your symptoms.

He has you answer a lot of very detailed questions, but does so in a way that feels comforting.

He gently guides you towards more plausible reasons you might feel unwell.

Also, he's fond of using hers as medication (do not confuse it with being anti-vaxx, he absolutely believes in medicine, but if he can help with simpler methods, he will), so he'll offer that.

Offers you cupping therapy (is that how it's called in english???) and regular days off to rest just so you can feel healthier.

Secondo

This man reads a lot and does shit tons of research.

And he's an extremely fast learner, so in a few weeks he's already grasped the basic concepts and most important potential symptoms of what people learn in medical school.

He's far from being an expert and he's still learning, but he learns the very basics just to reassure you that it's fine.

He wants to make sure you're fine, seeing as he takes any potential issues very seriously.

If you think he's sick, he's going to believe you and take care of you.

Gets you a personal doctor and a nurse to make sure you're okay.

"It's alright, a more. Il dottore said you're fine. Do you need to rest? Let Papa take care of you, sí?"

He does his best to slowly and subtly change your life style to be at least a bit healthier, hoping it would help.

Watches you nap with a small smile as he does his paperwork.

Makes you nice, healthy foods. Takes you on walks. He just does a lot to make you feel healthier.

Terzo

Oh, he gets it. He was like that in his youth, although it's way worse with you.

Gentle distractions. He notices you getting anxious and tries his best to help you.

He tries to make sure you don't have time to be anxious. Tries making you focus on something fun.

If it doesn't work, he'll research your symptoms with you to calm you down.

Will get you a doctor if you insist, but mostly tries to calm you himself.

He understands what you feel, even if just a little bit. And his heart is in the right place. But like with his own issues, he doesn't deal with it at the source, he just gets distractions. All the time.

But he does try. And he does his best. He's just..not the best at handling things like that.

But if you tell him how to help you, he follows those instructions religiously.

Copia

Well... He's terrible for it.

Not because he doesn't care. It's because the poor baby cares too much and he gets caught up in it even more than you do :<

You cough and he freaks out. Makes you lay in bed and gets a doctor.

He does his very best to take care of you, mother hen mode activated.

He's gonna spoil you, trying his best to make you feel better.

He doesn't realize he makes it worse. But he loves you so much! He wants you to be happy! And safe! And healthy!

But once he does realize, he apologizes profusely and spends days researching how to properly help you.

He feels really bad about making it worse earlier, please give him a hug, he really means well with everything he does for you.

Old Nihil

He has a doctor ready for whenever he got sick. He's old, every cough could be a sign he's dying (though he's in incredibly good shape for a man his age, with only his breathing being a problem), so if you get worried about your health, he gets his doctor immediately.

No matter if it was something completely silly, if you said you were feeling unwell, he's getting the damn doctor and that's it.

The doctor better take all your worries seriously because Nihil can and will fire him otherwise.

Your comfort is more important than his own health.

The doctor is fully expected to listen to whatever troubles you and explain everything to you.

What your symptoms are, what they mean.

And they better do so gently and patiently to ease you.

Even if he may get a bit annoyed with you constantly worrying about your health (mainly because he gets pestered about his health a lot and it's fucking annoying), but he always tries his best to support you.

It does come pretty easy, considering he's a simp.

Young Nihil

Straight up tells you you're being dramatic at first. That's just what he assumes, not realizing how serious it was.

He never really cared much for his own health and he was fine, so he just tries to get you to chill out.

Once he does eventually realize what it doesn't work and that your issues are actually very serious, he just kinda sighs and makes you explain your problems to him.

He still doesn't get it, so he does a similar thing to Terzo and tries to distract you.

He can't deal with his own issues, love. He sucks at dealing with yours unless he's told specifically what to do.

Tell him when you need to be held and he'll hold you.

Tell him how to help you and he'll help you.

Tell him what to do and he'll do it.

What a fucking bottom.

Taglist: @sirlsplayland @firefirevampire @thatoddboy @ouijaboardemo (send an ask if you'd like to be added! Read the pinned post before asking!)

[beevean]

The more I read of your analysis on the main timeline of Castlevania, the more I'm thinking that Gabriel isn't a counterpart to any of the Belmonts or to Dracula. I'm starting to feel like he's a counterpart to Hector and Marie is a counterpart to Rosely. Especially because Marie and Gabriel's relationship is so similar to Hector and Rosely's, while Inner Dracul (the Entity that possesses the castle) and Gabriel have a similar relationship as Hector and Dracula. I need to do more information gathering on it, but I thought it was an interesting parallel.

You may be onto something!

Hector is written to be a foil to Dracula, similar to Alucard himself but not quite in the same way. Hector has been hurt and rejected by humans, and he fled to live in Dracula's castle, but he never wished to harm them. So, when he was forced to, he was appalled, and chose to flee risking death.

Dracula: Why did you betray me? Hector: Why did you unleash your hatred upon the humans? When you began slaughtering them indiscriminately, I had no choice but to disobey you. Dracula: You side against me... for the sake of humans? (angrily) Humans are not worth the air they breathe. I was simply cleansing the world. Hector: It is not your place to judge the worth of humans. Dracula: The powerful always judge the weak. The humans made their judgment of me, as well. Thus I sentenced them... to extinction. Sympathy is merely a form of weakness.

Hector clings onto his humanity after being considered a demon most of his life, when Dracula infamously cast his own humanity aside to spite God and his "decree of limited life":

"Please, I beg of You, I am human too!" "My nourishment is human life and mistakes. I will disappear when humans perish…"

Rosaly is absolutely meant to be Lisa's counterpart. Both of them, gentle women mostly dedicated to aiding the sick and those in need, fell in love with dark, morally questionable men and brought out the best in them:

And Isaac was uniquely cruel, in how he manipulated a mob to falsely accuse Rosaly of being a witch and have her executed, the exact same fate that befell Lisa and pushed his Lord to madness. Hector doing the same would have been the key in his and Death's plans: had they succeded, and had Hector killed Isaac in a fit of rage, he would have literally become Dracula, as the vampire's curse would have fully consumed him and his body would have been used to resurrect Dracula.

But while Dracula blamed the entirety of mankind for the actions of few, Hector ignored the role of the mob (again, no harm on humans), immediately understood that Isaac was the one behind it all, and focused on killing him and him only. And even then! Seconds before skewering Isaac for all he did, Hector connected the dots and realized that the thirst for revenge that had guided him throughout the entire game was not even his! He had fallen victim to Dracula's curse, which darkens people's hearts. Dracula himself had corrupted him from beyond the grave. So he managed to save himself... what Dracula couldn't do.

As a bonus, they kinda look alike :)

It's intriguing how Alucard, Dracula's own son, resembles Lisa most of all, because her heart lives on in him, and then as Arikado he changed his appearance to look nearly identical to Mathias, Dracula as a human.

Hector, though? Pretty much a young version of Dracula as a vampire specifically. Sure, it can be because Kojima has the hots for one kind of man and loves to draw him all the time... but you know :)

And, funnily enough, in English both Hector and Mathias were voiced by Crispin Freeman! So I believe the parallels were fully intentional.

Ehm. I may have gone on a tangent :P anyway, the point is, Hector is a "good" Dracula, similar to Alucard in that "suffered the same trauma, reacted better, humanity is kinda important actually" way but IMO more poignantly because Hector skirted close to villainy multiple times (and is kind of rougher around the edges lol) while Alucard is more heroic.

I don't know nearly enough about Gabriel to draw more conclusive parallels. From what I know from the most surface level of summaries, Gabriel seems to be Mathias if his grief and his rejection of God had been given more focus in LoI. Marie also sounds to me more similar to Sara Trantoul, Leon Belmont's fiancée whose soul is sealed inside the Vampire Killer. If you find some similarities with what I said here, feel free to explain them <3