#it’s this whole fucking thing in the books

[rustedhearts]

somebody told me (fratboy!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: steve has made it very clear that he doesn’t want you. but he doesn’t want anyone else to have you either.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

i want your things in my room (part one) the library record store

tags: angst, mean!steve, so much tension, yeah the football player is tim riggins in my mind and so what?! i literally wrote this months ago, enjoy <3

"heaven ain't close in a place like this"

— somebody told me, the killers

may 1st, 2009

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

It came hissed in the doorway between the second floor fraternity steps and the sticky wood paneled wall. Steve hovered above you, breath sour with beer and a new bottle dripping condensation through the hand dangling at his side. His eyes were slanted and directed down at your eyes watching him in surprise.

30 seconds ago, he cornered you against the wall after your swift trip to the bathroom. You caught eyes with him across the kitchen nearly an hour ago, and it took all this time of carefully scanning your movements when you weren’t looking for Steve to get you away from the junior you came with.

“What are you talking about?” you laughed. “It’s a party.”

“I didn’t invite you.”

You swallowed, trying not to let your good-natured grin drop. You were well aware that Steve didn’t invite you.

After he practically ran from your bedroom two weeks ago, things went radio silent between you and Steve. You texted, he didn’t answer. You called once, thought about leaving a voicemail, and spent a whole weekend crying when you realized: he didn’t want you. Someone who wants you doesn’t flee your room the way he did that night.

You were perfectly content wallowing in your idiocy for ever thinking Steve Harrington could have a special spot for you in his tiny, shriveled heart—until said junior you were attending tonight’s party with saw you at the dining hall.

You were studying late into the evening, sitting all alone at a table near the fireplace with your books sprawled out and your picked-at dinner in scraps. He came staggering in with a band of other men, all sweaty and half-dressed from practice. He was a linebacker on the football team, and he looked damn good easing into the chair across from you and making it squeak.

His name was Tim and he had a handsome smile, and a slow way of talking in this Texan drawl that had you blushing. For the ten minutes he sat and talked to you and asked you what you were so focused on, you forgot all about Steve.

You texted for a week, grabbed a few lunches and coffees together, and now here you were. At a frat party, invited not by Steve—but Tim.

“I know that,” you told Steve, pulling your arms up to fold them over your chest. Steve’s eyes flashed down to your breasts cupped under a black lace bra peeking through a red shirt.

“I came with Tim.”

Steve screwed up his nose, pulling back a little. “Tim? Tim who?”

Huffing, you pushed yourself off the wall and pressed Steve back by the shoulder. “Tim, Steve. Now, excuse me, but I’m gonna go find him—“

“No, hey.”

Steve snatched you by the elbow, causing you to fumble on the carpeting and narrowly miss someone heading up the steps. You gasped, stumbling into Steve still against the wall.

“Steve, what the hell?”

“‘m not done talkin’ to you.”

You glared at him, wrenching your arm away with force. “I don’t care.”

You rushed down the steps before he could speak again, head suddenly swollen with confusion, heart pounding hard in your chest. He hadn’t touched you in weeks. Hadn’t spoken to you, looked at you, so much as acknowledged you since the last time he was inside you.

All it took to get his attention was to finally attempt to move on? It was bullshit. It made your cheeks flame and your mouth line with sweetness that made your stomach coil. It wasn’t fair.

“Hey.” That soft Texan drawl called to you.

You raised your head from where you were glaring at the floor, softening when they found Tim’s green gaze. He grinned at you, still holding your red plastic cup from earlier. You retrieved it from him and allowed yourself to tuck into his side under the weight of his arm.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you told him. “Long bathroom line.”

Steve stepped into the fluorescents of the kitchen, weaving his way through bodies with wide, squared shoulders. He tossed a quick glance your way and shook his head as he made his way through the room. And what pissed you off most was the fact that he thought he had the right. The right to be upset, the right to think anything of you.

“Baby, you look so pretty in that lil’ top,” Tim said, tipping his chin down to you with a lopsided grin. He was a few beers in and loopy.

You grinned. “Do I?”

“Mhm. Real pretty—come gimme a kiss.”

You perked up on your toes to meet his mouth. His lips were always warm and soft and soaked in beer. Lord, college boys drank a lot. If you closed your eyes and forgot where you were, sometimes he even tasted like Steve.

But Tim always called you baby, and Tim always called you back. He walked you to class with your books in his arms and a hand on your waist, opened the door for you, and helped you into his truck when he took you for coffee.

And Steve? Steve acted like you didn’t exist if his dick wasn’t inside you.

Your tongue was just slipping past Tim’s teeth when you were torn apart by force. Tim stumbled aside, knocking you as he went and catching you quickly with a hand on your waist. Both your heads turned sharply toward the assailant.

Steve stood near the island where Tim had previously been, holding a bottle of beer and a look of nonchalance. His eyes glided from Tim’s look of surprise to your absolute glare.

“Sorry about that,” Steve said coolly. “Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Tim resumed his spot beside you, and your body felt like it was vibrating against his. Every part of you was burning—and you couldn’t tell from what. Anger? Humiliation? Arousal? Maybe all three. You swallowed with difficulty and let Tim pull you in again. But your eyes never left Steve’s.

And his never widened from their slits. The ball of muscle near his jaw bone knotted when he clenched his teeth and it didn’t move.

“You okay, baby?” Tim’s attention was on you, and you looked away from Steve to smile at your date.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

The footballer had an easier lightness to him. Breezy, taking things with a grain of salt. He didn’t bother fighting Steve for his ‘mistake.’ He didn’t scold him for knocking you. He only smiled at you with a pair of pretty dimples and kissed the top of your head, arm bending around your shoulders.

“Wanna get outta here?”

Because he’d be going home with you. And it only took Tim a few moments to deduce that it was that fact alone that would drive Steve crazy. Even if you couldn’t.

You nodded, hand rubbing over his chest. You spared one more glance toward Steve, who had stepped away toward the other side of the kitchen with slow, slithering steps. He took a swig of his beer and clenched his teeth on the swallow.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Tim held your hand on the way out, guiding you down the front steps and toward the street. Your arms swung over the pavement, and you almost felt compelled to check if Steve was watching. What the hell was wrong with you?

“So what was that?”

You peered up from the pavement to Tim’s green eyes. “What?”

He cocked his head back at the brightly-lit house dimming behind you. The music faded the further you went. He was still wearing that dimpled grin.

“Back there, with that guy.”

You inhaled, looking back toward your feet. It only took a few moments to decide that you didn’t want to lie.

“We…used to hookup. But it’s completely over, I swear.” You skirted to a stop, gathering Tim’s other hand and meeting his eye again. “He’s just being a dick about it.”

He snorted. “I sort of got that when he came from across the room to ram into me.”

A giggle burst from your mouth, but it drooped into a frown. “I’m sorry.”

Tim frowned, brows creasing. “For what? You don’t got nothin’ t’ be sorry for, pretty girl.”

The warmth pulsing in your chest you could certainly make sense of now. “Okay.”

He grinned again, dropping one of your hands to squeeze your chin affectionately. “Okay. Come on.”

You walked the rest of the way to your apartment with his heavy arm over your shoulders again. And Steve watched from the front seat of his car, knowing exactly where he was going as he peeled away from the curb.

✶ ✶

“Alright, goodnight, little lady.”

“Goodnight, Tim.”

Your voices were punctuated by the slam of a door. Quick footsteps followed, a rhythmic succession ascending the staircase. Over the creaky board on the other side of the door, then—

“What the fuck?”

It burst open to a streak of lamplight in your bedroom and one Steve Harrington shadowing it at the foot of your bed. He had your university football teddy bear in his hands. It was a gift from Tim and it had his number on the bear’s soft yellow t-shirt.

Steve leapt to his feet. “What are you doing?”

You couldn’t seem to close your mouth. It hung open as you watched Steve raise his brows and jerk his chin expectantly. He tossed his arms out on either side.

“Huh?”

You came to your senses with a hard blink. “What am I doing? What the hell are you doing? How did you get in here?”

“Same way I always get in,” he quipped.

Heat touched your cheeks as you stepped into the room and gently clamped the door shut. You snatched the teddy bear from his hand and placed it back on your desk silently. Your purse fell to the floor where you were standing.

“You didn’t answer me. What the fuck are you doing?”

“Is this about the party or Tim?” You kicked your shoes off one by one, keeping your back to Steve and his stupidly pretty face.

You had such a soft spot for pretty boys, it seemed.

“You know what? Both.”

“Okay,” you sighed, pulling the first layer of your outfit off. Steve’s eyes scanned the lace of your tank top as red fabric made its way toward the hamper. “Tim and I are seeing each other. Tim wanted to go to the party, which happened to be at your frat—alas, there we were.”

The mattress springs yipped when you bounced on the edge to pull a clean pair of socks on. You wanted to strip your jeans, too, but you didn’t want to give Steve any ideas. He was already standing there with his arms crossed and his biceps and chest all puffed and sculpted. He already had that handsome pink tinge to his cheeks: his beer blush.

“Well, it’s weird,” Steve stated.

You rolled your eyes, exhaling a snicker. “Okay, Steve. Can you leave now? I’m tired.”

Steve tapped his finger on his arm, watching you shift on the bed and feign exhaustion. He chewed his cheek for a minute before reaching for his hair.

“Well…you know I missed you, right, sweetheart?”

He dropped his hands and softened his eyes into that soft, puppy-dog pout. Your scoff was sharp and sliced through the room. Steve stepped toward the bed.

“Right.”

“No, really,” he urged, sinking into the mattress before you. “You know I was just made president, and I just got super busy, that’s all. I meant to call you.”

You tipped your head at him and stared directly into those faux-pleading hazels. "How come everything you say to me sounds like a line, Steve?"

Steve sat unblinking for a moment. Then his cheeks colored a rosy shade, and he covered it with a cruel scoff and another sweep of his hair.

"What? Come on, you-you know I like you."

You pushed off the bed, head shaking. That warmth was slowly but surely returning to your body in violent form. You pulled your hair off your neck and padded toward the window to open it. Your room already smelled too much like Steve.

"You like playing with me," you corrected, keeping your back to him even as the mattress shrieked with his freed weight.

"You know, you're such a bitch-"

You spun around, shoving him by the chest. Steve stumbled a step back, but the smirk on his face made you regret even touching him at all.

"Get out."

"Hell no," he bit, lunging back into place. He grabbed at your arm again. "You think Tim wants you either? You think he doesn't just like playing with you? You always gave it up so easy."

Tears bubbled in the edges of your eyes. A tingling burn settled in the bridge of your nose. You shoved at him again and angled your head away from him and his sneering scowl and beer breath.

"Fuck you, Steve."

“You’re trying to replace me? Hmm?” Steve cocked his head to meet your eye, and you wished you could will away the hot tear trickling down your cheek. “That’s fine, sweetheart. I’ve got ten of you in my pocket.”

He shoved your arm away with a scowl, and you sniffled as he headed toward the door. All the hot-headed, enraged words pulsing on your tongue shriveled and died—and they were replaced with a hurt and heartbreak that was so familiar it was almost comfortable.

Yet as he opened your bedroom door, you rubbed your arm where he had held you and sniffled.

“Stay away from me, Steve.”

Door in hand, Steve turned and scoffed at you. “No problem.”

✶ ✶

You spent the next hour crying between makeup wipes and playing your radio on low. Pulled a faded grey t-shirt from your pajama drawer and tried not to look at Steve’s face rumpled at the bottom on a white t-shirt. Why hadn’t you thrown it away? He was so hard to let go.

With the football bear cradled to your chest, you wiggled under the covers and reached for the lamp. Your phone buzzed consecutively on the nightstand, causing pause. The plastic clicked on its hinges as it flipped open, and the sheets rustled when you shot up in bed.

u up?

tim is a fckn l0ser

answer

i’m sorry

The first time he called, you didn’t answer. You watched the small square light up with his name, felt the plastic shake in your palm with the force of its ring.

answer

Another call. You pressed the green button, but waited.

“Hello? Hey-hello?” His faded voice brought you from your daze.

You pressed the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Jesus, do you not read your texts?”

“Wh-what…why are you calling me?” Disbelief colored every syllable from your mouth.

Steve huffed. “I just…how much do you really know about this Tim guy?”

You looked at the bear sitting on your lap against the sheets. “About as much as I know about you, Steve.”

The line buzzed with quiet for a while. You played with the hem of the teddy bear’s shirt and gnawed on your lip. An ache balled in your chest when the thought of him hanging up occurred to you.

“Fair,” he said quietly.

Sighing, you shimmied under the covers again and reclined back against the headboard.

“Why are you calling me, Steve?” This time it was softer. You couldn’t give in to him anymore, but you had to hear him out. He never called you like this.

He never acted like he cared until now.

“Just…don’t wanna see you get hurt.”

You scoffed, pressing your palm against your head. Despite the way your heart pulsed with excitement, and the way your nerves locked up at the thought—you knew Steve didn’t mean any of it. He was just jealous. He wanted you as his personal plaything and he didn’t like to share.

You couldn’t swallow it anymore. You couldn’t keep biting your tongue to stay the perfect toy in hopes he might see you as more.

You had to end it.

“You already took care of that, Steve.”

You reveled in the buzzing silence of the other line for a beat.

“Goodnight,” you told him.

And you hung up the phone.

[theocddiaries]

Clark: Gosh, I had the opportunity of a lifetime and I wasted it. I'm such an idiot… Bruce: Oh, honey. You're not. Hey, what do you need? Anything, you name it. Dick: You could turn on the air conditioner. Bruce: I wasn't asking you. And I haven't gotten it fixed yet. Dick: You kidding? What does this family have against comfort? Bruce: The day has 24 hours, and I have 5 kids, the assholes in disguise who go out every fucking night to wreck this goddamned city, and now Clark's life crisis to add, okay? Do the math. Jason: He can't. He failed math. Bruce: You what? You failed math? Dick: You are dead. Jason: And you are dumb. He has to make it up in summer. Bruce: Summer? We're supposed to go to the lake next month! You just messed up the whole summer, Dick! Tim: I got all A's! Bruce: [soft]. Oh, baby, that's great. But I'm yelling at Dick right now. [Yells]. What the fuck is wrong with you?! How could you fail math? Dick: Because of the absences. Bruce: Absences? What absences!? I drop you off every morning! Dick: Yeah, you drop me off at the door. It’s another thing that I actually cross through the door. Bruce: Oh, you want to be a smartass? That's it. You're grounded without Nightwing, without Barbara, without acrobatics, and without anything you like. Want to make me miserable? Let's be miserable together! Dick: That's not fair! Bruce: Like hell is not! You're gonna have your nose in a book this whole summer, if I have to glue it to your goddamn face! You understand me? Am I speaking plain English, or did you flunk that with absences, too? Dick: No, I went to enough classes and I got a D-plus in English! Bruce: Oh, a D-plus! Well, let's have a fucking parade! Clark: Bruce… Bruce: I'm gonna hire a whole band for you, darling! [Imitates drums]. ♪ Three cheers for my D-minus son! ♪ Dick: D-plus! Damian: I'm sure your crisis seems insignificant now, right? Clark: Yes, that's why I moved here in the first place. Jason: So did I.

[flowercrowngods]

The Last Day.

Steve doesn’t remember what drove him here — he doesn’t remember a lot of things lately, not that he’s mentioned that to anyone. They don’t really question these things anymore. Fucky vision, nightmares without sleeping, or things that just get lost in the everyday grind of remembering to do normal things like eat or drink or where the fuck he put his glasses.

So, he doesn’t remember what drove him here, if he was supposed to get something or if he just needed to get out of the gym, needed to breathe some air that’s not filled with anxiety and grief and the pressure of survivor’s guilt and why and how and when around every corner, behind every door, underneath every donated item and in every bite of stale peanut butter sandwiches.

The library was never a place of comfort for him, and he honestly never really cared about it one war or another. If pressed for it, he couldn’t name five books in all of these shelves. He never really looked.

But now, in the semi-darkness, the empty shelves are somehow daunting. All useful books were taken, children’s books donated to all the families that stayed, all science books stolen by people who were sure they could fix this, could get behind this, could build generators and water refineries and all that shit.

Somehow, the negative space in these shelves draws him in, and he takes a deep breath. A breath that Dustin would like, probably. It smells like books. It smells old. It smells like, somehow, somewhere, there might still be a constant in this world. Something that will remain. Like maybe there will always be a library that smells of old books. No matter how often the world will end.

It’s a strange thought. But comforting. He trails the shelves, not really looking at the books, walking too fast still to make out the titles in the dim light, but he refuses to stop. He refuses to stand. To linger.

The next two rows are completely empty, and it makes him shiver. Robin probably has a name for the feeling. Maybe melancholy. Or maybe he’s just haunted. Susceptible to absence.

Or maybe they’re the same feeling.

Blindly, he reaches for a book, because his hands begin to tingle and he really needs something to do before his lungs catch up and his brain finds out that he’s somehow almost about to panic, or to relapse, or to drop to the floor if his legs don’t regain feeling soon.

He keeps walking, the book in hand. It’s a slim edition, bound in leather, and it feels really old. Looks like it, too.

Michael Bruce

He carefully flips it open, the old paper crackling with the movement, and he wonders briefly if this is the part of the library that’s usually watched like a hawk, the part where you’re not allowed to touch the books without supervision and certainly not without reason. Maybe. Maybe this Michael Bruce hasn’t seen a real face in a long time.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to find out that they’re mostly poems—and of course they are, old books are almost always filled with poems.

He opens the book at a random page, still needing to settle his hands, his heart, his mind. The title makes his heart drop. “The Last Day.”, it’s called; still his eyes glide over the lines, intrigued.

Twas on an autumn's eve, serene and calm. I walked, attendant on the funeral Of an old swain : around, the village crowd Loquacious chatted, till we reach'd the place Where, shrouded up, the sons of other years Lie silent in the grave. The sexton there Had digg'd the bed of death, the narrow house, For all that live, appointed. To the dust We gave the dead. Then moralizing, home The swains return'd, to drown in copious bowls The labours of the day, and thoughts of death.

Okay. Sure. So, maybe this Michael Bruce dude is not the best company when the world is sort of ending. But somehow Steve can’t stop reading, and for the first time he kind of doesn’t want to stop reading a poem. This one’s different anyway. This one just… it gets him.

Images of Barb flood his mind. Eddie. Chrissy. Max. Everyone who was lost, everyone who has an empty coffin in their grave and an NDA penned to their name.

To the dust We gave the dead.

The labours of the day, and thoughts of death.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to go back out there. Head to the gym and fold clothes and check the missing posters and make phone calls to find out, to make sure, to keep in touch. The labours of the day. The thoughts of death.

Shaking hands flip the pages, two at once, because he doesn’t want to live the last day; doesn’t want to hear about it. He needs to know how it ends, needs to make sure, needs to find out, just—

A pause ensued. The fainting sun grew pale, And seem'd to struggle through a sky of blood : While dim eclipse impaird his beam : the earth Shook to her deepest centre : Ocean rag'd, And dash'd his billows on the frighted shore. All was confusion. Heartless, helpless, wild.

Suddenly, what little light was left to stream through the windows disappears, stealing the words from beneath his eyes, and before he can look up and breathe, the door to the library bursts open, revealing a panicked Robin.

“Steve?”

“Robbie?”

“You… You better come see this.”

He hears it in her voice. The resignation. Oceans raging as the fainting sun grows pale. Confusion. Helpless, heartless, wild.

He closes Michael Bruce and runs toward her on numb legs, not ready to find out about the new apocalypse he’s gonna find outside the library. And seeing black skies through the windows and pale faces behind them, reflecting against the growing darkness, he wonders if he shouldn’t have skipped through the last day. The Last Day.

Terror in every look, and pale affright Sat in each eye ; amazed at the past, And for the future trembling.

Steve, too, is trembling. And Robin’s hand in his is shaking just as much.

Poetical works of Michael Bruce : with life and writings. William Stephen ed. 1895.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

You and me makes three

(or four, or five ...)

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 4

Prompts: Breeding Kink & Vibrator

Rated: E

Words: 1,359

Tags: Omegaverse; A/B/O dynamics; Alpha Steve; Omega Eddie; Mates; Mpreg; Pregnancy Kink; Breeding Kink; Vibrators; Knotting; Possessive Steve; Jealous Steve

Notes: Set in the same universe as Whatever you want it to be

“Steve. Stevie, c’mon. Wake up, please.”  

Steve shoots upright with a sound that's half snore and half growl, bleary eyes scanning the bedroom for threats. Then, his nostrils flare and the feral snarl gives way to a disbelieving frown. 

“What, seriously?” he asks. “Again?” 

Eddie shrugs. The movement makes more slick ooze from between his legs. Maybe he'd be embarrassed about it, if Steve's pupils didn't blow up like that, or if his scent didn't spike like it does. Or if he wasn't feeling this desperately, mind-numbingly horny.

“Sorry?” he says. “I'd take care of it myself, but it's getting kinda hard to reach, what with your kid in the way.” 

Being pregnant is fucking bizarre.

Eddie has tried to approach it with an open mind, once the initial shock wore off and Steve assured him he wasn't going anywhere. But now, six months in? The whole thing just continues to weird him out.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves Steve. He’s the most perfect alpha and mate Eddie could've asked for. He’s going to make an amazing father to this kid. Which Eddie is sure will be adorable. He just sort of wishes he could skip the part where he needs to grow it in his own belly, being forced to put up with another hormone-induced ridiculousness every other week.

Hell, he thought the morning sickness was bad. Or the mood swings. Or the inexplicable cravings for salt and vinegar potato chips at three in the morning. But this most recent thing is well and truly taking the cake. 

Steve yawns and grumbles, and Eddie can't say he blames him. The kid isn't even born yet and here he goes, robbing them both of their much needed sleep because his body has decided they need to get it on at least two times a day or perish. It’s fucking stupid! 

Still, Steve folds back the covers, pulls open the nightstand drawer, and slips closer. Eddie sighs in relief when his mate's naked body slots into his from behind, already hard and pressing against his entrance, right where he needs it. Only a second later, the warm, solid weight of Steve’s cock is joined by something else, something smoother and colder, and the sigh turns into a low moan. Steve laughs softly and kisses his naked shoulder as the dildo hums to life.

What did he say? Best goddamn alpha in the world. 

“This is so weird,” Steve murmurs as he pushes in, the combined girth of his cock and the toy stretching Eddie wide open, his free arm wrapping around the soft swell of Eddie’s belly to pull him close. “This was in none of the pregnancy books.” 

“I know, ri-?” Eddie starts to say, but needs to stop himself for the chirp that bubbles from his chest. He feels deliciously full, the low vibrations of the toy sending shivers all the way down his spine, making little fireworks sizzle low in his abdomen. “Right? Seriously, what the fuck? You’ve knocked me up already, not like you can put ano- … another one in there.” 

Steve, who has just started rolling his hips in lazy circles, goes very still. For a few seconds, the only sound in the bedroom is that of the dildo still humming away.

“What?” Eddie asks when he still hasn't moved after a while. “Steve, I swear to God, if you've fallen asleep with your dick inside of me I'll-” 

“No,” Steve blurts. “I'm awake. It's just …” 

He pauses to clear his throat and fidget, and that is when Eddie catches the change in his scent. Earthy and heady and distinctly aroused.  

“Oh God,” he groans. “Don't tell me that does it for you!” 

“What?” Steve mutters, and Eddie doesn't need to see his blush to know it's there. “You gotta admit, the thought is kinda hot.” 

His hand finds Eddie’s belly, splaying over the round shape of it, and Eddie’s own cock twitches treacherously.

“Shut up, it's not,” he says, even as the familiar feeling pools at the base of his spine, hot and tight and urgent. Steve chuckles, pressing his face into the crook of his neck and scraping his teeth over the mating bite there. 

“Your scent says otherwise, baby,” he murmurs, and Eddie can feel his smile against his skin as another chirp escapes him. “Just imagine … me stuffing you with my cock? Filling you up with my come, knotting you so good that not a single drop escapes? Breeding you round and full with my pups? I wonder how many I could put into you.” 

“Oh God,” Eddie groans, baring his neck for better access and rocking his hips back as Steve finally, finally starts moving his cock and the toy inside of him again. “You're such a weirdo.” 

Steve laughs, picking up speed. “Takes one to know one. Maybe that's the reason you can't get enough lately. Why no matter what I do, you never seem to be full enough. Why I need to use this thing…” 

He pauses to push the toy in further, hitting that spot deep inside that sends sparks of pleasure zapping all the way into Eddie’s fingertips and toes. 

“... to get you anywhere near satisfied for a few hours.” 

“Aw, don't tell me you're jealous,” Eddie says. He tries to sound teasing but it comes out a lot weaker than intended. It's difficult, being smart while Steve is taking him apart in all the best ways. “You know there's no need to, right? Not with your baby in my belly and your mark on my neck. I'm all yours and nobody else's, alpha.” 

Steve growls at the word, his summer forest scent filling the room like a tangible thing, and that is all the warning Eddie gets before the toy is pulled out and he finds himself flipped on his back, Steve's cock still inside of him, Steve’s lips claiming his for a hungry kiss.

“Nobody else’s,” Steve repeats. The bed frame creaks under the power of his thrusts as he fucks Eddie into the mattress. “All mine, forever and ever and ever.” 

Eddie can’t say he minds the thought one single bit. 

*

“You’re so beautiful like this, have I told you?” 

Dawn is starting to creep through the blinds of the bedroom window, but Steve keeps running reverent hands over Eddie’s belly, eyes full of awe, and Eddie preens under the attention. 

“Don’t mind if you tell me again, big boy.” 

Steve purrs, pushing back Eddie’s sweaty fringe so that he can kiss his forehead and the bridge of his nose. “Absolutely breathtaking. My mate, carrying my child. I’m gonna put so many in you.” 

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Eddie yawns, stretching his arms over his head and arching his back as well as he can. The movement makes Steve’s knot, still large and locked inside of him, catch deliciously. “Can we just try to make it one after the other? I like actually walking places instead of rolling. Call me old-fashioned, but it’s an ability I’m rather attached to.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Steve gives him a smug grin and rolls his hips. “There's another thing you're attached to right now, and that's my-.” 

Eddie slaps a hand in front of his mouth. “Ugh, you're such a dork. I hope the kid doesn't inherit your sense of humor.” 

Steve kisses his open palm. 

“I hope they inherit your everything,” he says, ridiculously earnest, and Eddie needs to bury his face in the sheets to hide the way his face ignites. 

“Whatever,” he mumbles at the pillows, ignoring how Steve’s chest quivers with barely concealed laughter. “Let's go back to sleep. Have you looked at the time?” 

“Says the one who woke me because he needed to get dicked,” Steve grumbles, but obediently pulls the covers over them, curling himself around Eddie. 

Silence descends over the bedroom, and Eddie loses himself in Steve’s soothing scent as he slowly begins to drift off again. 

“Don't listen to him,” he hears Steve whisper, just before sleep claims him. “I'm hilarious and he knows it.” 

A warm hand settles on his belly. 

“Sleep well. Can't wait to meet you.” 

More smutty September

[cherriesformatt]

you belong with me || matt sturniolo

mattxfem!reader

summary: reader is in love with matt but he has a bitchy ass girlfriend so she is just there for him every time he needs a friend

warnings: angst, fluff, a bit sad, kiss

word count: 1,5k

a/n: hi it's a first day of autumn! did not proof read yet

🍒

I walked in to my best friend's house as we were supposed to hang out this evening but as I walked up to the living room I heard some voices from his room. Sounded like he was on a phone walking around his room.

"I told you we were hanging out today, I saw you this morning and we went shopping. I did not see y/n for a week!" I heard Matt say.

His voice and tone told me him and Ginny were arguing again. About me. Again.

I sight and I already knew that our plan to hang out will go to hell because he will go and apologize to her. Thats how it was for a past 5 months of their dating.

It is not that I do not like her. I want Matt to be happy. I just feel like she is not what is good for him. She does not even know him and they have nothing in common. I do not even know how this whole thing happened.

When I saw him walking into the kitchen as I was sitting at the table I smiled lightly.

"Hi, I brought the coloring books we got last month and some snacks" I said.

"I-I am sorry y/n can we do it another day? I have to.."He looked at me with sad eyes.

"you have to go to see Ginny, I know. It is fine, 'course we can do it another time" I made myself to smile at him.

He not and juts turned around and left. Just like that. I left the bag with stuff I brought and let myself out as I closed the door behind me.

On Friday Nick asked me to come to one of the parties they have been invited to and I agreed. He told me I can wear whatever and that the party is at Jake's house. So nothing that fancy. I put my low rise jeans on and ransom baby tee that I got from Matt. I did my makeup as I usually do and left my hair down. I put on my sneakers and left my house to go and meet my friends at their house so we could take one car.

"Finally..." I heard Ginny sight as I walked into their living room.

"Hi, we can go, sorry there was a bit of a traffic" I said and smiled when I saw everyone.

"Are you going to change?" Ginny asked me and I looked at her questioningly.

"No? This is what I am wearing" I said and she only nod and took her purse.

She had on a very short dress and pair of platforms and her hair was done nicely as well as her makeup. She looked good, she always did. But the way she was always dressed was not my style at all.

"You look great, kid. Do not listen to her, your fit is fire" Chris said guilty to me as we were walking down to the garage. I looked back at him and just smiled to thank him.

"Can we play new carti's song? It's so good" I said to Matt as I lean in to the front seat. I was seating next to Nick in the back and Chris was seating behind us. Matt and Ginny were in the front.

"No, we're listening to my music" Ginny said and I looked at Chris as he looked at me. None of us liked her music taste.

Few days later Matt asked me to go for a midnight walk with him as we used to do all the time. I was so happy to finally spend time with him. He came to my house and we went out. We were talking and laughing and it felt as I did not see his smile for so long. My favorite smile of all.

"Matt are you okay?" I asked looking at him.

"Yes, why? Of course I am" He said and I nod.

Of course he was. He loved her.

"I need to tell you what dreams I had the other nigh.. I told Ginny but she always say my dreams are fucked up" He said.

I smile because we always were telling each other about dreams we had. I could listen to him for hours. And so I did.

After he walked me back and was about to go. He hugged me so tight that I almost gasped. I wrapped my arms around him and gently crossed his back.

"I missed this...spending time with you. I am so sorry y/n, I was bad friend" He said and stepped away a bit still holding me. I looked at his eyes and I swear I felt like his face was getting closer to mine.

"No worries Matt, all good. I am glad we could spend time now" I said and then he moved away. I wished he did not.

We said goodnights and he left. As I walked in to my room all the emotions I've been holding just left my body. I cried myself to sleep that night. I just wished I was the one that was making him happy.

I have been so busy with school and my job that I released two week passed from when I last time hang out with Nick, Chris or Matt. We have been texting on the group chat that we had since high school but Matt was pretty quiet on it.

I was finishing my shift as I saw Nick calling me. Nick never calls. I picked up.

"Everything okay?" I asked straight away.

"Not really. They broke up. I think he needs you. He won't talk to us" Nick said and my heart broke thinking of Matt not feeling well.

I drove straight to their house from the coffee store I worked at. I was still wearing my uniform. I wanted to be there as quick as I could. I walked in to the house holding a bag of pastries and trey off hot coco.

"Hi, is he in his room?" I asked as I saw Nick and Chris in the kitchen.

"Yes, thanks for coming here" Nick said.

"Of course, here thats for you" I gave them one bag and two cups with chocolate drink.

"Thank you y/n" Chris smiled and rubbed my arm. I nod and took a deep breath as I walked to his doors.

I knocked on it lightly.

"Come in" I heard so I did.

I looked around and Matt was laying on his bed. He was on his side and his head was laying on the pumpkin stuffy he got recently.

"Hi...Ho are you?" I asked and took a seat next to him.

"I brought you hot coco and your favorite donut" I said putting it on the shelf next to his bed.

"Better now... that you are here" He said and he moved and he put his head on my lap. My heart felt like it is going to explode. I sight and I gently started to scratch his head as I knew he liked. And I felt him relax. I smiled looking down at him. He looked like a big baby.

"She was not worth you" I whispered.

"I know" He simply said and that got me surprised.

"That is not why I have been sad. Honestly from the begging I knew she was not it. I mean we never really even had anything to do together. Every time I spent time with her I was thinking about talking to...well you" He said quietly and moved away.

He brought his body up to so he was now sitting in front of me.

"I am sorry y/n, this past two weeks.. All I could think about was how happy I felt on that walk with you how happy you made me feel how she never did" He said.

"And I know... I messed up so bed but... I wanna fix it... I want all of this again.. I want you... I want you more than a friend... I want..." He started but I just could not wait any longer. I grabbed his face and lean in to kiss him.

It felt like I was waiting for this moment for eternity of time. Cartwheels in my stomach were going crazy when he kissed me back. I tangle my hand back into his hair as I let him take control of the kiss.

When we moved away with heavy breaths I smiled at him. He brushed my hair out of my face and smiled as well.

"I was so scared you won't feel the same" He said.

"Well then you must be blind because I was feeling this way since we were 18" I said and he lean in to kiss my temple.

"What can I do to reward you my stupid behavior?" He asked and I smiled.

"Can we finally color the books that I brought you?" I asked and he laughed.

"Yes... you go change and I will get all the stuff" He said and smiled so bright at me that I felt like whole world disappeared for me and there was only him.

[mj0702]

For @helen-with-an-a and her master brain and for @valewosomtb because she's now officially allowed to run people over now

You just wanted to do something nice. For Ona. Who looked after you the whole week while Lucy was away all the way back in England to “get some things sorted” - namely selling the house Keira and she bought all those years back. The house you basically grew up in. But now was not the time to dwell on long gone things. Now was the time to worry. To worry about Ona. She was maybe small – but she was also damn scary.

You watched all them firefighters weaseling in and out of your (Onas and Lucys) house in their full firefighter clothes with breathing mask so they don't inhale all the smoke. The smoke you inhaled. Oh Lucy gonna be so pissed. You sat in the back of an ambulance, your arm bandaged all the way up to your shoulder an oxygen mask over your nose and mouth like you were starring in an episode of Grey's Anatomy. You looked up at the paramedic who smiled at you with pity in her eyes as she pulled another liquid into a new syringe

“Hey ehrm... quick question” you said your voice raspy as you pulled the mask from your face

“Yes?” the paramedic – who looked a LOT like princess norwegian – looked away from the medication and right at you

“Ehrm... how long will that take until everything is done and all of you guys are gone again?” you asked a little embarrassed

“You got a deep 2nd degree burn and a smoke in your lungs and you really want us to go?” the dark haired medic asked confused

“Yeah...” you looked up shyly

“Yeah sorry that's not going to happen” the woman said smiling slightly “... we need to take you into hospital but we have to wait for an adult that gives us consent to do so... so no, we won't leave in the next few minutes”

“I'm an orphan...” you quickly said

“Oh please” the dark haired woman snorted “... you really think we don't know who you are? If I have to I contact Alexia Putellas”

“Ona is going to kill me” you mumbled as you pulled the mask back over your nose

“Ona Batlle” the paramedic asked as she pushed the liquid into you IV

“Yeah...” you croaked under your mask before you started to cough

“Looks like you're out of luck...” the spanish paramedic smirked nodding towards the end of the street where you could see a black Cupra with an open drivers door and a blonde woman sprinting up the hill towards the scene

“Fuck me... hide me....” you coughed “... better... kill me... you're probably way softer about it... she'll just rip me head off”

“The panicked expression on her face tells me she won't rip your head off” the woman smiled after she took a quick glance at Ona

“That's her disguise... she always looks nice and friendly and approachable but no no....” you croaked out “... she's pure evil... small... but pure evil... she didn't allow me dessert the last three nights”

“So evil” the woman snorted “... is that why you tried to get into her good books again?”

“No.. that was supposed to be just a thank you” you mumbled

“Bebita...” Ona suddenly appeared next to the ambulance her face panicked her breathing labored

“I swear I had good intensions” you immediately said shuffling back a little bit

“Are you okay?” the blonde spaniard asked checking you over “Your arm... what's with your arm?”

“2nd degree burn... we have to take her in but we needed an adult to give consent” the paramedic woman said trying to keep her face neutral but everyone could see the smirk that was forming on her lips

“Yes yes of course...” Ona said quickly “... take her”

“What?” you squeaked out shocked “... you can't let them take me”

“To the hospital Bebita... I promise I'm right there with you okay?” the blonde said gently

“Just hop in... you can ride with us” the dark haired woman said and immediately Ona stepped into the Ambulance

“Ona.....” you whined as you saw the doctors and nurses speed walking past your hospital bed

“It's okay Bebita” Ona said softly holding your left hand her thumb stroking over your knuckles in a calming manner

“No.... everything went wrong” you felt tears prickle in your eyes

“I don't care what happened Bebé...” the spaniard said gently “.... all that matter is that you are okay”

“No...” you chocked out

“No? What you mean no?” Ona asked confused

“I ruined everything” you sobbed as Ona started to brush your tears away

“No no Bebita... everything is okay... you are okay and that's I need” the blonde kept her voice soft

“I swear I just tried to make something good” you kept crying and at one point Ona realized it was the painkillers that made you cry

“Something good hm?” Ona smiled when she saw how the pain medication kicked in

“I wanted to make you paella” you sobbed heartbreakingly “... like you always make it”

“Oh Bebita” the blonde sighed

“I went with Mapí to the market thingy to buy sea creatures and that was a disaster because Mapí bought a whole fin thing” you started to ramble while Ona had to bite her lip hard to not burst out laughing “... a WHOLE one... with all the inside stuff... when she asked if I wanted a whole fin thing I thought she meant like... not whole...”

“Hm...” Ona just hummed amused

“... and then we got some of them... crab snippy thingies... the bigger ones... the ones that always look at Lucy when she eats them” you kept on rambling not even caring that Ona had to work really hard not to burst out laughing at your misery “... and I said “just two” and Mapí talked speed spaniard and you know I can't follow speed spaniard”

“I know Bebita... your spanish got very good” the blonde praised you but you didn't even noticed it as you just kept on talking

“... I wanted to snippy snappies not two kilo... so I had a whole fin thing with inside stuff and a bag full of snippy snappies... and Maps was so proud of herself that she was the bestest translator that I couldn't tell her she got it all wrong” you sniffed

“What happened then?” Ona asked keeping you occupied since you didn't even noticed the nurse that started to change your bandage

“Well... I went to the beach and made a snippy snappie race to see which ones are the slowest so I wouldn't kill the best ones... they have the best chance to survive... so I let them free on the beach but they didn't race each other... they... just ran in different directions and in the end I had no snippy snappies” you sobbed “... but I still had the fin thing so I went home and thought I just make rice with fin thing for you and order burger for me... I don't like fin thing... bleh”

“I know Bebita... you don't like fish... or sea food in general” the blonde smiled

“So when I came home I had to... cut..” you started to heave

“Deep breath Bebita....” Ona said calming

“Do you know how much things fin things have inside them... so so many things” you gagged again “so I got all the insides outside and I figured we need an alligator so the insides just don't lay around on the outside in the kitchen”

“An alligator? You could have also just used the trash bin” the blonde chuckled

“His name is Jesús... he'll be such a good gator...” you said wishfully as a doctor checked out your arm making you wince in progress

“So you really prepared a fresh fish for me Bebita” Ona said distracting you from the pain

“Yeah... it was really bleh...” you scrunched up your nose your eyes glassy

“So... how did you end up occupying a whole fire department?” the blonde mused

“Oh yeah... so I made the rice yeah... I followed the YouTube steps to the brim...” you got back on track of your retelling what happened “... and put the fin thing in the pan... and then I remembered that I saw that thing on that show...”

“That thing on that show?” Ona asked confused

“Yeah... you know...” you showed a pan swivel motion

“No.. I don't but please continue” the blonde shook her head

“So I looked in Lucys adult cupboard...” you started again

“Wait... Bedroom or living room??” Ona interrupted quickly

“There's an adult cupboard in the bedroom?” you asked confused tilting your head

“No... no... absolutely not” the blonde back paddled quickly shaking her head

“Oh... okay... alcohol is not good in the bedroom... only alcoholics have alcohol in the bedroom” you slurred “... so I went to get some of the alcohol and put it in the pan like they always do in the show”

“Oh god...” Ona groaned suddenly knowing what you were talking about

“So I tried to make it extra crispy but it wouldn't... poof you know” you looked at Ona but in reality you looked through her “... so I took a match and threw it in there and then it went... poof... big poof”

“Oh Bebita” the blonde started to pinch the bridge of her nose

“I tried to extinct the fire but then my sweater got very warm and it got very... smoky and yeah... next thing I know is that the men with the heavy boots kicked in the door” you at least had the audacity to look guilty

“Bebita... I really appreciate you going out of your way to make dinner for me but PLEASE don't get yourself in danger like that” Ona said seriously but you were already looking in the other direction

“Did you know we are in a hospital?” you asked looking around in awe

“I'm feeling like I lived through that before” the blonde mumbled as you pointed at an exit sign

“That's so pretty” you said in awe “Pretty green”

“Mhm...” Ona hummed stroking over your forehead trying to calm you down so much that you fall asleep

“You’re also very pretty…. Pretty spaniard” you slurred

“That would be Alexia but thank you Bebita” Ona chuckled

“Oni...” you mumbled “... I'm getting sleepy”

“Then sleep Bebita” the blonde whispered gently hoping you would listen to her

“But the green is so pretty” you mumbled your eyes darting back to the exit sign

“I'll get you your very own pretty green sign if you close your eyes and sleep for a few minutes” Ona said softly

“Okay” you sighed deeply closing your eyes falling asleep instantly

“No Lucy... she's not badly hurt” you heard Ona speaking softly her thumb still running over your knuckles “.... her arm is burned and she inhaled a bit of smoke but the docs say she'll be good in a week or so”

You made a low whining sound resulting in Ona looking up and over at you

“She's waking up...” the blonde said into the phone “... I'll call you later okay? Yeah... Love you too”

“Hey Bebita... how are you feeling?” Ona asked softly

“Me throat hurts” you whine still half asleep

“That was to be expected Bebé” the blonde hummed stroking over your cheek

“I really didn't mean to cause trouble” you mumbled ashamed

“I know Bebita....” Ona kept her voice soft “.... but Lucy and I decided that you'll take some cooking lessons... with my Mamí”

“It was all Mapís fault...” you whined “... she started the whole fuck up with buying the wrong fish”

“We'll work on your cooking okay?” the blonde said gently seeing how your eyes start to fall shut once again “... sleep some more Bebita... I'll be here when you wake up again”

“Hey Bubs...” you heard a soft voice next to you “... open your pretty eyes for me okay?”

“Five more minutes” you mumbled trying to turn away just to turn onto your burned arm making you shoot up clutching your arm in pain

“Easy Bubs...” Lucy reacted quickly moving your hand away from your bandaged arm “... easy... breath Bubs”

“Owie” you whined tears shooting into your eyes

“Yeah.... you really outdid yourself this time” your sister chuckled “... Keira is not happy”

“Owie” you whined again

“Mhm...” Lucy hummed “... I just woke you up so I can force some more medication down your throat”

“No” you looked at your sister pitifully

“Yes...” your sister smiled gently “... come on Bubs... just two pills and then you can sleep again”

“Lucy” you whined just realizing your sister sitting next to your bed – your own bed “... when did I go home?”

“I got you home last night” Lucy smiled still holding two pills in her palm

“I....” you looked confused

“I know... you were dead to the world” your sister chuckled “Open”

“Nooooo” you whined pulling your head away from Lucy

“Bubs you know I will get these pills down your throat” Lucy said gently grabbing your chin “It's either you take them or I'll make you OR I'll get Keira... you have to take them... one is a painkiller and one is an antibiotics”

“You're so mean” you huffed but opened your mouth

“I know... good girl” your sister smiled popping the pills into your mouth holding out a glass of water “... swallow”

“I'm not Ona” you grumbled as you grabbed the glass

“Don't start....” Lucy warned you but still smirked “... open”

You opened your mouth showing your sister you swallowed the pills

“Good.... now... will you behave when Ona changes your bandages?” your sister asked

“It won't hurt right?” you asked scared

“No.... the nurses showed us how to do it” Lucy said gently as Ona entered the room carrying several bandages and creams

“No no no no no” you said as you saw the materials shuffling away from where Ona put the stuff down

“It's okay Bubs” your sister said calmly “... it's not going to hurt”

“I don't like that” you tried to get away but Lucy quickly got you and just pulled you in between her legs so you have know chance to run

“It's okay.... it won't hurt” Lucy repeated over and over again

“No Lucy please” you sobbed as your sister hugged you tightly into her

“Okay... okay... calm down” your sister said quickly “... we won't do it”

Ona shot Lucy a quick look and Lucy just shook her head before she returned to whisper sweet nothings against your temple to calm you down

“I thought we won't change...” Ona started half an hour later

“.... she's out cold... of course we change her bandages...” Lucy said as she carefully held your arm for Ona to unwrap it

“She's going to kill us” the blonde catalan mumbled working as quickly as she could

“We'll let her call Alexia later... she'll wake up high as a kite again.... she'll be so happy to talk to the “pretty spaniard” for as long as she wants” your sister grinned making her girlfriend chuckle

“I'm sorry Lucy... I really am” Ona said her voice low as she carefully pulled the compresses off your arm cleaning the burn

“What are you sorry for?” Lucy asked confused still holding your arm

“You trusted me with her... she got hurt... I should've...” the blonde started her voice breaking slightly

“Babe no... no no no” your sister quickly interfered “... it's not your fault”

“You left her under my watch and she got hurt... how can it not be my fault?” Ona sniffled lightly as she started to wrap your arm back up

“She's a klutz Babe... no one holds you responsible... not Keira... not Bubs... and definitely not me” Lucy said seriously “... you know how often she got hurt just because I turned around for a second... trouble finds her... I swear there's ONE glass shard on the whole beach... I guarantee you you she'll steps into it...”

“I got so scared when I saw all these firefighter trucks and ambulances....” the blonde confessed lowly “... I got scared for her but then I also got scared you could hate me”

“I could never hate you Baby... I love you” your sister said softly as she gently placed your arm back down

“.... now let get out of here and let her sleep and I show you just how much I love you” Lucy smirked pulling Ona out of the room while you snored peacefully

[lazywitchling]

“So much death. What can men do against such reckless hate?”

(Yes I did just order a pot pie from the chicken fast food place. I’m watching 12 hours of movies, I ain’t cooking a whole pot pie!)

Okay. Look.

When I was younger, my cousin bitched about elves at Helm’s Deep not being in the book, but I didn’t think it mattered because it’s cool and I liked elves and it made me the fun kind of sad when Haldir died.

But now I get why. (I mean, ultimately it’s a fictional story so it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of life, blah blah, you get the drill. I will complain about this, but I don’t care if you like it, ya dig?)

So here’s the thing. Theoden’s whole storyline throughout this movie and into the next is that he does not believe anyone will help him. Gondor could have come to save his people, but they didn’t. Rohan was left on its own, and people died, and that sucks. So Theoden has succumbed to the depressive thoughts of “We’re all gonna die anyway, why bother fighting?” (Hey that’s a major— actually THE major point of this whole story!!) He has hidden his people away to hide because he knows fighting is futile because they will be alone.

It’s a big deal when he agrees to go out and fight alongside Aragorn as the Uruks are about to overwhelm the keep. I said last year, Tolkien’s brand of hope is the difference between “I only have one hit point left :(“ and “I still have one hit point left >:)” Theoden STILL has no reason to believe help is coming, but he chooses to act like it is anyway, because the alternative is just curling up and dying right there. And he is rewarded, because Gandalf shows up with reinforcements!! Eomer, who has every reason to hate Theoden, brought all the riders to help! Everyone is saved! Hooray!!

But the damn elves show up in the middle of Theoden’s “Aw nobody will help us :(“ thing. And then elf help arrives. And he goes “Yay, help is here!!” And then nobody really mentions the elves again except for Haldir’s brief dying scene, and Theoden is right back in his “Aw nobody will help us :(“ thing. It just slaughters the pacing of the story, and Theoden’s arc along with it.

Furthermore, the elves say they were sent by Elrond, who has chosen to have the elves fight alongside mortals once again to honor old alliances! Except that Elrond isn’t really participating in this portion of his own character arc, and in fact doesn’t reach that “idk maybe mortals aren’t so bad after all” point until RotK. So it’s somehow fully out of character for him at this point even though he’s not even there.

ADDITIONALLY, it fucks up ARWEN’S story, because the whole thing with her is that she has to choose between sailing to the undying lands and being with her people forever but losing Aragorn, or staying with Aragorn who will eventually die and then she has no one left and no way to get to the undying lands and will never see her family again and will just live until the heat death of the universe. See, I’m pretty sure (don’t quote me on this) that there’s like… a respawn thing that happens with Tolkiens elves. They’re not only ageless, they’re unkillable. They CANT die. That’s why Arwen’s choice is so difficult. She couldn’t even live out life with him and then jump off a bridge after he dies so she doesn’t have to see the heat death of the universe. She’s literally stuck.

But friggin Haldir takes a sword to the head and has a sad death moment, and then I’m left wondering why everyone is pestering Arwen so much. If elves can die, then she has no problem.

I’m pretty sure it messes up other storylines too, but my pot pie is getting cold.

[distantdarlings]

LET ME // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.8K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* Theodore Nott has been harassing you ever since he found out you had a crush on him. Now, you’ve been paired together for a project for McGonagall’s class and he has nothing good in mind.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! (P in V), unprotected, sub!reader, Dom!Theo, slightly rough!dom!Theo, marking kink, slight size kink, bulge kink, brief dumbification, brief spit kink, reader wearing a skirt, light enemies to lovers, language, one (1) slap, name-calling, praise kink, slight degradation, public sex, fem!reader, oral (fem!receiving), Theo is persistent, not proof read (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Echo - XANU

- - -

Merlin, forgive whatever you had done to deserve the treatment you were currently receiving.

You thought back on every negative deed you’d done in the last year and still hadn’t found anything worthy of your horrendous luck.

The arrogant boy turned to stare you down, malicious intent etched into the unfortunately gorgeous features of his face.

You could feel your face contort into an expression of horror as you tore your eyes away from him and turned to Professor McGonagall.

“Professor, I— you started.”

“All partner decisions are final—no exceptions!” McGonagall finished, as if trying to answer the question you had before you could even voice.

You deflated into your seat, your mood dropping like a brick. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have guessed the entire class was staring at you. The entire student body of Hogwarts knew how you felt about your new Transfiguration project partner, Theodore Nott. The bastard…

You glanced back at up—arms crossed and lips poured—just to find the boy still staring you down, evil smirk painted on his lips. He gave you a sardonic wave, wiggling his fingers tauntingly.

“Fuck,” you sighed, pressed an exasperated fist to your forehead.

Your knee anxiously bobbed beneath the desk, the heel of your uniform shoe beating against the floor in a flurried rhythm.

Luna Lovegood, your best friend, was sitting directly next to you. Intuitive as she always was, you knew she could feel the pure panic radiating off of you. Her hand rested on your shoulder in a small motion of comfort, but nothing could calm you now. You were utterly screwed.

McGonagall finished off the rest of her speech on the instructions for her project, then dismissed the whole class. Luna helped you to gather your things together as you struggled to force yourself to move.

Maybe you’d pissed McGonagall off? Merlin, what had you done to deserve this? You asked yourself the same question over and over again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you glimpsed Theodore flouncing over to you with an unnerving glint in your eyes.

“Well, aren’t I just the luckiest man on earth?” he said snidely.

“Fuck off, Theo,” you growled, intentionally not making eye contact with him.

You made to pick up your books and slide them into your bag, when he slammed his hand down on the cover of one of them, pressing them down against the desk. He pinned your fingers beneath them against the wood—just enough to keep them sturdy, but light enough so that it didn’t hurt you.

“Stop!” You yanked your fingers out from beneath the books, the heavy leather smacking against the table with a thud. Now, you made eye contact with him.

“What are we going to do our project on, baby?” he asked.

“Don’t call me that!” You yanked your books out from underneath his strong hold and shoved them quickly into your bag. “We can discuss it in the library after class.”

“I’m looking forward to it—I’ll be sure we get a quiet corner, you know…,” he stepped closer to you, “…so I can explore every inch of…the subject.”

You sneered in disgust and pulled away from him, his voice still rattling in your ears.

“You’re disgusting,” you scoffed. “I’ll see you later for nothing more than our assignment.”

“Looking forward to it…can’t wait to put those big brains to use. Lovegood.” He nodded politely to Luna before heading off.

You glanced at Luna and acknowledged her slight smile. Everything in you was telling you to snap at her and tell her not to encourage any of the delinquent boy’s behavior, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to ever be very mad at Luna Lovegood. At least, not for long.

Instead, you rolled your eyes and took off toward the door, bag swinging between your shoulder blades.

“Wait up, friend!” Luna shouted lightly, running to catch up with you. You snorted and laughed at her, letting her sunlight hair fall into step beside you.

- - -

By the time your class of the day dismissed and the sun had begun to sink beneath the Hogwarts skyline, you were soaked through with nerves. The saturation of your anxiety had managed to breach every protective barrier you held up, and fill your hands with shudders and your stomach with nausea.

The root of your nerves when it came to Theo came from the consistent comments he insisted on making toward you. It seemed that he loved nothing more than dropping sexual hints into your ear every few days just to watch you squirm. He’d only started this after he’d heard through the grapevine you had a bit of a thing for him.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive, and that his words had absolutely no effect on you, but you couldn’t deny that he was just as annoying as he was charming.

It had gotten to a point when he made these comments, that he loved to joke aloud about your reactions to him, effectively embarrassing you in front of all of your peers. That was your final straw. All resemblance of an attraction toward Theo had melted away and been replaced by hatred.

And yet, as your feet led you to the grand library, you couldn’t stop the rapid pattering of your heart beat. Something about the boy had always been so…irresistible to you. Whether it was the way he always knew where to place his hands when he “accidentally” brushed you, or how he knew exactly what to say when he pressed his lips against the shell of your ear. You figured you should be grossed out and tell him to get away from you, but, unfortunately, you kind of liked it when he did those things.

As you came up to one of the several library doors lining the wall before you, you decided to try and swallow your nerves and focus only on the project. That was what you were supposed to do anyway—this wasn’t a date.

You pulled one of the doors open and slipped into the warmly-lit room. It always seemed to be just a tad bit cozier here than anywhere else in the castle—whether that was from the multiple fireplaces or the sweet aroma that floated through the air. Either way, you loved it.

Your neck craned as you glanced about, trying to glimpse the cocky boy, but to no avail. Wherever he was, he surely wasn’t interested in making it easy on you to find him.

A sigh left you as you started toward the back of the library where a couple tables rested behind a few conveniently placed bookcases. Unfortunately, the feeling in your stomach told you that he surely would be sitting at one of those tables, simply because you knew how his dirty, little mind worked.

That corner of the library was…infamous for its concealed nature. Everyone in Hogwarts had heard the little rumors that fluttered about, of couples getting a bit too friendly with each other while the librarian was downstairs.

Because of those rumors, it had garnered a reputation. And if someone who had a penchant for gossip slipped past you and Theodore Nott studying back there, you’d be screwed.

Once you passed the last book case, zigzagging between the three that formed the perfect labyrinth, you came upon Theo comfortably waiting at the table in the middle. A groan of defeat left you and your head dipped back. You stared at the ceiling for a few moments while contemplating your options—you could still run away.

“Hello, beautiful,” Theo said, leaning his chin down on his propped up fists. “I’ve been waiting so impatiently for you.”

“Whatever,” you sighed. You crossed over to the table and sat across from him—the farthest away you could get. Your bag collapsed to the ground and unzipped itself on the way down. The things you needed for this assignment floated out and landed neatly on the table before you, including a few rolls of parchment, a quill and ink, and your books.

He marveled silently, seemingly trying to hide his fascination at your wandless magic. Perhaps if he studied as hard as you did, he would also be able to achieve it.

“Alright, shall we do this?” you asked, maintaining a bored expression.

“I’d love to,” he smirked. “But I’d love to showcase a bit of my magic as well, if that’s alright with you?”

“What—?” Your voice was cut off with a slight gasp as all four legs of your chair lifted off of the ground. Your fingers wrapped around the sides of your seat to keep you from slipping off.

Theo’s eyes followed your chair as it floated over the table and all the way beside him. Once your shoulders were inches from his, your chair dropped a few centimeters to the ground. A small yelp came from you as you regained your balance and glared at him. Perhaps he was a better wizard than you thought.

“What the hell, Theo?” you demanded, immediately scooting your chair away from him, putting a good few inches between you.

“I just thought we’d be able to work better closer together,” he purred, his arm dropping against the table to cage you against him and the bookshelf a bit to your left. You eased away from him so you were closer to the shelves than you were to him. His eyes never dropped from yours. “Merlin, what is that smell? You smell absolutely divine—”

“Okay, let’s just get this done,” you interrupted him, pushing his approaching body back away from you.

“Mm, alright,” he smiled. “Have you decided on a topic you’re interested in presenting on?”

“Actually, I have.” You pulled your books across the table over to where the two of you were sitting, flipping everything to the appropriate page. There were a couple pages in your notebook where you’d jotted some ideas down earlier today, and you’d figured he’d want to see the different ideas, as it was his grade, as well. “So, I threw a couple of ideas together in my fourth period. We can see what you think of them…”

As you explained the details of all of your ideas, it became increasingly obvious that Theo was not at all interested in what you had to say about the project. Though you refused to look directly at him, the corner of your eyes granted more than enough knowledge.

Theo’s eyes were ravenous as they drew down your body, curving across the most private areas of your body with no shame. You could feel your cheeks burning, but hoped the warm tones from the candles around you would conceal that.

When he scooted a bit closer to you, you kept talking. And when he laid his arm across the back of your chair, you kept talking. And when his fingers began to toy with the ends of your hair, you kept talking. But when he took your quill gently from your fingers and set it down on the table, you finally stopped. You barely made eye contact with him, constantly glancing away and down to the table. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears.

His fingers pulled away from your hair and dropped to your shoulder. They squeezed the hard muscles a few times.

“God, you seem tense,” he spoke lowly, his voice barely above a whisper. His other hand reached up and matched the opposite’s position on your other shoulder.

When he placed a gentle amount of pressure, it expressed a small sigh from your lips. He was right. You were very tense—in general, but especially around him.

“Here, let me…,” he stood and appeared behind you rather quickly.

“Theo, I don’t think this is appropriate. I’d really just—” Your voice cut off as soon as he began to roll your taut muscles beneath his nimble fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, pleasurable jolts of pain shocking across your neck and down your back.

“That’s okay, baby,” he whispered, dangerously close to your ear. “Finish telling me about your idea. I’ll just loosen some things up back here. Fuck, you’re so tight.”

He pressed an especially hard drive against your skin. You bit back a moan at the sensation. You don’t think you’d ever had a better massage in your life.

You wanted to tell him to stop, but it felt so fucking good. And you really were sore around your neck and shoulders.

“Theo?” you tried again.

“Read.” His voice had a commanding tone to it. One hand released your shoulder briefly to grab your books and slide them closer to you, before returning to its position against your skin.

His hands worked their way up around your jaw, cupping it gently, so he could press his thumbs against the back of your neck. You audibly sighed this time without intending to. Embarrassed, you attempted to cover it up with a clear of your throat.

You began to explain the rest of your project plan, small shudders rippling through your voice every time he’d hit an especially sore spot.

By the time he finished and pulled his hands away from you, your body was mourning the loss of him but relishing in the relief it felt. It honestly hadn’t felt far off from a professional massage.

“How’s that?” He walked around to your side, still not sitting back down.

“Er, good,” you chuckled nervously, rubbing your hand along the back of your neck, trying to spread the relief around.

“Perfect,” he smiled, gently swiping his index finger beneath your chin. He sat back down beside you.

“So, what do you think?” you asked.

“About what?”

“The project idea…”

“Oh, yeah, I think it’s wonderful,” he said, shrugging a bit. “I think we can work with it.”

“Theo, did you even listen?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

“Of course, I did,” he chuckled. “It’s just not easy to focus when you have such a gorgeous partner.”

There went your cheeks getting insanely hot again. He thought you were gorgeous? There was no way. Someone must have put him up to this, right? Or he was fucking with you because he knew you had had a bit of a crush on him.

“I—er…” you stuttered hopelessly, pulling your eyes away from his.

He placed a hand on your knee. You could feel the warmth of his skin through your tights. The heartbeat in your ears picked up wildly.

“Don’t be nervous around me.”

“What?” you laughed suddenly. “I’m not nervous, I’m just—you’re just really…friendly? I don’t know. Why are you pretending to be so interested in me? Did someone put you up to it?”

“Why would someone have put me up to flirting with you?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Because they know I had a thing for you,” you blurted before thinking. “I mean—”

“Nope! Can’t take it back now, my love.” Theo chuckled, an evil smirk printing across his lips. “And, for the record, no one put me up to flirting with you. I just want to.”

His hand slid up to the top of your knee as he leaned a bit forward.

“Theo!” you hissed. “We’re in the library—you can’t do that.” Though you verbally protested his actions, you couldn’t deny the heat building in your stomach at his touch.

Despite the conviction you had for needing to decline him and all of his advances, you couldn’t seem to suppress the need you felt for him right now—a different kind. His eyes remained on yours and refused to look away.

The two of you were in the library, and had seemed to despise each other’s company only minutes earlier, but for some reason, you couldn’t force yourself to stop his rising hand.

Soon, his fingers were toying with the edge of your skirt and his lips were millimeters from your own. You could feel his gentle breath against your cheeks.

“Theo…,” you shuddered at his proximity. His thumb slid slowly down the side of your thigh, the contact eliciting chills along your legs.

“You’ve wanted me for months,” he murmured, lips brushing against yours. “Are you finally going to let me fuck you?”

You gasped slightly as the tip of his thumb just barely brushed your core through your panties.

“Say yes, or I’m not going to touch you anymore.”

As if on cue, his hands pulled back from you and his mouth seemed to hover a few inches away. The cold air hit the spot his hand had been occupying on your thigh and sent a row of shivers up your spine.

“I don’t understand. Is this a joke?” you shuddered.

He shook his head slowly. “Not a joke, I just want you. Say yes, baby.”

“Y—” before you were even able to get the singular syllable out, his lips were pressing against yours and devouring them like a predator.

His hand found its place against your thigh again, the other hand following suit on the other thigh. He pushed them up the expanse of your skin, inching your skirts up in the process.

You moaned against his lips in embarrassment at the sudden loss of dignity.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he sighed against your mouth. “Let me taste you.” He pressed his lips roughly back to yours.

You gasped for air and pulled away, noses brushing against the other. “Say please,” you managed to choke out.”

“What?”

“Say please,” you repeated. “What, did you think I was going to come here and just give you whatever you wanted?”

“Oh, that’s how you’re going to be?” he smirked. You stared back astutely, not yielding to any teasing he tried to give.

“Alright, baby,” he conceded. He pulled himself closer to you and worked his way up your neck and to your ear, pressing chaste kisses against your flesh. “Please let me taste this sweet cunt. ‘ve been dreaming about it for months.”

You shivered at his words before nodding. You weren’t in your right mind—you couldn’t be.

He slid out of his chair and dropped to his knees. His hands wrapped around your hips and yanked you to the edge of the seat. His fingers pushed your skirt up around your hips and angled you up toward his face, pulling your legs over each of his shoulders.

The cool air flushed against the hot wetness slathered across your thighs. But the shock of wintry air was canceled out quickly by Theo’s hot mouth placing against your clothed core.

Your head fell back against the chair as your hands flew to his honeyed curls.

He swirled his lips across you, gathering your lust on his tongue. Each time you let a little moan slip, he’d echo you with his own louder one. It wasn’t loud enough to be heard anywhere else in the library, but it was enough to vibrate against you and send your head spinning.

The second your thighs began to shake on either side of his sharp jaw, he pulled away from you, leaving you bare and wanting.

“Turn around,” he panted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Obstinately, you held your chin up and refused to obey him. You wanted to appear strong and resistant as payment for how much of a dick he’d been to you, but with your quivering lips and legs still spread wide for him, you figured you didn’t quite get the point across.

He suddenly grabbed your jaw in one hand, while undoing his belt buckle with the other. Anticipation boiled in your belly.

“Turn around,” he said before suddenly and mockingly tilting his head to the side. “Or do you not understand what’s good for you?”

When you said nothing, he pulled you out of the chair and bent you over the library table. You yelped as your chest collided with the table.

Once on your stomach, he flipped your skirt over against your back and ripped your panties and stockings down your legs until the soaked things were stuck around your ankles.

Then, without another warning, he was sliding into you and stretching you wide. You gasped aloud and gripped at the smooth table, begging to find purchase on anything.

He moaned slightly at the way you clenched around him. He pushed himself into you a little more with each slow thrust, the movement splitting you down the middle. His hands held you tightly in place by your hips, pinning you down against the table.

“Shit, you feel fucking perfect,” he moaned, fingers gripping into your flesh.

Every alarm bell was ringing in your head, telling you to separate and cover yourselves, because you were in public. But, for some reason, you found yourself loving the thrill of possibly being walked in on; of possibly being found with Theodore Nott buried deep inside of you, taking his pleasure from your body.

By the time he’d finally bottomed out inside of you, he was panting and willing himself not to come prematurely.

“I’ve never felt anything this tight,” he groaned.

You hadn’t been able to see the size of him before he started pushing into you, but you had to guess he was the biggest you’d ever felt. Just having his hips pressed to your ass felt like the tip of him was brushing your cervix.

“Ah, fuck, wait,” he said, panting heavily. He rubbed your back as he slowly pulled all the way out of you and stood you up. He turned you around to face him and laid your back against the table.

He brought your legs around him and you hooked them together behind his back. You watched him with deep admiration as his fingers stroked up and down your legs, preparing to explain what he wanted.

“I want to watch me fill you up,” he whispered, leaning down to press a slow kiss to your lips. It was sweet and thick with saliva but, despite everything else he’d so far, this set off a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

His hands came away from your legs and wrapped around your waist. He watched addictively as his fingers wrapped entirely around your body, his large hands positively dwarfing your small frame. And you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes fill with an inky, black glint as he brought his hips to the underside of your thighs.

He placed his dick on your stomach, reveling in how far up your stomach it went. He moaned at the sight and pulled your right leg up and over his shoulder. He pressed a small kiss to the side of your calf.

“Theo,” you whined, still reeling from the loss of him inside of you. “Please, no more teasing.”

“Be patient, baby,” he whispered against your leg. “I want to remember this moment.”

“Theo,” you urged once more. But his hand came down hard against the outer side of your thigh. You yelped at the pain that radiated down the side of your leg.

“I said to be patient.” He soothed the pain gently with his fingers, still looking down at how big he looked compared to you.

One of the things he’d always had on you was height. No matter if the things he said were stupid and undermining, you couldn’t deny that his size was enough to have the high ground.

“Look, we don’t have all the time in the world,” you sighed, leaning up on your elbows to speak with him. “The librarian could walk in here at any—”

He pushed back into you, choking any other words in your throat. You gasped and fell back against the wooden table, the cold lacquer biting into your flesh.

“Fuck,” Theo all but whined. He pressed his fingers against your lower abdomen where his dick had created a perfect impression. Every time he pulled out then pushed back in, his sheer size forced the body wall up and simultaneously probed a spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling backward.

Without wasting another second, he picked up his pace while dropping his hands down to your still-tucked in uniform shirt. He ripped the material out from beneath the waistband of your skirt, and ripped the buttons apart.

The candles floating overhead illuminated the curves and dips of your stomach, highlighting The valley of your breasts.

Hips still pistoning into you, and left hand holding your waist still, his right hand reached forward again and ripped the clip of your bra apart. Luckily, you’d worn the front access one today.

At the force of the destruction, your breasts fell apart from one another, bouncing against your dampened chest.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Gonna mark this beautiful body. Gonna let everyone know you’re mine. My girl.”

His words sent shockwaves through your system. You tried to reach for him but you couldn’t reach. Your arms fell back down against the table, your lack of anything to hold on to leaving you completely at the mercy of the pace he decided to set.

“T-Theo,” you stuttered, your voice breaking beneath the weight of his abuse.

He leaned down, pushing himself all the way into you for a moment, and latched his lips around a mouthful of your left breast. He sucked roughly on the flesh, pulling the blood to the surface. You whined through the pain that mingled with the pleasure from him below.

Once he was satisfied with the bruise painted on you, he moved toward your neck, sucking and biting just as rough, hips never halting.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered. “Tell me how it feels.” He nibbled on your earlobe.

You said nothing, your lips unable to form enough to make any words come out. Your fingers still gripped uselessly at the sides of the table. One leg was held uselessly over Theo’s shoulder while the other dangled limply over the edge of the table.

He leaned up. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”

Still, you made no sound.

“Oh, you pathetic thing,” he whispered, lips pressing to your elevated leg once again. “Am I fucking you stupid? Is that what it is? Yeah, baby? Next time, I’ll shove this dick down your throat and see how quiet you are then, you dumb slut.”

Now, within the final moments before your finish, his thumb dropped to your clit and began to rub small circles into the nerves. Your mouth fell open and your back arched to the ceiling as his hips intensified. They forced your finish closer and closer until you were spilling all over him, coating your legs and his stomach.

At the clenching of your core, his release was barreling forward, as well. He came with a long groan and a slow walk down of the brutal pace he’d set with his hips. His spend mixed with yours dripped down your legs.

Finally, with him still inside of you, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to yours. He eyed you sweetly, caressing soothing lines across your temple with his thumb.

“My sweet girl, you did so well,” he whispered against your lips. “Has anyone else ever fucked you so well?” There was that cocky Theo again.

“Maybe like one other person,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath.

“Oh, yeah? Who?” he asked, suddenly grabbing your jaw again and forcing you to look directly at him.

“Hmm, I’m not sure,” you said. “I think I forgot his name. I’ll probably just forget yours tomorrow, too.” You teased him meanly, smirk building on your lips. This was further payback for all the months of harassment you’d dealt with from him.

He pinched your cheeks together until your lips were pushed open.

“You can forget my name, sweetheart,” he whispered roughly, “but you’ll never forget what I just did to this body.”

His eyes watched yours with an intensity like no other. Then his lips pursed, and you watched as a line of spit dropped into your waiting mouth. It was the ultimate display of humiliation, but also ownership. You belonged to Theo, now.

And even if you forced yourself to forget his name or this day in the library, you’d never wipe the taste of his claim out of your mouth.

“Now, let’s get to work on that attitude, shall we?” Theo asked, voice suddenly chipper again.

He pulled out of you and zipped his pants back up, before selecting his bag off of the chair—which you’d now noticed he hadn’t even unpacked.

“Tomorrow at 6?” he asked.

Then he Disapparated, leaving you entirely exposed and alone.

That son of a bitch.

- - -

Tag List:

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[buckysgrace]

3. No One Like You

Billy Hargrove x Fem!OC/Tommy Hagan x Fem!OC

Now That We Don't Talk

CW: Mentions of drug use

Billy

He slept through the night, then through most of the day. The only time he woke up was to take a quick piss and chug down what felt like a gallon of water. He crawled back into bed, determined to sleep away the heartache and burning in his head.

By the next morning he was awoken by a tugging on his arm. He groaned into his pillows, hoping that it was just the way he was sleeping before he felt it again. He shifted onto his side, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before he looked down at where the tugging came from.

He was greeted with big blue eyes, framed by long eyelashes. She had rosy little cheeks and a mass of freckles along her skin. A dainty nose and red tinted lips. She looked more like Kim than Tommy. Acted like her too. It was like a mini version of her was staring up at him. 

“What are you doing, squirt?” He asked tiredly, rolling over to see the time. 7:48. Too fucking early.

“Mommy say it bweakfast.” Nora chimed up, sounding less shy than she had the night before. Or perhaps it had been a few days since then. He didn’t remember.

“Oh is it?” He asked with a smile, unable to deny that she was sweet, “What are we having?” He questioned, his head throbbing as he slowly sat up.

“Uh,” She paused as she held the baby doll closer to her chest, “Pancakes.” She giggled softly, tilting her head in a manner that reminded him of Kim. She squeezed her little fingers around the baby doll in her hands. 

“Sounds delicious,” He replied, watching the way she smiled proudly, “I’ll be down in a minute.” He told her softly, trying to ignore the piercing pain in his head. He just needed a few more days before it was all out of his system. 

“Pwomise?” She replied as she held up her pinky, looking at him expectantly. He blinked in surprise, not expecting such a thing. 

“Promise.” He told her as he linked their pinkies together. He watched the way she waddled out, sighing as he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He felt drained, trying to get himself worked up to get out of the bed. And to face someone else. 

It was overwhelming. He didn’t know if she meant it, but everything smelt like her. All of the details in the rooms screamed of her. Every little thing drove him crazy, filled his senses and left him with a desire to shoot up again. He didn’t want to think about her. He’d spent the last four years trying to forget her. And now he was here in her house. And he couldn’t touch her, couldn’t even speak to her. Not in the way he wanted

He did a pitiful job of dressing himself; throwing on a wrinkled shirt and old jeans before he dragged himself to the bathroom and scrubbed his teeth until the bitter taste was gone and out of his memory. 

He looked in the mirror, exhaling deeply as he took in his reflection. He was paler than usual, with thick bags underneath his eyes. This whole ordeal had left him a few pounds smaller, which reminded him to start working out again. He had since cut his hair, leaving it a little longer on the top but shorter on the sides. 

He walked down slowly, blinking as the bright sun hit his eyes. She had all the curtains pulled, exposing the bright sunlight as Nora stacked up baby dolls on the arm chair. He took in the yarn blankets, the assortment of books and cluttered magazines that seemed to rest against every corner of the living room. Lots of candles and flowers. It was very welcoming. But he didn't feel welcomed.

“She has a bunch of baby dolls.” He observed as he took in the assortment of babies on the couch. Nora jumped at first, her eyes a little wide before she relaxed. She smiled proudly as she picked one up, holding it on her waist happily. 

“She loves baby dolls,” Kim said with a smile, “They’re her favorite.” She commented as she bent over to kiss the top of Nora’s head. He watched her, noting that her hair seemed to be straighter than usual. And longer, resting against her mid back.

She was as stunning as ever. Still covered in pink freckles and her cheeks turning red as she met his eyes. She was a little curvier than what he remembered, but that only made him desire her more. He wanted to fall to his knees and worship her, drag his fingers across the areas he’d lost. He missed tracing her lips, missed counting the colors in her hazel eyes. He hated how she was everything he wanted and more. Even after all this time. 

“Tommy said Barbies were her favorite.” He said seriously, frowning as he looked over at the discarded dollhouse in the corner of the room. Sure enough, the doll he’d purchased was lying there uselessly. 

Kim scooped Nora up into her arms, looking like she was trying to search for the right answer. Always looking out for everyone else’s feelings. He really wished he could taste her mouth on his again. It was dangerous coming here.

“I told Tommy that baby dolls are her favorite,” She said with a sigh, “Everyone knows that babies are her favorite except for Tommy.” She replied at last, brushing her head against Nora’s gently. 

“He’s not very good at paying attention.” He said honestly, unable to help himself as his eyes fell to her waist as she moved towards the tiny dining room. He drifted his eyes over her curves, letting himself linger for just a moment before he moved forward. 

“He tries,” She said as she placed Nora into her high chair, “Are you looking for work?” She asked casually as she placed the plate in front of Nora. She gave him an empty one next, letting him arrange his breakfast. He settled on a dry pancake and a piece of sausage. He still didn’t have much of an appetite yet and he really didn’t want to push it and get sick again. 

“No,” He said dryly, “I figured I’d just move into your guest room and not pay anything.” He replied sarcastically, unable to help himself as he split the pancake in half. He sighed, knowing he was taking it out on the wrong person. 

“That’s not what I meant, Billy,” She said softly, “I mean you can take your time. I was just curious.” She still spoke gently, like she was afraid of pushing his buttons. He hated it. He hated the way they danced around one another. 

“I’m sorry,” He said as he dropped his pancake back onto his plate, “It just hasn’t been the best week.” He grumbled as he ran his palms over his face, exhaling deeply as he tried to get himself to calm down. He didn’t want to blame her for his own issues. 

“I heard,” She replied gently, “I’m sorry.” She sounded genuine as she spoke, making him desperately want to grab a hold of her and pull her close. He missed her. He missed the sound of her voice, the look in her eyes and how her skin felt against his. 

“Well, you got your perfect life,” He pointed out as he took another aggressive bite, trying to ignore the anger that was still brewing in his stomach, “Good for you.” He said at last, glancing away as Nora stabbed her little fork into her sausage link. 

“It’s not exactly perfect,” She replied as she added more syrup on her plate. He knew that was true. Tommy had mentioned a few things, “But it could be worse. Why were you in LA?” She asked curiously, apparently in a talkative mood. He figured it was better than just being left in an awkward silence. 

“I don’t know,” He said with a shrug of his shoulders, “It was just the first place that came to mind when I left.” He told her honestly. He just wanted to get away from everything. He had been dumb. He shouldn’t have let her marry Tommy. He should’ve told her how he felt. It was too late for that now. 

“You didn’t have to leave,” She said slowly, although he knew that was a lie, “Max really missed you. So did our friends.” She added, pausing for a moment to give Nora a bite of her food. It was the same thing, but hers must’ve tasted better. 

Our.

“Yeah, well,” He shrugged, unable to handle the odd tension in the air, “Nothing was holding me back.” It was venomous, meant to hurt. It wasn’t like she cared. She moved on. She married Tommy, had a fucking kid with him. That was all he needed to know.

Her eyes filled with sorrow, the same hurt that he’d inflicted to her time after time. It left an ache in his chest. He hated doing this to her but he didn’t know how to make her see how things really were. She deserved a lot better than him. They couldn’t ever really be together. 

She nodded her head, letting the silence fill the dining room for some time as she traded bites back and forth between Nora. He still couldn’t believe that she was a mom. A damn good one too. 

“Why’d your girlfriend kick you out?” She asked a few minutes later, looking up at him curiously after she filled up Nora’s sippy cup once again. He chewed on his bottom lip, thinking the whole thing was kind of funny. 

“Uh,” He laughed, glancing at Nora as he thought about the best way to phrase his sentence in front of her, “She found another boyfriend. And got pissed that I lost my job.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders. She hadn’t been his longest girlfriend, just the most recent. They’d moved in together in a spur of the moment type of thing. 

“I’m sorry,” She responded truthfully, “What were you doing?” She continued to ask casually, her cheeks a little pink as she turned her gaze away from him. He felt a smirk form, at least happy that he still had that effect on her. 

“Bartender,” He chuckled, “I worked at the same place she did. Not the best place for a recovering junkie.” He told her truthfully. The bar had been more trouble for him than anything else. LA just wasn’t a pleasant scene either. 

“She was a bartender too?” Kim asked as she tucked her hair behind her ears. He watched in fascination. Apparently some habits die hard. 

“No,” He said with a chuckle, “She worked on stage.” He said slowly, turning his gaze towards Nora’s wide eyes. She had the same curious look as Kim did, despite having blue eyes instead. 

“Oh,” Kim flushed softly, “I see. Are you clean then?” She raised her eyebrows, looking at him expectantly. He snorted, wishing it was that easy. 

“Four days,” He said as he held up his fingers with a smirk, “Don’t worry. The vomiting and chills are gone.” The body aches were still there, as well as the shaking. It would take a little longer, but the worst part was over. 

“I’m sorry you had a rough time,” She told him gently, her eyes warm and sincere as she looked at him, “You can stay as long as you need. And don’t rush about finding a job either.” She added a second later, looking a little guilty for bringing it up in the first place. He didn’t think she needed to feel bad. He was intruding in her space. It had been a long time since he’d seen her, cut her out in the same manner she’d ripped his heart out. It was odd to feel like his heart was working for the first time once again. 

“How’s my dad doing?” He asked a few minutes later, watching as she scrubbed Nora’s face and fingers clean with a wet towel. She looked her over again, then scrubbed at her hands one more time until she was satisfied and released her from the high chair. 

“Neil is alright,” She said slowly as she gathered up the dirty plates, “He’s-, you know. The same.” She furrowed her eyebrows together as she spoke, looking like she didn’t know what else to add. He understood what she meant. He hadn’t spoken to Neil since he’d left either. He’d tried to make it a complete clean slate. 

“Good to know.” He said slowly as he took the dishes from her. He stared down at where their fingers brushed together, trying to ignore the jolt of electricity that traveled up his arms. He turned his gaze to hers, noticing that she was staring in the same way. Her face was flushed, eyes wide before she quickly pulled away.

“I can wash them,” She said nervously as she looked around, unable to meet his eyes once again. He thought of how she first was when they got together, how she was so shy she couldn’t look at him straight. It reminded him of that, “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” He told her as he flicked the sink on and held his hand underneath, waiting until the water was warm enough, “But let me earn my keep.” He said seriously, knowing he’d feel worthless if he stayed here for free with nothing to do. He needed to stay busy somehow. 

“Alright,” She said, “There’s drinks in the fridge. Um snacks and leftovers too. Have whatever you want.” She gestured around awkwardly, hitting into the counter as she stumbled backwards. She quickly tucked her hair behind her ears, flushing a deep red before she opened the fridge. 

“Thanks,” He chuckled as he glanced over his shoulder, watching the way she bent over to put the leftovers away, “I appreciate it.” He let his eyes linger, watching the way her shirt rose over the skin on her back. He had to look away then, worried that he’d get too excited. 

Moving around her was difficult, but he was used to that. He shared a house with her far longer than Tommy had. He could get through this. This wouldn’t last forever. He couldn’t torture himself in that way. 

“You pway?” Nora questioned, tilting her head curiously as she bounced on the tips of her toes. Billy hadn’t been around many toddlers, but he thought that she was taller than most. She was scrawny like Kim and also bore the same inquisitive look. 

“I love to play,” He chuckled as he joined her on the floor, trying to ignore the way his fingers were beginning to shake, “What do you wanna do?” He asked her, desperate to keep his mind from wandering towards the obvious cravings he was beginning to feel. He wondered if Eddie Munson was still around. 

“Mama?” Nora called out, eyebrows furrowed together in worry until Kim appeared with a basket of towels, “We swing?”  She questioned as she tilted her head, polite enough to ask instead of just running out. 

“Sure,” Kim responded with a smile, “We can go outside. Go get your shoes on.” She shooed her on, but kept an eye out for her while she sat the basket down. He watched her the whole time, desperate to bring her eyes back to him. 

“She’s smart.” He pointed out, listening as Nora whispered to herself while she slid her shoes on. She had two baby dolls next to her, waiting to go outside with them.

“She’s very bright,” She agreed with a proud look in her eyes, “She turned out better than I could’ve imagined.” She pressed her lips into a smile, turning towards him with a soft look in her eyes.

“You’re a great mom,” He told her honestly, “Knew you would be.” He added softer, a beat later as he recalled their secret conversations. They should’ve never spoken of families and children in the first place.

Her eyes glazed over then, the soft look melting away as a familiar sadness filled them. He wondered how much she had thought about him, if at all. He was clearly easy to forget.

The moment lasted too long as he greedily soaked in every little piece of her, trying to savor it as the toddler approached them once again.

“Look!” Nora exclaimed, stomping her feet to make the pink shoes light up into different bright colors. He chuckled, trying to be as gleeful as possible.

“Oh wow!” He grinned as he watched her, thinking she was too cute for her own good, “Those are awesome. Do you think they’ll fit me?” He stuck his foot out playfully, watching as she examined his shoe for a moment.

“No,” She giggled as she swayed back and forth, “They fow me!” She grinned as she bounced out the door as soon as Kim slid it open. She took off, waddling towards the little playset in the backyard.

“She looks a lot like you, acts like you too.” He mumbled as he stepped out, wishing he had brought his cigarettes with him.

“Yeah,” Kim said softly as she held her arms tightly over her chest, “She does.” She moved forward, leaving him following right behind her. He wanted to be near her. He wished he could touch her hand, her hip. Anything. 

“She doesn’t resemble Tommy at all,” He said with a laugh, “That’s probably good.” He said teasingly, imagining how bad Tommy must’ve been as a child. Spoiled and hyper. 

“Probably.” She breathed out deeply, staring straight ahead as she began to play with her hair. He watched her, trying to wiggle his way in as close as he could. 

“She has blue eyes though,” He started slowly, “You think she gets that from Max?” He asked, sure that Max was happy with that. Perhaps Nora did look like her aunt. 

“Someone,” She agreed, looking a little more nervous as she stepped out into the grass, “Do you want to get on the trampoline?” She called out, earning a squeal from Nora as she came running. He watched after her curiously, wondering if her cold shoulder would be permanent. 

Tags: @cassandracorvo @jessicar401 @mrprettywhenhecries

[collgeruledzebra]

the thing about trying to recommend fiction podcasts to someone who isn't familiar with them is that not only are so so many genres represented but also the level of production can fall anywhere from "basically an audiobook" to "major motion picture minus the pictures"

[izzystizzys]

TW: discussion of something approximating suicidal tendencies but with the usual crack programming of this blog

“Ah, High General Windu”, says Fox, pleasantly. “So we meet again.”

High General Windu raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him, Fox thinks, though it’s getting hard to tell with all the blood rushing to his head. “If I let you go, will you try to throw yourself out of another window?”

Fox makes a vague shrugging motion - or tries to, anyways. It’s hard to tell where any of his limbs are going, hanging upside down in the air as he is. “I am willing to discuss terms.” A bridge will do just fine.

Impossibly, the High General’s eyebrows climb even further up his forehead. “A compromise, then, esteemed Commander.” And so, he righths Fox the head way up in the air, but leaves him floating just above the ground, at which point several painted shells come skidding around the corner followed by billowing robes and screeches.

“WHAT”, says Kote, calmly, “THE BANTHA-KARKED, FORCE-LOVING KRIFF, FOX.”

“You’ll short out your helmet mic”, Fox advises him, sagely. Fondly, he thinks back to decimating his own on only his second time in the newly-christened official Coruscant Guard Scream Closet. He’d just received the comm about the Zillo Beast being transported to 000, and made sure to take his bucket off thereafter to improve the quality of his closet time.

High General Windu’s face does something complicated between sympathy and constipation.

Because the Galaxy doesn’t hate Fox enough already and Cody wasn’t enough on his own, Wolffe elbows his way through their batch to plant himself in front of him, shoulders squared and shaking with repressed rage. “If you try that again, dickhead”, he begins, in a low growl that quite frankly sounds more cringe that intimidating, “I’m going to resurrect you and then kill you again.”

“Ah, Wolffe”, Plo Koon says, in his deep, shivery timbre, “Remember our conversations about effective conflict resolution and communication of needs?”

Wolffe’s eyes narrow at Fox, because all non-Guard are sweet summer children who walk around buckets off on 000 like absolute lunatics. Fox prays they never have to find out why that’s a bad idea. “I feel”, his ori’vod presses out between clenched teeth, “that if you make me watch you throw yourself out of another window, I’m going to jump after you and strangle you on the way down, you little bitch.”

“That’s fair”, says Fox, and watches High General Kenobi bury his face in his hands. Wolffe twitches in place and makes an aborted groaning noise, the hypocrite.

“Excuse me, High Marshall Commander Fox, but I fail to see what’s so dire about this situation that the Jedi High Council and your brothers cannot help you solve”, says Windu, the only sane one left on this Force-forsaken bloated corpse of a planet. Behind the gaggle of Jedi and ori’vode already gathered in front of Fox, the rest of them come veering around the corner in a commotion that’s quite frankly embarrassing. High General Yoda is mounted on Skywalker’s back like he’s a race-Eopie, which is Fox’ only consolation.

He got up this morning at 0300, bleary-eyed and with a pounding headache as always, and all was right in the world. And then Fox got called into the Jedi High Council’s chambers and was ceremoniously informed that in the wake of Chancellor Palpatine’s unfortunate demise (hah), and through the emergency state of the Senate, as well as several invented promotions foisted on Fox to make the delegation of any and all paperwork less shady, he was now next in the chain of command and-

Well, Fox is the acting Chancellor, in short.

Haha, he had said, and been meet with several seconds of silence, until it got both awkward and exceedingly painful. Wait, he’d said. You’re kriffing serious.

Kriffing serious, we are, had said High General Yoda, and thus Fox launched himself out the first best window with a maniacal cackle of, you’ll have to catch me first!

And catch him, High General Windu sure did.

“The will of the Force this is”, Yoda interrupts Fox’ train of thought. He scans him thoughtfully from beneath his wizened brow, and hems to himself. “Shake things up, this will. Determine the fate of the Galaxy, this shall. A feeling, I have, that a good Chancellor you will make. A better one, hmmm.”

“That’d be high praise, if not for the fact that a dead lemming would make for a better Chancellor than the last one”, says Fox, drawing and indignant gasp from Skywalker. He doesn’t bother with either that or the green goblin’s cackle, lost in the deep sense of resignation that settles over his shoulders like a suffocating blanket.

“Alright, then, get me Thorn on the comm. As my first act in office, I’m firing all the Jedi. No offense, but you’re kind of a disaster. Then, someone get me to the Chancellor’s office, I’m calling Dooku to let him know the war’s off. And please get me Judicial, they’ll be up all night working on my datafolders - I’m having the Senate arrested.”

“Who - is - arresting - “, Bly pants, hands on his knees from where he’s just come sprinting around the corner with his Jedi.

Underneath his bucket, Fox smiles a smile that’s all teeth. “The Senate”, he says, sweetly, wondering if he’s just imagined the shiver that’s gone through the room. “I’m suing the Senate, and taking them all into temporary custody for abuse of sentient rights.”

[dansemacabre]

i’ve been thinking about “sixer, it would eat you alive” since i read it and. man. every layer you peel back makes it worse. im not a bill apologist but. shit

if you (1) take it at face value, it paints bill as an apologetic murderer in his single (and maybe sole) open moment of regret. he doesn’t let his walls down often- only with ford do we even get to see the remnant of his galaxy, see the “actual remorse” ford describes, get just a hint of his origins. but he does it, because he thinks ford should know.

if you (2) take it from ford’s point of view, as something he committed to journal three, like. wow. imagine being so committed to a being that you’d hunt down and kill the monster that destroyed his home, only to (assumably) figure out later that that being was the monster. the small moments of trust, the “good times”, are so key to manipulation. how long did ford hold onto that one shred of vulnerability? no wonder ford stayed for as long as he did. in his eyes, bill was a survivor. ford wanted to survive too.

(slight tw below for unreality- any time i mention our reality, i mean “our reality” as a narrative device used in the book of bill as a proxy for the idea of bill being in our reality, since he can’t actually be in our reality. all of this is a fictional theory about a show/book with fictional contents!)

but if you (3) remember that “even his lies are lies” and absolutely Nothing bill says should be trusted. Whoo boy. if i read tbob right the book itself is being created in the theraprism (even tho it shows up with the ciphertologists at some point? idk that’s a whole other post). it’s meant to show what the reader wants to see; it manifests in our reality as what the collective fandom wants to see. so if we want to see truth, if we want to see where bill ended up and who he actually is, there’s a non-zero chance that the whole interaction was a complete fabrication.

imagine bill, stuck in the actively harmful, probably earth-illegal theraprism, once again being forced to be “fixed” and molded into something more palatable, being forced to conform no matter how much it hurts. (i know natural uncontrollable mutation ≠ just so much murder and destruction and chaos, but. you can’t ignore the similarities. bill has obviously been thinking about those silly straws.)

he looks back on everything that went wrong, back on his relationship with ford, back through every dimension where he wins. would that one moment, that one truth amid centuries of lies, have saved him from purgatory? if he had just been open? shown his damage? maybe he did think of his parents, or his henchmaniacs (especially the oracle). people who he might have once opened up to. maybe he just wanted to open up to someone again.

so in his own weird way, stuck in a cell, he reshaped reality again. in this reality, for this fleeting moment, he had been someone worth believing. and ford had listened, hell, ford had wanted to help. looking back, knowing how he treated ford, knowing how ford ended up because of it, maybe bill would have said the most honest thing he’d ever told ford: i am the monster, i am not worth your time or belief, and i will eat you alive.

[ignitesthestxrs]

there's something about the way people talk about john gaius (incl the way the author writes him) that is like. so absent of any connection to te ao māori that it's really discomforting. like even in posts that acknowledge him as not being white, they still talk about him like a white, american leftist guy in a way that makes it clear people just AREN'T perceiving him as a māori man from aotearoa.

and it's just really serves to hammer home how powerful and pervasive whiteness and american hegemony is. because TLT is probably the single most Kiwi series in years to explode on the global stage, and all the things i find fraught about it as a pākehā woman reading a series by a pākehā author are illegible to a greater fandom of americans discoursing about whether or not memes are a valid way of portraying queer love.

idk the part of my brain that lights up every time i see a capital Z printed somewhere because of the New Zealand Mentioned??? instinct will always be proud of these books and muir. but i find myself caught in this midpoint of excitement and validation over my culture finding a place on the global stage, frustration at how kiwi humour and means of conveying emotion is misinterpreted or declared facile by an international audience, frustrated also by how that international audience runs the characters in this book through a filter of american whiteness before it bothers to interpret them, and ESPECIALLY frustrated by how muir has done a pretty middling job of portraying te ao māori and the māoriness of her characters, but tht conversation doesn't circulate in the same way* because a big part of the audience doesn't even realise the conversation is there to be had.

which is not to say that muir has done a huge glaring racism that non-kiwis haven't noticed or anything, but rather that there are very definitely things that she has done well, things that she has done poorly, things that she didn't think about in the first book that she has tacked on or expanded upon in the later books, that are all worthy of discussion and critique that can't happen when the popular posts that float past my dash are about how this indigenous man is 'guy who won't shut up about having gone to oxford'

*to be clear here, i'm not saying these conversations have never happened, just that in terms of like, ambient posts that float round my very dykey dash, the discussions and meta that circulate on this the lesbian social media, are overwhelmingly stripped of any connection to aotearoa in general, let alone te ao māori in specific. and because of the nature of american internet hegemony this just,,,isn't noticed, because how does a fish know it's in the ocean u know? i have seen discussions along these lines come up, and it's there if i specifically go looking for it, but it's not present in the bulk of tlt content that has its own circulatory life and i jut find that grim and a part of why the fandom is difficult to engage with.

[deoidesign]

Idk who needs to hear this but time and time again isn't over!!!

Webtoon removed the "time and time again will return!!!" Banner and I don't know why, but it's not over!!! There's still another 1/3 of the comic to go! There's a lot more stuff that I'm working on and it'll be coming back soon!

Please be patient with me, I know it's been a long time... But the stuff I'm making is really good and there's a lot of reasons it's taken this long. I promise I want it back more than anyone.

I'm trying to come back around the end of October. I'm doing my best to get everything ready in time, so no promises, but I'm on track to do so! I'm just one person writing and drawing everything, and my editor was fired so I'm not even getting any notes anymore. It's literally just me. I'm doing my best I promise!

[catastrophicalcat]

The new Watchtower design! I LOVE the Robin's Nest detail. You can practically hear Bruce growl:

"Fuck yeah my kids get their own corner, I paid for this thing and I'm going to name a fucking wing after them; fuck you Hal, go bunk with Aquaman."

[faunandfloraas]

Birth date analysis // Seungmin - September 22nd: The Day of Restless Drive.

September 22 - Virgo/Libra

The Day Of Restless Drive

Those born on September 22 have a restless drive. Usually they bring the one they are working on to completion only to immediately set out on a new one without rest. They are also capable of handling several projects at the same time. Those born on this day have a low boredom threshold, and consequently demand challenging people and situations. They can be outgoing and dynamic types at one time, and solitary and unapproachable at another. In either case, their strong character is unmistakable.

Often September 22 people oscillate between an offensive and defensive posture. In one sense, such postures may be one and the same since a good offense is the best defense and vice-versa. Whether in a broad social context or on a personal level, the issues and ideas those born on this day are most often concerned with involve fairness and equality. In general matters pertaining to the delegation and exercise of power. In putting forth their arguments, they can be very ironic, witty and outright funny. Their humor, however, is not for everyone as it is liable to be off-beat, sardonic, perhaps even macabre.

Those born on September 22 can hide a warm heart under a forbidding exterior, but generally will only open up to people whom they deeply trust and value. Even then they may find it difficult to open all the way, principally because their orientation is highly realistic and the ironies of life all too visible to them. This day carries insight and clarity of vision both literal and figurative. September 22 people are excellent judges of character, and capable of sizing people up very quickly. Those few friends whom they allow into their inner sanctum they value most highly, usually for life.

September 22 people can often have a greater effect on those around them than they realize, and indeed can register a high degree of shock value. Because of their often disturbing impact, they should seek to be more aware of their effect on others, both friends and foes alike. True warriors in the battle of life, they must take stock of their armaments and defenses, using them judiciously and effectively, and avoid isolating and alienating themselves.

Strengths:

Individual

Perceptive

Well-directed

Weaknesses:

Guarded

Acerbic

Dark