#none of this is true!!!! Jesus fucking christ!!!

[zefforuins]

Oh Jesus fucking Christ

[in-this-light-on-this-evening]

Well, I’ve manifested the love of my life for a second and now I have to deal with The Consequences.

[flavored-soda]

I've said this before in tags but now I feel the need to make a post about it.

Some of you are creepy little fuckers when it comes to Buck and it only got worse when he came out as bisexual.

I don't know if it's because y'all aren't queer or have ever been around queer people. Or maybe it's because you've never had someone call you out on your bullshit (or maybe you have and y'all just cry and play victim idfk). But the entire reaction to the BuckTommy scene is really telling for a lot of you.

Let's get some things straight here:

Buck turned the conversation away from emotional vulnerability

Buck was the one who started the flirting

Buck was the one who insinuated a fucking daddy kink, Tommy just confirmed it.

"We both have daddy issues." "I don't." "But you think I do?" "God, I hope so." Y'all, Buck said the first line with a little fucking smirk on his face and then smiled all goofy like when Tommy said "God, I hope so." You're delusional if you think he was uncomfortable.

Tommy making a joke or a comment about his kinks to his BOYFRIEND is not fucking weird. have none of y'all ever been in a relationship??? ever??? you're allowed to joke about sex with your own fucking partner. ya know the one you are having said sex with???

Like I'm sorry you can't be the one to fuck Buck. I'm sorry Eddie isn't the one to fuck him either. But Jesus fucking Christ Almighty on a Stick. The rhetoric you are using, the shit you are saying is harmful and homophobic as all hell. And if you can't recognize that, it's fucked up. especially if you are queer yourself. you're internalized homophobia is showing, baby and it's fucking disgusting.

And I will also say this again: Buck is a 32 yr old man who was a SEX ADDICT. Let me say that again, SEX ADDICT!!!

He's not a sweet little precious innocent baby. I'm sorry if kinks and just general talk about sex makes you uncomfortable. But then genuinely why the fuck do you like Buck so much because that's a pivotal part of his character???

Not to mention, sex gets boring when it's the same thing over and over again. Buck probably has been pegged before, or been to kink clubs or over kink-friendly spaces, or had wild, nasty sex himself. You can plug your ears and act like it's not real and you don't want to hear it all you want, but the fact of the matter is it's true. Buck was a sex addict, that's a pretty big fucking part of his character, and I doubt talking about sex with the person he's actively in a relationship with is going to make him extremely uncomfortable.

So no, I don't think Buck was uncomfortable during that scene and I don't think Tommy is a bad guy. I do think you're uncomfortable with seeing male/male sexuality and romance. especially when it's between two guys who built as fuck because then you can't really make one of them the girl now can you?

[familyvideostevie]

alright, hear me out. i looked through the prompts list and can we give roommate!steve a little airtime beCAUSE—

trying to not hit anything or each other, when there is a power outage and it’s way too dark

— is SO steve coded. i wanna see this man during a power outage. please and thank you. i love you.

hi baby. here you go. sorry it took so long. it is the first thing i have written in about 6 weeks so apologies for it's roughness. i adore you. thank you for helping me give steve Harrington his triumphant return. | fluff, 1.3k, roommates!au

Summer storms in the Midwest always take you by surprise. The never-ending expanse of blue sky becomes crowded with swirling grey clouds without warning and everything stills, like the very fabric of time is holding its breath. Until the dam bursts and rain pounds on your windows, the roof, the pavement with wild abandon. Deep, rumbling thunder follows bright flashes of lightning.

You find it relaxing. A steady, reliable chaos into which you settle without complaint.

Well, usually. Your roommate, Robin -- a talkative and whip-smart girl who makes you laugh-- enjoys storms just as much as you do. It's one of the only times she settles, so you often read side-by-side in companionable silence. Sometimes, if you're feeling bold, you'll both dance in the rain.

But Robin is on some six-month trip for brilliant people and she's left you with a subletter.

"My best friend Steve," she'd said. "Come on, I talk about him all the time. You basically know him."

It's true. Robin is full of stories and this Steve is in most of them. A funny, brave, well-intentioned guy who is a bit of an idiot and has a great head of hair.

And now he's living in the other bedroom. And he's hot. And he always does his dishes and remembers to put the seat down after you scolded him once for doing otherwise and you have a crush on him.

It's annoying. He's been here for like, three weeks and keeps asking you where the spoons are and you like him.

But Steve? You are learning that Steve does not like summer storms.

In the few you've had since he arrived you've noticed that he paces, or sits in the living room with the television turned up high, or something noisy. You've never asked him about it because honestly, he could be much worse as far as roommates go.

You can hear his radio through the wall and it's making it hard to focus on your book. You should really go to sleep but this chapter is really good and does he have to be so loud? Maybe you should get up and ask him to keep it down --

A flash of lightning makes it seem like daylight in your room for a brief moment and then everything is dark. Everything.

"Fuck," you say. The power must have gone out. A clap of thunder so loud it feels like your building shakes startles you. You hear a shout from the other side of the wall.

It's not as hard as you'd expect to feel your way to your bedroom door in the dark. You manage to do so without injury apart from bumping your hip on your dresser.

But when you open your door you smack into a solid wall of warmth. Your fingers grasp for purchase and find none -- only bare skin.

"Jesus Christ --" Steve says. He manages to prevent you both from falling over and holds you at arm's length in the dark. "What are you doing?" His voice is tight and he squeezes your shoulders once before releasing you.

"Uh," you say. You're certain that he's not wearing a shirt. You can feel that he's not wearing a shirt. "The power went out."

He huffs. "Wow, thank you. I had no idea."

You wish it wasn't dark so you could see his face. Three weeks hasn't been enough time to learn all of his expressions. "Were you sleeping?"

It feels like a dumb question considering how loud his music was.

"Yeah," he says. "Obviously I was sleeping. It's like, 1 am."

"Just go back to sleep. If you can, under the volume of your radio."

You imagine him wincing. "Sorry," he says. "I don't, uh. Sleep well during --"

Lighting illuminates the hall and you see him for one brilliant second, messy hair, bare chest rising and falling, boxers slung low. Boxers with...are those...bananas? Then: darkness, thunder. You sense his flinch.

"That," he says flatly.

A smile creeps its way onto your face and you allow it because he can't see. The fact that this guy, your temporary roommate, your sort-of crush, is afraid of thunderstorms fills your chest with warmth. It's endearing. It's adorable. It makes you like him so much more.

You ease past him and into the dark of the rest of the apartment.

"Woah, woah," Steve says. "Where are you going?" You hear him follow you and immediately run into something. He curses. You keep your hands out to avoid the same fate.

"You okay?" you call back.

"Why do we have so much furniture?" he grumbles. "Fuck, that hurt."

You don't correct him that we actually means you and Robin.

"Watch where you're going," you say lightly.

"Oh, ha, ha."

Careful steps take you closer to your destination. "Go look for candles in the kitchen," you tell him. "They're in the drawer by the trash."

"Uh, okay," Steve says. He bumps into things with quiet curses on his way as you look for the matches that should be in the closet. "Why? You could just go back to bed. I'm fine."

You chew on your lip. He's right. But you want to hang out with him. The dark makes you honest. "The thunder is loud," you say. "I won't be able to sleep. We might as well hang out."

He laughs, the first genuine one all night. "Oh, you want to hang out? In the dark? You know what this sounds like, right?"

Ah, the famous Harrington charm Robin has told you about. It makes your cheeks feel hot and you can't hide a smile. Steve ruins the moment by running into something again.

"Fuck! Jesus --"

"Steve, be careful."

"I can't see anything!"

You sigh and finally find the matches. Box in hand, you carefully make your way to the kitchen, your eyes adjusting just a little and making it easier.

Steve is looking in the wrong drawer. You should just tell him so, but instead you reach for him, fingers circling his wrist and dragging it to the right one. His skin is warm under yours, the back of his hand softer than you'd thought it would be. You open the drawer together and hear the candles roll around inside.

His face is a dark outline but you focus on the dark and think you see his eyes. You wish you could see him.

"Found them," he says. You're much closer than you realized, so close you feel his breath on your cheek. Steve leans in -- or maybe it's you, you have no idea, and your noses brush. He puts a hand on your hip, fingers sliding under the hem of your sleep shirt and burning you like a brand.

Your eyes slide close and you miss the flash but not the boom that follows, sending you both about a foot in the air and away from each other.

"Shit," you gasp. Steve laughs and you join in, giggling in the dark like teenagers.

Maybe this is a one-night thing, the darkness making you both a little lonelier and a little braver. But you've got months more of him and the idea of spending that time being something more than just roommates? It's appealing, to say the least.

You reach for Steve in the dark and he must have been doing the same because your fingers tangle without much effort.

"Come on," you say. "Let's light the candles and sit on the couch. I'm sure the power will come back on eventually."

He squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. "Okay," he says, a smile in his voice. "Don't let me run into anything."

You grin at him in the dark and hope that come morning he'll be familiar with it in the light, as well. "Don't worry, Steve," you tell him. "I've got you."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[dakotalun]

You Belong With Me | Eddie Munson

pairing: Modern!Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

summary: Part 1--Eddie is hung up on Chrissy Cunningham, but there's someone who's available that would love to be his.

warnings: none

word count: 2.6k

a/n: Taylor really has me in a chokehold with this song!

*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******

Eddie Munson is not known for his ways with the ladies. He leaves that to Harrington, but he can’t deny the fact that he’s got his eyes set on one girl in particular, and wishes it were him and not Harrington who could get the girls. Sadly that’s not the case plus she’s already dating someone, the captain of the basketball team, Jason Carver. Eddie knows he’ll probably never have a chance with her but that doesn’t stop him from sneaking into the games to watch her cheer.

And you are with him every step of the way, even if it does hurt you to see him this way. You’ve been in love with Eddie since you met him. He was the first person to talk to you at school, and he even lived a few trailers down from you so it made the friendship easy. You and he were basically glued at the hip.

So when he told you about his feeling for Chrissy Cunningham a few years ago you were hurt but put on a good face and tried to be supportive. There were a few times when Eddie would think he had a chance with her; only for her to not even bat an eye in his direction. It hurt him, though he wouldn’t ever admit it to anyone but you.

You’ve kept your feelings for him bottled up and hidden in the dark corner of your heart, knowing they’ll probably live there until you die. That’s what made tonight so fucking hard. He’s on your bed, lying on his back staring up at the ceiling. Chrissy had bumped into him today on her way to class, like the literal chest-to-chest, books, and papers falling everywhere type of bump.

Eddie claims it was just out of a movie. He was quick to help her pick them up and when he handed them back to her their hands touched for a split second. No more than .5 seconds to be exact. And of course, being his best friend he had to tell you about it immediately.

So now he’s here telling you all the details about it, again. Both of you are sitting on your bed, your legs draped over Eddie’s chest. You’ve been flipping through a random magazine your mom kept in the living room just nodding and “mhmm”ing ever since her name came out of his mouth. It’s not like you hated Chrissy, she was a nice girl. You just hated the fact that she took up more of Eddie’s mind than you did. She always has.

“The way her eyes sparkled under the lights it was, Jesus Christ, it was like magic,” You held back the urge to roll your eyes at his comment, “Then when she thanked me and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, dude I swear I almost fell out then and there. Hearing her talk directly to me, I almost got a boner.”

“Gross dude!” You shove him in the side with your foot, “I do not want to hear about your boners for Chrissy Cunningham.”

“Y’can’t deny love, babe,” The nickname sent a shiver down your spine, “And I do love her.”

“Even though you’ve barely spoken two words to her since you met, yeah right.”

Eddie sits up on his elbows to look at you, “It’s true sweetheart, I’m in love. I’ll get her soon, you just wait and see.” He lies back down bringing his hands behind his head, his muscles flexing in the process. You stare at him, the way he’s so relaxed with you, so at ease. It’s always been this way and you wouldn’t change it for the world, you just wish he was thinking about you at the moment.

“Alright whatever,” You close the magazine, throwing it somewhere in the vicinity of your desk, “It’s late and I’m getting tired. I’mma take a shower then head to bed. You staying over?” You remove your legs from Eddie’s chest, he doesn’t even hear you, being too lost in thought.

“Hello? Earth to Eddie. You there?” You wave your hand in front of his face, snapping to get his attention.

“Huh?” He looks over at you, slightly confused on how you’re now on the other side of him.

“I said I’m gonna take a shower then head to bed, you gonna stay or no?”

“Oh uh nah, I gotta check in with Wayne. Make sure he hasn’t set the trailer on fire and all,” He gets up from the bed, pulling his jacket and shoes on before heading out your bedroom.

“Alright, well see you tomorrow then,” You walk him to the front door, leaning against the kitchen counter as he checks his phone, “7am?”

“Like always,” He winks at you before heading out. You stand there for a moment looking at the place he just was. Wondering how someone like him would ever pine for a girl like Chrissy.

You shake the thoughts from your head then go take a shower, hoping to wash away the thoughts of Eddie and both of your clearly one sided loves.

---

“Oh come on, no way dude,” Mike is yelling at Dustin about some weird sci-fi movie.

“I’m telling you Aliens is way better than Back To The Future! If you can’t see that then you have terrible taste in movies,” You laugh at the boys argument and look over at Eddie, who’s flipping through one of his D&D books. Probably planning for the next campaign.

You get up and walk over to him standing behind his seat. You lean over his shoulder to see what he’s writing, “Wha’cha doin’ over here?”

“Just trying to figure out what these idiots are gonna fight next. I need them to level up after this but nothing I find will give them enough XP,” He’s talking to himself mostly but you listen closely trying to help, even with your minimal knowledge of the game, “And I don’t wanna give them one hella over powered monster because I mean they’re good at the game and all, but they’d get absolutely pummeled trying to deal with a fucking high ass level monster.”

“Well what if you split them up,” You reach over him to point at his notebook, “Half the group can fight this one,” You point at one of the monsters written on Eddie’s notebook page, “Maybe make some traps and chests they can find to upgrade gear and get potions and shit, then the others could fight this one, but make it their choice to split up so they don’t suspect anything”

You point between the two monsters marked in Eddie's book, “That way they only have to split the XP between those groups, not the entire party. Granting more XP per player and they’ll be prepared for the boss fight afterward.”

You look over at him as he thinks about what you just said, “You know that just might work,” He leans forwards and starts frantically writing in the book, “Shit! That’s awesome, I could kiss you rn!”

You blush at his words, wishing he’d make them true. You lean back a little to hide your rapidly heating face from Eddie, but still standing behind him as you watch him work. It’s always been a thing you love, seeing how involved in D&D he got. The way he would just block out the entire world to focus on his campaigns. It was mesmerizing to watch.

There were very few things that could break his concentration; you, the idiot possé (Eddie’s nickname for the Hellfire Club, one he only uses with you around and of course) and Chrissy. It’s like Eddie was a search dog, always looking for her. Even if he was in deep with whatever was in front of him, he’d drop it and look at her, just like right now.

Chrissy was walking into the cafeteria linked up to Jason, looking at him with puppy dog eyes. You roll your eyes at their PDA, wishing they would just can it til the entire school wasn’t in the room with them. In .2 seconds Eddie’s head shoots up to look at her. The way his eyes light up and dilate pains you because you know it’ll only hurt him later when she rejects him.

He sits back in the chair, almost crushing your fingers before you retract them from the back. The pair walk across the lunch room, straight to their regualr spot with the rest of the stuck up rich bitches at the school.

You’ve never understood how Eddie fell in love with Chrissy. Sure he’s told you plenty of times it’s just that you never understood why he liked her. Yes she was beautiful, and popular, and rich, but she was the complete opposite of Eddie. She never wore black clothes, unless it was a fucking mini skirt. She didn’t listen to Ozzy, or Dio or even Sabbath, nor would she like it if she did. And finally she didn’t like D&D!

You on the other hand, were his perfect match. You weren’t popular, or conventionally beautiful and sure as hell weren’t rich. Come on as if a rich person would choose to live in a trailer park, and then there was the music taste. You loved Sabbath, Ozzy and Dio, you even listened to Def Leppard when you were with Eddie, because you know how much he loved them.

You’ve spent the last 8 years slowly becoming the girl of his dreams, not on purpose it’s just how you are, only for him to fall for the complete opposite of that. Pretending it doesn’t hurt is getting harder and harder everyday. But you’d rather keep it a secret than get rejected by the one person who you really trust.

---

A few days later, on Friday, you’re sitting on your bed reading a book when Eddie comes rushing into the trailer, not even bothering to knock, like always.

“Come to the basketball game with me.” It’s not a question, more of a demand. You normally would but after these past couple of days you just weren’t up for seeing him drool over Chrissy some more.

“No thanks. I’m good right here,” You say without even looking up from the book in your hands.

“Oh come on, please? It’ll be fun,” He walks closer to you, taking your book and tossing it to the side, “I promise.”

“No. Eddie-” You were now getting dragged from your warm bed by him.

“Come on please! It’ll only be for a little bit. Just a quick pop in and pop out. Not that big of a deal,” He had your wrists in a death grip, “We can smoke afterwards, and you won’t even have to pay me for it.”

“I don’t pay for it anyways,” You mumble under your breath. You’re getting more annoyed with him asking now.

“True but-”

“But nothing Eddie,” You look him dead in the eyes, “I don’t want to go to the stupid basketball game just so that you can drool over Chrissy Fucking Cunningham! You can go,” You rip your hands away from him, “But leave me out of it!”

He looks stunned that you just spoke to him that way. You two have fought in the past but it was always solved with the promise of a smoke after whatever stupid thing you were arguing about. He’d never seen you this mad before.

Eddie’s been talking about Chrissy all week and you’ve had enough. After their little run in you just couldn’t take his obsession anymore, everytime he’d start to talk about her you’d change the subject.

“Okay then,” You can hear the pain and betrayal in his voice, “Fine. Stay here see if I care,” Then he leaves. He didn’t even say goodbye, he just left.

You knew you came off harsh but you’re tired of seeing the man you love fawn over someone who barely knows he exists.

You flop back onto your bed and curl into your blankets. You hate being mean, especially to Eddie, but you really weren’t in the mood to see him drooling over Chrissy. You never were, you were typically better at hiding it though. Which only made this worse.

Eddie stomps to his van, slamming the door when he gets inside. What the hell was that about?! She never acts this way. Maybe shes on her period or something. Eddie didn’t feel like thinking about this anymore so he starts his car and speeds off towards the high school.

You lay there in your bed, trying to figure out a way to apologize to Eddie later on, you don’t wanna just leave things here, you love him too much and you can’t fathom the thought of him being mad at you over something this small. 

You think about all the possible things Eddie loves when you hear a knock on your front door. You climb out of bed and throw a blanket around yourself. You walk slowly to the door, worried it might be Eddie coming back to yell at you or something. You open the door and come face to face with your mom.

“Mom wha-”

“Left my key card, I can’t seem to do anything right this morning,” She walks over to the couch and starts rummaging through the cushions to find her card, “Is Eddie here? I didn’t see his van outside.”

You lean up against the counter, watching your mother search frantically, “No he just left, we sorta got into a fight and then he stormed out.”

Your mom pops up from behind the couch, “Wait what? But y’all never fight. What happened?”

You sigh and start picking at your fingers, a nervous habit you have, “Well he wants to go to the basketball game tonight but I’m just not feeling up to it but when I told him it came off a little harsh.”

Your mom stops her search by the couch and moves towards her bedroom, flinging blankets and pillows all over the room, “Well maybe just tell him that you didn’t mean for it to come out so strongly, but you just don’t feel up for these basketball games anymore!” She yells from her room “But remember you gotta do what feels right I mean- OH YES!!” Your mom rushes out of her bedroom, key card in hand.

“I would if he didn’t seem so pissed at me because of it. I mean I love Eddie, but this obsession with Chrissy is just too much.”

“Wait. This is about a girl?”

Your face drops at the realization of your words. You’re mom knows that you and Eddie aren’t dating but she’s always thought that maybe there was a chance at some point, this just opens up a new problem.

“Maybe…”

“Oh sweetie,” Your mom walks over to you and places a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Eddie and you have been best friends forever, don’t let a girl come between that.”

You nod at her words, “I know. I know, it’s just he’s so obsessed with her and I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m gonna give you some advice that I was given, girlfriends and boyfriends come and go but this,” She motions between you and the direction of Eddie’s trailer, “This is forever. You can’t let this crush get in the way of that, got it?”

“Got it,” Your mom pulls you into a hug, squeezing tightly, “Did you steal that advice from Friends?”

“Maybe but it fits. Now I’ve gotta get back to work, be back later,” Kissing the top of your head and grabbing her things your mom heads out the door, “I love you!”

You smile at yourself as you head back to your room. Maybe your mom was right, maybe you should just stick this through until either he gets rejected and gives up or somehow finally gets Chrissy. You look at your phone on the nightstand, knowing what you need to do next.

[brewed-pangolin]

Convergence

Captain John 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem Reader x Sgt Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

Another one for @glitterypirateduck SoapItUp Challenge

This was inspired by @shotmrmiller Alternate Ghost AU. Don't know how, but it did. And I thank you dearly for it.

Synopsis: The last place you expect to be thrusted into a time warp is at the grocery store.

WC 783

--

Just imagine going about your daily routine at the grocery store.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Casually making small talk with the attendants as you scrutinize the flesh of a large green pepper.

-

"You doing the stuffed peppers again?" You smiled at his familiar voice, placing the chosen produce into the plastic bag.

"Yeah. Tried and true. Going easy this weekend," you remark with a friendly glint in your eye.

"Gonna add some jalapeños to the mix. Feeling a bit spicy these last few days."

"Nice touch. Just watch those seeds," he added. Leaning over the enclosure, lining up the peppers in color coded order. "They'll sting like hell if you wipe your eyes after cutting them."

"First hand experience?"

"Many."

Your chest jumped slightly with a huff at his honest admission. Extending your hand to grab a a few similarly sized packed greens.

You noticed the slight shift in air as you placed the bag into your cart. A silent hum in the back of your ear. The sudden sensation of a presence beside you, causing you to jolt and spin your head on a swivel.

"S'cuse me, love," the man says. Voice smooth, low. Wrapped like twine in a thick Scottish brogue. "Tryin' ta get tha pepper."

"Oh. I'm so sorry." You step back, hands on your chest with a furthering apology on your lips. Yet all movement and speech seem to halt as you meet the icy blue of his gaze.

"No need for apologies," he affirms with a casual smile. "Peppers are n'popular demand, yeah?"

You nod. Barely.

A whispered 'yeah' escaping your lips. The world turning into a blur as you lose yourself in the pull of his eyes.

You felt like a spring fawn. Every nerve tingling, every sense in overdrive. The hum in the back of your ears growing more strident. Pulsing. Flowing to meet a cadence that synchronized with the fluttering beat of your heart.

"Y'alright, love?" He asked. Low timbre vibrating within the shell of your ears. "Ya seem a bit shaken. Dinnae mean ta make ya nervous."

"No no no," you gasped, words rolling off your tongue like rolling rocks. "Just caught off guard. Surprised, y'know?"

"Aye. Ya sure? Ya tremblin a bit."

"I'm fine. Thank you. Enjoy your pepper."

Spinning on your heels, you jolt your cart forward. Leaving the enigmatic man with his chosen peppers to free your mind from within his trance like grip.

-

'What the fuck?' You mouth, inspecting a carton of milk like a scientist with a microscope. "Enjoy your pepper. What kind of dumbass says that?" You mutter under your breath, scolding yourself for your lack of composure while making your way to the snack aisle.

You hadn't planned on getting anything too unhealthy, but that sudden interaction changed your cravings to something more savory. Needing a bite to rid the taste of stupidity from your tongue.

You stood like an overwhelmed peasant in the aisle. Eyes scanning over the vast array of brightly colored bags and designs. Trying to focus on one that caught your attention, yet none seemed to pull at you. Ensnare you.

Nothing like the pull of his gaze.

A sudden perk of interest to a bag at eye level brought you back. And just as your fingers wrapped around the crinkling bag, that distant hum returned. Reverberating in the base of your earsdrums and slowly trickled down to the base of your spine.

"Nice, lass. Thems always a good choice," the voice called, forcing you to spin in shock from being pulled out of yet another daze.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Uh, not quite," he replied. A confident snark in his voice, dripping with an accent that was all too familiar yet more distinctive to a younger man.

The hum began to bellow deeply within your ears. What was once a distant buzz now echoed in the crevices, defeaning all sounds of the aisle, the store. Encapsulating you within its vibrations as your eyes moved ever so slowly to meet his.

You froze. Again. Second time in less than twenty minutes.

Bright cerulean orbs staring with a vigor and lust for life unlike any you had ever seen.

Similar to the icy blues earlier, yet wholly different. Lacking the poise and wisdom of a lifetime of trial and error. Yet, still held a strong grip of determination and control within the fibers of his irises.

"Y'alright, lass?" He asked. The silent rumble in his throat shifted the air, letting it heave down onto your soul until you were unable to move. Unable to think.

All you could was feel.

And you felt like a lamb at dawn on the eve of the spring slaughter.

Yeah. So, this happened....🤷‍♀️

Captain MacTavish Masterlist

[spidernuggets]

Jason Todd x Reader

"Where are you going? Look, the Titans needs us-"

"Fuck them, Rose. Fuck all of you"

"Jason, please! Where are you gonna go?? We can figure something out!"

When Jason left with Rose out of Gotham City, you were heartbroken. You kept a one-sided love hidden, thinking it would be too selfish to confess your feelings to him while he's in an unstable state of self hatred. But when Dick revealed that he killed Deathstroke's son just moments after you managed to get Jason to step away from the ledge, you almost let your secret slip when Jason was swiftly packing his things as you begged him to stay.

"Figure what out, Y/N? Huh? Why are you even staying? Almost everyone is leaving anyway, and Dick is just a liar," Jason argued, stuffing his duffle bag with whatever clothes he could find.

"Because the Titans are the only family I have! At least Gar is staying. But you don't have to leave, Jay"

"And why shouldn't I? There's nothing for me here. Everyone hates me, hell, even you probably hate me. You only got me off the roof out of pity"

"That's not true, Jason."

"Then why else would you?!"

"Because I-" You quickly stop yourself, knowing things would only become worse if your feelings were revealed. So you took a deep breath and took a second to calmed down.

"Because you're my friend, Jay. One of the best friends I ever had. And I don't want you to leave," you say quietly.

Jason stared at you for a couple of seconds before taking your hand in his. "Then come with us. You don't have to do everything Dick tells you to anymore, no more lies, no more half truths."

You sighed, "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Yeah, I don't think I like the idea of third wheeling you and Rose," you try to joke, but your heart actually aching at the thought. "But seriously, I don't think leaving is a good idea, especially with Deathstroke around. And being alone with his daughter, I mean-"

"Wait, what you don't trust her or something?" Jason interrupts you, taking slight offence.

"I'm just saying to be cautious, Jason. I mean, Deathstroke already kidnapped you once and-"

"And what? You think Rose is working with him? Jesus Christ, and I thought I was fucked up," He scoffs. "Y'know, Rose admired that I made it out alive from her dad. I managed to make it out alive, and you still think I'm weak?"

"Jason, I never said that!-"

"Nah, fuck this, you're just like everyone else here," Jason says, zipping his bag close and storming out the room.

"Jason!" You tried calling out, just for him to ignore.

-

"What, was it part of Daddy's training to fuck me this whole time?!" Jason yells at Rose. "I'm done with this shit," he says, grabbing his bag, starting to leave the home the two raided.

Rose quickly grabbed onto his arm to prevent him from leaving.

"Look, none of this was supposed to happen. It just did," she tries to tell him, but he ignores her, tearing his arm away from her grip.

"Get the fuck off me." He cries, and as if by reflex, Rose strikes a punch at him, blood quickly falling down his now broken nose.

"C'mon! Fight me! You know you want to!" She says in desperation.

Jason sends a cold stare. "Are we done?" She doesn't reply, tears building up in her eye. "We're done," he says, walking towards the door as Rose cries.

"Where are you going? Look the Titans needs us!" She calls out to him as he reaches the door.

"Fuck them, Rose. Fuck all of you," he replies, finally walking out the door with only one thing on his mind.

You.

He hailed the first cab he could find, telling the driver to head back to Gotham City.

All he could think about was how stupid he was to you. You were right, and he just left you like you were nothing. You saved him, and he treated you like dirt. You said he was your friend, and he abandoned you.

He rushed out the taxi after paying the driver, running up to the small apartment you were living at. You spent most of your time in Titan's Tower, but went back to your place when you wanted to be fully alone.

Your apartment was only big enough for one person, granted there were ants here and there, and a little mould growing in some places, but you saw it as your own place.

Jason knocked on your door three times, followed by a call of your name. He knocked again, a little louder, and a little more desperate. What if you weren't home? He couldn't go back to Titans Tower, he wasn't ready to see everyone else.

When no one answered, his shoulders slumped, and was about to walk away.

But your door opened, and you appeared on the other side, rubbing your red eyes with a fluffy blanket draped over your shoulders and your hair running wild as it was tangled and bunched all over the place.

"Jesus, who died," you say groggily, having not registered who knocked on your door.

Jason's eyes brightened as he returned to the front of your door.

"Y/n.." He softly called out. You stopped rubbing your eyes as you looked up at him, eyes widening as you couldn't believe Jason was standing right in front of you.

"Jason.." You replied, not knowing what to say. "How have you- uhm.. D'you wanna come in?" You awkwardly offered, Jason nodding as you stepped aside for him to walk in.

You directed him towards the couch. "Uh.. do you want something to drink or..."

"No." Jason quickly replies. "I- I just needa talk to you."

You nod, walking over to sit beside him on the couch.

"So.."

"I'm sorry," he says, looking at you with those glassy eyes. "You were right. Rose was spying on me, working with Deathstroke, you were right. I should've listened to you, I should've stayed. Just- just say I told you so and-"

You interrupted Jason by lunging towards him, blanket falling off as you wrapped your arms around him. "I'm so glad you're back," you said, your voice muffled.

Jason sits there in shock, slowly wrapping his arms around your middle. "You- You're not mad?"

You pull away, "Why would I be mad?" You ask, hands boldly reaching up to hold his face.

"Why wouldn't you be! I treated you like shit! I didn't listen to you, then I just left! How could not hate me?" He says in an outburst.

All you do is sigh and look away.

"What? What is it?" Jason asks.

"It's because I love you, Jay," you finally confess. Jason's eyes widened and was left speechless. All he could do was lean closer as his gaze shift down to your lips.

You lightly chuckle as you olace a hand against his chest to stop him.

"Stop. You're only doing that because of guilt," You say.

But Jason shakes his head. "No. No, I don't believe I am," he replies. "You've no idea how much I wanted this. Ever since you joined the team, I promise you."

You sighed. "Listen, you just parted ways with Rose, I don't actually think you-"

"A chance," he interrupts. "Give me a chance to show you how much I care for you. How much I feel the same for you. Take you out on dates, give you flowers, whatever. Just a chance, and if you still don't believe it, fine, I leave you be. But a chance is all I beg for."

You look down at your fiddling fingers, eyebrows furrowed, wondering whether or not he's telling the truth.

"One chance," you say. "One chance and one chance only. If you screw this up, then that's that."

Yeah I didn't really know how to finish it off, like I had the idea for the start but didn't know how to make the rest of the story so its pretty shit, but at the same time, its 2am so whatevah

Jason smiles, bringing you in for a tight embrace. "You won't regret it, I promise you, mama."

[superblysubpar]

masterlist | the music

15.8k words | This is an 18+ NSFW series | A/N at the end

You’ve done bad things in your life. Tiny, inconsequential sorts of things in the grand scheme of the universe. Small white lies told to spare feelings or cut corners like letting your mom believe you liked her haircut or using spark notes in high school instead of reading the assigned chapters. Granted there have been several spiteful moments like allowing your boss to go into a meeting with lipstick on her teeth. 

It’s all relatively normal though, never more than a tick on the good versus bad meter. You’ve always known that deep down you’re a good person. 

You’re not so sure anymore. 

The orange flicker of the quickly melting candles illuminates your flushed skin. Chipping polished fingers clamp your ruined underwear against the countertop you lean on. Chest heaving as you try to get your breathing under control. Steve’s next to you, thigh almost touching yours. His white top has a new button undone, his gold chain and the start of his sweat matted chest hair on full display now - catching the light, glistening with every flicker of the flame. You hate that the sight is almost enough to distract you from your predicament, that it makes you wish you hadn’t been interrupted. 

Eddie leans against the wall across from the two of you. His arms folded over his chest, black tshirt stretched across muscles almost as tight as his clenched jaw. His large brown eyes dance between yours and Steve’s. Eyes that give his true feelings away - as his mouth ticks up into a judging smirk, those eyes are pools of hurt. The confidence you had witnessed all day quickly draining from them as he peers at you. 

Tongue jutting out to lick his lips as he throws his hands up, “Jesus fucking Christ, will one of you say something?”

Your mouth opens as Steve’s fingers rub at his temples before sliding into his hair with a long huff of breath through his nose. Steve speaks before you’re able to force any words out of your parted lips. “Well, now you know. We can talk about it later. Let’s get out of here,” the last part directed to you. Not a question, but it doesn’t feel like a command either. It’s a request. 

Something in his tone, the way Steve’s hazel eyes plead with yours makes your heartbeat turn rapid again - throbbing in your ears. Your entire body kicks into overdrive, alcohol mixing with adrenaline and thoughts of what all of this means for you and Steve. 

Steve’s eyebrows raise at you expectantly, and Eddie’s voice is soft as he speaks to you, “So you were just using me to get him, right? Make him jealous? None of that was…”

Eddie straightens as he trails off. Eyebrows pinched together, cheek pulled between teeth in thought. Stepping towards him, you shake your head vigorously. Feeling like you’re being ripped in half. “No, Eddie, I promise you, I-” faltering on how to explain it all, to ease some of the hurt you caused, you push out, “We were already sleeping together and-”

Eddie’s gaze shoots over to Steve, eyes settling into a harsh glare as his finger shoves into Steve’s chest. Steve’s eyes roll as his shoulders do the same at Eddie’s hiss, “Dude. I straight up asked you if you were into her or had anything going on and you said no and that Robin-”

“Well we are and we do, so.” Steve shrugs, too casual about it all. He swats Eddie’s finger away like it’s an annoying gnat and not attached to the friend he lied to. The two boys sit in a staring contest, jaw’s clenched and eyes darkening and your blood boils from the words exchanged and Steve’s attitude. Your adrenaline tipping from flight to fight as you watch Steve push out his chest and Eddie take a step closer, shaking his head slightly. 

Your eyes turn on Steve, “Hold on. We’re not together.” Eddie’s gaze flicks to you as you keep speaking, anger rising rapidly in you. “We’re friends with benefits. Fuck buddies. Eddie, I absolutely was flirting with you and if I want to sleep with you, that’s none of Steve’s god damn business and-”

A knock on the door stops you from continuing. Steve’s jaw twitches, tongue licking his top lip as he narrows his eyes at you. 

“Y/N?” Nancy’s voice echoes through the door, softening to a whisper, “Guys, come on. I know all three of you are in there and Robin is wondering where-”

She stops as you open the door, meeting her thin lipped smile and too insightful for their own good eyes. 

“Sorry,” whispering as you brush past her. For sleeping with Steve? For pulling her into this mess somehow? For lying to your best friend and her girlfriend? You don’t even know anymore. 

Music grows louder as you wander down the hallway, clenching your fist tighter around your underwear. Risking a glance over your shoulder to see Nancy and Steve arguing, Eddie’s eyes dancing between them before catching yours. 

Any urge to fight, any anger, it disappears, lost in the smoke that fills the room and you’re desperate to get out of there. Technicolor lights swirl as the bass thumps through speakers and you maneuver your way through the small crowd. Front door almost within your reach as an arm slinks between yours and your side, hooking and yanking you to a stop. A voice attached to the arm you’re dreading to face, especially after they ask, “Hey, do you have something to tell me?”

Her words fill you with ice, toes numb and a chill down your spine. Looking up, you’re not met with anger but a smile that thaws you. Robin isn’t mad, she’s beaming and you’re wondering why when she glances over her shoulder. 

Eddie leans against the wall, smiling and nodding towards the two of you as he lifts a red solo cup. He must have told her something else with the way Robin is looking at you. Your stomach twists as Robin smiles wider, her dimple popping out. Her hands find your shoulders, blue eyes sparkling as her voice sings, “Girl talk. Wine. Cookies. Now. Let’s blow this popsicle stand, babe.”

“Robin, I-”

She shakes her head, pressing a finger over your lips as she shushes you, “Let me say goodbye to Nance and it’ll just be me and you the rest of the night, kay?”

Robin’s smile is so genuine and over her shoulder you see Steve looking around the room, clearly searching for you. Eyes connecting with yours finally, you feel nauseous as he quickly shoves in and out of groups making his way towards you. Forcing a smile, you look at Robin and nod. “Okay, I’ll be outside. I need some fresh air.”

Robin claps, happy with her victory. She weaves her way towards the kitchen, stopping Steve and gesturing to you before bouncing over to Nancy. Steve continues to make his way towards you and as hard as you try to exit and slam the door in his face, his hand catches your shoulder as you slip outside. 

Shrugging him off harshly, you focus all of your attention on your phone screen, pulling up Uber. 

“Can we talk?”

Steve’s voice is soft, straining to be heard over the bass from inside and it makes you peer up from your screen. His hands are in his back pockets of his dark jeans, hair a mess and sticking to his sweaty forehead. Brows knitting together and a frown on his lips - you can’t stand how sad and confused he looks. Does he not understand why you’re mad? Why this is all so wrong?

Why is this all so wrong?

Your brain is screaming at your body to run, yet everything in you wants to fight with Steve until you’re breathless. If you talk, if you fight right now, you’re both going to say things you can’t take back. On the other hand, if you run, if you push him away further, perhaps you’ll never say some things you probably should. 

“Not now, Steve.”

“But, I-”

Your glare is harsh, voice ice as you repeat yourself, “Not now, Steve.”

He narrows his eyes again, hazel that’s normally soft and sticky turning amber and hard. Jaw clenching as he rocks back onto his heels. Clearly Steve wants to fight as he shakes his head, mumbling under his breath, “You’re really unbelievable.”

Phone dropping to your side, you turn to face him fully, disbelief filling your features, “I’m unbelievable? Me? Were you just in the same bathroom? Were we at the same beach today? Or how about last night, Steve? Was that a different guy who-”

“You liked all of it, so don’t even-”

That stupid gravitational pull you seem to have with each other back at work again, your bodies moving closer to one another without meaning to, chests almost touching. Hands tightening into fists at your sides, you tilt your chin up at him, “Oh, and you know what I like?”

Steve laughs cooly, fingers tugging in his hair with a groan. His voice rises, dripping in exasperation, “That’s a ridiculous question and you know that! And what, you’re trying to tell me that you wanted Eddie to-”

“Who cares what I wanted Eddie to do Steve!” Your resolve to not fight fully breaking as your voice does the same, “That’s the point! It’s none of your business who I’m fucking or not, or have you forgotten that little part of the deal?”

Steve groans, grabbing at your forearms and scoffing, “I care! And it’s stupid of you to expect me not to!”

Your faces are close enough that if anyone were watching, they’d think a kiss was about to happen. Steve’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and both of your breaths quicken. Mint and rum on your lips mingling with citrus and beer on his breath. His eyes watch your mouth as you lick your top lip, swallowing harshly before hitting him with a final blow. 

“I’m not yours.”

Something in Steve’s eyes shifts once more, amber shattering and turning to cold and hard granite. A fake smile tugs on his lips, it’s all far too emotionless and nothing like the Steve you know as he tilts his head, whispering, “Not what you just said in the bathroom, babe.”

Your fingers itch to slap him at the same time your body betrays you, pussy clenching around nothing.

Steve smirks, knowing all of your tells. His mouth hovers over yours as his fingers squeeze your arms, “You can’t have it both ways.” 

A part of you wants to keep fighting, but what are you even fighting about anymore? How can you be mad at him, when you’re just as much to blame. He’s not wrong, you can’t make him jealous and then be upset with him when he acts on the feeling. It’s just a day full of too much sun, delusions and decisions fueled by rum. 

Before you can do or say anything more that you’re sure to regret later, the front door opens and saves the two of you. Steve’s hands drop from your arms as Robin’s head turns inside, laughing at someone’s departing words for her. She turns and skips down the stairs as you and Steve step further apart. Eyes on the sidewalk as the tension that has been surrounding you both pops like a bubble. 

Robin slows, her eyes lingering on Steve as she asks, “Everything okay?”

Steve looks up at her, nodding once before smiling and backing away. “Yup. Never better. Have a good girl’s night.”

He turns on his heel quickly, walking in the opposite direction he needs to go. Robin watches him with a frown, her lip pulling between her teeth as her arms cross. His fading figure’s shoulders sink, head turned down as she tilts hers. Holding your breath as her eyebrows furrow.

“He’s been so weird all week. And he was fighting with Nancy like, three times today. You don’t think…” she trails off, tugging on her fingers and shaking her head. “Maybe something’s going on with them? Maybe he’s not as cool with it all as he said he was? I should go…”

Your fingers are pruny from the guilt you’re swimming in as you quickly shake your head, shutting down the train she’s gotten herself on. “No, no, no, Robs, “ at a loss for words, you just repeat yourself firmer, “No. That’s not it at all. He…I don’t know. We were fighting about something stupid. You should just hang out with him, maybe he misses having you all to himself, okay? First me, then Nancy, now Eddie’s back. He probably just misses his best friend, you know?”

Unable to stop yourself, the lies build and build as you drown in the waves of guilt that knock you down repeatedly. Your chest tightens, suffocating and choking as it all pulls you under while she nods and hums, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Robin doesn’t look too convinced, but turns to you and smiles, a little forced but she takes a deep breath. “God, he’s not the boy we need to talk about right now anyways.” Her eyebrows raise before she continues and steps towards the Uber pulling up, “Eddie asked me for your number inside and I’m betting my next paycheck it has something to do with the undergarment in your hand there?”

Your hand quickly moves behind your back, but it’s too late and she cackles, “Oh my god, tell me everything!”

Phone buzzing in your hand as you both slide into the car. Robin squeals and makes grabby hands for it, “Oh, oh, oh, he’s already messaging you?!” 

The unknown number’s message fills the screen and you’re not quick enough to lock it before she sees:

Robin frowns, looking up at you, “Your side of what?”

“Oh, uh, Steve and I…he…” you’re fumbling, about to just blurt it all out when Robin groans. 

“I was hoping he wouldn’t find out.”

“What?” You blink at her, sweating palms wiped on the hem of your dress. 

Robin sighs, leaning her temple against the backseat as she turns her body towards yours. Waving her hand around as she speaks, “You know, that Steve and you slept together,” she shakes her head a little, smiling, “So weird still. Anyways. As confident as Eddie may appear, it’s always a competition with those two and Eddie…” she trails off, voice softening to a whisper, “Well, let’s just say Eddie wasn’t as popular in school as Steve was.”

Your head falls back against the headrest hard. Any remorse you were feeling for being mad at Steve vanishes. Steve knew what he was doing, how Eddie would feel. He knew how risky the bathroom stunt was and he didn’t seem to be ashamed in the slightest of being caught. Bitterness sits on your tongue as you remember how you felt in the bathroom as the boys sat in their staring contest. Steve doesn’t seem to care about the rules anymore, and you hate that you let yourself sort of forget them too. Steve was right. You can’t have it both ways. 

This is exactly what was not supposed to happen. It was supposed to be fun. No one was supposed to be hurt. You never thought you’d be the one to ignore your own rules, to feel the pit in your stomach at the thought of losing Steve. Your stringless fling seems to have quickly tied itself into a tangled knot in less than a day. 

Robin pats your thigh, smiling softly, mistaking your quiet for worry about Eddie. “Hey, you’ll tell him it’s all good. You and Steve are just friends. It’ll all work itself out, right?”

Humming in a sort of agreement as the Uber pulls up to your apartment, you pause on the sidewalk as you get out. Something gnawing at you. “Hey, Robs?”

She turns, smiling as she holds the door open, “What’s up?”

“Why…” you falter, unsure if you should ask. Her eyebrows raise in wait for your question. 

Opening the door to the stairs, you frown and ask, “Why are you excited something happened with Eddie and I? Why do you want something to happen with us, but not…”

You’re worried asking might lead to her reading too much into it but she shrugs, unbothered. “Steve? I don’t know. I think Eddie’s more your type,” she ticks off on her fingers, “He’s a lot more go with the flow, he hasn’t stayed in one place for more than a year since high school. He’s not looking to be tied down, and Steve is. Steve always is,” she rolls her eyes as she starts on the stairs, continuing, “I think you both have a lot in common, like reading today on the beach, same sense of humor. I don’t know, Eddie and you just make more sense to me, I guess? Steve and you are so different. Different worlds. Want different things. It was never gonna work, and I love you both and didn’t want to see that happen.”

What she’s saying makes sense, but why does it hurt a little?

She stops on one landing, hands on her hips, “I mean, the Dingus is great, but dude would be a total mess if you broke his heart, whereas you’d probably be fine? Eddie just handles heartbreak better in the end, and he also isn’t one to fall easily. You’d be able to still be friends if it doesn’t work out is what I’m saying. Casual and easy going are Eddie and yours shared middle names, ya know?”

“Right,” you agree quietly.

She turns to continue on the last flight, voice echoing up the stairwell, “So, I think it’s an ‘I Think You Should Leave Night.’ I need some Tim Robinson. Did I tell you that Nancy had never seen it? I…”

She trails off, explaining how she introduced Nancy to the show and you stare at your phone, sending a message to Eddie with the address to a coffee shop around the corner. Maybe you should have trusted Robin’s insight into these relationships from the start.

She knew right away Steve and you would end in failure and hurt and it was silly of you to think the two of you could avoid the kind of people you are. Fundamentally different, and not meant to be together for a reason, you’re sure. 

Your phone buzzes again as you enter the apartment, Robin already pulling out cookie trays. You turn your phone off without responding. 

Ice clinks together as Eddie’s fingers swirl his straw in the coffee in front of him. His eyes remain on the drink, tracking the faintest swirl of milk, lips downturned in a frown as you gnaw on the ripped skin of your thumb. 

He’s been silent for a full minute, since you finished explaining everything. He agreed to meet you at the coffee shop before brunch with the group. You’re hopeful to just move on, to forget about Steve. Maybe it would have worked out with Eddie and you if you hadn’t created this mess. Maybe it still could. You almost forgot about Steve fully when Eddie showed up in dark wash jeans, chain hanging loosely at his hip. A burnt orange shirt snug across his shoulders and chest where his waves hung down. Framing his dazzling smile that went straight to your lungs and pulled your breath out and away. 

Eddie finally blows out a long exhale, palms dragging down his cheeks as he groans. “Shit, this is a fucking mess.”

“Mhm,” you hum, sipping your own coffee. 

He folds his arms on the table and leans forward, frowning, “I don’t…I don’t understand why Robin talked my ear off for like four fucking hours about you though. That’s what I meant when I said I’d tell her last night, Steve knew she was trying to set us up.” He rolls his eyes and continues, “If she didn’t want you two together, why does she want us?”

Your fingers fold and unfold the straw wrapper in front of you, shoulders falling as you slump down in your chair further. “Right? I asked her that last night. Let’s just say I’m not a huge fan of relationships and she thought you’d be the perfect fit for…” you twist your lips and narrow your eyes as you search for the right words, “The lifestyle? I tend to lead.”

Eddie smirks but it quickly turns to a grimace around his straw. He leans back in his chair and picks at the chipping paint on the table. “You too, huh? Who broke your heart?”

Surprised at his question, the paper wrapper rips in your fingers and your brow furrows, “I…no one. It’s a long story.” Waving your hand at him, you try to brush off the question and he raises his eyebrows and you huff out an annoyed breath. Something tells you he’s not one to give up easily, perhaps just as stubborn as you are. “I just know happy endings are few and far between, why put yourself through all of that pain for maybe a chance of it working out. Plus I’m very happy being single.”

He watches you curiously. “Happy or just complacent?”

Rolling your eyes, you sigh. Squinting at him as you sip your coffee. “I’m happy. I think assuming I’m not because I’m not in a relationship or searching for love is some 1950s bullshit. I love the life that I’ve made for myself, without anyone’s help.”

Eddie’s lips twist into a smirk as he narrows his eyes playfully. “I see why he likes you.”

Frowning, you fiddle with your straw. “Steve doesn’t like me like that. He likes having sex with me.”

Eddie laughs, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, I can tell you right now, that’s not Stevie. He likes you. A lot. Wouldn’t have pulled that crap yesterday if he didn’t.”

Your stomach twists. That’s the problem, isn't it? 

Shaking your head back at him you snap, not mean, but not warm either. “Well, that’s too bad. Deal’s off. I’m sleeping with other people.”

Eddie leans forward again, arms resting on the table and his eyebrows disappear under his bangs, “Other people, huh?”

You mirror his posture, arms close to his as you smile, “Yeah, have anyone you can set me up with?”

He laughs, throwing his head back. He shakes his head, curls falling across his shoulders as he watches you closely before speaking, “Steve will never forgive me princess, sorry.”

Falling back in the chair dramatically, you sigh. Ignoring his comment about Steve. “Damn. I thought you were supposed to be the bad boy of my dreams?”

Eddie laughs again, and you decide you really like the sound of it. It’s warm and comes from his chest, you can tell smiling and laughing comes easy to him when he’s around the right people. 

He sips at his coffee and then drums his fingers on the table, tongue licking his top lip, “Well, normally I’d say fuck it. Cause you’re real cute,” he winks at you and you laugh, he shakes his head no again, “But I’m afraid that you’re different. You may actually be the one to cause a fistfight, sweetheart, and I can’t afford to marr the merchandise - it’s all I got going for me.”

He pats at his cheek and you laugh at his theatrics. “Well that’s just not true. I’ve known you for only a day and I can already confidently say you have a lot more going for you than looks Eddie.”

Eddie bats his eyelashes at you, false embarrassment, but you don’t miss the way his cheeks turn slightly pink. 

Acting on instinct, you reach forward and grab his hand, “But really, the offer will stand if you ever decide to risk it. I mean, Robin thought it’d work, right?”

He smiles, squeezing your fingers, “True. But Steve-”

Groaning, you fall backwards again, letting his hand slip from yours, “Is a big boy and will get over it.”

Eddie snorts, fingers tapping at the table again. Eyes avoiding yours as he speaks, “That’s cute. Will you?”

“Will I what?”

Eddie looks up again, big brown eyes peering directly into your soul it seems as he asks, “Will you get over Steve?”

His question makes your limbs feel heavy, heart pounding, as you choke out, “Eddie, I don’t-”

He rolls his eyes, “Yeah you do,” he stands, nodding his head towards the door, “Come on, you can tell me all about why you refuse to let him love you on the walk to brunch.”

Chest tightening as you watch him start to walk away, somehow Eddie can read you quickly, knocking some of the stones you surround yourself with loose. Maybe the universe does know what it’s doing, it certainly did when it gave you Robin. Perhaps you were meant to meet all of these friends at this time in your life. Was it okay to let yourself be open? To let some light in through the cracks in your wall?

Eddie waits and beckons you with his hand, dragging out his words, “Come on, you can do it.” He grins, holding one of his hands up like he’s swearing in an oath, “I’ll even tell you my tale of doomed love first. Cheerleader dating the freak. Real star crossed lovers kind of shit. It’s pretty damn heartbreaking if I do say so myself.”

He bows as you stand, extending his arm for you to walk out first and you do. Feeling a little less alone, a little less pessimistic about the world and love as you listen to him tell you all about a girl named Chrissy on the walk to Benny’s. 

“I’m really sorry, Eddie,” you whisper as he finishes his story.

He shrugs, straw squeaking as he sucks the last of his coffee dry, kicking a loose stone as you wait at the crosswalk. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Done lot’s of healing up here,” he taps on his temple and then his heart, “And here. Now,” he spins, eyes big and lips forming a pout as he pokes your cheek, “I think I’m owed your story.”

As you take a deep breath, maybe you will tell him actually, Robin’s voice sings from behind you, “Well, well, well! Looks like some people have had quite a morning already!”

Eddie and you turn, rolling your eyes almost in sync and Robin beams. You all know she slept over last night, and was there still this morning when you left for coffee. It’s not Robin you look at right away though, but Steve, who stands just behind her and Nancy. His eyes are on yours and Eddie’s coffee cups before they meet yours. 

The light changes and Steve’s eyes fall to the ground again, passing by you silently. Eddie leans in close and whispers in your ear, “Yeah, what was that thing about him getting over it?”

Brunch is uncomfortable after that to say the least. Eddie and you end up squished together all thanks to Robin’s insistence that you can all squeeze into the booth. But, you can’t, leaving Steve in a chair pulled up on the end, dodging elbows of the staff carrying trays to the busy diner patrons. Finding it hard not to stare at the way his muscles flex under his plain white t-shirt or the way his neck extends, exposing his freckles and moles with every turn. 

His eyes catch you staring at one point and your gaze quickly drops to your plate, hands becoming busy with your coffee mug. Your stomach finds the giant waffle in front of you unappetizing. Eddie nudges your knee while offering a reassuring smile as Nancy watches all three of you over the rim of her coffee. 

Robin is oblivious to it all, chattering about her and Nancy’s trip next weekend, the football game coming up, and Eddie’s band potentially booking a gig for the Halloween party following it. 

“Wait, we’ve barely hit September, Halloween?” Eddie shoves pancakes into his cheek as he speaks. 

“In Chicago, Halloween is the entire month. So, in two weeks, October 1st equals Halloween season officially, baby!” Robin rubs her hands together like an evil genius before continuing, “Costume contests and bar crawls, horror movie trivia and marathons, oh my god all the Rocky Horror showings. It’s the best freaking time of the year.”

Nancy grimaces and Steve smiles for the first time all morning. “Have fun. Extremely happy to let you inherit the responsibility that is Robin for the month of October.” He removes an invisible hat from his head and pops it onto Nancy’s.

She smiles widely at him.  “Wow, King Steve removing his crown?”

“Only for those worthy.” He winks and they laugh about something you don’t understand, remembering you’re the outsider of this little group. Your chest burns from the thought of them together, the history they have. A bitter taste fills your mouth and it’s not from the coffee. Swallowing harshly as you push down whatever is brewing inside of you - definitely not jealousy. 

Robin rolls her eyes, responding dryly, “Ha-ha,” she takes the invisible crown and places it on her own head, sticking her tongue out at Steve. 

Eddie leans across the booth stealing it, “Oh no, I’ve wanted this bad boy since High School!” Robin and Eddie pretend to play tug of war with the invisible inside joke. Feeling yourself fading into the vinyl seats of the booth as they all reminisce about a particular Halloween from high school. Something about a party at Steve’s, pure fuel, and Eddie and Robin being higher than kites while they TP’d Steve’s backyard. 

Nancy covers her mouth in shock, “That was you guys?!” 

The two fall over in a fit of giggles and Nancy shakes her head, throwing a wadded up napkin at their faces. A smile sits on your lips as you poke at your waffle. A bump to your knee has you looking up to find Steve watching you, his eyebrows furrowed. Standing as you offer a shrug of your shoulders. 

Robin stops Nancy and Eddie from their loud boos about something, waving her hands, “Wait, where are you going?”

Your thumb hooks over your shoulder, “I’m gonna head home, I’m not feeling so hot, probably just too much sun yesterday.”

“I can walk you,” Eddie starts to get up and you motion for him to sit.

“It’s like a block away, I’m fine, promise. Catch up! You haven’t had the chance yet.”

Robin smiles at you, but it doesn’t meet her eyes as she tilts her head. Eddie nods once, sitting back down. Grabbing your receipt and quickly leaving the table with a wave. As you wait for the hostess to return to the register, the receipt is plucked from your fingers and Steve is next to you. 

A roll of your eyes as you huff a breath out of your nose, “Steve, give me my receipt.”

“Oh my god, so you can talk to me. Was worried I left my secret invisibility cloak on.”

He leans against the counter, chin resting in his palm as he raises his eyebrows. Shrugging your shoulders, you avoid his gaze. “Nothing to talk about,” you reach for the receipt again and he holds it away from you. Gritting through clenched teeth, “I can pay for myself.”

“I know you can, but it’s okay to let people do something for you sometimes.”

“It’s not sometimes with you Steve, you do it all the time. I don’t want your money - “ 

“You could just say thank you,” he rolls his eyes, “It doesn’t mean anything. Does it really bother you that much?”

“Yeah, it does, I’m able to pay for myself and I don’t need someone to provide for me.”

Steve stands up taller, crossing his arms as his voice lowers, “Probably didn’t have a problem letting Eddie provide you with your coffee this morning.”

Rolling your eyes again, you snort, snatching the receipt and leaning in closer. “Actually, not that it’s any of your business, but I bought his coffee to apologize to my friend for yesterday.”

Steve smirks, ripping the receipt from your fingers again, “Right, and I’m your friend offering to buy your breakfast.”

“If you were my friend, then you wouldn’t be acting like this,” your fingers graze his as you reach for the ticket again, and he closes his fist around it tighter. Your voice grows weak as you continue, “What are we doing Steve.”

His shoulders relax slightly and he sighs, blowing his breath out through his nose as he turns towards the counter. It wasn’t phrased as a question, but he answers anyways, “I don’t know. You tell me. You seem to want to call all the shots right? When we talk, when we don’t, when we fuck and who we tell.”

Your gaze jumps over to the booth, everyone caught up in conversation thankfully and you exhale. Turning on your heel, choosing that some battles are not worth fighting. Your armor has received far too many dents and you can’t afford to rebuild it again. 

“Not anymore,” you mumble to him as you try not to focus on the way his shoulders fall further or the wetness that pools on your lash line. 

The city transitions from Summer to Autumn in less than a week. Trees lining your neighborhood turn from green to yellows and reds. The air becomes cooler, easier to take deep breaths and be open to the change the season promises. Your fingers trail along the brick of an old building as you walk towards your favorite pizza place. Rounding the corner, you nearly smack into someone.

“Oh, sorry, I-”

“I’m so sorry-”

Steve stands in front of you and both trail off as you realize it’s each other. You almost didn’t recognize him with a black baseball hat on, tight black shirt and light wash jeans. It’s probably the most casual you’ve seen him and  you swallow harshly. Neither of you have messaged and you hate how much you wish he would have. 

He shoves his hands in his pockets, twisting his lips up while squinting. “Hey, I was just coming to see if you were done avoiding me.”

A flip switched, your annoyance with him returns easily. Rolling your eyes as you push past him. “I’m not avoiding you.”

He spins to follow you, dragging out his word, “Riiight.” He kicks a pebble as he falls into step with you, “So, if you’re not avoiding me, let’s go back to your place and hang out. Maybe get Red Hot-”

Stopping abruptly, Steve nearly trips on his own feet as he comes to a halt next to you. Your arms cross as you look up at him, “Steve, I thought it was clear that the arrangement was over.”

He nods once, licking his lips before smiling, “I meant actual Red Hot Ranch, get your mind out of the gutter.” He’s trying to joke, but his tone is forced - like he’s speaking while holding his breath and it makes your chest hurt. 

Steve runs his hand through his hair before his arm falls to his side, “Seriously, I just…I’m sorry. About everything. And I miss my…friend?”

He lets the last word hang as a question. Debating if you can actually move on, you look up at the sky. You’re sure if you and Steve can get through this awkward sort of scramble to fix the mess you’ve made, you can be friends and end up happy. 

You want to move on from Steve, right?

Raising your arm, you gesture in the direction you had been heading in, speaking softly, “I was just on my way to Argyle’s, if you can handle sharing a pizza with a friend who likes olives?”

Steve’s lips twitch into a lopsided smile, remembering how the two of you met. He sighs dramatically before walking towards the bar, “Only if you agree to let me absolutely crush you at ski-ball at Replay after.”

A demolished pizza, a train ride, and several beers later, Steve is cupping his ear with his hand, a gloating grin on his lips as he asks, “How many games is that?”

Rolling your eyes, you scoff into the bottle and spin, scanning the barcade. It’s 80s theme this month, so while the front of the place is normal - pinball and arcade games - the people mingling about and heading to the back themed portion of the bar are decked out in neon, legwarmers, and dizzying patterns. An 80s playlist booms overhead mixing with dings of the pinball machines and chatter of bar goers. 

Your fingers tap on the side of your bottle and nod towards the machines, “You know, all of these are free and yet, I’ve never seen you play. Someone too chicken to lose at something he might not be the best at?”

Steve smirks around the lip of his bottle, “I’ll play you on any machine in here. Still gonna win.”

You’ve missed this with him, the banter and fun. No pressure and no feelings. Although, is it really without feelings when his cocky attitude is a turn on, because now you know how it translates into the bedroom? Will you ever be able to separate the two versions of Steve?

Spinning once more, you land on a Goonies themed free machine, you tap your fingers on the glass and face him, “Care to make it interesting?”

He leans against it, smiling. “What’d you have in mind?”

“If I win, I get to pay for the next round,” you point your finger thinking, “And the next dinner we have together!”

He shrugs, sipping his bear, “Fine. If I win, I pay for the next round, dinner next time we’re out, and I get to come over for a movie tonight. My choice.”

“Fine,” you narrow your eyes.

“Great,” he smiles wider. 

Suspicious with how easy he agreed to let you pay for something if you won, you gesture towards the game. “You go first.”

Steve hands you his beer, cracking his knuckles as he speaks, “Prepare to lose.”

Steve releases the ball, standing tall in front of the pinball machine, confident with his legs spread slightly, shoulders rolled back. You hate that your eyes travel to his butt and up his back, swallowing a drink of your beer as you reach his neck, his concentration present on his face under the baseball hat that you’re quickly wishing he’d wear more often. Watching as his long fingers press the buttons on the side of the game with quick and precise moves, his eyes roam over the glass, unmoving from the game as he smirks. “You didn’t read the names on the screen did you?” 

Flashing lights distract you from his face and fingers, turning towards the screen, Steve’s score trailing across it in bright red, then the list of top five scores appear where you see ‘Dingus’ and ‘Other Dingus’ as the top two names. 

Groaning, you close your eyes, “What?!”

He laughs, “Robs and I came here like every night when we first moved to the city and worked at that burger place just down the road.”

Steve pats your shoulder and when you open your eyes he’s smiling with fake sympathy, “I think I’m gonna make you watch a rom com tonight.”

Your groan grows in volume and you face the machine, shoving the two beers into his hands, “Bite me, Steven.”

Steve takes a sip of his beer, only to choke on it as you pull the lever and the ball immediately falls down the center. Brushing it off, you start on the second one, only for Steve to wince when you press the lever at just the wrong moment, sending the ball careening around the board with no way to control it or anticipate when it’ll drop again. 

He sets the beers down, holding up his hands, “Okay, hold on, hold on. I wanna win, but in a fair fight. This is pathetic.”

Steve comes up behind you, you hold your breath as his hands hover over yours, arms on either side of you and he whispers, “Can I help show you something?”

Worried your voice is going to betray you, you just nod and Steve steps closer. His head to the side of yours, cheeks almost touching as his fingers land above your own. He watches as your first ball goes ping ponging around the board again, laughing a little as you stick your tongue out and jab at the buttons. He whispers close to your ear, “You’re hitting it at the right time, just too quick and choppy. You gotta take a deep breath before hitting the button, relax your body.”

The heat of Steve’s face next to yours, his chest just touching your back, it’s melting you, words he’s saying fried on impact in your brain like an egg on a sidewalk. You couldn’t take his advice if you tried, the instructions gone from your thoughts as your body betrays you, underwear growing slick between your thighs.  

“Show me?” you squeak out and out of the corner of your eyes you see his lips tip up on one side in a smile. Will Steve be able to ignore your tells, will he ever be able to separate the two versions of you either? 

The second ball releases, Steve’s fingers lace with yours over the buttons, he whispers, “Okay, deep breath,” you feel his chest expand against you, feel his breath hit your neck as he turns to face you instead of the game, “Now.”

His fingers press yours into the button gently, his nose brushing up your neck slowly and the ball hitting the exact spot you wanted and you spin to face him, ignoring the game. “I-”

A girl comes out of the bright pink bathroom, mascara on her cheeks and blowing her nose loudly and interrupting any moment you two were just having. Her friend wraps her arm around her. “He’s an idiot.”

“Why doesn’t he love me!” She wails, swiping at her nose with toilet paper another girl hands her. The two friends on either side of the crying girl communicate silently with their eyes. One touches her finger to her nose before the other can, holding her hands up in surrender. 

Steve’s eyes meet yours, shimmering with held back laughter and you cover your smile with your fingers. He leans in closer, lips brushing your ear and you hate that you shiver as he speaks, “You are so not laughing.”

“No! He’s gonna be my husband!” The clearly drunk girl hiccups and the friend who didn’t tap her nose quick enough whispers, “Babe, you met him last week on tinder.”

An unstoppable snort leaves you and your shoulders shake, forehead pressing to his chest. 

“Hey! What’s so funny assholes?” The one girl directs towards the two of you. 

The sad girl hits her friend's shoulder, “Don’t be mean, they’re clearly in…lo...love!” She starts crying harder and Steve’s shoulders start to shake too, his hand grabbing yours and pulling you back into the themed part of the bar. 

He drags his palm down his cheek, laughing still, “Not funny. It’s not funny.”

Straightening, you form a serious face, mashing your lips together. “Right. Not funny.”

Your eyes meet and your laughter bursts out of you again, wiping your eyes as you lean against each other. 

Steve shakes his head, removing his hat for a second to run his hand through his hair, before adjusting the cap. His shirt rises a little, exposing the line of dark hair that runs under the waistband of his jeans. Your laughter dies off, eyes trying to look anywhere but there.   

He motions to the bar, grinning as he asks “I believe I get to get the next round?”

Rolling your eyes, you shoo him away, leaning against a small unoccupied table. As you wait for him to return, you’re lost in people watching and admiring the decorations. Replay does not hold back when it comes to a theme, specific and hidden nods to the decade surround you as you watch the groups and couples enjoying themselves. Some clearly on first dates, or new to seeing each other. Lots of sipping of drinks, nodding, restless hands and standing not too close to each other. Then there’s those that your chest twinges a little as you watch them. The couple at one of the tables with arms around each other, laughing and kissing temples. The two that come out of the photobooth catch your attention the most. They’re giggling, stealing kisses and holding hands, waiting as their pictures print. Their heads lean together as one of them squeals, “Aww, babe!”

The bump of your drink against the wood tabletop pulls you away, Steve watching you curiously, he raises his eyebrows, “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I just didn’t know people actually did photo booths anymore. Or like, got excited about them. Never done it before.” Shrugging as you take a sip. 

Steve’s mouth falls open, “You’ve never…Come on.”

He’s pulling you over despite your protests, sitting down and waiting for you. He rolls his eyes and pats his thigh, “Not like you haven’t sat on my thigh before.”

“Jesus, Steve.” Hissing at him as you sit, swiping the curtain closed behind you. 

The space is even smaller than it looks, and it takes Steve and you a second to find a comfortable position. Your elbow bumps the wall as you try to sneak it around his shoulders and give up, resting them in front of you in your lap. His chin knocks against your shoulder as he moves his arm around your waist. 

Steve leans forward to press the button and you stop him, “Wait!” 

He raises his eyebrows at you, looking up and you realize his face is right in front of your chest and you squeeze your eyes closed, “What…uh…what do we do? Smile or - “

Steve's fingers tap your hip, “We’ll figure it out. Relax.”

The number flashes on the screen, your faces filling it and Steve suggests a silly one first, his tongue sticking out and his eyes crossing. You’re mid laugh in that one. He hooks both arms around you, pulling you further onto his lap and his chin falling over your shoulder for the next one. Smiling for the camera normally, until right before the flash he blows a raspberry in your neck, squeezing your waist. You’re caught up in scolding him, trying to jab at his sides in the next one. By the fourth photo you’re laughing, looking at each other as your breathing slows down with smiles. After the flash, Steve’s hand cups your cheek, leaning in closer as your smiles fall and your breath picks up for an entirely different reason. 

“Steve…” your voice is a breath. 

He swallows, his own voice not any louder, “Yeah?”

Your noses are touching, lips hovering over each other’s as you speak, “We should-”

The flash goes off and you both freeze, the booth’s voice echoing and telling you your photos are printing. Clearing your throat, you pull the curtain and stand, Steve following you out and he exhales, sipping his drink. Well, more like chugging it, his finger looped into his collar as he tugs it away from his neck.��

The strip falls into the little cubby and you pull it out with a smile. Your thumb brushes over the photoset, happy to have a physical memory of you and Steve. You get it, why people like them. They’re black and white - timeless. Little moments caught where you weren’t overthinking what Steve and you are, or what you’ll be or how you’ll never work. 

It’s just the two of you at that moment, and you’re glad you have the photos because you already miss it. 

He’s behind you, voice quiet as his eyes take them in, “Do you like them?”

You nod your head, smiling wider, “Yeah, I really do. Thanks.”

He hums, nodding towards the door, “Wanna…?”

A very open ended question, but you nod, slipping the photos into your back pocket and walking out ahead of him. 

Your walk to the blue line stop is silent. Your hands barely touch as you walk, the back of Steve’s fingers hitting yours. Does he want to hold hands? Do you want that too? Lost in a day dream of what it would be like to let yourself walk around holding hands with someone like Steve Harrington.

The sunset draws your attention as you lean on the wall waiting for the train, your chin resting on your folded arms. Oranges and pinks are vibrant streaks across the sky as the sun sinks lower and lower behind the buildings. 

You turn and catch Steve watching you. His eyes melt as they meet yours, orange golden light hitting his jaw, eyes turning into the stickiest honey you’ve yet to see. Your breath catches in your chest and you raise your eyebrows, “What?”

He smiles, soft and barely twitching his lips up before his eyes fall to the ground. He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, “Nothing. I like watching you watch the sunset is all.”

Your heart beats harder and you turn your gaze back on the sky as you exhale, “I never said sorry either you know. And I am,” you look at him again, his eyebrows furrow, and you continue, “Sorry, I mean. It’s kind of all my fault.”

The train pulls up then, both of you caught up in getting on and failing to find a seat. You stand with your back to the doors, chairs to one of your sides and Steve steadies himself with a palm over your shoulder. You’re close, caged in, and on a jolt of the car, you lean forward and catch yourself on his chest. He looks down at you, eyes bouncing between yours. The loud rumble of the car rattles inside your ribcage and as the train goes through a tunnel, the quick bursts of lights outside flash across his face. 

“Sorry it happened or sorry it’s over?”

“What?” You ask quietly, confused by his question. 

He steps closer and your back arches, forgetting there’s other people on the train with you as  he speaks quietly, barely able to hear over the noise of the train, “Earlier. You said you were sorry. That it was your fault. So you’re sorry it happened at all or sorry it’s over?”

“Steve…” you tilt your head, lip almost catching his.

His breath fans across your cheek, “I’m not sorry.” His nose nudges into your cheek and he whispers, “I’m not sorry about any of it. Sorry I hurt you, but not sorry about it happening. And I’m definitely sorry it’s over.”

Your words are caught in your throat. Is this what you want? Do you want Steve completely? Even if it means hurting him? Even if it means getting hurt yourself?

The train announces your stop and his arm falls, following you out the doors. His admission hangs heavy in the air, mixing with the thick heat that’s started to fall over the city. Is it too late to tell him you feel the same way? Can you even tell him that when you can barely admit it to yourself? 

As you step down the stairs to the sidewalk, you see Stan’s and you gesture to it, “Grilled cheese or a donut for the walk back?”

He nods and you don’t argue with him when he pulls out his wallet, only whispering a quiet thank you. You walk in silence, your mind races just as fast as your heart. It’s crazy to think you could let yourself be open to Steve. Robin is right, you’re different, and it’s never going to work. It already hurts now, what happens if it really doesn’t work out?

Taking turns with the sandwich, Steve takes a bite and sighs, stuffing the piece into his cheek. “I only ever make these when I’m sick. Kind of forget they exist outside of that.”

“So that’s your favorite food when you’re sick?” You question as he hands the sandwich back to and you round the corner, your apartment only a block away now. 

He nods, licking his finger and squinting at the sky. “Yeah, grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

“Respectable choice,” you speak around your own bite and you smile. 

You’re stopped at a crosswalk, and Steve watches you, blowing his breath out through parted lips, “Are you going to leave me hanging?”

You know he’s referring to what he just said on the train. Your eyes drop to the sidewalk, stomach turning as you speak, “Steve, we’re…this isn’t going to work. We’re too different. And you don’t even know me. Not really.”

He steps closer, fingers on your chin as he tilts your face up to look at him. He licks his lips, shaking his head and his voice is desperate, “I do. I do know you. I know you like sunsets, and your favorite foods, and what kind of body wash you use…”

His words make tears spring to your eyes, chest tightening as you shake your head. He continues, “You can tell me things. I-” he rubs his thumb across your cheek, “If you give it a chance and open up to someone-”

Maybe it’s a sign from the universe, because before he can keep going, before you can respond, the sky opens up, dumping rain on you from seemingly out of nowhere. 

“Fuck!” He screams, swiping at his eyes as the torrential downpour swallows you both.

Grabbing his hand as the light changes, you take off towards your apartment, both of you blindly running as the rain streams down your face. People honking or running by with umbrellas as you cut across the busy street screaming at Steve to hurry. 

“I’m trying! I can’t see anything more than like two steps in front of me!”

You come to a stop outside your apartment, rain pounding against you both and Steve tries to cover you with his arms, doing absolutely nothing as you fiddle with your keys in your pocket. Finally getting the front door open, the door closes and the sound of your clothes dripping onto the tile is soft compared to what sounds like a hurricane coming down outside the doors. 

Steve removes his hat, shaking his hair and running a hand through it before wringing out the cap, water dripping sadly from it and landing in the quickly forming puddles beneath your feet. Your eyes meet after watching it and you can’t help it, you both burst out laughing. It’s all so ridiculous, or maybe it’s the beers you’ve had. Taking a step, your shoes squish loudly and you groan and Steve's laughter fades and he covers his mouth, shaking his head as he looks up at the ceiling. 

The entire trip up the stairs, the squishing of your socks in your shoes landing on each step only seems to get louder. It’s comical, straight out of a cartoon and every time you look down at your shoes annoyed, Steve’s lips twitch in a fight against a smile. 

A particularly wet squelch happens on the top step and Steve snorts and whispers, “That’s what good pus-”

“Stop!” You cover your face with your palm, hiding your laughter as you interrupt his crude joke. 

Steve can’t stop laughing, both of you breathlessly wheezing as you make it to your front door finally. It’s that kind of laughter that can’t be stopped, spurred on by the other’s picking back up. You don’t even know what’s so funny anymore, all you know is your cheeks and stomach hurt and you don’t want it to be over. 

Stopped at your door, you swipe at your eyes and your laughter trails off naturally. The soft glow of the dimming hallway lights casting Steve in pale yellow, his eyes bounce between yours. Chests rising and falling almost in tandem, your breathing slightly ragged from running and laughing. The air around you feels different and Steve swallows harshly, your eyes follow the movement of his adam’s apple. You’re scared to speak, because maybe if you do, the night isn’t going to end the way you’re too afraid to admit you want it to. 

It’s silly, really, drenched from a surprise rain storm, the night you’ve had with each other and the things he’s said. It’s almost like a date, a pivotal scene from the movies you claim to hate. 

It’s almost like you want Steve to kiss you. 

Your body knows before your brain can catch up, or maybe it’s your heart this time. Drawing closer to each other, Steve pulls you in time and time again. Your own moon, controlling your tides. Keeping you tethered to him, grounded in his gravity and weightless in the same breath. How can someone who makes you feel like this not be meant to be in your life? How could it not work out?

Steve closes the distance, the tips of his sneakers tapping yours as he looks down at where his hand falls to rest on your waist. Your head tilts with an easy familiarity, eyes on his mouth as his nose brushes against yours. He sighs, eyes flitting up to yours as he speaks, barely louder than a breath, “I really missed you.”

His fingers are warm on your side, cold fabric of your shirt bunched up slightly as his thumb brushes across your skin. His other hand rises, almost in slow motion, and cradles your cheek. Steve’s voice is raspy, a little broken as he promises, “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

You really want him to kiss you. 

Your top lip skims his as you lean into him more, speaking even softer than he is, “I don’t want you to stop.”

Steve’s fingers squeeze your hip as his other hand glides to the back of your head. Tangling in your hair as he tilts your head further, lips meeting softly as your eyes flutter closed. A simple press, his breath hits your top lip as he pulls away slightly. Your eyes open, the warmth of his meeting yours, your own personal sunshine back and surrounding you. His hands move, cupping both of your cheeks. Steve's eyes close as he pulls you in again, mouth parting over yours and he sighs into you, filling your lungs with air like you hadn't been able to take a deep breath without him. 

Your stomach flips as he kisses you slower than he ever has - it's easy, familiar, yet new at the same time. Kisses that are sweeter and savoring, nose squished into yours, desperate to be closer. Thumbs brushing over your cheeks, foreheads pressed together. Steve's head tilts, nose bumping higher on your cheek, thumb dragging down your jaw gently as his tongue glides over the seam of your lips, sighing into you again as you open for him. 

Hands roaming to his chest, your palms flatten there as your back bumps into the door. Steve slots his knee between your legs, letting the weight of his body fall against you as your hands climb up his chest. One rests on his shoulder, thumb tugging and brushing against the collar of his shirt as the other trails higher on his neck until it holds his jaw. The slight scratch of scruff against your face contrasting with soft lips that continue to kiss you like he thinks he won't get to ever again. 

It turns desperate quickly, breathily sighing his name into his mouth as he sucks on your bottom lip. It makes Steve kiss even slower, a different kind of teasing than you're used to with each other. His lips move over yours languidly, but precise. Each press to yours a conscious decision, every nudge of his nose against yours purposeful until he's got his hands on either side of your head, palms holding him up against the door. Until yours are twisting his shirt in your fists. Kissing you so slow, you've forgotten to come up for air, panting breaths and back arching as he lets his teeth drag on your bottom lip. Tugging it and sucking before releasing it with a quiet pop. Steve laughs a little into your jaw as you shiver. He's breathing hard, lips ghosting over your skin as you breathlessly laugh too.

"Are we-"

"Do you want to-"

Smiling as you speak at the same time, both sounding a little wrecked. 

"Fuck, please," Steve pleads into your lips and you can't move fast enough. 

Reaching behind you to your door handle, you spin to unlock it as Steve presses up behind you. Large hands landing on your hips after he brushes your hair to one side. Nose dragging against the back of your ear, breath hot against your skin as he mouths at you, "Baby, hurry."

Baby.

Heart stuttering at the name you didn't realize how much you missed until you heard it again. 

You laugh, realizing this is crazy, only for it to break off into a moan as he presses his growing erection into your back and sucks at the skin just behind your ear. "Fu-fuck, Steve," you stumble as his fingers squeeze your hips and his bruising mark heats up under his mouth, "St-stop distracting me."

Steve's smile against your skin makes you shiver again. Soft lips grazing just barely against your cheek, down to your jaw. His hands bunch your shirt into his fists, knuckles brushing your sides as he sighs. "Dunno what you're talking about honey."

The lock clicks open finally, Steve reaches for the knob, engulfing your hand with his and pushing you both inside. He laces his fingers into yours as his other hand locks the door once more. Fingers intertwined, he spins you, back against the door again. 

"Smooth," you smirk as he catches your lips with his.

"You liked it," he breathes into your mouth. He tugs at your hips until you're straddling his thigh. One hand wraps around your back, palm pressing you closer to him as his lips move over yours slowly once more. 

You're not sure how long it's been since you've been kissed like this - if you've ever been kissed like this. 

Parted lips, tongues meeting soft and lazy, your fingers get lost in his hair as his slowly roam under your thighs, lifting you and guiding you to wrap around his waist. Steve starts laughing as you kick your shoes off and he nearly trips on them as he makes his way to your bedroom, kicking his own off somewhere along the way. 

Rain hits against your bedroom window rhymically, curtains filtering in the pale blue dusk as Steve sits down on your bed. Your legs falling on either side of his hips as you straddle him.

Steve deepens the kiss, breath warm on your cheek as he angles his head, smiling as you moan when he nips at your bottom lip again. He pulls away just enough to look at you, his thumbs brushing your cheeks as his eyes move over your face, tracking and tracing over the freckles and curves of you. You missed seeing him in this space and it makes your heart beat harder. Realizing in just a week the scent of his cologne has faded from your sheets, second coffee cups unused, a tangible thing missing from your home in too many ways to count. 

Steve's watching you curiously as your hands moved without realizing, tracing over the features of his face physically. Fingers over his eyebrows, the slope of his nose, his flushed cheeks before following the curve of his top lip. Backtracking and touching his cupid's bow. His own thumb roams to your lips too, dragging over your bottom lip as he sighs, "I don't have a condom. I didn't really expect..."

Your fingers fall, shrugging as you quietly admit, "I don’t either. But I haven't slept with anyone but you Steve. Not since before..."

"Yeah?" he swallows, thumb on your chin and pulling you in for a soft kiss. The rain picks up somehow, mirroring your hammering heart. 

Reluctantly removing your lips from his, your fingers scratch down his shirt. They fiddle with the hem of it as you avoid his gaze, "Have...have you?" 

He shakes his head, nose bumping yours as he whispers, "Just you."

"Okay," you exhale a shaky breath. 

He smiles, hands wrapping around your back. "Okay."

A crack of thunder rumbles outside so loud it feels like it's inside your apartment and you jump, clinging to Steve. His hands soothe up your spine, nose pressing into your cheek as his fingers cradle your jaw again. Your lips catch his top one in a soft press before your hands lift his shirt. 

You've removed each other's clothes before, but something about tonight feels different. Slowly tugging the shirt over his head, hair ruffled as it's drying. Your hands roam over his biceps, leaning in to kiss him again, smiling as his muscles flex under your fingertips as his run across the exposed skin on your lower back. Fingernails scratch down his chest, curls of his chest hair sticking to his tanned skin from the rain that soaked through the fabric. His arms are filled with new freckles from all the sun lately and you can’t help but lean forward and let your lips drag over them. As your fingers stop on his stomach, Steve slowly lifts your shirt from you. A flash of lightning illuminates your room, Steve's eyes drinking you in as his hands roam over you just as yours had on him. Buzzing touches into your skin, sending vibrations throughout your body as he pulls you closer to his chest. 

His nose ghosts over the shell of your ear, lips kissing under it. The pads of his fingers press into your spine and he sighs as he leaves a trail of kisses down your neck to your shoulder. Resting in a spot only he's found that makes you whimper without control, lip tugging between your teeth and back arching as he bites down gently. He sucks over the spot before his tongue soothes it as his hands cradle you closer. He sighs into your neck as you whine again. His breath is fast and hot against your skin, kissing up the column of your throat as you extend it for him, head thrown back as he holds you tighter. His mouth moves lower as his hands do the same, pulling you down and guiding you to rock against him and your stomach flutters alive with butterflies. 

Steve can’t seem to keep his hands still, squeezing your hips, roaming to your back again, soon he’s cradling your jaw, pulling you in for a deeper kiss as he falls onto the bed further. He groans as you grind against the bulge under his jeans, rolling your hips harder as his hands slip into your back pockets. Your kiss becomes frantic, letting your weight fall against him completely and he breathes into you, hands moving to your back again. “Hey,” he shakes his head against your lips, smile ghosting over them as you whine. He tugs on your chin, thumb holding it as he gasps into your mouth, “Slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”

A whimper into his lips, his words make your chest ache. His fingers toy with the strap of your dark maroon bra, they trace the lace above the cups, thumb brushing over the hardened bead of your nipple through the fabric. He breathes into your lips, smiling, “This is new isn’t it?”

Nodding against his kiss, you whine again as his fingers move at a tantalizing pace over your skin, rolling you onto your back. He holds your waist as your back arches and his lips kiss over your chest. He huffs a quiet laugh into your navel as he moves lower, “You were so going to Argyle’s to try to get laid tonight.”

You’re quiet at his words, pretending like you didn’t hear him and he gasps dramatically against your skin. Lips and nose tracing the band of your jeans as his fingers squeeze at your hips. “Wow. And here I thought I was special.”

His fingers fiddle with the zipper of the denim as you breathily ask, “Excuse me?”

He pops open the button, rolling your jeans down, nose dragging over the maroon colored lace exposed. Steve scoffs, “Aha! Matching new set! I was right!”

Your hips lift as he tugs the pants off of you completely and you roll your eyes, ignoring him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He makes eye contact with you as he unbuttons his own jeans, disbelief in every feature of his face and you bite your lip as his pants drop and he steps out of them. His fingers trail up your legs, hooking around your knees as he crawls forward. Squirming under him as his thumb brushes the ticklish spot and he smirks. His hands climb up your thighs, squeezing at the soft and doughy flesh. 

Steve’s lips trail across your hips, skimming across the band of lace as you breathe out, “Okay, how did you…oh,” thoughts broken off into a moan as he sucks on your hip, fingers dragging over your clothed slit. 

He kisses up your body, nose pressed to your jaw as the pads of two his fingers dip under the band of lace, teasing, not moving any further, brushing back and forth. His legs straddle one of yours, hard length pressed to your hip, your other leg rising as your back arches. Steve smiles against your jaw, fingers slowly moving lower as your breath quickens. He speaks into your neck, “Honey, were you really about to ask me how I knew?”

He presses a soft kiss to your damp skin, goosebumps rising as he whispers, “Told you, I know you.”

The pad of his finger catches your clit just barely, slipping past it and you whine, fingers twisting in your comforter as your toes curl. Steve makes a soft tutting noise, “She’s needy, huh? Missed me?”

You want to roll your eyes at his cockiness, but your thighs spread, head nodding as you tug your lip between your teeth. 

When Steve said slow down, he meant it. His kissing, his words, the slow pace of his movements has you aroused embarrassingly quick, slick coating between your thighs. His fingers drag through your folds, teasing at your entrance and quite literally slipping up to your clit, pressing lazy and messy circles into it. A sigh, a whine of his name falls past your lips as your hands find his shoulders. Your body stretches away from him, overwhelmed already as he props himself up on his forearm and hip. 

He gives in to your whimpers, granting you a kiss. Lips latched onto your top one as he breathes heavily, his fingers sliding easily through you as he rolls his hips against your side. Your fingers scratch down his chest, hooking around his neck and tugging him on top of your body. His hand slips from your underwear, cradling your face as he grinds himself against you. 

Arching as your hands roam over the muscles of his back, you push at his boxers. His hands move to your hips, both of you sliding undergarments from each other while refusing to break your kiss. His tip catches at your clit and you moan into his lips. He unclasps your bra, flinging it somewhere and you nod against him, nose pressed to his cheek as he slides through your folds, nudging at your entrance. 

Steve pushes into you torturously slowly, your lungs feel like the air was sucked from them. Tears pricking at your lash line because you missed him. Missed this, of course, but you’re realizing you just missed Steve. 

His mouth falls open against yours, eyes pinching closed as his hand grips at your waist. Cursing softly at the roll of your hips, begging him to go deeper. His hand squeezes your thighs, wrapping them around his waist as he bottoms out, your strangled moans mixing together. 

Steve focuses on your lips again, kissing you softly as your ankles lock behind his back. He lets his weight fall on you, hand against your lower back as he angles your body for him, beginning to thrust slowly. 

Sex with Steve has always been good. He takes care of you, makes sure you’re comfortable, you orgasm at least once (but always more), and praising you to no end. His dirty talk is what always pushes you over the edge, hurtling through space. 

This is different. 

The rain beats loudly against your window, your sighs and gasps lost in it. He’s breathing your name into your lips, fingers pressed into your spine. Every drag of his cock along your walls makes him moan, makes you clench around him tighter. Your foreheads press together, his nose nudges into your cheek, you want him closer and it’s impossible, there’s nothing between you and you feel the stones of the wall you surround yourself with crumbling. 

Rolling your hips to meet each of his thrusts, he whispers into your mouth, “So good f’me,” kissing you sweetly, “Baby.” His hands roam up your body, fingertips grazing across your skin. He pushes himself deeper and you gasp out his name. The cool metal of Steve’s chain hanging from his neck, taps at your chin with each lazy thrust and your thumbs drag on it around his neck, tugging. Part of you wants to rip it off, wrap it around your own neck and be his. 

Steve practically begs, your name a plea on his lips against yours as his fingers roam higher, lacing with yours and pushing them into the pillows. Held hands above your head now and you moan loudly, nodding into his kiss as the new position gives him leverage to roll his hips. Each thrust hitting deeper now, pausing before he pulls out halfway and does it all over again. Frantic as your body fills with heat, telling him to keep going, that it’s the perfect spot. Bodies sliding together like they’re made for each other, sweat slicked as they drag against one another. Steve pants your name again, fingers flexing in yours as you grip him tighter, sinking into the mattress with every slow and powerful thrust. 

He squeezes your hands harder and your stomach somersaults. Lips moving against yours needy, desperate, you can feel the ache in his chest mixing with yours as his thrusts pick up their pace. Your foreheads still touching, his kiss turns soft, contrasting with the way his hips meet yours - the sound of your slick coating him mixing with the rain. His mouth hovers over yours and your eyes flutter open, making eye contact with him. Steve’s face is flushed, eyes looking at you like no one ever has before, like a bulldozer was taken to the wall around your heart, metal armor shattering and clanging to the floor.

He squeezes your hands again, pushing them higher and your mouth parts in a gasp as something in you melts with each snap of his hips. Your ears buzz with static, lips tingling against his as white heat bursts through you, thighs shaking around his waist. This has to be what it feels like to sit in a rocket before take off. Adrenaline and excitement mixed with something that makes your pulse throb in your ears. 

Steve whispers into your lips, “That’s it, honey, come on.” Your stomach flips around his words, your orgasm rolling through you. Squeezing his hands as your back arches. Your eyes flutter open, making eye contact with him again. Steve kisses you harder, moaning into your lips as his thrusts stutter, his release filling you up as you come down from your high.

His movements slow, both of you breathing heavily, skin flushed and damp. Steve releases your fingers, dragging his hands down your body, wrapping around your lower back. Yours fall around his shoulders, holding the back of his head, scratching at his scalp and smiling when he shivers. His nose brushes down yours, eyes meeting before his look at your lips. Fluttering closed as you kiss again. 

A different kiss. 

The kind you’ve only watched in the movies. The kiss after, not fucking, but the kind of sex where you can feel the emotions coming off the screen. 

You’re exhausted, limbs heavy and eyelids even more so. Your fingers card through his hair as his lips slip over yours lazily. Rolling to his side and pulling you with him, Steve pulls out of you with a quiet wince, his touch buzzing circles into your spine. 

“That was…” you whisper, breaking off into a yawn. 

“Yeah?” You don’t have to open your eyes to know he’s smiling. 

“Yeah.” Kissing his jaw and sighing as sleep tries to pull you under. 

Steve’s strong and warm arms, the rain, and the way your heart feels lighter, gooier, it’s all a perfect concoction for sleep, and despite knowing that you need to talk about this, you don’t. You let the heavy blanket of exhaustion wash over you, curling into Steve’s chest as your breathing grows more steady. 

Unsure of how long you’re asleep for, you wake to the soft silk of his lips on your temple, then your cheek. Steve’s whisper of having to leave and you hum, not really hearing him. Fully rising when the sun is too warm on your face coming in through the curtains. Your eyes blink open heavily, the mattress next to you empty. 

Rolling to your side, you hide your smile with the blanket. A glass of water with a note leaning against it from Steve, reminding you he left and he’ll text you. 

The corner of white sticking out from your jeans on the floor draws your attention. Pulling the sheet around you as you pad over to it, your photos from last night are a blur. Water damaged, and smeared on the edges, but if you squint you can still make out yours and Steve’s smiles. Your thumb brushes over the last one, heartbeat kicking up as your palms sweat and you close your eyes. 

Fuck. 

Are you falling in love with Steve Harrington? 

The buzz of your phone wakes you from your half asleep state, forehead and neck clammy with sweat and you pull your blanket over your shoulders again. Burrowing your face in your pillow as tears prick behind your eyes. You miss Steve, and you haven’t had a chance to talk other than a few texts since last weekend. You have no idea what he’s thinking and you’ve been ripping yourself up from the inside out with your own conflicted feelings. Silly to cry over it, you know that, but your hormones have other plans. 

Swiping at your lash line, you respond quickly and lock your phone, eyes focusing back on the movie playing. 

An hour later when your front door rings for the take out you ordered, you buzz them in and unlock the door. Returning from your bedroom as you pull a sweatshirt on, your body freezes at the sight of Steve standing in your doorway. 

He’s dressed slightly more formal than you’ve ever seen him. Hair gelled perfectly, matching navy suit with the coat and vest that’s usually missing from his work attire. The tips of his brown shoes and sheen of his matching leather belt make you glance down at your own outfit. You’re in your comfiest sweats, one leg tucked into fuzzy socks with ducks, your sweatshirt you just pulled on ripping at the sleeves, giant gaping holes in it and stains down the front. Your hair is sweaty, yanked back in a frizzled and matted ponytail. 

Your arms curl in on yourself. “What are you doing here?”

Steve closes the door behind him, holding up two brown paper bags from two different places. He goes to your kitchen with a frown on his face. “You said you were sick. Do you always buzz people in without asking their name and leave your door unlocked for them? Cause that’s really not safe?”

He spins, removing his jacket and unbuttoning his vest as he looks in your cupboard for a plate. He asks over his shoulder, “Do you want the chinese food I intercepted at the door or the pancakes I brought?”

His words make tears fall past your lash line and you quickly swipe at them, clearing your throat before he notices and you whisper, “Pancakes, please.”

He starts opening the bag, looking up at you. His cheeks turn pink, rubbing the back of his neck as he nods towards the couch with a smile, “Go lay down, you look like crap.”

Rolling your eyes, you sniffle but listen to him. Sitting up now and curled under your blanket, you reach for the cord of your heating pad, bumping up the temp as he enters the room with a plate. Watching him take in the stack of movies, the book on your coffee table, the heating pad, bottle of painkillers and finally your face. 

His lips twitch up on one side as he sits, lifting your legs and draping them over his lap as he hands you the plate. 

“Thanks,” you whisper. 

Steve watches as you roll a pancake, picking it up with your fingers and nibble on it, closing your eyes as it hits your tongue with a quiet sigh. 

He rubs at your ankle, thumb soothing under the elastic of the bottom of your sweats. Squirming at the thought of your prickly hair, you start to pull away from him, voice tense, “Steve…”

He massages your calf and your eyes flutter closed, moaning into your bite of pancake. When you open them, you see him smiling at the screen and your other foot kicks at his thigh, “Stop gloating.”

His fingernails scratch down your leg and you shiver, rolling your shoulders back as he speaks softly, “I’m not gloating. Just nice that you’re letting me take care of you is all.”

Normally you’d push back, shut him down, tell him you don’t need his help, but it’s been a particularly bad period and after your last night with him, your emotions are getting the best of you. 

Sinking down into the couch, you mumble into your pancakes, “Sometimes it’s nice to be taken care of…”

Steve hums, eyes trained on The Princess Bride playing on your small TV as he asks, “When’s the last time you let someone do that?”

Shrugging your shoulders, your eyes trained on your pancakes that become blurry, as you squeak out, “I don’t know. A while.”

He drops the subject, both of you sinking into the couch as he massages up and down both of your calves. His fingers and thumbs resting on your ankle as the movie plays. Eventually your eyes start to drift closed as the credits roll and Steve squeezes your leg gently, whispering, “Hey, why don’t you go lay down in bed.”

“ ‘m fine. Not tired,” you mumble, eyes blinking open. 

He scoffs, slipping out from under you and before you can protest, he’s pulling your blanket off, unplugging your heating pad. He picks you up under your arms, hoisting you to your feet as you groan. Your hands wrap around his neck, face pressed to his chest as you yawn. Steve’s arms wrap around you hesitantly, his cheek to the top of your head. 

You stand there for a while, holding each other, your breath falling more even as you inhale his cologne. All woodsy and the faintest hint of a cigar on his tie. 

His palms rub up and down your spine and he whispers, “Come on, I’ll put a movie on your laptop and you’ll feel a lot better laying down in there, right?”

Nodding your head, you let him go, heading to the bathroom before finding him in your room. He’s fluffing your pillow and smiling at you as you stand in the doorway. He pats the bed and you make no movement to enter the room, hands twisting together in front of you as your stomach ties itself in a knot, your words stuck in your throat. 

Steve stops his movement, eyebrows raising, “What’s up?”

Exhaling a breath through your nose, your eyes look into his before finding the floor much more interesting as you ask, “Will you…will you stay?”

“Yeah, of course.” He looks down at his clothes and then up at you, gesturing to them, “Is it okay if I take these off?”

Smiling, you tug your lip between your teeth as you climb into your bed, “What, you don’t wanna relax in a three piece suit, Steve?”

He rolls his eyes but starts unbuttoning his slacks, you try to focus on pulling up a movie instead of the way he carefully folds his pants and vest over your desk chair. He’s got just his button down on now, black boxer’s and thick dress socks. You drag your palm down your cheek and scold yourself for letting your hormones derail your thoughts into something dirty. He’s just a friend here to watch a movie.  

He looks at the laptop screen as he hangs the button down in the same place, crawling in next to you in just his white undershirt and boxers. Warm socked feet tangling with yours as he raises his eyebrows and asks, “Holes? You wanna watch the movie Holes?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you roll onto your side to face the screen, quietly admitting, “Yeah, it’s a good movie. You don’t like it?”

Steve props himself up on his arm, head resting in his palm as his other hand rubs at your shoulder. “No, it’s good. I’m just surprised by your movie choices tonight is all.”

Your eyes flutter closed as his hand rests on your waist, thumb brushing under your sweatshirt at the bare skin he finds there. Humming as you relax back against his warmth. “What do you mean?”

Steve’s breath is warm on your neck and cheek as his thumb continues to rub circles, “I don’t know, The Princess Bride? Holes? I saw The Notebook out there and your book on the table was Pride and Prejudice. Seems like someone who hates love, secretly doesn’t.”

You huff, burrowing back against him and tangling your legs between his. If you had your eyes open you’d see him smiling down at your pout, but you do feel his squeeze on your hip as you reply, “Holes doesn't have anything to do with love and The Notebook is out there because Robin left it here after she made me watch it, so.”

Steve laughs quietly, “Holes is totally a love story. Sam’s ‘I can fix that’ is a nod to ‘As you wish’ and Kate’s revenge is because the love of her life was killed, and,” Steve squeezes your hip again, nose dragging across the back of your neck as he whispers, “That’s bullshit about Robin, cause I know for a fact she hates The Notebook.”

Your heart beats faster in your chest, palms sweating where they hold your blanket up to your chin as your eyes open. You want to deny it. To tell him he’s got it wrong, but there is something about these movies that always pulls you back in, and maybe it’s okay to tell him that. 

“I like that they all still love each other, even when they’re ripped apart from each other. They didn’t let life take their love away.”

Steve’s breath changes on your neck, his fingers pause just slightly on your hip and you feel tears in your eyes as you clear your throat. Deciding that if you want Steve in your life, you’re going to have to be open and tell him things you normally keep close and guarded. 

Not noticing you’re doing it, you pull his hand from your hip, playing with his fingers in front of you as you tell him all about your parents, their once in a lifetime kind of love. Dancing in the kitchen and your dad hitting your mom’s butt when she wore a particular pair of jeans. Your tears fall down your cheeks and you wipe at them as the movie continues to play while you retell their love story and how they met. Their date nights once a month no matter what, their coffee on Sunday mornings and feeding each other food while driving on long road trips. Knowing each other’s orders and getting the other ice cream even when they say they didn’t want anything.  

Rolling to face him, Steve’s eyes roam over your face, his thumb brushing at your cheeks before you grab it again, holding it against your chest as you tell him how your mom got sick. How your boyfriend in college who you’d thought was the one left when it got hard. How you watched your mom wither away, alone. Your dad stayed with her every day, and you knew it, that when she died, you’d never get him back, not the full dad you knew. He died a week after your mom, and you’re certain it was from a broken heart. Certain no one could have anything comparable to their love for one another. Convincing yourself that a person only gets to witness a love story like that once, and they were it for you. 

Steve’s eyes are wet with unshed tears as you shrug and swipe at your nose. Your voice scratchy and rough as you clear it and whisper, “I’ve never told anyone about that before. We moved around so much when I was little, and after they died…well,” you laugh a little, backhanding your cheek roughly, “I just kept moving too.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve’s palm rests against your cheek, forehead pressing to yours.

“Yeah,” you sigh out in a breath. 

Steve swallows loudly, nose nudging against yours as his hands warm up and down your spine, soothing you. Your legs tangle together as Kate dies on the screen of your laptop, imagining her true love has returned for her. 

It’s hours later, your bedroom lilac and blue as dawn rises outside your curtains. Warmer than normal when you wake up to buzzing. Steve’s arms are wrapped around you, his body pressed flush against your back, puffs of his breath hitting just behind your ear on a shared pillow. 

Rubbing at your eyes, you search for the sound, nudging him awake, “Steve, phone.”

“What, honey?” He doesn’t open his eyes, nosing into your neck and arm tightening around your waist. 

Heart stuttering and a smile pulling on your lips as you nudge him again, “Steve, your phone is going off.”

He sits up abruptly, voice hoarse, “Oh fuck!”

“What, what’s wrong?” Rolling as he slips out of bed, pulling his clothes on quickly. 

He grimaces at his phone, locking it and shoving it in his pocket. He holds his shirts in his hands and leans over you in bed, hands grabbing your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry, I gotta go, my parents are here and…” he sighs, forehead touching yours, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, holding onto his wrists. 

Steve’s eyes open, glancing down at your lips before he pulls you in closer. He presses a soft kiss to them, sighing into you as he whispers it again, “I’m sorry. I’ll…I’ll see you at the game later. I,” his phone starts buzzing again and he groans. 

He kisses your lips quickly again and then he’s gone. 

You let yourself get ready for the day with a smile on your face after that. Telling Steve about your past was the right decision, you know it was. You feel lighter, you feel hopeful for the first time in a long time. Your thumb brushes over your photos from last week again, letting them rest on your desk as you finish your coffee. 

You’re lost in daydreams of getting ready for tailgating and outings with the group in the future, only Steve is next to you in a different way. It’s insane, it makes your heart stutter, makes your stomach flip, but you have a smile you can’t hold back at the thought of it all. Robin would surely be okay with everything that’s happened, if it meant you and Steve are happy. 

When Robin, Nancy, and Eddie pick you up, you’re caught up in Eddie insisting that that top stays off of the jeep all day despite Nancy pulling up the weather app and telling him the chance of rain. 

The tailgating spot is all set up and Eddie and you are crushing Robin and Nancy at bags, beers in hand and matching sunglasses on your faces. You pretend to chest bump as you score three more points while they’re stuck at zero. 

Robin grimaces at the two of you, finger waggling, “I’m really regretting this. I don’t like you two together. You’re too similar.”

Nancy looks frazzled, hating that they’re losing. She tries showing Robin a better way to throw and Robin throws her hands up in the air, turning to the two of you again. “Can’t you go easy on us? You both know I’m athletically challenged.”

Eddie shakes his head laughing, “No can do, toots!”

Robin pretends to gag, “Gross, don’t call me toots.”

Nancy puts her hands on Robin’s shoulders, her voice strained, “Robin. Focus.”

While they gameplan and Eddie heads to the cooler for another beer, you look around wondering where Steve is. Checking your pockets, figuring you left your phone in the jeep and you open the door to search for it. 

When you do, you see three missed calls from Steve and three texts:

Your brows furrow at the messages, heart rate picking up as you wonder what could possibly be wrong. Green phone button ready to be pressed under your thumb when relief washes over you as Robin shouts, “Dingus! It’s about time! You’re going in for me as Nace’s partner, I give up.”

Turning to face him as your shoulders relax, your smile on your face quickly falls. 

Steve has another girl’s hand in his and he’s staring at you as he says, “Hey guys, sorry we’re late.”

A/N: I cannot say thank you enough for the patience in waiting for this series to update. I'm forever grateful for those of you who are sticking by this series despite long wait times in updates & I'm happy to see some new readers still finding this little world! We have one final part after this (plus a small epilogue), and I promise, it's coming soon. Endless endless thanks to my beta @sweetsweetjellybean and my ladies for talking me off cliffs and helping me make this series the best it can be. 💛

WCIL Taglist: @boomhauer @loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @johnricharddeacy @freezaz123 @selfdeprecatingnerd @big-ope-vibes @manda-panda-monium @hellkaisersangel @yogizzz @soulmatecashton @happytimeunicorns @mandyjo8719 @lunarxeclipse @buckleylips @beckkthewreck @differentdeputyfishpaper @supardupar @micheledawn1975 @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sagelittleplace @totally-bogus-timelady @steves-babysitter @fallinginlovewithqueue @aftermidnightwriting @omgshesinsane @pootcullen @definitionwanderlust @nostalgiafool @palmtreesx3 @scoopshxrrington @live-the-fangirl-life

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

“you look like you could use a hug.”

thank you to @thru00thepages22 for this prompt!! enjoy some George x Blakely <3

Word count: 962

Blakely was staring. Brow furrowed, he sat, frowning, at his desk, drumming the tip of his pen incessantly against the edge of the table. Since the moment he'd first laid eyes on George that morning, he'd been unable to look away, tracking her every move with keen attention. Dark circles ran rings beneath her eyes, and she was on what was at least her third cup of coffee. Even more disturbingly, she was distracted. If there was one thing George Aarons never was, it was distracted - she was the best, rolling out messages with such focus and rapidity that none of the Americans had ever quite been able to catch up. But in the last ten minutes, he had watched her lose track four times, tearing the sheet from her typewriter with a sigh of frustration every time she made a mistake.

Yesterday's mission hadn't been good. It hadn't exactly been bad - they'd seen much worse, taken much greater blows than the four planes they'd lost the previous afternoon. As far as Blakely knew, George hadn't even known any of the lost crews, all of whom had been replacements - a group she seemed to make a pointed effort to avoid. Yet there she was, clunking away clumsily at the keys, appearing utterly miserable.

It was almost startling how much it bothered him, so when she got up he made to follow, trailing a few metres behind her as she crossed the floor towards the kitchen, empty mug in hand. Reaching her just as George was about to make another cup of coffee, he held out a tentative hand, scarcely grazing her arm. "Think that's probably enough for one day, huh?" Everett spoke softly, gently prying the cup from her as she looked up at him with a frown.

"S'only my second one," George protested, although she made no physical effort to stop him.

"Uh-huh, well, that's definitely not true," He shrugged, leaning back against the countertop. "So?"

Sighing, she threw up her hands in surrender. "So what?"

"You gonna make me work for it, Aarons? You're fucking up all your work - and I'm saying this from a place of love, but you look like shit."

George sucked in a long, deep breath, and a spark of panic shot through Blakely as it suddenly appeared as though she were about to burst out crying, bottom lip pulled taut between her teeth, eyes welling up with tears. "Ssshit, no-no, hey-" Pushing himself away from the counter, Everett stepped forward, swiftly bridging the gap between them, his hands on her shoulders as he tried to meet her gaze.

She groaned frustratedly, wiping away her tears with such force that her hands left faint, pink marks on the flesh of her cheeks. "Jesus Christ. Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"I dunno... nicely."

Releasing a huff of laughter, he gently squeezed her shoulder. "You want me to stop being nice? That's a new one."

"Shut up," George tittered slightly, shaking her head as she gave his chest a kindly shove. But the moment her amusement subsided, her expression dulled again, and a deep frown creased Blakely's expression.

"Ok, seriously. You gotta give me somethin' here, honey," He sighed.

Looking up at him, she shrugged. "It's just... tomorrow's gonna be one year since Curt died... And I slept like shit, and I'm tired, alright?"

For a moment it was silent, the air suddenly hanging so thick between them that George felt like suffocating. When she'd awoken from the few hours of sleep she'd managed to find last night, Frankie had been in bed beside her, a wordless understanding of precisely what was happening. All she could think about was the moment she'd found out Curt was dead, looping it over and over in her head - she could still hear the beeps of Morse code, could remember so vividly the split second she realised what the message was spelling out, the report falling to her before anyone else even had a clue.

Wordlessly, Blakely stepped forward, closing the gap as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his chest. Without hesitating, George reached her arms around his back, cheek resting against his front, his hand against her hair softly holding her in place. She took a deep, steady breath, inhaling the scent of his cologne as his thumb traced back and forth across her back.

"Does it ever feel weird to you?" She asked after a while, voice hoarse and muffled against the fabric of his shirt. "That we're like this, when he was your friend."

"No," Everett uttered, without so much as a pause to think it over. She felt him shake his head, his chin brushing against her hair. "He'd kick my ass if he thought I'd let you be alone."

George chuckled. "Yeah... you're probably right."

"Always am," He nodded, squirming as she pinched him in the side as a silent reply. Letting out a laugh, he pulled back just far enough to look down at her face, sweeping a few stray strands of golden hair out of the way. "Y'know what I think?"

"I'm sure I'm about to find out," She teased.

"I think we should get outta here - take the day. Tomorrow too."

George's brow arched in question. "You want me to skive?"

"I'm just guessing at what that means - but yes."

She snorted, tilting her head to rest her chin against his chest as she looked up at him. Leaning down to meet her, Blakely briefly touched his nose to hers before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. As he met her gaze once more, a smile was beginning to curl her lip, that glint he always loved returning to her eye.

"Fuck it. Let's go."

"Whatever you say, dear."

[abiiors]

so you're tired 🥀 // ross macdonald x reader

in which he doesn't exactly cheat but it hurts just the same a/n: this is loosely based on so you're tired by sufjan stevens, one of my fav songs atm!!! (can't wait for javelin) cw: very brief mentions of smut, arguments and yelling because well, this is just angst :( wc: 2k

the first time you fight—seriously fight—you don’t talk to him for three days. 

it’s the longest either of you have gone without talking to each other. he’s barely home for two more weeks before tour starts again and yet here you are, waking up to a cold bed every single day and roaming around like ghosts in a cold house. three days where you don’t come home to him humming softly in your kitchen while cooking you your favourite meals. three days of utter silence before one of you cracks. 

towards the end of it, none of you remember what the fight was about, only that you feel a hollow ache in your chest every night you don’t go to sleep cuddled up in his arms. you don’t remember who cracks first—all you remember are whispered apologies on each other’s skin and kisses that taste of tears. 

“i am wasting precious time with you,” he says, his face buried deep in the crook of your neck, holding you so close as if you might slip away from right between his fingers. 

“let’s forget about it, love,” you stroke his head, “let’s just move on. we have time…”

and it’s true isn’t it? you have all the time in the world. so what if he’s going away again? he will come home to you eventually…

so you smile and melt into his kiss. the next few days pass in a flurry of half-hearted joy and trepidation but ross is there, hugging you unexpectedly and playing with your hair till you fall asleep. ross is there to waltz you around the kitchen and make you your favourite meals. and the fight seems long forgotten, all the feelings of anxiety and lonliness burried deep down…

until they bubble up the night before he has to leave. 

“you always promise,” his voice rises with each word, “it’s always the same. and i always believe you like a fucking idiot.” he’s back on the same topic again, yelling about the same things you were two weeks ago but this conversation is going nowhere. 

“jesus christ, ross! i have a job you know!” you yell back, watching his face grow angrier. “can’t just drop everything and come travel the world with you.”

“you’re acting like i am asking you to run away with me!”

“that’s exactly—”

“no it’s not! stop putting words in my mouth,” he finally snaps, breathing heavily while standing in the midst of clothes strewn on the ground. a half-full suitcase sits by his feet with its maw wide open. “i told you, no. i asked you months ago if you would take some time off to come with me. fuck i was even fine if you brought work with you—”

“and it’s just not possible—”

“it’s never fucking possible!” he yells. “you never know how much i fucking miss you when i am gone.”

you defensively cross your arms in front of your chest, shivering slightly against the chill in the room. it’s been so rainy and gloomy all day, ironically the perfect ambiance for your fight that just seems so final. 

“ross, you’re acting like i don’t miss you at all!” “no…” he speaks quietly. you stand there like a statue, watching him gather his things and stuff them in the suitcase. when he zips it shut, it might as well be the loudest sound in the world. “you’re the one acting like that.”

and with that ross is gone, sidestepping you so easily that you might as well have not existed at all. just a ghost in your room, staring at the floor where his things were just moments ago, now all that remains is the echo of the door slamming shut behind him. 

you don’t know where ross goes that night. maybe over to matty’s or directly at the airport to spend the night sleeping on the bench. 

maybe he thinks it’s better to spend the night cold and uncomfortable and alone than to share the warm bed with you. 

maybe he thinks he’s better off alone entirely. 

you don’t try to call him. you just curl up on the bed, on his side of it, and let your sobs put you to sleep. 

blink and three more days go by. another three days of not talking, of radio silence. in that time, all the updates you get about him are concert photos and fan edits. he looks sad in them, quiet and reserved, yet they don’t know him as well as you do. they just think he’s tired from the  jetlag. a good night’s sleep will fix everything for him. 

they don’t know that a good night’s sleep comes only when he’s with you. 

this time it’s you who cracks first, calling him practically in the middle of the night with a thudding heart. on the brink of a panic attack. 

his voice is sleep-filled and his eyes bleary. you feel bad for calling him like this but he asks you to stay, asks you if you can talk. 

“i overreacted,” he sighs, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “i shouldn’t have…”

“no, ross. i should apologise, you weren’t… you weren’t wrong.”

his face perks up at those words. and your heart sinks deeper into your stomach. so, like a heartless bitch, you give him momentary hope and soothe him with sweet words until he asks the inevitable question. 

“so… are you coming?”

things can only go downhill from there and all you can do is scrunch your eyes shut let a few tears of regret roll down your cheeks. 

you’re certain this fight is worse than the last one. at least, the last time he was physically here. a tangible presence. now it’s just you, alone in your room with your sharp voice echoing all around you. drowning you in shame. 

this time when he argues, he’s eerily calm, not a single emotion in his voice or in his eyes and that’s how you know it’s really the end. 

that’s how you know his goodbye is final. 

when the “we are done” text pings on your phone at 2:15 am, you sob so hard you almost get sick on your bedroom carpet, only managing to run to the toilet at the last minute. 

you sob so hard that the warmth zaps right out of you and into the bathroom floor which remains just as ice cold the entire night you spend shivering on it. 

by the time morning comes, there are no more tears left. no more sobs or wails. 

all that’s left is a feeling of unending emptiness. 

everyone seems to have an opinion about the break up. some tell you he’s childish, a man child to not accept the fact that this is how adult relationships work. that people are busy. some go as far as to declare him the latest perpetrator of toxic masculinity—these people you ignore entirely. but there are some who sow a small seed of doubt in you—you fucked up. ultimately it’s george who knocks some sense into you with one simple text. 

he’s miserable. 

and before you know it, you’re texting your clients and letting them know you’ll be out of office for the foreseeable future. like a possessed person you’re on your laptop hunting for the quickest flights to paris. 

it’s the city of love and light. it should fix what’s broken. and you’re more than willing to grovel. to beg him for just one more chance. 

“will you please pick me up?” you text george as a last desperate attempt, practically jumping with joy when he says yes and asks you for your flight details. 

he tells you he’ll take care of the hotel room, of anything else you might need. all you need to worry about it being there and fixing what’s broken. he tells you there’s still hope. and like a fool you believe him wholeheartedly. 

it’s almost a day later that you stand in front of his hotel room on shaky legs, staring at the non-descript door with blurred eyes. you’re thankful for george’s hand lightly resting on your shoulder—there’s at least some moral support there. 

he doesn’t urge you to knock, he just stands there with you, staring at the brown door for as long as you might need to build up courage. 

you close your eyes and dream of the after. 

sure it will a confrontation at first. he’s going to be angry and hurt but you can change that. more importantly you can make him believe that you can change. so you let yourself dream of what comes after. of how you might spend days after cooped up in the room, tasting each other’s skin and reeking of sex. 

it won’t matter though. you would spend hours with your limbs tangled up, laughing at silly stories you’ve told each other a million times before and eating ridiculously expensive macaroons. 

the thought makes you laugh sharply, just once before you cover it up with a slight cough and look at george.

“right… right i think i’m ready…”

he nods and steps back, keeping a respectful distance, still there to be with you just in case. 

so you knock, toeing the carpet and trying not to strain your ears to hear any signs of life inside. maybe you’ve come at the wrong time… maybe he’s in the shower or asleep and you’re just doing one more thing wrong. maybe he’s not even in his room, preferring to be somewhere instead. it is paris after all… 

but the lock clicks and with it your heart stops beating. george takes another step back, rooting for a happy, cuddly reunion you hope. 

and then the door swings open and your heart is in your throat as soon as you see him. ross… your ross, he’s there. sure, he looks a bit tired and disheveled and sure he’s just answered the door shirtless but you couldn’t care less. 

“ros—”

“ross?” it’s another voice. it’s not yours and yet it’s a female voice, lilting and high-pitched and snagging on the r, saying his name. a voice that comes from inside his room. 

and then there she is, peeking out from behind him. it’s unmistakable that she only has a bedsheet clutched around her, hair escaping her bun and falling onto her bare shoulders. 

you stand there like a fucking statue once again, looking from her to him and back at her confused face. she’s everything you’re not—perfect and waiflike and god so stunning it hurts to look at her. 

or perhaps the hurt comes from the feeling of someone squeezing your heart so tight that you stumble back, practically knocking into george whose existence you’d forgotten in those last thirty seconds. 

“love—”

“no,” you whisper, already half turned around, bags in tow.

ross reaches forward, his face crumpling into one of guilt, pain and worry. his throat bobs, eyes quickly tinging with red. 

he tries to speak but nothing comes out. 

or maybe he does speak and you hear nothing at all because you’re so busy sprinting out of there and out of the hotel entirely and onto the unknown streets of paris. 

the eiffel tower stands proud—a romantic backdrop to all the cuddly couples taking photos in front of it, kissing each other and laughing their hearts out. you run away, back to wherever that will take you farthest away from here. 

wherever that will take you so so far away from his version of after that you would never even remember it again—remember him again, rather. the crinkles around his eyes and his dimples. the feel of his beautiful hair between your fingers. his voice and his laugh and his humming. 

all you can do is seethe with laughter so hard that a sob lodges itself in your throat, chokes and suffocates you thoroughly. 

there’s no after that you so desperately dreamed of. this is the only one you get. 

lemme know what you think <33

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[piratefishmama]

Crossing The Line | Part 7

Again. Right. Okay. Again, Kas wanted him to say it again. Cool. Definitely wasn’t high key anxiety inducing to do it the first time. Robin was right, straight from wooed to the apartment? Probably not going to happen, he was super overestimating his level of game.

He had no game. None, nada, zip, zilch, bupkis.

He almost bailed, almost bolted with his tail between his legs but no, no he’d be brave, sure this man was kind of an asshole to him and honestly it may be a bad idea because what if he was still an asshole, like… what if he was just constantly an asshole, like… toxic kind of asshole. He had to hope though, someone that pretty couldn’t be awful, right? In what universe would that be fair?

“Uh… you, me, dinner? Tonight maybe? Or tomorrow if that’s better. Or… or y’know, any day this week, I’m flexible.”

“Why?” The guy practically choked, his grip on the rolling pin loosening a little. “I mean—why me?” Why him? Why him? God why him? Why the nerdy metalhead whose name he didn’t even know? Why the guy who’d spent a whole week bitching him out over social media over an experiment? Steve didn’t know.

He had no idea! He didn’t know why he’d fallen so hard so fast, why he’d spent hours just watching those talented fingers dance along the neck of that beautiful warlock, he had no idea, Steve was just following the dopamine and Kas seemed to be an endless supply of it for him.

“Uhm, I like you?”

“You don’t even know me, dude. In fact, the only knowledge you have of me is that I bitched you out for a week.” True, he didn’t seem to be gearing up to apologise for that either. The anxiety was only growing by the second, oh no. He felt so small all of a sudden, so stupid, of course it was stupid, he never should have come. “And now you come and what… hunt me down at work and ask me out? That’s so fuckin weird an I’m—"

“Grass, bitch, and I’m the mower!!” Steve had to spin round fast just to catch Robin as she stormed in there having been listening close by the door, the grip on that rolling pin tightened again.

“Jesus H. Christ!” The rolling pin poised to launch.

“Robin, no!”

“No he’s being mean again! I’m not having it! You spent a whole week just lying there mooning over this fucking idiot’s hands for crying out loud even when he was being a dick to you for something you only did for fun and now we’ve come all this way and he’s being mean in person and I’m not having it, I refuse, lemme at him!” Honestly ‘Kas’ was lucky Steve was as strong as he was, Robin would have gotten out of that hold easy if he were any weaker.

“Mean?! I’m being HONEST, you psycho!”

“Motherfucker, I’ll show you psych—"

“ROBIN!” She stopped struggling. Steve rarely raised his voice, honestly the only time he ever raised his voice was when the kids were involved. When pushy labels or producers tried shit with his kids, that was the only time Steve ever raised his voice. Also that one brief stint in acting where the script demanded it. “Go back outside.”

“But—”

“Go, i’m a grown man, I can fight my own battles, now go back out there.” His voice back to its usual soft tone, she shot the other man a sharp glare before returning back through the swinging door “go sit down! Away from the door!”

“FINE!” She’d have only lingered behind that door again if he hadn’t told her not to. Steve kept an eye on the door for a moment, just in case, before turning back to Kas, his shoulders slumping as a deep sigh escaped him at the sight. The poor guy was backed right into that little gap, rolling pin clutched tight to his chest, this was a bad idea, he looked so freaked.

“I’m sorry.” Steve breathed softly. “I’m sorry for Robin, she’s uh—she’s protective, and um, for turning up out of nowhere, for scaring you, I really didn’t mean to turn up at your work, this was… this was hugely by a weird amount of chance,I just… I was going to go to your gig? We even bought clothes for it but uhm… shit, I should have just... I dunno, dm’d you or something, it would have been easier.” Probably wouldn’t have wasted the money on the flights or the apartment that way, Kas could have just rejected him over DM! “And uh… I’m not stupid, like… I know I don’t know you, I still don’t know your actual name, or if you even like guys, I wasn’t assuming just… hoping, but… I dunno, I was hoping at dinner I could get to know you an y’know… we’d hit it off despite our obvious differences in musical preferences…” maybe they could have been friends if nothing else.

The silence drew on for a moment, Steve had said his piece, and Eddie was clearly processing it, eyes flitting, micro expressions creasing his brow, his jaw shifting in a way that made it obvious that he was chewing on the inside of his cheek, and the grip on the rolling pin had relaxed again.

“…You were going to come to my gig?”

“Mmhm, Tuesday 9pm, right? Robin forced me to get different clothes because what I was going to wear probably wouldn’t have cut it.”

“What were you going to wear?”

“You’ll mock me.”

“I won’t.”

“You will”

“I promise I won’t.”

“…Promise?”

“Scouts honour.” He even put the rolling pin down to do the little hand gesture. Cute, Steve thought to himself.

“I’m dubious of your history of boy scoutery” he could see the quirk of a lip, just a little ghost of a smile at the corner of Kas’s lips “but fine, okay, I’ll trust you to be gentle, I have this really nice grey sweater vest, and I was gonna put a—” his words cut short by the snort of a laugh that bubbled from his ridiculous crush “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“Sweetheart, I said I wouldn’t mock, I said nothing about laughing” sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart— moving on. “A sweater vest at a metal gig? Cute.” The way his voice dipped? Unfair on every level.

Every single goddamn level.

“Y-yes well, now I have a new outfit, so you won’t get to see the sweater vest.”

“Oh, oh no” Kas clutched his hand to his chest as if pained “the pain! Jail for you, jail for one hundred years, you’ve hurt me so very deeply. Jail for the pretty boy.” Pretty boy? Steve felt those invasive little bastard butterflies kick up a flurry in his chest, pretty boy? “I really won’t ever get to see the sweater vest? That’s just a goddamn travesty, truly” it sounded sarcastic but honestly it also didn’t. It was a weird mix, like he was taking the piss but also being genuinely honest. “Worst punishment you could give me, no sweater vest for Eddie.”

Eddie.

“No sweater vest for Eddie” Steve parroted with a smile so full of sunshine warmth that Eddie couldn’t stop himself from mirroring it. Maybe… maybe it wasn’t a lost cause then… maybe he could still make this work maybe— “So… uhm… dinner?” Maybe he wouldn’t get shot down if he asked again.

“…Ask me again after the gig if you enjoy the show.” Oh the hopes, they were HIGH, he knew he’d like the show! He knew he would! “Now, about that coffee you and your menace to society came in for.”

“Fuckin heard that you moms' basement dwelling bitch baby!!”

“She seems lovely.” Steve only let out a quiet snrk of a laugh.

Part 9

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

The perfect prom

Summary; She was everything he was supposed to hate, she knew that but it doesn't stop y/n crushing on Eddie.

When Jason overhears her telling Chrissy she wants to ask Eddie to prom Jason lies to Eddie about her true intentions and Eddie rejects her.

She goes to prom on the arm of the wrong guy when all she wants is Eddie but he doesn't like her...right?

Warnings; Angst with a happy ending 💫

This is my first ever prom story ❤💫 I hope you all like it.

Likes, comments and especially reblogs are very much appreciated. 💕 I do not give permission for anyone to copy my work. 💫💞

Prom was coming soon and y/n was nervous because the one guy she wanted to ask hated her.

Well, maybe not hated her but he hated the group she hung around, his distaste for Jason and other members of the popular group was well known.

Chrissy listens to her intently as she explains how much she wants to ask Eddie.

"You should talk to him, sweetie, he won't bite, I've spoken to him before. He's nice. You'd think he'd be mean and scary but he isn't, you'd make such a cute couple. Go for it!". See that was the thing with Chrissy she was incredibly sweet and supportive, she never judged people.

None of her other friends was like that and even if they were they were too scared to say so for fear of retaliation by Jason.

Y/n didn't give a shit what Eddie said and with Chrissy's words of encouragement she finally plucked up the courage to ask Eddie after lunch.

"I'm going to do it, I'm going to ask him". She peers over at Eddie who is goofing around with Dustin Henderson.

Little did she know that Jason who hadn't made his presence known yet had heard everything and was already planning on how to dash her hopes...

💫💞

Eddie isn't surprised when Jason stalks up to him just before lunch ends. The douchebag always had some shit to say and Eddie loved riling him up.

This year he was graduating- finally and didn't give a shit what Jason had to say, he just wanted to get to graduation.

"What do you want Carver?". Jason looks at him in mock sympathy.

"Just thought you should know man to man, that y/n she's planning to ask you to prom".

His heart skips a beat. He looks to y/n who is sitting with Chrissy. She wants to prom with him? Fuck. Is he dreaming or some shit?

Jason laughs breaking his fantasy of dancing with her at prom. He was planning to go with Jeff and Gareth, get shitfaced, do a few last-minute deals but if y/n wanted to go with him? Jesus H Christ he would say yes in a heartbeat.

She was nothing like those assholes she hung around with. Though why was Carver laughing? His stomach sinks.

"Come on freak you know she's doing it as a joke right? Why the fuck would she want to go with you? It's a prank. One last hurrah we all concocted".

His dreams are dashed because of course it's a fucking prank.

"Fuck off Carver". He growls and Jason winks then saunters off.

He glares at y/n. He can't believe he thought she was any different.

💫❤

After lunch, she excitedly approaches Eddie at his locker, nerves pool in her stomach and she gently taps his arm.

He turns around facing her and she steps back. His eyes are cold, distant.

"Eddie I was wondering if you would like to go to prom with me". She says it all in a rush hoping he says yes.

"No".

One word and it crushes her heart, she steps back stung, trying to fight back tears.

"Eddie I really like you I..."

Eddie glares at her the daggers shatter her heart and she trails off heart racing.

"Yeah, yeah Carver filled me in. It's all a big fucking joke, one last hurrah on the freak right?".

She gapes wordlessly and turns to Jason who is watching gleefully. That asshole she seethes.

"Eddie! No I". He slams his locker door shut.

"You know I've been bullied by assholes like Carver all my life, cheerleaders weren't much better. They all called me a freak and made my life hell until I decided I had enough and to not give a shit, but you? I thought maybe you might be different but you're just the same as them".

Tears fall down her cheeks. He doesn't believe her.

"So no I don't want to go to prom with you. Stay away from me y/n". With that, he storms off and Robin who witnessed the entire thing gently rubs her shoulder telling her not to cry.

She thanks Robin and then turns to Jason walking up to him.

"What did you say to Eddie?". She demands wiping her tears away.

"Just what he should already know y/n. A freak and the cheerleader? Come on. Get real. I told him it was a joke, one last hurrah against him".

She slaps Jason hard across the face.

"He's not a freak, I liked him. I really liked him and all I wanted to do was dance with the guy I liked at prom but you and your stupid shit ruined it".

He snorts.

"I'm saving you from humiliation you could be a little more grateful. Fucking bitch". She pushes past him ignoring the laughter roaring in her ears.

❤💫

The next few days are hard, Eddie won't even look her way, she has tried to talk to him but he won't let her.

The cheer team have been badgering her to accept Dean Peter's prom proposal.

"You can't go stag to prom y/n, what would that look like? Major fail". She was actually planning to go with Chrissy who was furious at Jason for being such a prick and ruining her dream prom date.

Dean doesn't take no for an answer and every time she speaks up she gets dismissed.

She really does hate these assholes sometimes, it was all about status, who looked best on who's arm, popularity.

It was fucking bullshit and now here she was on the night of prom in a beautiful, flowing dress, that fitted her perfectly and truly was the perfect dress.

But it still felt wrong because all she wanted was Eddie by her side but he didn't believe her about Jason's lies.

Speaking of which as soon as she heads inside the gymnasium where prom is held she spots Eddie.

He looks gorgeous, in an all-black suit, his curly brown hair tamed slightly, she smiles when she realises he's wearing his leather jacket too, a hellfire patch proudly sits in the centre. It's just so... Eddie and it makes her happy.

He catches her eye and his beautiful brown eyes widen, then turn all soft and full of something she can't place, then he notices Dean beside her, his jaw tightens and he turns away.

It irritates her a little bit because if he listened to her when she tried to explain Jason was being a douche then they could be here together.

That's if he wanted that. She could understand him being hesitant to believe her but he didn't even give her a minute to explain.

Dean who's already had too many wine chasers tugs on her arm to get some drinks.

"Dean maybe you should take it easy". She tells him as he heads to the punch table and loads up on drink.

Newly reinstated chief of police Jim Hopper is here keeping an eye on things with Joyce Byers and she doesn't want Dean to cause any shit.

No such luck. While everyone is dancing and having a good time she's avoiding Dean's wandering hands and heavy drinking.

Honestly, she's lost count of how many drinks he's had. The last straw with her is when he doubles over and pukes at her feet.

Disgusted she steps back as Jim Hopper steps in. He yanks Dean up shaking his head.

"Yeah, you've had enough son". Dean groans and Hopper halls him away as other students laugh.

Humiliated she heads out of the gymnasium, tears falling down her cheeks. Someone gently grabs her arm but she shakes it off assuming it's Chrissy.

"Chrissy don't okay, all I wanted was the perfect prom night and to go with the guy I was dreaming of going with but Jason lied and Eddie hates me now and he won't even let me explain". She sobs.

There's silence and then she feels the weight of a leather jacket being placed around her.

Eddies leather jacket. She turns to him and he gently wipes her tears away.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, I should have let you explain. Jason is a prick, and so is Dean. Has the most beautiful girl in the world and he ruins her prom. Asshole".

She laughs through the tears.

"It was never a joke, me asking you to prom Eddie. I like you so much". He softens pulling her close to him, wrapping his arms around her.

"I was coming to check on you anyway after Dean's shit. Chrissy stopped me and chewed me out over not believing you. She's scary when she's angry huh? Tiny but scary". She giggles feeling a rush of affection for her friend.

"Come on princess, let's dance. A perfect prom moment yeah?" he takes her hand and kisses it.

"Y/n, would you like to go to prom with me and be my girl because I'm crazy about you". She nods thrilled and takes his hand as they head back inside ignoring the stares and gasps of the other students.

Time after time plays, she snuggles into Eddie's chest and they dance. His arms tight around her, lips pressing to her hair.

Peering up at him she smiles. This is what she wanted. It's perfect. He leans down kissing her tenderly.

If you're lost you can look and you will find me, Time after time.

If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting, Time after time.

If you're lost, you can look and you will find me, Time after time.

If you fall, I will catch you, I will be waiting.

Time after time

💫💞💫💞

[the-goya-jerker]

Immersion (Piss Christ) by Andres Serrano requested by @nintheyeblinder

This piece is part of a series by Serrano including other classical statues submerged in various liquids (blood, milk, etc.)

It is not, despite what some believe, anything against Christ or the religion that follows him. Instead Serrano had this to say about it:

"What it symbolizes is the way Christ died: the blood came out of him but so did the piss and the shit. Maybe if Piss Christ upsets you, it's because it gives some sense of what the crucifixion actually was like...I was born and raised a Catholic and I've been a Christian all my life."

And listen, I'm not into piss. (I also feel like Serrano should have been drinking more water when he made this piece in the 80's, but I digress). But I think that's a cool fucking sentiment. It's one I do agree with, despite not being any form of Christian. Death is fucking ugly. You shit yourself, you piss yourself, it's gross. And you know what, that isn't because death is unique either. Birth is gross, there's blood, the birthing parent is probably gonna shit themselves and not even know. Humans are gross in general. We're nasty creatures.

Too often in our modern hyper-sanitized culture we try to distance ourselves from the aspects of our nature that repulse us. Death, aging, sickness. You cannot so much as discuss piss without someone making some comment about piss kinks, essentially raising the accusation of what they perceive to be sexual deviance in order to shut you up.

To the surprise of none of you, I am sure, I think this is awful. Our distance from death alienates us from our own mourning. Our revulsion at aging has ten year old girls creating half hour skincare routines to manage wrinkles. I think in talking about humans, which Jesus was, we should not be so distant from the topic of piss and shit. In talking about human death we shouldn't refuse to admit that the human will piss and shit themselves. Jesus, the super duper holy figure of Christianity, would have pissed and shit himself! That's nasty, that sucks! But it's true! If you feel uncomfortable with that and you're Christian maybe you haven't considered the suffering crucified people faced in the Roman Empire. If he's your savior, why would you refuse to sit with that?

I think this is a lovely devotional piece. I love a good devotional piece... I do keep thinking about the smell of that piss though, man. And I keep thinking about Serrano's hydration...

Ultimately, it's not my vibe, but if I don't look at the picture and I meditate on the actual meaning, it is kinda hot. It kinda makes me wish I was Christian. Or into piss.

3/10

[xinhua-jun]

https://www.tumblr.com/darlingjunebug/728466035752271872?source=share

it's skull, skull is the third party who gets involved bc he's the only who has the emotional intelligence to notice the problem and the lack of self preservation to put himself in the line of fire

There are some pros and cons to being a civilian suddenly thrust into not only the cursed mafia world, but also the cursed mafia world.

Pros: he gets paid to do what he loves—to play out his stunts in a setting where he doesn’t have to hold back so as to not to raise civilian suspicions about his condition, while also getting all of the acclaim when his subordinates genuinely shower him with it.

(Was it a mindfuck when some clown just showed up in his living room trying to reclute him? Yes. Is it dangerous? Yes. But if there’s anything the great Skull-sama loves, it’s a good challenge!)

Cons: once in a while he has to spend time in the vicinity of some less-than-desirable individuals, who consider him—him!—to be the less-than-desirable individual. The nerve!

(He’s not factoring Kawahira’s little misadventure, specifically, into this; getting turned into a toddler isn’t any weirder than being able to regenerate his body and coming back to life in his books.

Now that they’re out of the woods and he can laugh about it, he can begrudgingly admit—in the safety of his mind—that Checker Face did it for a noble cause, despite going about it in a not-so-hot fashion. If Skull were a millennia old being, he would play Russian roulette with some douchebags and give them body dysmorphia just for shits and giggles.

Skull will, however, complain about the acquaintances it left him with, as much as he wants, for as long as they’re assholes—which is shaping up to be for a very, very long time.)

The delightful but ultimately exasperating shit show that are one Sawada Tsunayoshi and Reborn-senpai does not fall into either of those categories, but in a secret, third, second-option-adjacent thing: idiots in love who, despite being more in sync with each other’s emotions than anyone could ever wish to be with their partner’s, couldn’t be more out of touch with their feelings if they tried. (And Skull has seen some paradoxes in his time, okay?)

All of this is relevant because, ultimately, despairingly, he’s gonna have to intervene. Jesus fucking Christ.

None of Tsuna’s little Elements, let alone any of Skull’s former colleagues—or anyone else who could, for that matter—is gonna do jack shit about it. They’re all either too emotionally constipated themselves, too scared of Reborn to dare going against him, or too willing to let them ‘go at their own pace’ (as if that will ever lead anywhere!).

So. It all falls into his hands to do something about it.

Does Skull win anything by meddling? Not in the slightest. On the contrary—

“I do not get paid enough for this shit,” Skull groans. “I do not get paid at all for this shit.”

If anything, he’s risking death by Reborn-senpai!

But he owes it to Tsuna, because despite being obviously influenced by Reborn in more ways than anyone would like, he has never, not even once, been unkind to Skull. Even before the whole Representative Battles happened—and that’s a whole other debt he needs to repay.

Unlike anybody else who has ever interacted with both Skull and Reborn, Tsuna has never once lacked basic human decency. (Skull wishes he had lacked basic human decency; he wouldn’t feel so morally obligated to protect the kid’s heart then.)

Enma pats his back in comfort when Skull hides his face in the other’s shoulder. Earnestly, he says, “I think you’re doing something truly honorable, senpai,” because he’s seen those two and knows what Skull has to deal with; more so than Skull, actually, because while Skull can just fuck-off whenever they get unbearable, Enma lives here and still has to interact with them on a daily basis.

What the fuck.

Skull raises his head long enough to look at him. “How do you deal with it, Enma-kun?”

Like the true child soldier he is—and he’s not gonna open that can of worms at the moment; Jesus, why did he even have to think about it?! One emotional crisis at a time, please!—Enma stares off into space before solemnly saying, “I grew up with Adel and Julie,” like that answers anything.

It kinda does, funnily enough.

“Ne, ne, Enma-kun,” Skull wheedles, getting an idea.

But Enma shakes his head, smiling apologetically before he can even say anything else. “I can’t help you with this,” he says, soothing the sting of his betrayal by running gentle fingers through Skull’s nape. “I grew up with Adel and Julie,” he reiterates meaningfully.

It takes Skull a moment.

“That bitch,” he says with an offended gasp. “She told you not to get involved, didn’t she?!”

Enma tugs gently at a lock in reproach. “Be nice to my sister.”

Skull pouts. Enma’s eyes soften. The fond amusement in his expression makes Skull’s stomach flutter.

(Maybe he has indigestion or something? He’ll have to pick up some Otha’s Isan on his way back.)

“If it makes you feel better, I will cheer you on every step of the way, okay? So hang in there, senpai.”

That does make him feel better.

If nothing else, Skull will at least have a cute little kouhai to come back to and be comforted by when this inevitably blows up on his face.

“Well,” Skull says, revisiting his earlier thoughts. He leans into Enma’s touch, feeling rejuvenated. “If there’s anything the great Skull-sama loves, it’s a good challenge!”

[nihyunluvskookie]

His betrayal

Seungcheol one shot

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol × Fem reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Gun, breaking of glass, mention of betrayal, please let me know if I missed any warnings

Word count: 1.2K

Author’s Note: This was in draft and I don’t remember since when, but this was also impulsive. Hope you like this, mafia Seungcheol.

LIKE IMAGINE HIM SO HOT IN MAFIA AAHHHH

happy reading :)

Taglist (networks) : @kflixnet @caratwritersclub

I just had one aim right now and that was to kill him right now, with the gun he gave me which had my initials engraved. I wanted answers, I couldn’t care less about anything right now. I ignored everything and went to his office.

I slammed the door open, and he didn’t even look surprised, as if he was waiting for me to come; he still had that heartless cold face. “What are you doing here?” I ignored his question and held the gun tight. I pointed the gun at him, “WHY WOULD YOU LIE TO ME?”

“I told you to leave and never come back ever again.” I couldn’t take his words anymore, the way he hurt me a few hours ago, I was ready to leave in grief but then the moment everything became clear, his intentions, his dirty tricks, and the way he used me just to gain power and take down my family. I couldn’t care less how much I was broken right now but I needed answers and I wanted to end everything. I’m not going to take his orders anymore, the girl who was ready to take orders from him and leave was long gone.

“WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME CHOI SEUNGCHEOL?” I never raised my voice at him.

“Put that gun down.” His orders weren’t going to work for me anymore.

“Tell me or else I’ll shoot you right now.” I wanted my tears to stop, but they weren’t. I wasn’t in my fucking right mind. How am I supposed to stay sane when he was my first for everything and he betrayed me just like that? How many times I told myself that I shouldn’t have trusted his words but I was the fool, who fell in love with him and trusted him with my everything.

“I’m telling you again, put that gun down.” His dominating voice was scaring me, making my body go through chills but I couldn’t back off. He could make me feel intimidated but not right now, I can’t let him make me feel that.

“Answer me or else I’ll shoot you!” I needed answers from him, why would he do this?

“Was none of these true?” tears threatening to fall again; I aimed at his window and pulled the trigger with all the force. The moment I heard the glasses break, I felt at peace.

“JESUS CHRIST, AZALEA PUT THAT GUN DOWN.”

“Not until you tell me everything, I will kill you and everyone today” I didn’t lie when I said that. I had my mind set, on shooting him first and not caring about any consequences, because I very well knew what his best friend would do to me if I hurt Seungcheol. Was everything a game to him? Was I a game to him?

As soon as I said, I heard footsteps approaching, “Are you okay?” I didn’t have to turn around to feel guns pointing at me and Jeonghan standing there as the head. One order from him and I’m done. “Don’t you dare to shoot. Leave, I’ve got her.”

The footsteps started disappearing and my grip got tighter around the gun; he was trying to take a step toward me, “Don’t take a step, or else I will shoot you Seungcheol. I’m not even scared of anything anymore. Not after you made a damn game out of me.”

“Azalea, calm down. Slowly, calm down.” No matter how much his voice tried to calm me down, but I wouldn’t; the rage flowing inside drove me insane. Everything turned upside down in a second.

The moment I found out his plotting, making me fall in love with him, manipulating me into telling him everything about my family and what is my dad up to, and he was going to destroy my whole family, take over the whole familia, and make our family go bankrupt, I’m not letting him hurt me and my family. I can’t see my mom and my sister crying because of this one asshole I fell in love with.

“It’s simple, tell me or else I kill you and kill myself right after that” I took a deep breath, “because you made a fool out of me” I closed my eyes to stop the tears remembering how I witnessed his conversation with my dad and then I felt a sudden force on my hands and the gun fell but before I could hold it, he caught the gun and twisted my hand. “I always told you never to be distracted when you set your mind on killing someone.” That’s when I knew I messed up. He pushed me towards a wall, still holding one of my hands, my back touching the cold wall of his office. He lifted my face using the gun, I was holding before; I wanted the tears to stop but the moment I felt him so close to me, it reminded me of the moments we spent together till today and everything turned out to be a lie, so that he could use me against my own family later.

He forced me to look at him, “Look at me”

“why would you do that!” I screamed in his face, I was hurt, I wasn’t okay, he had to know how much I hated myself for believing him and his lies, he had to know how much I regretted loving him and I wanted to hate him right now but the love I had for him could never compare. I didn’t want to break down infront of him but nothing was helping me out, not even the fully loaded gun forcing me to look at him. “I did this to save you princess” his voice was low; it was enough for me to listen.

“Shut up Choi Seungcheol. Shut the fuck up” my voice was the only thing I could hear right now, “WHY WOULD YOU MAKE ME FALL IN LOVE”

“Sweetheart, I told you not to fall in love with the demon” and he loosened the grip of his hand on my wrist, I wanted to hit him push him but I felt like I had no energy left after I was battling with myself

“Why would you do this Seungcheol….” I started hitting him with all the force I had “Why would you do this to me Cheol?!” he lowered his gun, and it fell on the floor. I broke down in his arms, gripping his shirt, where I was hitting him earlier. His arms wrapped around me, “It started as a lie but I thought I could let you go so that we could pretend none of this happened but this feels impossible. This was the only way to push you away, this world is not for you. There was a reason you were kept away from all of this princess.” My sobs were getting louder, I needed to cry and let it out.

“I started loving you so bad that it hurts so much why would you do this to me Seungcheol why” he was caressing my hair, “I love you Azalea”

“Why would you do this, why?! You know I can’t live without you and I won’t let you live today” I grabbed the gun before he had the chance. I pointed it towards his heart, “Shoot me. If you think I’m still lying.” I wasn’t going to believe him anymore.

“Stop it Seungcheol, I’m not believing you anymore, you lied to me, and you broke me to the extent that I can never trust anyone anymore.”

“Remember I love you and will love you but what you did to me was unforgivable.” And I pulled the trigger.

[centrally-unplanned]

I love deconstructing 'lifestyle' articles like these, they are such a gold mine of biases and narrative formation by the chattering classes. Here we have a wonderful premise:

Now, Ms. Margo is living a dream of many American women who are seeking relationships abroad, some of whom cite the toxic dating scene in the United States

Well, no objection from me that the US has toxic dating norms. But, hm, idk, 'many women' - is this a true trend amoung the American Female? Lets see who this article features:

Ms. Margo fell in love with the city (and its men). She found a gig teaching English in Paris and moved there after she graduated from Sarah Lawrence College in May 2019.

Okay, not *that* crazy but I do think I know what kind of Sarah Lawrence grad gap years in Paris before her law degree;

For Cindy Sheahan...At the end of 2017, she quit her job and traveled throughout Southeast Asia for leisure, and she started using Tinder.

That isn't...most people can't list as their full time job "Dating in Thailand";

For Frantzces Lys...she started a podcast called “Chronicles Abroad” with her co-host, who had met Ms. Williams, 40, in Malaysia. In 2018, Ms. Lys interviewed Ms. Williams, the founder of a consultancy, and the two kept in touch. They started dating years later.

Oh yeah the extremely relatable situation of a podcast host and boutique consultancy founder travelling to Mayalsia!!

“When you decide to just live your life for yourself, you actually end up stumbling upon people that match your energy and the same ideals and values,” said Ms. Lys, a 42-year-old founder of a wellness company.

Oh a wellness company, who hasn't founded one of those!!! And a link to their company, wow thanks NYT, that was definitely gonna be my follow-up for Ms. Lys:

Cepee Tabibian, who moved to Madrid at 35 from Austin, Texas, felt similarly.

Okay that could be normal, what do she d-

In 2020, she met her partner, who is Spanish. Now, she is the founder of She Hit Refresh, a community that helps women over the age of 30 move to a different country.

Jesus fucking Christ none of these people are real. They are full-hog in the industry of packaging and selling their Life of Insight & Discovery for $500 an hour over zoom sessions to non profits hosting leadership seminars, their dating isn't dating its brand management. I don't doubt they authentically love their life but this, shockingly, is not a trend, is not a sample, is not ethnographic data, this is an ad buy by a sliver of globe-trotting wealthy woman masquerading as journalism.

Absolutely the only relatable person is:

Alexis Brown, for example, noticed a lack of “effort and intention” from the men she was dating in Atlanta, where she attended Spelman College.

When she traveled across Europe for vacation from October 2022 to January 2023, however, the people she dated made it clear that they wanted to spend time with her.

Who takes way more words than is necessary to tell me she had a polycule stretching from Paris to Prague during her study abroad, which, good for her, that is what study abroad is for. Shockingly, this is not a new development in the collegiate experience!

Buried amoung the branded bullshit is Alexis's real gem and the only true 'thesis' of the article:

“The dating culture in the U.S. is that it’s cool and normalized to be indifferent to someone and not really express how you genuinely feel,” Ms. Brown, 23, said.

Which is essentially that in Europe people will "express emotion" unlike the cold, busy America. I don't doubt this, but I would hope a writer at the NYT's could have slightly more social awareness; the 'reason' Americans do not "express emotion" is that if they did you would dump them right on their ass on the first date.

Someone telling you, to quote Ms Margo:

“This one guy was like, ‘I ran through traffic just to look into your eyes once, and if you don’t want to go on a date with me, I can die happy knowing that I just met you,’” said Ms. Margo, a 28-year-old English teacher from Los Angeles.

As an opening line is cringe and uncomfortable, because they do not know you. They are lying and you know they are lying, it is a horrible foundation for a long term relationship. American dating norms have been hammering this lesson home on every participant (but if we are being honest, its primarily women hammering this home on men) and it is probably right to do. Anyone who does this lacks credibility.

But when you are in ~*Paris*~, you don't care about their credibility, because you lack it yourself. You are on vacation, you have no future, just a sequential present. If the guy who tells you your eyes are his world turns out to be a clingy failson who requires at least a blowjob a day to keep his mood stable, you can just *get up and leave the country*, you cannot be trapped because nothing is keeping you there. By placing an ocean between yourself and your social standing you can radically change your standards.

And you know what, there is something to that! Maybe the 18-point-checklist you mentally process every Tinder swipe through as you plan out your dream wedding on Cape Cod to a status-swollen ghost in a Tom Ford speckle-gray blazer while on lunch break from your quant analysis job at a digital marketing start-up in Chelsea isn't the best baggage to bring into a first date! Through radically shifting your social context it might be possible to jar your brain out of what is holding it back. Its not what you found in Paris, but what you left behind in America, that could actually make a difference... and that reality could give this article some heft.

But then say that instead of trying to sell me on the idea that:

For Ms. Margo, a Black woman who attended predominantly white institutions throughout her school years, she felt ignored in the United States, as if she “was not an option,” she said. In Paris she felt seen.

France is less racist than the campus of Sarah Fucking Lawrence against black people. No wonder the humanities are dying if they are teaching this level of self awareness.