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miraculousmultifan · 3 months

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Foreigner's God

This fic was written for the @strangerthingswritersguild's Hozier Project where we each chose a song from Hozier's self-titled album and wrote a one-shot inspired by it. I chose Foreigner's God.

I also crossposted this fic on AO3 which you can read here.

Here are the tags (the fic will be under the cut):

Ship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Other Characters Mentioned Additional Tags: Presumed Dead Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Kas!Eddie, Post-Season 4, The Five Stages of Grief, Angst with a Happy Ending, Struggles With Religion, Mentions of Atheism, Ambiguous/Open Ending

Warning: I want to clarify, since I was having some struggles finding the right tag, that there is a lot of discussion about Christianity (namely Steve's relationship with Christianity and faith as well as his own grievances with other Christians and things like "how God chooses who gets a miracle"). My family is Christian, so there's a little bit of my own self-projection with Steve's internal monologue, but this is in no way meant as "Christianity Bashing"

If any of that is something you wouldn't like to read, I suggest you don't continue. This has been your warning! :)

Denial.

Kneeling over the man’s prone form, Steve refuses to believe he is truly dead. They get back to the trailer quickly, so surely there’s still a chance that he could make it. Right?

The Upside Down rattles with earthquakes, but Dustin’s tears are still louder in comparison. The man’s not dead because that would mean he left Dustin to grieve. He wouldn’t do that, so he’s not dead.

Steve dips his head down until his cheek is suspended a thread above his lips, waiting to feel a soft brush of air to prove that he’s still breathing. He wraps his fingers around his wrist like a pathetic excuse for a hand-hold as he tries to find a pulse. He stays like that for much longer than he needs to in the hopes of feeling a puff of breath, a thump of a heartbeat under his skin.

It will come. It has to. Because he isn’t dead.

Nancy and Robin pull Steve and Dustin away from his body, even as their own bodies shake with sobs. The ground trembles as another earthquake runs rampant through the Upside Down, splitting the ground and spreading cracks through the dirt.

One by one, everyone leaves the Upside Down through the gate in the ceiling of his trailer. Without–

They leave him lying there. They leave him to rot.

Not that he can rot. Because he isn’t dead.

Anger.

Steve used to be a Christian. Back before the Upside Down. Back before he was pushed headfirst into actual hell.

He wasn’t exactly devout. He definitely didn’t follow the “no sex before marriage” rule or anything. But the faith aspect? The belief of a God that created them? An all-powerful, all-knowing, all-loving God? He believed that. He wanted to believe there was someone with the ability to protect them. To look after them.

Then he had to fight a six-foot, slimy, petal-headed monster to protect Jonathan Byers and Nancy Wheeler. The same monster that made Will Byers go missing. The same monster that killed Barb in his pool. Where was God then?

God doesn’t exist. There is no possible way the God that is supposed to love them unconditionally and protect them would create something hell-bent on tearing apart every living being it came across.

Some people might assume the demogorgon, the Upside Down, all of it has to be the work of Satan. Steve knows better. Satan is only supposed to tempt you to sin. His goal is damnation, not death. That’s what he wants. Not vicious, violent creatures that kill innocent people for fun.

So, after Carver comes back from everything alive, surviving the earthquakes and rifts in the ground, and tries to spew bullshit about the kind of people God loves and the kind that he sends to hell, Steve knows he’s wrong. What ever happened to “love thy neighbor?”

While he isn’t a Christian anymore, he knows that Carver is simply twisting the words of the Bible to support his own malicious agenda, venting his grief over Chrissy by directing his rage onto a scapegoat. An easy target that didn’t deserve any of it.

It’s easy for Carver to blame him and call him a Satanist when the jock had a front-row seat to Max floating in the air, her limbs snapping like twigs. For a Christian with no experience with the Upside Down, blaming it on Satan seems like an easy out that requires minimal critical thinking.

But then Carver went from vague comments about sinners to using the Bible to turn Hawkins against him. Calling him a freak, a murderer, a Satanist. They deface his missing posters with devil horns and pentagrams, unable to let his name rest. After everything, they still won’t let him rest.

And Steve is angry. His heart is heavy with the weight, the hate, of Carver’s fucked up beliefs. Why does this jackass get to live when he is dead? Why does Carver get to run his name through the mud when he’s not even around to defend himself?

Carver is so scared of imaginary monsters that he can’t see the real ones that are haunting Hawkins.

He sacrificed himself for a town that hates him. A town that, even now, couldn’t appreciate what he’d done for them. Hawkins never deserved him. Not even the federal government could be bothered to clear his name. It’s much easier for them to hide the truth and paint him as the real villain rather than reveal him as the hero he really was. They’re the cowards. Not him.

Steve hates Hawkins. Steve hates the people who ruined the life of a boy whose biggest “crime” was dressing in edgy clothes, listening to loud music, and playing a nerdy board game. Steve hates the people that made him feel like a coward for trying to protect himself. Steve hates the people who taught him that he would only be redeemable when he was dead.

He hates God for letting it happen.

Steve wants to scream. He wants to kick and bite. Thrash and punch. He wants to shout from the rooftops about how the very man they scorn is the one who saved them all.

He wants to scream the name of a god he no longer believes in. He wants to curse a god that doesn’t exist. The purest expression of his grief, echoing through town.

Bargaining.

Steve would trade the ungrateful citizens of Hawkins if it meant he could have him back.

To the people of Hawkins, he’s just missing. With the lines of open gates, destruction on every corner, overcast sky, and endless ash floating in the air, some of them believe that whatever his agenda was, he had succeeded. They don’t know shit.

They pray to their god for a miracle. For someone to stop the murders. Stop “the devil” from wreaking havoc. As if their god actually had that power. Steve and his friends hadn’t laid down their lives for everyone to shout “miracle!” If they managed to defeat Vecna, Steve didn’t want God getting all the credit for it.

Miracles are bullshit anyway. Why should a god give miracles so sparsely? Why do some people get miracles and others don’t? God shouldn’t play favorites. How does he decide who deserves a miracle?

Why hadn’t a true hero fit that criteria?

What “lesson” does God teach when he lets innocent children die without stepping in? What “lesson” does he teach his believers when he lets them invoke his name like a waiver as they hurt an innocent boy?

Sometimes Steve thinks that it should have been him instead. It was his fourth year dealing with the Upside Down; his winning streak had run its course. It was about time anyway. It should have been him.

Steve can’t fathom trading anyone else for him. It would either be the shitheads of Hawkins or Steve. Maybe the assholes in Hawkins Lab who released the Upside Down on all of them in the first place. Maybe the fucking feds that used him as a scapegoat instead of owning up to their mistake.

Depression.

Alone in his house, Steve sits on his bed in his room and stares down at the piece of clothing in his lap. He isn’t crying, but it’s a near thing.

Dustin hasn’t called in days, torn up by grief. Mike refuses to look at him, using him as an easy target to place his blame. Lucas is too busy sitting at Max’s bedside to be betrayed by Steve’s failure. Sometimes Erica comes over to sit on the couch with him and show him her dice or talk about My Little Pony, but they never talk about him.

Robin knows something is wrong, of course. They know each other so intrinsically that they don't have to speak to share their thoughts and feelings.

The thing is… Steve doesn’t want to talk about it. If he tried to open up, he’d have to find a way to pry the man’s name from his throat. Robin supports him like always, but he can tell that she’s starting to worry even more than usual.

He wants to cry. He wants to sit there and let himself cry, but he can’t. His eyes are deceptively dry, giving off the impression that he isn’t grieving even when he feels it every day.

Does he even have the right to grieve? Steve barely knew the guy! They’d only spent a week together and he had the audacity to grieve at the same level as someone like Dustin? Steve was being irrational.

Robin and Nancy could have handled Vecna, no problem. Steve never should have assumed being the distraction would be easy. That the distraction team would just hop back through the gate as soon as they played their part. Not when he knew how vicious and determined those bats could be.

The denim vest feels like it’s burning a hole through Steve’s legs. It’s selfish for him to keep it. Surely Wayne needs it more.

But the two of them had sort of become friends, hadn’t they? They had joked together. They bonded over Dustin’s overconfident attitude. They…

Well, let’s just say Steve had to go through a bit of a bi-crisis in the midst of his mourning.

If Steve could only talk to Robin about this mass of grief, guilt, and what-ifs in his chest—if he could finally say his name—maybe he could finally break down into pieces. Maybe his numb exterior could finally reflect his shattered heart.

Acceptance.

He’s dead. He’s dead, and he’s never coming back.

He was an ever-present pressure in Steve’s life for one short week before he vanished forever. And Steve can accept that.

They won’t have another opportunity to tease Dustin together. They won’t sit pressed on a couch together, their thighs brushing. He won’t lean too close into Steve’s space and bump their shoulders together. They won’t get the chance to say the things they left unsaid.

And now Steve will never know.

But he can accept that. He can because he has to. Because they held his funeral.

You don’t hold funerals for people who aren’t dead. So Steve just has to accept it. The sooner he can, the sooner he can move on.

…

Revival?

Something is in his house.

That’s the first thing Steve registers when he steps up to the front door. The wood by the handle is scratched up with claw marks, and the metal lock is on the ground, pulled out of the door and rendering Steve’s house key obsolete.

Instead of entering the threshold unprotected, Steve scrambles back to his car to grab the nail bat from his trunk. He considers getting his walkie out to ask for help but decides to scope out the situation first. Cautiously, he makes his way through the entryway leaving the door open behind him in case he needs to make a hasty escape.

He expects the house to be destroyed; valuables taken, glass shattered, and dirt smeared all over the linoleum tiles. There’s definitely mud tracked into the house, but the shape of the footprints is like nothing Steve has ever seen. From a distance, they might look like regular feet, but upon closer inspection, Steve notices that the toes seem elongated, the length of the feet bigger than any normal human’s.

Tentatively, Steve follows the footsteps with his bat tightly gripped in his fist. They lead up the stairs to Steve’s bedroom where the door is hanging slightly ajar.

Something is in Steve’s room.

It has long, leathery wings; ragged and tangled hair; sharp, pointed claws; and a thrashing, demonic tail. It moves around the room with shameless wonder, trilling to itself as it sniffs at the comforter on Steve’s bed, the clothes in his closet, and the denim vest on his desk.

The creature stops at the desk, pausing to smell the vest thoroughly, unconsciously giving Steve a view of its side profile. Strange… The monster bears a striking resemblance to–

“Eddie?” Steve breathed, his grip on his bat loosening as his eyes finally blurred with unshed tears. “Is that you?”

The monster whips around to face Steve, its lips pulled up into a snarl as its dark, human-like eyes stare sharp and steady, directly into the emptiest parts of his heart. Without a warning, the creature crowds into Steve’s space and starts sniffing him within an inch of his life. It runs its strangely human-like nose along the crook of Steve’s bared neck while its clawed hands hold Steve’s arms by his sides firmly.

Steve drops the bat, frozen in place. Now that it’s so close, Steve can see the similarities to Eddie in the monster’s face. Those same expressive Bambi eyes. The strong line of his nose. Those same plush-looking lips pulled back to reveal monstrous fangs. Even with the changes, there’s no doubt in Steve’s mind that the creature before him is Eddie.

Then, when Eddie has apparently finished sniffing, he snuffles in Steve’s face, satisfied, and picks him up like he’s made of feathers. With seemingly minimal effort, he places Steve in the center of his bed and fluffs the blankets up around him, swiping his frighteningly long, black tongue up Steve’s cheek in a sopping wet lick.

Steve blushes, unsure how he should be reacting. “Eddie?” he murmurs softly once more, hoping to draw Eddie’s attention to the words leaving his lips.

Eddie chirps, climbing into the bed to join Steve and curling up at his knees. His wings flap, sending a burst of air across Steve’s face before they settle, and he faces Steve with his eyes relaxed and expression open.

With a nervous smile, still not sure what to do with his hands, Steve says, “Do you… recognize me?”

Another chirp and Eddie presses his forehead into Steve’s outstretched palms.

“Okay,” Steve breathes, letting out a brief sigh of relief. “Can you speak?”

Eddie whimpers, hanging his head low. The sound is broken, raspy as though his vocal cords are struggling to produce the deep sound. Steve feels like he’s losing him all over again.

Mustering all the tender charm he can manage, Steve slowly reaches out to loosely hold one of Eddie’s hands. Eddie picks up his head to watch him, making no move to stop the motion, the only indication of his interest being the little flick of the end of his tail back and forth.

As gently as he can, Steve rubs his thumb against the inside of Eddie’s wrist and softly presses a kiss to his palm. “I’m glad you found me,” he murmurs, hoping that Eddie will understand the sentiment. “I’m glad you’re back.”

There’s no mutual language between the two of them for Steve to express it, and he knows he would only break if he tried to verbally convey it, but his entire being feels like it’s lit up with the broken love he holds in his cracked and shattered heart. Even if he said the words out loud, Eddie wouldn’t be able to respond in kind.

Just like everyone else, leaving Steve wanting for something no one can give him.

Steve lays back in his bed to stare up at the ceiling. All his grief is no longer warranted now that Eddie’s back, but despite that, he still feels as though he’s lost something truly important.

His cheeks are still damp from the brief tears he shed at Eddie’s return, but when he goes to wipe them away, Eddie beats him to it. He raises himself up until he’s propped up on top of Steve and leans down to lick the tears away. It’s a little gross, but Steve appreciates it anyway.

With that task complete, Eddie flops down until his entire body weight is pressing down on Steve, laying on top of him like it’s a normal thing for friends to do. He nuzzles at the crook of Steve's neck and chuffs.

Steve chuckles nervously, a deep flush rising to his cheeks. “You alright there, Eds?” he manages to squeak out.

Instead of moving his head to look up at Steve, Eddie presses his face harder into Steve’s neck as a rumbling sound vibrates from the base of his throat. It sounds strangely like a purr.

Then, to Steve's immense surprise, Eddie raises his head and looks Steve straight in the eye. His eyebrows furrow in intense concentration as he opens his mouth. At first, only a low growl comes out before it slowly morphs as Eddie’s lips form around the word “…S-Steevie.”

Steve blushes a pretty pink. “Yeah. That’s me.”

Eddie snorts, though it reminds Steve more of a dragon huffing smoke from its nose than a laugh. He presses their foreheads together gently and Steve goes still beneath him. “Missed you,” Eddie grits out as though those two words took all of his effort. Then his face splits into a wide grin and he leans down to lick at the tip of Steve’s nose, reminiscent of an excitable puppy.

Heat blooms in Steve’s chest, and he struggles to hold back the warmth that wants to pour out of him from his fingertips. So, instead, he reaches his hand up to brush Eddie’s hair back from his forehead and smiles. “I missed you too,” he murmurs in response, trying to put all of his love into those four words.

Eventually, they’ll work on re-introducing Eddie to everyone else and giving him some speech therapy to help with his vocal cords, but for now, Steve is content to just lay there. He has no reason to grieve anymore. Not when he has Eddie back.

#mira writes #STWG #STWG Hozier Project #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #st fanfiction #st fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #eddie munson/steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #st season 4 #stranger things season 4 #oneshot #kas!eddie

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inklessletter · 11 months

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Lucas was lying next to Max in the hospital bed. His face muscles were aching after being contorted all morning, from crying and smiling, and trying not to. Max was awake. After three months, Max finally was awake.

The drugs were still filling her system, and his body was still recovering, still adjusting won’t let her move too much, but she was reaching out. She wanted to touch. She asked Lucas to get next to her, and they cried, and hugged, and cuddled. He couldn’t bring himself to go to the nearest telephone and call the others.

It was Erica who did it. She offered.

And she was so happy, she didn’t even charge him for it.

Lucas was playing with her hand when he heard the party in the hallway, about to burst in the room. Max stiffened at the sound.

Soon after, they were all in, and Lucas stepped aside the bed, but Max clawed her fingers around his hand. She wouldn’t let him go, even when the others were hugging her, taking turns.

Everyone was crying. Even Mike. Dustin was such an ugly, loud crier. Will couldn’t stop smiling. Nancy was tougher, but she was also beaming, even through her glassy eyes. Jonathan didn’t want to cry, too, but he definitely wiped a tear or two, not coming really close, but letting her know that he was so glad she was awake. Steve hugged her, too, blinking fast, kissing her hair, and telling her how brave, how proud everyone was of her.

Max was crying too, but she greeted everyone with a wide smile.

But when El approached the last, shy and timid, with puffy, wet eyes and a trembling lip, Max’s face faltered.

“El?” she asked, and Steve let room for her to get to Max.

El smiled through her tears. “Yeah.”

Max let go of Lucas’ hand and hugged her as fiercely as she could. They didn’t speak for a full minute, both of them silently sobbing.

It felt intimate to watch Max’s face contorted, tears flowing, lips moving but no sound came out from them.

“Thank you,” they could all read what she was saying. El hugged harder.

“It’s okay,” she replied.

“Thank you for bringing me back,” Max mused against her shoulder. “Thank you.”

And Lucas looked around at everyone else’s faces, just to make sure he wasn’t the only one that was just realizing that El did not just jump into Max’ memories to fight Vecna, but—but also brought her back to life.

Apparently, he wasn’t.

“You are my best friend. You were not going to go. I wouldn’t let you go,” El whispered, but everyone heard.

“I love you,” Max said.

And there was such happiness in Lucas’ heart, that after all the hell she’d been through, she still had love to give.

El looked briefly at Mike’s eyes and she half smiled, through one of the saddest expressions he’d ever seen her pull, and nuzzled her face in Max’ hair when she replied, “I love you, too.”

Lucas knew that there was something there he didn’t quite catch, some narrative that they kept to themselves. It was okay. He knew they had broken up at some point, but they were still close.

What was sitting uncomfortably in his chest was the fact that he did not know until that very moment that Max was alive because of El.

If he ever held any doubt about where her heart relied, now they were all gone.

If he ever was scared about how incredibly powerful she was, he felt now utterly safe.

If he ever thought of her less than a friend, now he knew that he’d been wrong all along.

Because El was loyal, and truthful, and giving, and selfless.

And she loved her friends.

No, she loved Max, and that—that was enough for him to unconditionally love her, too.

And he’d never been particularly tactile to anyone, and her especially, but when they were alone on their way home he could do no less but hug her. She was taken by surprise, and didn’t hug him back right away. But then Lucas said, with a shaky breath “She’s here because of you. Thank you so much, El. Thank you.”

Then she wrapped her arms around his waist, and let herself be held. Lucas could feel her relax into his touch.

“I’m sorry if I ever—”

“It’s okay,” El whispered.

“I owe you everything,” he said. “I could never repay you.”

El smiled and made herself home in Lucas’ arms.

“You don’t owe me anything. I would have done the same for you,” she mumbled, and Lucas could not repress a shiver. “I love you too. All of you.”

And Lucas laughed, but didn’t let go. “Really?”

“Yeah. We are friends,” she said, and looked at him, undoing the embrace, but not quite letting go of his touch. He beamed at her, with eyes still glassy.

“And friends don’t lie.”

---

@mentallyundone

#ficlet #max mayfield #el hopper #jane hopper #lucas sinclair #stranger things #fluff #implied lumax #friends don't lie

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ginger-grimm · 1 year

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All of the Heart emojis for either Celeste Morris or Carmen Bauman, please?

@dancingsunflowers-ocs 🖤

Why not both?

💓 BEATING HEART - what gets their heart racing?

For Celeste, it's either looking at the stars or looking at Rachel whenever she walks by.

Jonathan really drives Carmen wild in more ways than one. He makes her heart beat faster every time she sees him.

💘 HEART W/ ARROW - what traits do they look for in a relationship? do they believe in love at first sight?

Celeste looks for someone who is interested in the things she is, or can at least open their mind to it. She also looks for someone who will love her unconditionally. She doesn't think love, at first sight, is real.

Carmen looks for someone who will treat her with respect, no matter what. Someone who can hold her and someone who she can have fun with. She definitely believes in love at first sight.

💗 GROWING HEART - if they have a crush, is it noticable? what changes when they're in love?

For Celeste, it's not noticeable at first, but once she trips over words and starts to giggle like an idiot, you'll see it. Usually, this stops completely when she gets into a relationship.

Carmen always gets red in the face when she has a crush on someone, and she plays with her hair. This usually dies down when she's in love, but it does manifest from time to time.

❤️ RED HEART - their love language(s)?

Taking someone star gazing, holding hands, getting familiar with the things the other person loves for Celeste.

Carmen cooks for the people she loves. She also picks out flowers and makes bouquets using flowers with meanings she associates with the gift receiver. Also, hugging.

💙 BLUE HEART - do they miss their s/o easily? how do they act when their s/o isn't around?

Celeste misses Rachel a normal amount whenever she isn't around. She texts and sends cute selfies just to remind her girl of her face lol

Carmen really has to learn not to fall apart whenever Jonathan isn't around. Befriending Nancy and Vanessa, and then Robin really helps her with this. When she's not allowed to contact Jonathan while living with Murray, she writes him letters which she keeps hidden in her jewelry box, and listens to the mixtape he made for her often.

💚 GREEN HEART - what things make your oc feel comforted? hugs, kisses, food?

Applause for Celeste, weirdly enough. But also hugs and the stars.

Hugs, food, the feeling of dirt beneath her hands, having someone run their fingers through her hair for Carmen.

💖 SPARKLING HEART - are they a subtle or a showy lover?

Showy for both of them, for sure.

💌 LOVE LETTER - do they like love letters? what kind of messages do they leave for their partner?

They both like love letters. Usually, Celeste will leave Rachel something along the lines of "You're my one and only star."

Carmen will leave Jonathan some kind of note, letting him know she's safe and didn't run away.

💔 BROKEN HEART - what could their partner do that would absolutely break their heart?

For Celeste, it was Rachel choosing other people over her more than once. For a while, she didn't think she would ever actually get with her, but she couldn't not give it a try.

If Jonathan ever treated her with disrespect or hurt her, Carmen would be crushed. Not that he ever would though.

#answered #oc: celeste morris #oc: carmen bauman

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sour-n-salty-citrus · 2 years

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Jonadio legit just makes Part 1 so much more interesting. It's like the missing cog that makes the Phantom Blood machine go brrrrrr

YESSS absolutely. I love this ship so much, words cant even begin hdhhdhdhd.

Like? The whole concept of Jonathan (and by extension all the Joestars too ig but hshshsh-) being bound to Dio by fate itself is so good. Literally? Can't believe Araki invented soulmates, wow-

Ok but seriously, their dynamic is so interesting. We don't really see Dio's interactions with other people whom he doesn't just see as a subordinate or tool

Well, there's Pucci, but (going off of what my brother has told me because I- haven't read the manga yet hsgshsgsh) he isn't really an equal to Dio. The circumstances considered, there's definitely far too much manipulation and power imbalance for the two to truly be considered on equal standing. (And this isn't to say that diopucci isn't a great ship, it is! I just prefer DJD for those reasons).

Aside from Jotaro, Jonathan is the only one who Dio could ever consider a genuine threat. A rival. Someone actually worthy of his respect and attention. I think he really does value (even if he realises it too late) having someone who can hold that position. That can test him, and push him to his limits. That stops everything from going his way, and forces him to really give it his all. Jonathan is the polar opposite of Dio in so many ways, a true gentleman, kind and with the kind of compassion that could only be rivalled by a saint. If Dio was to be loved by anyone unconditionally, it's him (it could only be him!). On the flip side Jonathan sees through Dio. The wool is never really pulled over his eyes, and he's probably the only person who can really read him, see Dio for what he is. He sheds tears when he believes Dio to be dead, yes, partly because Jonathan is also that kind, but I believe partly because he genuinely saw the good in him and something that could have been worth saving. Much in the way Dio is challenged by Jonathan, Jojo is also challenged by Dio, and with him he is confronted with ideas and behaviours he never usually would have in his (admittedly) privileged life.

Even if their 7 year relationship was mostly a facade in order to keep the peace, I firmly believe not all of it was a lie. I think it's impossible- you just don't spend that long close to a person (especially growing up with them) without developing some kind of sentiment towards them (even if they might not deserve it in your eyes-). It only makes me wonder about the kind of quiet, intimate moments they must have shared. When one of them fell asleep at their desk, did the other take a moment to appreciate their sleeping form? In the early morning, when they ate breakfast and sipped tea whilst reading the newspaper, did the peace last? When one was sick, did the other begrudgingly look after them, only to complain when they too fell ill the next day?

You know, I don't really think that love and hate are all that different. Two sides of the same coin, you know? I never really thought the opposite of love was hate, but rather- indifference. Because whether you love someone or hate them, you still feel strongly towards them, no? Jonathan and Dio may have hated each other. I think they loved each other too. Whatever was between them, though, I think we can all agree, it sure as hell wasn't indifference.

AH sorry for rambling so much akdjskdjskdjsjs, I just- mmmm this ship is so good. It really is the highlight of PB for me. I mean, when the relationship between these two characters pretty much forms the base for the series as a whole, how can i not be invested???

#jonadio #diojona #jjba #citrus speaks #jjba spoilers #long

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pocketsizedquasar · 3 years

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it’s been a bit now so. misc 200/end of mag in general thoughts? under a cut because this is a bit long, and i will preface this to say that i mostly enjoyed the episode but this is going to be mostly my criticisms, bc i feel like the good parts have already been well covered by people other than me. so yeah just a warning this is mostly crit

- it’s Still very hard for me to parse how i feel about this episode, but i think after sitting on it for a bit, i’ve come to the general conclusion that i am very satisfied plot-wise (in terms of tragedy/the structure of tragedies, the open-endedness of our ending, the general Writing TM), but not so much satisfied character-wise (in terms of arc and relationship resolution). I think we deserved more resolution on wtgfs -- i wanted more with them! more with melanie and jon; more with the melanie and georgie and basira’s side of the plan. more than that really small tidbit that we got at the end! and... honestly? a little bit more emphasis on the weight of Jon actually dooming other worlds in the end, and what that means for Jon and for wtgfs/basira. Especially with the context of the consequences re: the Web...won. no caveats or complications, the Web got. Exactly what it wanted.

- on that note, From a uh. Critique against capitalism standpoint I’m not sure how I feel about the ending? And I don’t really want to. Read too much into what isn’t there? But I mean mag has long been a pretty explicit anticapitalist narrative so...? Yeah, I’m not a big fan of the implications of WTGFs and basira basically just being treated as narratively right in terms of letting the eldritch evil stand-in for capitalism have whatever it wanted and feeding it and doing exactly what it asked them to do. and having Little consequence as a result of that. Obviously they’ll still face loads of hardship, but that comes from the apocalypse, not from, like,.,, doing the direct bidding of the Capitalist Monster/System/etc to be clear, i’m not like...mad they made the “wrong” decision; there was no wrong or right decision here. but I am a little upset that for all they spent 199 discussing the various consequences of each choice, we got to see very little of that actual consequence playing out...none of the survivors seem to really be carrying the guilt or even the full understanding of what they did, because they never saw the suffering they could create as anything more than a hypothetical. i feel like we could have spent just a bit more time with them dealing with that. a bit more time even with jon dealing with that, a bit more time spent on jon changing his mind. other people have said as much better than me but. yeah

- i feel like there was a lot of character stuff brought up in s5 and especially act iii that i would’ve loved to have seen more resolution of. why have that whole thing about Georgie telling jon to give melanie his last words himself, if Jon was going to come back but then never bring that up again (full disclosure this is smthn that @pronouncingitwang brought up!)? Why have Jon say he was “going to go apologize to [his] boyfriend”/Jon tell Martin multiple times that they were going to talk about their fight “later” and then not have that happen on screen? Why did we have two whole episodes of cultist interactions if they were just going to be removed off screen? Why have martin’s “I’ll get jon to destroy me like the others” decision if that doesn’t really come up? what about salesa!! why tell us melanie hating jon is a projection of her self hatred and then not bring that up again? why give annabelle all those juicy interactions with martin and then turn her into a monster when jon shows up, why give her so much character and backstory and then so thoroughly remove her agency? why have all these really cool parallels between jon and annabelle if annabelle is just going to be this monstrous and agency-less plot device with no follow-up? what happened to her!

- on that note...annabelle. They... really took this character who is a Black woman and who had so many parallels to Jon and who they could’ve like. very easily Actually made into a protagonist of color (because we only got one!! and she’s a cop!!!!) (or if not protagonist, at least smthn more sympathetic), (which wouldn’t have negated previous racial problems w tma, but would’ve shown growth from them) and made her a scary monster who just Serves her capitalist entity overlord without personal agency and then bows out when she’s no longer needed...you can have whatever diagetic/watsonian explanations you want for how 197 went, like sure she was just ~being dramatic~ and putting on a show for jon, but all that is still something the writers Decided to do in the real world, and the racial implications of her character arc are just. not great. and her character had So much more narrative potential. idk i will forever be salty about annabelle

- i Still Don’t Like the web being sentient!! i said this after 197 and i’m sayin it again! i think it makes it less frightening and less interesting! with the End being aware of its own, well, end, I actually thought that worked, and i really liked the corpse routes ep, but for some reason I didn’t with the Web? which seems hypocritical of me, I know, but, look: The embodiment of the fear of dying being aware of and welcoming its own dying emphasizes the inevitability and the truth of that fear. Which is why it works for the End. It’s still not recognizably /human/, because it is inexorable and certain, in a way nothing human can be. So its awareness of its own end DOESNT feel like flattening the worldbuilding. And using my own logic, I guess sure you could say the embodiment of the fear of manipulation and schemes being capable of scheming does the same thing but it. It rly doesn’t feel the same to me? Bc that’s rly a fear borne of human sentience & behavior. and so to give it that sentience makes it feel more human, and less interesting within the context of the horror. this is definitely just a personal taste thing as far as how i like horror and eldritch deities and such but yeah.

- i liked the statement a lot like, as a little self contained story? it was really nice to have jon give us one last story before the end. I thought that was sweet and i liked how the statement was written! on the same note though, i could’ve also gone without knowing like. the entire cosmology of how the fears came into being. again, just a personal thing, i don’t like my horror to be known, even at the end of it all when it doesn’t matter what we’re still scared of anymore. I just. I want my fears to be frightening and beyond comprehension and unknowable. it just leads me to have more questions than i really need at the Final episode? i would love to keep the jon giving us one final statement thing, and you know what? i would've loved: statement of the archivist, regarding jonathan sims. no idea what you’d do with that but it sounds cool in my head.

- very minor and very specific-to-me thing but i Don’t Like that basira got to be the Last Words...sorry y’all I just don’t like basira i can’t get behind trying to make me feel sympathetic for a cop who stood by and let people get murdered by the state for years and only felt bad about it bc fearpocalypse i just can’t. i don’t like her never have never will and also melanie and georgie are right there why didn’t they get to have the last words it would have been so much better ... why not have the person who loved jon and Knew very deeply his tendency to self-sacrifice say something or why not the person who is in-canon very similar to Jon and self-admittedly projecting her self hatred onto him say some sort of her own attempt at peace why not either of these two ahhhh

- i uhhhh. really liked jon killing jonah. jon for once getting to be angry for himself. that felt really nice. no ceaseless watcher nonsense either, just him and a knife and beating the shit out of this guy who even now continues to underestimate and belittle him. and i liked jon doing what he did in general -- i actually changed my mind on this; i really didn’t like it at first but i do now. i’m sad that it came at the expense of his promise to martin, but it makes sense and...i don’t want to say jon was right, because i again don’t think any of the decisions were right per se, but in terms of like... not doing what the “elder fear deity who wants to feed on fear and pain for literal eternity” wanted... yeah. i get it. he would never have been able to go along with that willingly. and he really shouldn’t have been, considering all that he went through being a puppet for said elder fear deity. and from a tragedy standpoint too, i actually think it’s a really really well written end for him. considering how my favorite tragedies are structured and how the way out has to be presented to us, but the tragic hero Ultimately will always fall back on their faults, yeah, this makes a lot of sense. hamlet is granted a way out and he doesn’t take it; he always always hesitates. captain ahab is granted the chance to turn and leave his chase and love instead, and he doesn’t take it. orpheus turns around. etc etc. I think it was also really lovely that jon got a twist on that, that in the end he did change, for just a moment, and chose love instead. even in the face of all the horror that that might mean. i really like that he and martin are together, wherever or however they are. that martin is allowed to feel (rightly) furious and betrayed and still so, so unconditionally in love.

idk i have more thoughts probably but again they’re very hard to parse and mostly just getting into the super specific realm which i don’t think is particularly helpful

i have a lot of feelings for jon and martin and their ending i think it was the best possible ending we could’ve gotten for those two and i Am really. I just have a lot of feelings.

#mag 200 #tma #the magnus archives #jon sims #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #melanie king #basira hussain #annabelle cane #georgie barker #tma crit #the magnus archives crit #tma spoilers #the magnus archives spoilers #quasartalks #yeah i don't know lots of mixed feelings!!#i think for me i'd go about it one of two ways:#first if i'm just redoing 200 to my own taste and not anything else #i think i'd really go for the martin kills jonah and is forced to be killed by jon somehow? or something along those lines #i really wanted a callback to his decision in his own domain #i'd likely still have them die together? idk most of their stuff felt pretty good i'd just spend more time with them AND the girls #but i think if i really had my way i'd go back to 197 #remove the web's sentience and have it be just another desperate guess of a human trying to understand their patron's wants #(which i've talked abt before so i won't rehash here)#annabelle jon team up please let's go #and then ASIDE from that i can have my own completely happy ending au in addition lmao #but i do like me some tragedy #also tbc i don't mean to imply that like. 'things that i would've done differently' and 'things that are bad' are the same thing #they're not! just bc i wouldn't have made a writing decision doesn't mean it is bad. i just wanted to get these thoughts out.

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ultrahpfan5blog · 3 years

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Reflecting on Superman and Lois season 1

Now that the season is over, its interesting to look back at a very stop start season. Its very difficult for a show to hold your interest with the type of scheduling problems this show had, and in its very first season. When the show was announced, I wasn't terribly surprised but I was also not overly excited. There has been a lot of Superman and Superman adjacent material that has come out before and after the announcement so I did wonder about what they could do new. In addition, while I certainly liked Tyler in his guest appearances in Supergirl, in Elseworlds, and in Crisis, he did feel like the inferior Superman in Crisis when he was opposite Brandon Routh's Superman who really looked and felt like Superman, even better than he did in Superman Returns. However, once the trailer dropped, I was sold. It was clear that the show was going for something a lot more cinematic and a lot more grounded than the previous Arrowverse shows. I did have some apprehensiveness over the teenage boys angle because teenagers can become very stereotypically irritating in shows and given that a good chunk of time was going to be dedicated to them, it was going to be vital for them not be so.

Having finished the season, I have to say that the execs and the writers have pulled off an excellent first season. I don't think I would call it the best season 1 in the Arrowverse. I still love The Flash season 1 over any other Arrowverse season and while I haven't seen it in a while, I love Arrow season 1 as well. This may come at 2nd or 3rd place based on further reflection. I do think its has some issues when it comes to the villain storyline and with the big action set pieces, but the film's heart is set at the right place and the characters are all very likable and you want to see conversations between the characters. That's when you know that the writers are doing a good job when you almost feel that the show should go back to the character moments.

Firstly, the idea of a matured Superman is what works wonderfully well. There is something wonderful about seeing Clark and Lois as a couple who have known and loved each other for over a decade. Closer to two decades I guess. Characters don't quite look their age tbh. Lois would have to be in her early 40's at least. But I can honestly overlook that. Bitsie and Tyler were already a very likable couple in Elseworlds and the show has just used that natural chemistry to brilliant effect. But the big relief was that Jordan Elsass and Alex Garfin are excellent as Jonathan and Jordan. I was initially a little worried that Jordan could be a little much, but both of them were excellent and one of the highlights of the season was the bond between the two brothers. Jordan and Jonathan have conflicts but they are brothers and they love and support each other unconditionally.

Jonathan could have so easily been the douchey, jealous brother but Elsass is honestly one of the mvp's of the season. You really care for Jonathan, even though he arguably has a slightly less meaty role in the story. I think Bitsie Tulloch is outstanding all season. She has shot up very high among all my favorite Lois Lanes. She's very different from the other versions and that makes her stand out. One of my favorite episodes was episode 8, which deals with Lois dealing with memories of her miscarriage along with almost losing Jonathan. She is excellent in that episode as is Elsass. Tyler is wonderful throughout. He's a strong Superman but his Clark is even more endearing. Little things like him being so psyched for the Harvest Festival, how he plays young Clark in flashbacks as someone distinctly different, him meeting Lois and working with her for the first time, the adorable "my mom made it" moment when Superman first saves a kid etc... He just embodies everything you know and love from the character. Wole Parks is another terrific addition. Initially you think he's an alternate version of Lex Luthor but it was genius idea to have him actually be John Henry Irons. There was something innately likable about him even when he was fighting Superman and we thought he was Lex. I loved how they handled the dynamic of being Lois' husband in another world and having a daughter. It makes for an interesting dynamic but it never gets into problematic territory because he is mature enough to know that this Lois isn't his Lois, but they also show his difficulty in dealing with that. I liked the bond he seemed to be forming with Jonathan. And I liked how he came along to be an ally with Superman.

The Cushings are ok. They play an important part in the season with Sarah Cushing being Jordan's love interest and Kyle being a big part of the how the villain story begins, with Lana also being a major character in the story. All three actors are excellent but Kyle does have the stereotypical doucheyness which was a little annoying for the first 10 episodes, however he does redeem himself in the final arc. I hope Lana gets to be a bit more active in the show because she does feel like a bit passive as a character. However, I did find that Sarah and Jordan romance actually pretty cute. Both actors did a nice job making them feel like awkward teenagers, dancing around their feelings for each other. Sam Lane is another character who starts out pretty unlikable but I warmed up to him by the end.

Where I think the show doesn't really work at full strength is the superheroic aspect of the show. The character drama in the show is great. I think it works gangbusters. The superhero plot of it all is a little meh. While Adam Rayner is perfectly fine as Edge/Tal-Rho, as a character he's just not that interesting. There is an interesting perspective there that he's sort of a mirror image to Clark where he got mistreated by people when he landed on Earth and that is how his worldview shaped that way, and he longed for family, but there isn't enough done on a character level with him. As a result, the last third of the season was a little iffy. The whole, build Krypton on Earth felt like a variation of Zod's plot in Man of Steel. The method is different but the eventual outcome is the same. I also don't know why all Kryptonians, apart from Lara, are homicidal maniacs, when they are said to be a peaceful race. The arc also becomes repetitive because there are like three climaxes. And I feel the finale was the weakest climax of the lot. Episode 10 or 12 would have served as better finales with a little tweaking. If I remember correctly, the original order was for 13 episodes and it got extended to 15, so this might be an explanation to why it feels this way. The action is fairly by the numbers. While it looks like there is clearly more money on display here than say for Supergirl or The Flash, the action scenes aren't particularly exciting or inventive.

While I am not super high on the finale, I am mostly happy with how things wrapped up. I think they should have had Tal-Rho die tragically because I really don't think he's interesting enough to be brought back again. The arrival of Natalie Irons will surely be a source of some emotionally charged scenes. i hope there is some character bonding between the her and the brothers. Jonathan seemed pretty interested in meeting her when he saw videos of her. I do wonder how the show will continue to incorporate Smallville as a setting. Season 1 obviously had a very specific plot based reason to be in Smallville, given Edge's plot was based in Smallville. But I can't imagine every big bad will have Smallville based plot. But the characters are all settled in Smallville, with the Cushings and Lois buy half the Gazette and running it with Christy. So that's going to be an interesting balancing act that they have to do. I hope they can bring in some traditional superheroics as well because Superman rogues gallery is rich enough. Out of the episodes, I think 6-8 were my favorites, and the flashbacks in episode 11 were incredibly charming. While the season is not flawless I don't think it completely nailed the superheroic heights that it was aiming for, it was a really entertaining season of tv. An 8/10 for me.

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kabootarandishaan · 3 years

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Riverbed

Summary: The reader has taken in a stray dog and always takes it to the riverbed for walks, one day they see a random purple haired boy and things ensue

One-shot/Series: Part 6

Pairing: Jonathan Joestar/ Female reader

A/N: Sorry for the weird cut off point. It would’ve been too long if I kept going. I had been sitting on this for awhile for that reason. Hopefully ya’ll are still here love ya’ll! Enjoy!

Warnings: Heated kissing

You turned once again to face him, the softened expression taking over your face completely. You suddenly felt more relaxed and thought to tease the man before you a bit.

"Simply just nice? An evening walk along the riverbed is nice. Afternoon tea is nice. Are you saying I am simply just nice to you Jonathan Joestar?!" You had exaggerated your intonation slightly not too overt that he would notice but just enough for him to be caught off guard.

It seemed something had also come over Jonathan on this day as his next words were bold to say the least. A smirk you'd never seen before came over his face before he spoke. "Ah! I cannot say I've completely misspoke by saying that Y/N."

"I think you are indeed nice. You can certainly be as blissful as an evening walk along the riverbed. To be with you fills me with a serenity equal or far more than that of afternoon tea. But...there's something you missed in my words."

You look at him with furrowed brows waiting for him to go on. He reaches out his hand towards yours and asks "May I?", you can only nod as you fear that if you speak only a squeak will escape.

He takes your hand into his and tugs you slightly closer. You can feel your heart beating faster and the sounds of your breathing encapsulates the atmosphere.

"Y/N." You simply stared down at your shoes. You weren't sure why but you feared what would happen if you were to look directly into his eyes. You were sure Jonathan could hear the pounding of your heart as he pulled you close enough that you felt a slight fan of his breath over your face.

He released his grasp from one of your hands to gently raise your chin. Your breath hitch at the feeling but slowly you closed your eyes, the new sensation making you feel slightly at ease.

"Y/N, will you look at me, please." His voice was just above a whisper. If it weren’t for the proximity between you, you probably would have never heard him. You quickly took a breath to stabilize and slowly opened your eyes.

The softness in his eyes mirrored that which you heard in his voice moments before. You could not help but smile at the sight before you. As he timidly moved his thumb so it ran over your cheek, you absentmindedly leaned into his touch.

It all felt so natural, so right. He spoke once again in the same hushed tone as before.

"Y/N, I feel with you a warmth and affinity so raw sometimes it scares me. I know it sounds bizarre since we have only known each other for a short time but I am incredibly drawn to you. I am eager to see you in the evenings as the thoughts of our conversations linger with me constantly. Being with you Y/N is exactly as I said fully, completely, and unconditionally nice."

You felt your chest swell at his words. You bit your lip out of nervousness but could not hold back a smile as a feeling of genuine joy washed over you from his confession. You slowly touched the hand that made its way over your face as you went to speak.

"I am not one to share my feelings overtly. To be quite honest after losing my mother I never had the opportunity to show too many emotions. I had roles and responsibilities to assume and in order to fulfill those I learned I had to be stoic so as to not be taken advantage of or manipulated.

I have not had much companionship over the years despite father and Nila. But as odd as it is, I wanted to know you Jonathan Joestar. I do not know what it was about you but I can say that I have never felt the attraction that I feel with you. I'll admit although it scares me as well I cannot help but fall further into it."

You had never been so vulnerable. In any other circumstance you would have been shocked or scolded yourself for being so transparent. But, here in this instance with Jonathan you could not get yourself to care about what could or would happen. You just wanted this moment to last.

A small laugh left Jonathan's lips as you said your last words. You felt as if you were entrapped in his gaze. A sense of momentary bliss stopping the otherwise practical and sensible mechanisms that worked like clockwork in your mind.

His thumb carefully ran over your bottom lip, the touch so light that if you had not seen him you might not believe it to have happened. You once again felt the tug of an unexplainable force pulling your face slowly closer to his.

You reached out and held your free hand against his jaw. He let go of your hand that he held onto and placed it tentatively on your hip. He gauged your reaction so intensely any indication of discomfort or distress and he would stop this as quickly as it started.

You held the hand that rested upon your hip and gave it a light squeeze as to ease any reserves Jonathan had. You were so close his breath falling just above your lips and yours hitting his chin. The tension was immeasurable and with one swift movement you felt it dissipate.

You had never kissed anyone before. You slightly wondered if Jonathan had. That thought was quickly washed away and engulfed by a feeling of affection that overtook your entire body. You felt not only satisfaction but an overwhelming sense of passion.

Jonathan's grip on your hip tightened only slightly but you knew he was feeling the same. You tried your luck by deepening the kiss and Jonathan only fervently responded. His hand now snaked its way around your waist, capturing you fully. Your hand moved from his face into his hair.

Had it not been for that godforsaken ring of the bell, there was no telling how long you two would have kept up. An immediate combination of fear and instinct overcame you and you had given such an aggressive push against Jonathan you ended up stumbling back.

You quickly flattened out your gown and hair and hastily made your way towards the front end. The irritation that you had heard earlier once again made its way through the shop as Dio Brando came waltzing further in.

"What in the hell is taking so damn long! Jonathan!" You could tell Dio Brando was not a man of many virtues, patience being one of them. He glanced over to you and grimaced at the sight of you before directing his anger towards you.

"Do you lowly merchants have nothing better than to try and con men of rich families into buying your trash?! Had I not said that we have somewhere to be?! Are you bloody deaf?!"

The earlier events had left you flustered leaving you at a loss of words otherwise you knew how to deal with this. Disgruntled customers was not a new occurrence but right now you were out of your element.

"I...I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused Sir. I was only trying to show Mr. Joestar our collection." You were fumbling over your words, his tone in combination with your nerves caused a crack in your otherwise put together demeanor.

"You apol-" He was cut off by Jonathan's hand tugging at his shoulder. "Dio!" His voice was far firmer than it was just moments ago. "This is of no fault of hers so there is no need to yell at her. Apologize to her." Your eyes widened at his exclamation.

"No no! There is absolutely no need for that Mr. Joestar! Mr. Brando was simply frustrated. Please let us just go on from this and continue our respective days." You were frantically trying to salvage the situation.

From what little interaction you had with the man you could already tell that asking Dio Brando to apologize was not a good idea. Now asking Dio Brando to apologize to a "lowly merchant" well, you did not want to find out how that would look. Before you could say anything else he spoke.

An incredulous look plastered on his face before he gave out a deep laugh. Had it been in any other context that laugh would have sounded incredibly menacing to you. When he spoke his voice took on an icy tone. "You want me to apologize to her."

The coldness with which he said the words sent a shiver down your spine. As if the flavor of those words left a foul taste in his mouth, he said them with such a disgust. Jonathan nodded his stance unwavering.

Dio raised an eyebrow amused was not the word but you could say he was intrigued. "If you think that I am apologizing to this inferior shopkeeper then you are a depraved lunatic. I am going back to the carriage, do not keep me waiting."

As he turned to leave Jonathan grabbed his arm preventing him from going any further.

#jonathan joestar #jonathan joestar fanfic #jonathan joestar fanfiction #jjba #phantom blood #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba fanfic #jonathan joestar x reader #jonathan joestar x female reader #riverbed

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bia-wayne-west · 4 years

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Older brother – Jon Kent

Characters: Clark Kent (Superman), Jon Kent (Superboy) and You (Reader)

Summary: How Jon Kent would react to learning that you are pregnant and soon he will be the older brother.

Warnings: None. Only cuteness.

A / N: I really love Jon Kent and his father, Superman. Since I found a post with "Supermom", I always tried to read more, but Supermom is not as famous as Batmom 😭

I hope you like it and wanted to read more about Supermom, because I loved writing and I intend to write a lot more.

I'm so sorry if there is a wrong word. As I said, I am Brazilian and my native language is Portuguese and I am learning English. I'm not fluent and I still don't know how to spell correctly. Writing here on Tumblr helps me learn.

Thank you for your understanding. Please don't send me hate.

Requests are open

MASTERLIST.

The small object had two red streaks that said you were having another baby. You always wanted to have more than one child, and since Jon was 5 years old, you and Clark have been trying to give Jonathan a little brother.

But now you had confirmation. In a few months the farmhouse would have another Kent. You were eager to tell your family.

You were absolutely sure that Clark and Martha would love the news, as the plan to raise the family had been talked about for over 6 years.

You were afraid to tell your dear Jon, who has always been used to being the only one. He was so jealous of you and his father that he would probably cry and throw a tantrum.

Your lips was between his teeth, being bitten hard. You threw the test in the trash, making sure Jon or Clark didn't find it. Now you would have to come up with a plan for your child to accept the news that he would be an older brother.

(...)

- I'm so happy. - Martha cried, running up to you to give you a hug. You decided to tell Clark and Martha at the same time, because you knew it would be a blessing and they would love to know that a little baby was growing in your womb - Another grandson. You made me a happy grandmother.

- Oh my love. Let's have another baby. - Clark said. He barely waited for Martha to release you to hug you. Kent placed a series of kisses on your head and began to caress your waist.

It was perfect, just like you imagined.

- How many months are we going to wait to pick up this little bundle of love in our arms? - Martha, your mother-in-law, asked. She had a huge sparkle in her eyes, the same spark you saw when Jon was born and on your wedding day with Clark.

- I'm going to Dr. Cameron's office tomorrow. - You explained, letting go of Clark's grip and looking at the two who were still smiling. - I'm so glad you guys liked the news.

- Did you think we wouldn't like it? It can only be crazy. - Your husband said.

- I wasn't afraid because of you. I'm afraid Jon doesn't like having a brother, he is so jealous and even individualistic in some aspects.

Martha came to you, taking your hands and caressing them.

- Jon is a golden boy and is so affectionate. I'm sure he'll love being an older brother.

During Martha's speech, you noticed that your husband looked strangely at the stairs that led to the upper floor. He seemed to be trying to hear or see something.

You snorted, running your hand hard through your hair. That was what you were afraid of. That Jon felt less loved or that he was jealous that he was no longer Superman's only son.

- I think he already knows he's going to have a little brother. - Clark said. - Jonathan overheard our conversation and ran. I think he must be in his room.

- I'll go and talk to him.

You hurried up the stairs, seeing that the blue door full of stickers that belonged to Jon was ajar. Your hands gently opened the door, taking care not to attract attention.

You knew it was useless, since your son had super hearing and could hear the insects moving outside the house.

- Hi, my love. - You walked over to his bed. Seeing that your boy was lying awkwardly with a pillow over his face. - Clark told me you heard what we were talking about. - Your hand began to caress his son's back. - I know you know that I'm going to have a little baby and that you're going to be promoted to big brother.

- I don't want to have a brother! - He said in a voice muffled by the pillow.

- My dear, having a brother means that you will have a friend, a best friend. You will be able to teach him how to play ball and play video games.

- I don't need a friend. I have Damian. - He still had the pillow over his face. You knew that he had cried, because his voice was hoarse and nasal.

- Damian is your friend, but your little brother or sister will be your eternal companion. We will have double love for each of you.

You got even closer to Jon and lay down next to him, hugging your son's small body.

- You and daddy will forget about me because of this baby. - He said. Jon was crying again and his heart broke for it.

- Your father and I will have a lot of love for both of you. Even though I have 20 children, you will always be my sweet boy and that will never change. - You said, taking the pillow from Jonathan's face. - You, Jon, are and always will be the person I love the most in this world. This baby will also fill you with love and our house will have much more affection, love and life.

- Do you promise that Daddy and Grandma won't abandon me to take care of the baby? - He sat on the bed and you imitated him. He looked at you intently with the red eyes of someone who just cried.

- Clark and Martha love you unconditionally just like me. Our love for you will only increase now that you have been promoted to an big brother.

Jon interrupted you with a big hug. His small but strong arms surrounded you and you repeated the act. Her boy laid his head on your chest.

You placed several kisses on your little boy's head.

- I love you, mom. - He said, making you start to cry.

- I love you so much, my dear, it hurts. - You said, trying to wipe away the tears with your hand. Jon looked at you, smiling. You would do anything for that boy you loved so much. - Nothing in the world will stop me from loving you.

MASTERLIST

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waywardodysseys · 4 years

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Unconditionally - Chapter Four

Warnings: SMUT, oral receiving (m & f), unprotected sex (wrap it up), cussing, mention of anxiety

Word count: 5.7+k

Author’s note #1: because everyone deserves to be loved unconditionally

Author’s note #2: I included links for a couple of things and they are linked in the story where appropriate! And this is Valentine’s Day overload!

Unconditionally: Chp. 1, Chp. 2, Chp. 3

~ ~ ~

Over the following weeks the days go by quickly like a runaway freight train. Pedro and you are full steam ahead as you spend the days getting to know each other mentally and emotionally, he and you then spend the nights getting to know each other intimately.

He doesn’t want this feeling to end, he doesn’t want to leave for Brazil – he was to begin shooting a movie. Pedro wants to convince you, needs to convince you to join him in Brazil. Maybe even take a short trip down to Chile and visit his father and younger brothers. He wants them to meet the woman who has become, and is, his forever.

José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal is in love. He is headfirst, head over heels in love with you.

From the moment your hand was inside of his at Kendrick’s birthday he had an inkling of emotions towards you. He wasn’t sure what they were but when you two shared the passionate kiss under the mistletoe six months later he knew, without question, he was in love with you. And he barely even knew you.

Walking along the sidewalk, Pedro glances into a store front. Bouquets of roses and red heart balloons fill the window. It then clicks in his mind; Valentine’s Day is around the corner. His mind begins formulating a plan then he pulls out his cell phone.

He waits till his best friend answers with a rough good morning before saying with excitement, “Oscar!”

“Pedro.”

“I need help!”

“With what?”

“A surprise for Y/N!”

“What kind of surprise?”

“I’d rather explain it in person.”

“Come on over. I’ve got the kids though.”

Pedro shrugs and laughs. “Hey! I’m cool uncle Pepe!”

Oscar laughs, “I’ll get the coffee brewing. See you soon.”

Pedro hangs up his phone and begins walking again. He couldn’t contain the excitement inside of himself with the plan he had come up with.

-------

You sit in your usual spot at the café a couple of blocks from the apartment you share with your old college friend. You were staring at a blank document, trying to find the words for the scene you were working on. You kept hovering your fingers over the keyboard, hoping the words would come but they didn’t.

The scene involved a character from Kendrick’s show. She’s based off you, and then there’s her ex, who is based off Will. You had to write a good, no, a great sending off scene for them both because the final episode was going to introduce a new love interest for the character, who would be based off Pedro.

You take a sip of your lukewarm tea and then hover your fingers over the keyboard again. You had no clue where to start but something came forth and your fingers started moving across the keyboard in a flourish.

You are in your zone when your phone vibrates on the table. You sigh and stop typing. You turn the phone over and recognize the number.

Why the fuck would Evans be calling you?

You swallow and hit accept. “Hello?”

“Y/N!” Evans’ loud voice exclaims on the other end. “How are you?”

Dandy. “Good. What do you want?”

Chris laughs, “straight to the point, eh?”

“Move it along Evans. I don’t have all day.” You sigh as you begin bouncing your left leg under the table. Anxiety’s crawling through your body.

You hear the smile in his voice when he says, “I want to direct all six episodes of The House that Built Us.”

What. The. Fuck., you think as your heart races.

“Oh really?” Your voice squeaks out.

“Yes. I do.” Chris pauses. “I want us to get together for dinner. I want to discuss some stuff with you.”

You know he means more than just the show. “Just follow the script Evans. It’s what a director is to do.”

“Come on Y/N. Please. If we are to work on this together, I need to know we are good.”

We’ll never be good, you think.

“Kendrick know you want to direct?” You ask.

“Yes. He said he would call you, but I told him it might be best to hear it from me personally. If you don’t want me to direct, I understand but you do know I’ve wanted to get back into directing,” Chris pauses, his voice is light as he says, “you know this. We were working on a script together. A fantastic script! I know you are still working on the last two episodes, but I want this, I need this!” Chris pauses again. “Please.”

You’re quiet as your eyes dart around the café, then down at your laptop. Your leg’s still bouncing under the table, your heart is racing. If Evans wants this badly then maybe all he wants is to be director of the show. He knows you hate him. He ruined everything, yet he had also freed you from the man, you had slowly begun to realize, you weren’t in love with anymore.

“Dinner?” You ground out. “When?”

Chris smiles, “how about this weekend?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day weekend Chris. I’m busy.”

“Oh, are you with someone?” Disappointment laces Chris’ voice.

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter.” You don’t want to tell him who it is because you don’t want Chris to ruin what you and Pedro have. “What about the following weekend?”

“Hold on.” Chris comes back on, “next weekend is fine. I’ll text you a place and time.”

“Good.” Your eyes land on Pedro walking in. Your anxiety is gone instantly. “I have to go Chris. Bye.”

You stand and wrap your arms around Pedro once he approaches the table. You squeeze him tightly and inhale his sandalwood cologne. You’re calm, at ease.

Pedro hugs you tightly back. He then cups your cheek and brushes his soft mouth across yours. “Everything okay?”

You smile, “now that you’re here. Yes.”

-------

“How Pedro handle your history with Evans?” Kendrick asks you the following day at lunch. You two are at your usual spot for your weekly lunch. It’s been a ritual for years, at least when you two are in town at the same time.

You had also told Pedro about Chris calling you. You weren’t going to leave him in the dark about the call or your history with Evans.

“Fine.” You answer.

Kendrick raises his eyebrows. “Spill it Y/N.”

You sip at some water, then sigh. “He thinks Evans wants another shot and I told Pedro that wasn’t going to happen, will never happen because I am with him.”

“Yet you didn’t tell Evans it’s Pedro you’re seeing?”

You glare at Kendrick. “I don’t need the motherfucking asshole to get any ideas Kendrick. Chris doesn’t need to know. All he needs to know is I’m in a relationship. I am off limits!”

“Didn’t stop him last time,” Kendrick whispers.

“Yeah well that fucking kiss between us did happen and I should’ve let it happen.” You hold the tears in. “I almost slept with him Kendrick!”

“Yet you told me you were beginning to fall out of love with Will. You felt horrible because part of you was glad it was over because you couldn’t muster the courage, or strength, to tell Will yourself. As I recall, you told me Chris did you a favor, but you would never admit it to anyone else. Not even to Evans himself.”

Your heart cracks inside your chest. Kendrick’s correct.

Kendrick reaches out and grabs your hand. “You are not a horrible person Y/N. Eventually I would’ve kicked your ass and told you to tell Will.” Kendrick grins. “Just do the dinner with Chris, then go and be in Pedro’s arms. You’ll only have a week with him until he leaves for Brazil.”

“I think he wants me to go with him.”

Kendrick raises his eyebrows. “What makes you say that?”

“He’s been leaving subtle hints in conversations or little things around my apartment, his apartment.” You smile, “the other day he left an interesting drawing of the Brazilian flag on my fridge. This morning there was a small Christ the Redeemer statue on the table in his kitchen.”

“Has he, like, officially asked you if you’d go?”

You shake your head. “No. He’s asked about my passport. What countries I’m missing, which are a lot. Wants to know if I like ocean views, or city views.”

“Maybe he’s mustering the courage to ask, or maybe he wants you to ask him,” Kendrick shrugs as he finishes his sandwich. “What are you two doing for Valentine’s Day?”

“He won’t tell me. All he said was to keep my afternoon and evening open. And to make sure I am at my apartment all day.” You glance over Kendrick. “You know anything?”

“I do not!” Kendrick laughs and smiles. “For once I have no clue what the man has planned. Though I’m sure the evening will end with you both in bed.”

“Oh, god. Please stop!” You smile and laugh. Your mind running rapid with thoughts as to what Pedro could possibly have planned.

-------

On Valentine’s Day at three o’clock in the afternoon, your doorbell chimes. You walk to the door in your favorite hoodie and pair of sweatpants. You open the door to Kendrick, his boyfriend Jonathan, and a woman you have no idea who is.

“Uh, what are you doing here?” You ask with curiosity.

Jonathan steps forward, “we’re here to get you ready.”

You eye Kendrick. “So, you did know?”

Kendrick shrugs. “It was to be a surprise. I couldn’t say anything!”

Jonathan grabs your hand, dragging you towards your bedroom. “Bring in the racks!”

Minutes later you are sitting in your desk chair looking at dresses. “I can’t make up my mind!”

“Hun,” Jonathan begins, “what do you like?”

“Yes, you.” Kendrick states.

“Don’t think of what Pedro wants, or likes. He already has you. He’ll love whatever you wear because it’s on you,” Jonathan states.

You stand and walk down both racks slowly. The colors of dresses range from sunshine yellow to cherry red, then from sky blue to midnight black. You stop once you see an ombre color dress. It weaves black and what appears magenta together perfectly. You pull it out.

“This one.”

Jonathan takes it from you, “let’s try it on!”

A couple of hours later you are standing in front of mirror, looking at your reflection. Your Y/H/C hair is parted on the left side, light waves roll down the soft locks. Your face is painted with makeup, but not too much. Your Y/E/C eyes pop because of the eyeliner and eyeshadow Jonathan used. The dress you picked fits you perfectly, hugging every curve of your body, it sweeps the floor as you walk. You lift up the material to look at the one-inch heels. Nothing too fancy there either, you didn’t want to fall or trip walking in stilettos.

You smooth out the material as Kendrick walks up behind you.

“Lovely as ever Y/N.” Kendrick notes.

You turn and smile. “Thank you. Now don’t you and Jonathan have a date?”

“We do.” Kendrick hands you a jacket. “Stay warm, be safe both out there and in the bedroom!”

“Kendrick.” You ground out as you take the jacket.

Kendrick kisses your cheek. “Have fun love. Talk tomorrow?”

You nod. “Talk tomorrow.”

Kendrick leaves as you put on your jacket. Minutes later your doorbell chimes for the second time of the day.

You let out a breath and walk towards the front door.

-------

Pedro exits the elevator on your floor. He walks down the hallway and rings the doorbell. Seconds later you open the door, standing there looking beautiful and radiant. He knows you are beautiful without the makeup, without the fancy dress.

He steps forward and captures your mouth with his. Drinking you in, becoming intoxicated with you, only you. He pulls you up against him and never wants to let go.

Pedro pulls faintly away from your lips. “Hermosa, mi querida.” His voice is light and enriched with desire, and love.

You smile at his words. You had seen what he was wearing before he pulled you into his arms. “You should wear a tux more often. It suits you.” You add with a laugh.

Pedro grins as he palms your cheek. He loves you. He is in love with you. “Ready?”

“As ever.”

Pedro grabs your hand as you close your apartment door. He pulls you onto the elevator then you exit into the lobby once the elevator opens to the main floor of your apartment building. He pulls you out into a N.Y.C. winter evening, towards the curb where a black town car is waiting for you.

The driver nods his head and opens the back-passenger door for you. Pedro lets you get in first then he settles in beside you before pulling you into his arms once again.

The driver gets in the car and pulls away from the curb.

“Where are we going Pedro?” You whisper resting your head on his chest above his heart.

“It’s a surprise.”

“Not even a hint? Or clue?”

Pedro kisses your temple. “No clues Y/N.”

You sigh and rest against Pedro. You close your eyes and take in his warmth, take in the smell of his sandalwood cologne. You’d recognize the scent anywhere and you know you’d think of Pedro. You listen to his steady heartbeat.

Pedro keeps his eyes on the buildings and once the car approaches the destination, he pulls out a blindfold from his tux.

“Don’t open your eyes mi querida.”

You swallow. “Okay.”

Pedro places the blindfold over your head, making sure it covers your eyes.

Your heart faintly quickens as you hear the car door open. You feel cold as Pedro removes himself from the car.

“Grab my hand,” Pedro whispers as he runs his hand down your arm.

You find and grasp it tightly as you scoot out of the car and into the cold air.

Pedro pulls you up against him as he begins walking.

“Where are we?” You whisper.

“You’ll see.”

You hear the jingling of keys and you’re inside the warmth of a building within seconds. All you can hear is a fire crackling close by. Your nose is tickled with the smells of roses and lavender, and a hint of vanilla. He pulls you further inside the warmth and the wonderful smells.

Pedro stops, so do you. He takes off your jacket. “Stay here.”

Like you could go anywhere. “Um, okay.”

Soft instrumental music begins softly playing and you hear Pedro walk up to you and grab your face in his hands. He brushes his mouth lightly against yours as his thumbs rub your cheeks.

You place your hands on his hands and brush your thumbs over them.

Pedro pulls back and looks at you. He traces a thumb over your soft lips then he walks around you and pulls you back up against him. His fingers roam over the open back of your dress. Your skin is delicate and warm under his touch.

“Pedro,” you whisper as you feel his front against your back.

“Yes, mi querida?”

You laugh lightly, “you do know I still can’t see?”

Pedro smiles, “yes. I want to take you in before I do the reveal.”

Your mind begins to race, and your heart slightly quickens.

“It’s just us. No one else is here,” Pedro whispers against your ear.

You breathe in and out. “I would hope so Pedro, otherwise I think if I was to move out of your grasp, they’d noticed what you have.”

Pedro laughs. Standing behind you and having his arms wrapped around you has given him a hard on. He’s ready to devour you again and again before the sun comes up in the morning.

“Keep your eyes closed Y/N,” Pedro reaches in front of your face and lifts the blindfold up and over your head.

Your eyes are still closed as Pedro wraps his arms around you.

Pedro places his head next to yours, “open them mi querida.”

You open your eyes. You gasp as you take in the view of the East River and the Manhattan skyline through the floor to ceiling windows. The city looks peaceful and spectacular from where you are standing.

You then sweep your eyes around the room you are standing in.

Several blankets make one large rug on the hardwood floor you are standing on. You notice a basket in the middle of the floor. Two champagne flutes accent the basket along with an ice bucket and a bottle of champagne.

You smile as you take in rose pedals strewn around on the floor and the candles creating a path towards the picnic basket.

“This is lovely Pedro,” you whisper.

“You deserve this mi querida,” Pedro whispers back.

You wonder who’s place this is. “Don’t tell me you’ve kicked someone out for the night.”

Pedro laughs as he holds you close. “No. They are elsewhere in the world tonight. Oscar knew of this place, knows the owners.”

You wonder who would want to miss out on this view every night. The Manhattan skyline, the East River, the Brooklyn Bridge. Then with the added effort Pedro put into this place – the romanticism, the candlelight, the music, the picnic, the love.

Every aspect of this evening is perfection, and you know there’s more to come.

You sigh happily as you rest your head back against Pedro, searing this view into memory and all the intricate details as well. In all your years alive this is the first Valentine’s Day you want to remember for eternity.

-------

After eating the picnic dinner and toasting to one another with the champagne, you sit in between Pedro’s legs on the blankets. Pedro’s arms are wrapped around you and as you rest against him.

“This is wonderful,” you sigh contently. “Thank you for this. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Pedro tilts your head and brushes his mouth against yours. He presses his forehead against yours as he cups your cheek.

“I love you Y/N.”

Your heart quickens.

Pedro continues, “all I want is you, all I need is you. Mi amor.”

You watch him lift a blanket and pull out a Tiffany Blue box.

This better not be, you think as your mind flashes with pictures of engagement rings.

You weren’t ready for this again. You and Pedro weren’t ready to take this gigantic leap. You look at him. Could he though?

Pedro holds the box in his hands. “Open it.”

“Pedro,” your voice squeaks, “if this is a ring—”

Pedro presses his lips against your temple. “It’s not but now…”

“Pedro please don’t joke.”

He smiles, “open it.”

You take the box from his hands and place it in your lap. You untie the silk white bow and take off the lid. You turn the box over and out slides a black velvet box.

“Pedro,” you whisper as you open the black velvet box.

Inside is a heart shaped pendant with an olive branch design in sterling silver on a same color chain.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper as you touch the necklace.

Pedro grabs the piece of jewelry gently, taking it out of its home and unhooks it. He brings it around your neck – its new and forever home.

“I saw this and knew I had to give it to you,” Pedro whispers as he clasps the chain together and kisses the side of your neck. “Olive branch signifies peace and abundance. You’ve told me I am your calm, your peace. My love for you will always be bountiful.”

Your fingers reach for the necklace. You touch it lightly as Pedro stands up.

He holds his hand out for you and wiggles his fingers.

You look up at him and smile.

Once on your feet, Pedro pulls you into his arms and the tune over the speakers becomes familiar to your ears.

The piano and cello complimenting one another as they make a lovely sound.

Pedro begins singing along with the music, “wise men say only fools rush in, but I can’t help falling in love with you.”

Your heart melts instantaneously. You know in this precise moment you are in love with this man.

“Would it be a sin, if I can’t help falling in love with you,” Pedro continues to sing.

This is the song Pedro asked you to dance to at Kendrick’s Christmas party. It was the same one he had the pianist play on your first date.

“Like a river flows surely to the sea. Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be,” Pedro grabs your hand and places it over his heart, “so take my hand, take my whole life too. For I can’t help falling in love with you.”

Tears spring to your eyes. Yes, you are in love. Your heart is calm, you are at peace. You reach up and touch his cheek.

“Some things are meant to be,” you sing in a weak voice.

Pedro smiles at you.

“Take my hand, take my whole life too. For I can’t help falling in love with you,” you sing to him.

“For I can’t help falling in love with you,” Pedro and you sing in unison.

When the music ends, you look at Pedro and touch his cheek, “I love you Pedro.”

“I love you Y/N,” Pedro whispers before crushing his mouth against yours, kissing you feverishly.

Pedro’s heart soars inside of his chest. He has found the one. You.

He knew you were the answer when he first laid his coffee colored eyes on your all those months ago.

Pedro runs his hands down the open back of your dress. His fingers find the zipper and they begin to move it slowly down. Pedro moves his fingers up and pulls down the straps of your dress, which fall freely down your arms.

Pedro faintly pulls away as his fingers run along the collar of your dress. He pulls down the material, pushes it slowly down your chest, revealing you have no bra on.

Pedro moans as he leans down and nuzzles your neck.

You suck in a breath as your fingers reach up and move through his soft hair. His feather light touches are driving you insane. You’re already on fire and he’s adding to the flame.

“Pedro,” you moan.

“Y/N,” Pedro whispers as his fingers reach up and touch the necklace he placed around your neck minutes before, “this is the only thing I want you to wear tonight when I claim you.”

You nod as your hands move up his chest, your fingers touch his bowtie. You reach under the collar of his shirt and unhook it, tossing it to the floor. You begin to slowly unbutton the white button-top he’s wearing.

Pedro keeps you pulled close to him. His fingers running up and down your back as your fingers finally unbutton the last button. Pedro sucks in a breath as your hands travel up his soft stomach and over his chest.

“Y/N,” Pedro whispers as he kisses your temple.

Your hands reach his shoulders. You push the jacket and top off Pedro’s body together. Your hands return to his shoulders and you let your fingers drum against his skin lightly down to the base of his neck. You move your fingers up his long neck and along his jawline.

Pedro pushes your dress further down your body. The dress falls slowly to the floor, pooling around your feet.

His fingers run down your chest, through the valley between your breasts and down your stomach. They trace the waistband of your panties. Pedro palms your core.

“Pedro,” you let out in a soft gasping moan.

Pedro pulls you up against him and runs a hand down your back and over your ass. You are his now and forever.

“Y/N,” Pedro whispers against your ear. “Eres mia, mi amor.”

You smile as you rest your head against his chest. “Eres mio Pedro.”

You and Pedro stand wrapped in one another for a few minutes before you move your hands down his back. Your own fingers trace the waistband of his pants. They unbutton and unzip the material with ease.

Pedro hisses as your hand reaches in and begins stroking his cock.

You moan as you feel his cock harden at your touch.

You use your free hand to push down his clothing. Once his pants are around his hips, you kiss Pedro at the base of his neck then move your mouth down his chest and stomach.

You settle comfortably on your knees as you use your tongue to lick up and down his length then swirl your tongue around the tip.

“Yes,” Pedro grounds out as he runs his fingers through your hair.

You engulf his cock slowly into your mouth, inch by inch. You use your tongue to swirl around the girth of his cock. You moan as it hits the back of your throat.

“Oh—mmm,” Pedro moans as he feels your hand reach up and cup his balls.

His hands try to hold your head steady as you begin moving up and down his cock. Pedro’s orgasm is rising inside of him as he tilts his head back, savoring the way your mouth feels on him.

“Fu—Y/N—mmm—oh—yes,” Pedro pants out as you continue lathering his cock with your saliva.

You move your head up his length and your tongue swirls around the tip fast then slowly.

“I—mmm—let me—mmm—return the favor,” Pedro moans as he places a hand under your chin, making you look up at him.

You release his cock from your mouth, staying on your knees. You move back on the blankets, lying down on them. You kick off your shoes as you watch Pedro push his pants and underwear down.

Pedro kicks his shoes off as he takes in your naked body on the floor.

Mine, is all he thinks as he takes in your glowing skin, your steady pulse at the base of your neck. The necklace laying on your upper chest.

Pedro moves your dress out of the way as he kneels between your open legs. He kisses his way up your stomach, moving his mouth between the valley of your breasts. He flicks one nipple with his tongue, then the other.

He moves up your chest and kisses you along the base of your neck. He reaches up and cups your cheek as he brushes his mouth against yours.

You smile as you pull faintly away. You reach up and trace his mouth with your fingers.

Mine, is all you think as you look deeply into his coffee colored eyes.

You two stare into each other’s eyes. The moment is intimate. Both of you smile as you both know you love one another. All there is in this moment, and for the rest of your days, is each other and the love you have for one another.

You move your fingers along his cheeks and jawline. You reach up and weave them through his hair. You will never tire of him. Never.

Pedro captures your mouth as he smiles. He sees the love in your eyes. He sees the woman he fell in love, the woman he loves.

He roams a hand down your body and palms your core. He moans as he finds you hot and wet. Pedro slips in a finger, glides a finger over your clit.

“Pedro,” you moan as his finger touches your sensitive nub.

Pedro kisses his way back down your body. He moves his mouth over your skin, making sure he glides his cheeks over your skin as well so you can feel more pleasure from the light fuzz on them.

You suck in a breath as your fingers remain threaded in his hair as he moves his mouth further down your body.

Pedro slides his fingers over your folds as he places his head against one of your inner thighs. He looks up at you and you already have your eyes on him.

Pedro grazes his cheek against your inner thigh before he dips his head and begins circling your clit with his tongue.

Your toes instantly curl at the contact and you moan out, “Pedro.”

Your body’s been in overdrive since Pedro told you he loved you. His kisses, his touches along with him gliding his fuzzy hair jawline and cheeks across your flesh has set your pleasure sensors off. They were craving more; you were craving more. You craved him above everything, and everyone else.

Your orgasm crests inside of you as Pedro’s tongue moves against your clit. The pleasure inside of you is at maximum speed and you know it’s only a matter of minutes.

“Ped—Pedro,” you moan as you release one hand from the blankets and weave them through his hair.

You moan loudly as your orgasm crashes throughout you. Your toes curl again, and your hands clasp the blanket as Pedro lightly flicks your clit as the aftershocks of your orgasm make your body tremble.

“Pedro,” you pant as you feel him kiss both of your inner thighs before moving back up your body.

“Y/N,” Pedro whispers as mouth moves across your skin slowly. He wants to savor the aftershocks of the orgasm he gave you rolling through your body.

You reach up and run your fingers through his chestnut brown hair as you catch your breath. Your eyes locked onto his as he moves his mouth up your chest through the valley between your breasts.

Pedro grabs one of your hands and brings your wrist to his lips.

You moan at feeling his mustache tickle your skin.

“Mi amor,” Pedro whispers as he looks into your Y/E/C eyes.

“My love,” you smile at him.

You and Pedro drink in one another.

Your hands travel up his stomach and chest then around to his back. Your fingers moving lightly across his warm flesh.

Pedro sucks in a breath as he leans down and nuzzles your neck.

You pull him close to your body then bring his mouth to yours, not caring about tasting yourself on his lips. You take the advantage to push him onto his back.

Pedro moans as you pull away and straddled him.

He reaches up with a hand. Strokes your cheek, moves his fingers down your neck. He touches the necklace then moves his hand down your chest and over your stomach.

“Hermosa Y/N,” Pedro whispers.

You blush as you lean down and nip at his neck, “and I’m all yours Pedro.”

Pedro places his hands on your hips and squeezes gently, “yes you are.”

You smile as you reach back and find his hard cock. You keep your hand at the base as you rise your hips then slowly sink your pussy onto his length.

“Y/N,” Pedro hisses at finally being inside of your slick canal.

You moan loudly as you begin rolling your hips once you feel Pedro’s cock entirely inside of you. You close your eyes as you move your hands up and down his chest and stomach.

Pedro begins thrusting up into you, meeting the rolling of your hips, matching your rhythm as his orgasm rises inside of him. His hands remain on your hips as he takes you in with his eyes.

He burns this moment to his mind. Your beautifully naked body riding him as the necklace he gave you glimmers in the candlelight. Your Y/H/C hair falling around your face as you tilt your head back and bite your lip as his cock inside of your depths gives you pleasure.

He has burned the whole night into his mind. He doesn’t ever want to forget this night, doesn’t ever want to forget the moment when you uttered ‘I love you’ to him. He doesn’t want to forget how much he loves you, doesn’t want you to forget he loves you as much as you love him – possibly more.

Pedro knows if things were to fizzle out, or if hell decided to come for you in any form, he’d battle whoever and whatever to get you back, to get you to stay. He had dived deep, like you had, into the deepest ravine and knew there was no chance of ever escaping.

“Pedro,” you moan as your fingers tighten against Pedro’s chest because another orgasm is cresting inside of you rapidly.

“Y/N,” Pedro moans as his fingers tighten on your hips.

You open your eyes and look down at him. You roll your hips and moan loudly as your second orgasm jumps off the cliff it had approached.

“Fu—,” you can’t complete the word as your orgasm makes your body tremble.

Pedro sits up and gathers you in his arms as he thrusts up into you and explodes, emptying himself inside of you.

You’re breathless as you loop your arms around Pedro’s neck and lean down to nuzzle his neck. You feel your pussy clench around his cock as he cums inside of you.

“Y/N,” Pedro pants as he brushes some of your hair aside and nips at your neck.

Your emotions are high. Your pleasure is high.

Pedro Pascal is your drug. You never want to come down from the highs he’s given, will continue to give.

Pedro wraps his arms around you and pulls you against him. He lies back against the blankets and holds you in his arms. His fingers travel down your back then up into your hair.

“There’s nobody like you Pedro. Will never be nobody but you,” you whisper against his neck.

“You are my one Y/N. My one and only. There is nobody but you.” Pedro whispers.

You move to your side, keeping your head in the crook of his neck. Your hand travels down his chest as Pedro grabs a free blanket and covers you both.

Pedro turns his head and looks at you. “Will you come to Brazil with me?”

You smile, knowing this was the one true question he wanted to ask you tonight. You know you can go; you want to go.

You brush your lips against his, whispering, “yes.”

Unconditionally Tags: @holyground1996, @bonkybaaarnes, @blushingwueen, @dindjarinshelmet, @stand-on-your-feet

Pedro Tags: @pascalisthepunkest, @kaelyn-lobrutto24, @jokersdoll, @knight-of-heart44, @mandadl0rian, @cosmo-bear, @caitlincat-95, @random066, @longitud-de-onda, @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead, @earl-01

#unconditionally chapter 4 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #mutlichapter #unconditionally #smut #when you meet your soul mate everything is calm #romance #valentine's day #pedro pascal hopeless romantic

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skullrock · 4 years

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okay so steve should get a pet?? he’s got the money, but more importantly the big goofy heart!!! dustin would probably be a big influence; he’s got Tews and Yurtle and i’m sure that steve would probably enjoy listening to dustin y’all about them often. basically what i’m saying is that steve deserves a little floofer so that he can pour his love into something that isn’t necessarily entirely based on romance for once and so he doesn’t feel so alone in his home

HE NEEDS A DOG!!!!!! Or persnaps a cat...... Steve would probably start off w like a beta fish and he would pour his whole life into it. Like buying it a huge tank, “gourmet fish food”, lil castle and colorful rocks, he makes lil posters for it’s “wall”.... omfg

He gets a dog and he names it something rly cute like Buttercup and just loves the shit out of it. Takes it on walks, on road trips, to the party hangouts, EVERYWHERE. is personally offended when his dog can’t come into the stores w him

y’all know that video that’s like “get a load of that dog!”? that’s Steve and Robin with Buttercup when she does anything

Jonathan ur mind ... Steve needs a friend that is unconditionally there for him and helps him cope w his trauma too!!!!

#LOVE THIS!!!!!!#answered #twilight-byers

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fraybaness · 4 years

Text

such sweet sorrow

ao3

before she leaves, clary writes eight letters.

I. JACE

Dear Jace,

By the time you read this letter, my memories of you and the Shadow World will be gone.

It was the price the angels made me pay for the runes I’ve created.

It seems strange - and a bit cruel - that after everything you and I have been together, this is how we end. With me a mundane again and you reading a letter stained with tears I won’t remember crying.

But I have no regrets. These have been some of the best times of my life because of the people I was lucky enough to share them with. Because of you. You were right to think I loved you unconditionally. I do. And I always will. No angel or demon could ever change that.

And even if I don’t remember you, you will always be in my heart.

Love,

Clary

II. SIMON

Dear Simon,

This is really hard to say. I think it’s especially hard to say it to you, but I owe you an explanation. Well, I owe you much more than that, but this is all I can give you for now: when I created that rune today, to stop Jonathan, I made Raziel angry. So by the time you read this, I’m not going to know you’re a daylighter. I’m going to think you’re dead.

The hardest thing to come to terms with these past few hours has been the fact that I will never see you again. I can’t imagine my world without you, Simon Lewis. That can’t possibly be real. Life without you is just a horrible nightmare. But I’m going to have to face that nightmare soon, and I won’t be able to wake up. I’m just sorry that you’re going to lose a friend, too.

Please don’t do anything stupid like come looking for me or try to change this. You can’t change this. I’ve made my choice and I would make it again. Because this sucks. This really fucking sucks and I don’t think I’ve been in this much pain since my mom died but at least this time there is a point to all this pain: I saved people. I saved you. I’d give up anything to keep you safe. I wish I didn’t have to break your heart to do it, but I can’t change that, either.

I love you. I’m going to miss you. I wish we had more time.

Love,

Your Clary, always

III. ISABELLE

Dearest Isabelle,

I scrapped so many drafts of this letter. I don’t know where to begin in telling you what you mean to me. Asking you to be my parabatai was supposed to be my way of telling you how much I love you and how you make me better. A better Shadowhunter, a better friend, a better person overall.

But that’s no longer a possibility, seeing as by the end of the night, I won’t remember you or this life. Apparently Raziel doesn’t approve of my rune mixing angel and demon blood.

I know. I want to be angry too. But I killed my brother this morning and my runes are already disappearing. There isn’t a lot of fight left in me.

Give ‘em hell on my behalf, won’t you?

I should end this letter now, before I go off on tangent after tangent and run out of time and realize I haven’t written to anyone else. But before I do, I just want to thank you for being the kindest, strongest, most amazing woman in the world. I’m very sorry that I will never get to call you my parabatai, but I know that in some way, our souls are already bound together.

Love,

Clary

IV. MAGNUS

Dear Magnus,

A part of me wanted to write this letter and give it to you before anyone else’s. Before anything became permanent. I wanted you to run after and me and tell me that we can fix this, you and me. Point out a loophole, help me come up with a solution, help me do something. But there is nothing either of us can do this time around. Which is why I really hope you didn’t find this until after your honeymoon.

At times, I think you know me better than I know myself, so I doubt there is anything I can say that you don’t already know. But let me just say: thank you. For everything. I couldn’t have done any of it without you.

With love,

Biscuit

V. ALEC

Dear Alec,

If a couple months ago someone told me that I would be tearfully writing a goodbye letter to Alec Lightwood of all people on his wedding day, I would’ve laughed in their face. But that’s exactly what I’m doing right now, so I guess you were right: nothing in this world is impossible.

All jokes aside, I’m proud of how far we’ve come, both in our weird relationship and as individuals. During my time in the Shadow World, I’ve managed to build a whole new family, and you’re undoubtedly a part of that. You’ve been more like a big brother to me than my own could ever be.

I hope you and Magnus live a long and happy life together (by the way, congratulations! I can't think of a more perfect couple.) and I hope you don’t miss me driving you crazy too much. And I really hope I don’t forget the things I’ve learned from you all.

Love,

Clary

VI. MAIA

Dear Maia,

It seemed plain wrong to write to everyone but you. Truthfully, I don’t even know if you still kinda-sorta like me, or if Luke leaving the pack and you and Simon breaking up means you and I can’t be on good terms anymore. But I hope that’s not the case, because I really like you, and I don’t want you to think I’m an idiot for writing a heartfelt farewell letter to someone who hates my guts.

On the off-chance that you do, in fact, still like me, here is my heartfelt farewell letter:

I don’t know if the others told you, or if you even want to hear, but tonight is my last night in the Shadow World. By tomorrow, I won’t remember any of this, and I won’t remember any of you.

I wish you were going to be at Magnus and Alec’s wedding so we could use some of my borrowed time to get to know each other. I know it sounds like a waste, because I’m going to forget anyway, but I don’t see it that way. I mean, isn’t everyone living on borrowed time in one way or another? I wish I could use mine to do everything I’ve been putting off and get to know everyone I haven’t had a chance to.

Sorry, I’m probably being a little weird and depressing. I initially started writing this to tell you that I wish we’d hung out more, yes, but mostly to say I heard you were alpha now, and that’s how I know the New York pack is going to be just fine, and I’m more than a little disappointed that I won’t be around to see just how amazing you’re going to be.

(Also, Simon’s an idiot for letting you go.)

Sincerely (hoping this wasn’t too weird),

Clary

VII. MARYSE

Dear Maryse,

I’ve recounted this in too many letters tonight, and every time I bring it up or think about it my heart hurts, but here goes: tonight, Raziel is going to take my memories and my powers. I’m going to just be Clary Fray again, and I’m not even going to know what I’ve lost.

But that’s not why I’m writing to you. I’m writing to ask you to give Luke's letter to him when he gets back, and to say that I’m happy you’re in Luke’s life, and that you were in my life, however briefly. I’ll admit I didn’t like you very much when we first met, but seeing how much you’ve changed and how much Izzy and Alec and Jace and Luke and Magnus love you has certainly changed that. I wish the two of us had the chance to get to know each other, too.

Especially because right now, I could really use a mom.

-Clary

VIII. LUKE

Dad,

I’m sure the others have already told you what’s happened, so I won’t waste ink and precious time going into details. I’ll just say what I need to say. The important things. Which are these: I love you more than I could possibly ever say, I want you to be happy, and you should grow your beard back.

And this: I don’t know what’s going to happen now.

It’s only to you that I can admit just how scared I am, just how badly I wish this wasn’t happening. I don’t want to break your heart any more than I already have but I don’t think I could have said (or written) this to anyone else. And I needed to say it to someone. I'm no stranger to going blindly into dark, dangerous adventures, but I still hate doing it alone.

Selfishly, I hope to see you again. I don’t know if I will even remember you in a few hours (I don’t see how I could ever forget you, but the angels have their ways, I suppose), but I can’t imagine a life without you. You have always kept me grounded in this crazy, messed-up life every day since before I can remember, and even if I’m a whole different person tomorrow, that won’t change, and neither will my love for you.

But, anyways, I didn’t mean to make this letter so depressing. All I want to say is that I love you, and I’m going to be okay, somehow, so please just live your best life and be happy, because you deserve it.

And maybe be a little proud of me? I’m trying very hard not to let anyone down today.

Love,

Clary

IX. UNWRITTEN

Dear Clary,

You’re going to be okay.

#sh fic #clary fray #c: clary #r: clary x luke #r: clace #r: climon #r: clizzy #r: fraybane #r: fraywood #r: claia #r: clary x maryse #angst #canon compliant #canon divergence #fix-it fic

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what-if-rpg · 5 years

Photo

Welcome to the family, CALLIE! Your application to EMMA PILLSBURY was accepted. I am really happy to have you around! Make sure to read the beginners checklist, and remember, have fun! I can’t wait to roleplay with you! Have fun!

IN CHARACTER

CHARACTER NAME: Emma Rosaline Pillsbury-Schuester CHARACTER AGE & DATE OF BIRTH: October 7th, 1979 OCCUPATION: High School Guidance Counselor FACE CLAIM: The beautiful Jayma Mays HOMETOWN & CITY WHERE LIVES NOW: Grundy, Virginia/Lima, Ohio SEXUAL ORIENTATION & GENDER: Straight/Female RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Married to the love of her life William Schuester. POSITIVE TRAITS: Kind. Generous. Helpful. NEGATIVE TRAITS: Over worries. A bit self-deprecating. Has a hard time standing up for herself. CHARACTER QUOTE/LYRIC: “Some things are worth fighting for,” ANYTHING ELSE?: Not that I can really think of, no. I just hope to get a Will soon! Heh.

HEADCANONS

Emma’s relationship with her parents is… Strained to say the least. She doesn’t really want them around her children. While they are happy all her kids are in fact gingers, they still are judgmental about how her children are being raised due to her OCD. Despite the fact she has been taking medication, and seeing a therapist for years now. To them that just means there actually was a problem instead of her just being “weird” as her mother so cruelly put it. She doesn’t want her children around that. She doesn’t want their bigoted views instilled into them.

Though she loves all her children, and wouldn’t give them up for anything in the world… She and decided 5 had been quite enough, and made steps to insure Emma would no longer get pregnant.

While Emma still has her setbacks from time to time with her OCD when in very highly stressful or emotional situations she feels she can’t control, her OCD and how she handles it have improved immensely due to therapy, medication, and her determination to make her better. I.E. The idea of sex no longer terrifies her as it used to. Since she found it with the right person, it has been something she has come to really quite enjoy.

Emma still feels guilt over how her relationship ended with Carl. She is happy and in love with Will, but she wishes she hadn’t hurt Carl the way she had. She had really tried with him, and had wanted to make things work, but her OCD at the time, and the fact she still had feelings for Will made it nearly impossible. She has been planning to reach out, and apologize to him for how things ended.

CONNECTIONS

PARENTS: Rusty and Rose Pillsbury: Proud ginger’s Rusty and Rose are quite bigoted/racist about people who aren’t ginger’s. On top of this they aren’t very supportive of their daughter with her OCD, and the man she chose to marry. She’s never been close with them due to their judgmental and mocking views on her life, and how they treated her OCD growing up. Emma still has a hard time coming to terms with the fact they were/are emotionally abusive. SIBLINGS/OTHER IMPORTANT FAMILY: Tom Pillsbury [Brother]: They have a good relationship now. Tom feels guilt for being the catalyst into Emma’s OCD at the dairy farm. Though she knows it wasn’t his fault, and her parents constant scrutiny only made things worse. She believes the dairy farm incident wouldn’t have been so bad if it wasn’t for her parents bigotry of wiping down glasses after a non-Ginger touched it, tying her thumbs with twine together to stop her nervous cleaning habits, and the cruel mocking nickname for her. She believes she just used the dairy farm as an example because the real depth of her mental illness is painful. Helen Pillsbury [Sister]: Emma is close with her sister. She had been staying with her for a couple weeks when she ran from her first wedding to Will on Valentine’s Day. CHILDREN: Daniel Schuester [5], Thomas Schuester [3 ½], Dylan Schuester [3 ½], Sarah [2] Schuester, Jonathan Schuester [10 months] [I am willing to change a couple if anyone tries out for Will, and wants to name them after 1 of his parents, etc.] She loves, and adores her children so much. She is so thankful and feels blessed to have them in her life. HUSBAND: Her husband William Schuester whom she is madly and completely devoted to and in love with. She feels herself so blessed and lucky to find someone who loves her unconditionally, and doesn’t treat her like a freak due to her OCD. And she helps him in every which way she can as well. All she wants him is to be happy, and support him. CLOSE FRIEND: Sheldon Beiste. Emma knew Sheldon years before he came to terms with his true identity, and fully supports his journey. Sheldon had always been such a helpful friend in the past, and helped out her and Will when they were having troubles before he went to Washington for a few months years ago. She is so grateful to him for that.

#Emma Pillsbury #Accepted #Glee RP #Glee RPG #RP

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richiefuckfacetozier · 6 years

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Do you ever think of writing a oneshot about Dustin and Will? Like please, I NEED a fanfic based on those two cinnamon rolls being cute and fluffy!!

This was going to be cute and fluffy. But it became a lot deeper than intended. People will recognize stuff from my headcanons! I hope people enjoy it!

Unpredictably Unplanned

Part 1 of 2

Pairing: Will Byers and Dustin Henderson

Summary: Will Byers deals with the unpredictability of coming out and being in a relationship

Will Byers wasn’t sure why he had waited this long to tell his mother that he was dating Dustin Henderson.

It was just that every time he planned out an important thing to tell a person, nothing would pan out the way he anticipated.

Telling her he was gay was somehow easier than the prospect of admitting to being in a relationship. Not easy, just the pressure and anxiety was different. His mother loved him unconditionally and proved that on more than one occasion, so his worry did not lie in the news itself. He just hoped it would happen when he was at his bravest.

When he told her he was gay at fourteen, he was at his lowest point. He had decided to tell her on a random Saturday, preparing himself with a multitude of personal pep talks that morning.

Unfortunately, he spent the day with his father. And Lonnie Byers did what he did best. Make Will feel inadequate in every way. He received constant jabs of “Will, you aren’t manly enough”, or “Stop crossing your legs like that, are you a woman?”, or “You are soft, you want kids to beat on you because you come off as weak?”

His father always took every insecurity Will had and threw it in his face, advising him on how to be like any “normal man”. Forcing Will to not even recognize himself by the end of the visit and bringing a vulnerability that shattered his spirit.

His mother noticed he was down right away. He slouched on the couch, with his arms crossed, and shoulders tensed. What gave him away the most were his eyes. They always revealed his emotions like an open book to all who bothered to read.

As they sat watching television she said, “What did he say to you?” An already strained tone of bubbling anger in her words.

“The usual,” Will responded quietly. “I’ll never be good enough for him.”

He knew from his peripheral vision that she was looking at him. He kept his eyes trained on the mindless show trying to stay neutral faced and failing. “Honey, you listen to me. Your father, he doesn’t understand you like I do. He was raised a certain way and pushes that on both his sons. It’s why I hate that he has partial custody. If it were up to me -“

“We would never see him.” Will finished calmly having heard this statement a million times. “I still want to see him even if Jonathan doesn’t have to now that he is 18.”

“Of course…” She said heartbreakingly, “You can see him whenever you want.”

“I can make him understand me.” He insisted stubbornly. “I know I’m the reason he left because he couldn’t handle a son like me. A son who is…” Will stopped himself before he said the word. This was not supposed to be how she would find out. He wanted to look her in the eye with every bit of strength and confidence he possessed when he told her. His father tearing that down would not ruin how he wanted to tell his mother.

She was clearly holding back tears as she said, “It is important you know that your father couldn’t handle his life. Not any of us. Everything was too much for him. Him leaving was no one’s fault.”

Will fell silent sinking into his thoughts. When his father left, his impressionable young self believed he was to blame. The obvious reason being how he changed the dynamic of the family. His birth ruined the perfect trio of Jonathan, Joyce, and Lonnie Byers.

“I just hate how much he hates me.” Will sensed the beginnings of his own tears as his mother started to cry beside him. If he looked at her, he would certainly break.

“Hey, look at me Will,” He sighed and shook his head. “Please, honey.” He knew she would not drop it, so he reluctantly tore his gaze from the screen to her. “Your father loves you in his own way. I’m sorry he hurt your feelings. I’ll talk to him.”

“It’s fine. He didn’t hurt me.” Will lied quickly sitting up straighter. The last thing he wanted was for his mother and father to get in a fight over him. That would just upset both of them. “Really, you don’t need to worry about me.”

She put her hand against his cheek softly. “How did I end up with the sweetest boy in the world?” She kissed his forehead and started to get up to leave.

Those words sparked through him like a tree being ignited by a lightning bolt. The time was right even if the moment was all wrong.

“Mom wait!” Will said urgently, scrambling to stand up. She looked back with her head tilted and an encouraging smile.

His mouth went dry and his blood raced as he fought through the rising panic, “I was going to say earlier ‘A son who…who is…’” He took a deep breath. “Gay.”

His mother’s eyes filled to the brim with more tears. She put a hand over her quivering mouth nodding her head for him to keep speaking.

“Mom, I’m gay.” Will said without a waver in his voice.

She came over to him quickly and wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could. The realization of what he just confessed brought his own tears flowing down his face.

The relief was overwhelming. He had been climbing this mountain all his life, constantly falling, scraping his hands, knees, and face, but forcing himself to grab that next ledge. Now he’d reached the very top and could see the view below was all he ever dreamed.

He cried into her neck wrapping his arms around her small frame. “I love you, M-mom.” His voice broke through a sob.

“I love you so much, sweetheart.” She responded.

Will still got choked up when he thought about that day. He knew his mother would be accepting if he had a boyfriend. That was not the problem.

So what was the problem?

He should want to shout at the whole world how he was boyfriends with the nicest, goofiest, and nerdiest guy. Someone completely perfect for him.

He told himself that he didn’t want his mother worrying because that’s all she ever did. She still saw him as a weak and lonely kid. When all he ever tried to do was prove he was strong and more confident than he’d ever been. He purposely invited his incredible group of friends over to the house all the time. Despite the bullying he dealt with on a daily basis, he was really comfortable in his own skin. He was not alone nor weak.

Will was pretty sure the reason he didn’t want to tell his mother was that he wanted to keep Dustin to himself. He wasn’t normally a selfish person, but dating Dustin was really special. Having this stable rock in his uncertain world brought solace. Something he didn’t want to ruin or lose. His painful childhood experiences left a layer of fear that he could be abandoned at any point. If nothing changed, then everything would remain safe and controlled.

He told his brother, Jonathan, about Dustin from the very beginning. Before any of their friends even knew. He told Jonathan about the butterflies that flew in his stomach every time Dustin smiled at him and how his face would heat up if Dustin gave him a compliment. He would shiver each time they brushed hands, bumped into each other, or when Dustin leaned against him subconsciously.

He even told Jonathan about the most EMBARRASSING moment of his life. Dustin came up behind Will and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Dustin’s chest against Will’s back, putting his face right next to Will’s in a warm embrace. It was innocent and sweet, but it overwhelmed Will’s hormonal self that he practically pushed Dustin off and RAN AWAY.

That was when Jonathan told Will that he had to let Dustin know how he felt. When he tried it went something like this:

“Dustin, I have a crush on someone.”

“YOU CAN’T!” Dustin blurted immediately.

“I…what do you mean?” Will’s voice sounded smaller than it had ever been.

Dustin was obviously freaking out. “You can’t have a crush on a guy!”

Will’s heart broke at those cutting words. He turned and walked away, the rejection increasingly unbearable. He thought Dustin was alright with him being gay. He was always incredibly supportive. In fact, he was almost sure Dustin liked him as more than a friend. Could he have been projecting his own crush the whole time? An unfamiliar rage surged through his veins as he frowned and practically ran to clear his head.

That night, Dustin came to his house to apologize and explain himself.

They sat awkwardly on the couch, alone in the house. Somehow, everything always happened on Will’s couch.

Will had his arms crossed defensively, clearly on edge. Dustin looked extremely guilty as he said, “I was an ass this afternoon.”

Will nodded solemnly. Despite his anger, Will did not open his mouth. Confrontation was something he dreaded since he never wanted to hurt anyone. Except Dustin hurt him horribly. Their friendship was on the tip of ending completely. The possibility already made Will cry once that day.

Dustin took a deep breath, “You can have a crush on whoever you want, but I want you to know I like you.”

Will‘s blood ran cold knowing that Dustin just meant as friends. He responded back defeatedly, “Yeah, you are my best friend. I like you too, idiot.” He never called Dustin stupid or idiot because he knew it would upset him and yet here he was doing exactly that. This was why he hated confrontation, it only brought out a horrible side of him.

Dustin shook his head and reached out a hand to hold Will’s tenderly. “No Will…I LIKE you.” He emphasized the word with enough emotion to practically turn Will’s world upside down.

Will stared back in disbelief. His lips parted as he quietly said, “Oh”

“Yeah.”

Will smiled sweetly, “…Me too.”

Dustin grabbed Will’s other hand and brought him closer as he shouted, “SON OF A BITCH. REALLY?!”

“Yes!” Will let out a laugh of excitement. “That’s what I was going to tell you this afternoon before you were a jerk.”

Dustin hung his head in embarrassment but Will smiled wider feeling elated. In a moment of confidence, he decided to kiss Dustin’s cheek so we would stop feeling guilty. He brought his lips in closer. There was a rushing in his ears as he kept leaning forward, knowing his face was probably flushed. Right before Will’s lips met his cheek, Dustin turned his head and their mouths collided.

Both their eyes were open in shock and horror.

A surprise first kiss was not what Will planned.

He pulled back trying to sputter out an apology, “ACK! I am so sorry I was just going to kiss your cheek that was so forward. I am so so so sorry.”

Dustin placed a hand under Will’s chin to bring his lips back. Then they shared a proper first kiss. Mouths fitting together sweetly, Will bringing his hands around Dustin’s neck. Dustin’s fingers threading through Will’s hair and his other hand resting on Will’s knee. The kiss stayed soft and gentle and yet the room’s temperature seemed to intensify. It was perfect.

Part 2

@mishagrace @sam-i-am2468 @reddieheart @ithinkidrownedinallmyfandoms @vintagelmax @merlinthedragoonlord @bigbill-denbrough @richieskata @halfshellkayla @redfurness @seriesofdumbmistakes @queenoffandoms06 @loser-marsh @mcapplemcsnapple @pjo-for-life @ohheydatsme @introverted-anomaly @jaederp @canarymalfoy @missingstanleyuris @roobarrtrashmouth @jem-carstairs-is-perfection

#will byers #dustin henderson #dustin x will #dill #stranger things #Shannon writes

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tricklingstreamdacre · 6 years

Text

Let Me Have This; Steve x Reader [Last People on Earth AU]

STEVE HARRINGTON x FEM!READER

SUMMARY: You’re the last people left in the world, it’s a hard reality to face knowing you’ll be the last ones here. But you’re going to make the most of it.

WARNINGS/NOTES: ANGST (oh my god), death (of like the world?+ animals), suicidal thoughts, car crash, blood

REQUEST: The people want more Steve what can I say (thanks @heckin-harrington ) WORD COUNT:

A/N: THIS IS THE LAST POST OF AU WEEK IT’S NOW MY BIRTHDAY I’M HAPPY Y’ALL

You were the last person on earth for ninety days.

Feet dangling off a plummeting cliff, the air pushing your hair behind your shoulders you wondered what would happen if you pushed yourself over. Left behind the world reduced to nothing but a wasteland and nothingness.

It was laer that morning you had met Steve Harrington.

Driving in another hijacked car you pulled up in another town searching for food to collect and resources to pick. You spoke to yourself loudly to numb the deafening silence around you, even if the birds still chirped and the flies still hovered. You thought back to the cliff while tossing a rock in your hands poorly, as the thoughts became more vivid you threw the rock into a glass pane of a music store next to you and heard it smash into a million pieces and scatter on the floor.

The sound was loud, the loudest thing you’d heard since your screams into open fields as you travelled the US alone. The thought made you let a tear fall from your face as you stood amongst the broken glass. Your fists clenched looking into the store filled with cobwebs and dust.

The sound of footsteps were ones you ignored, it reminded you of day sixty roaming the streets New York and you could feel the people around you bustling in hoards.

But these footsteps were real.

When they got quicker you frowned and turned around before seeing the silhouette of a boy your age.

You freaked, your heart skipped beats, eyes widened beyond your own knowledge and you felt your head spin as he walked closer with a similar shock.

“I’m going crazy,” you mumbled as your eyes started blurring his face coming closer. But he didn’t seem to slow and as you saw his greasy hair, pale complexion and large eyes and took it all in.

“No- you’re, you’re real right?”

You paused, the question was so weird, his voice was so foreign and you felt yourself cry with the most happiness you’d had in months.

“I-I’m real.” you paused, he stared tensely as you reached out for him, feeling the side of his face and tears poured down your face as you processed his existence, “Y-You’re real.”

You hugged him tightly, he hugged back just as quick and you could feel his tears stain your jacket as he thanked gods you weren’t sure he even believed in.

You were one of the last people on earth for another two years.

Standing side by side for months that turned to years you couldn’t even guarantee the days wondering if you’d forgotten to mark them off. But you found yourself clinging to Steve Harrington like a lifeline because he was the only reason you’d stayed.

You’d marked down every state in the US, travelling as far you could go and explored every mansion you found as if it was a virtual reality game. The two of you tried to experience things you’d always wanted to, took whatever you had wanted as a kid.

You sung on famous stages, visited famous sets, stole from the richest stores and hung onto small souvenirs from every place you visited. Your favourite was the photo’s you’d get from a working photobooth you spent hours in.

Because in the last one he kissed you.

Ever since the kiss you too had loved each other unconditionally, considering it might be because you were the last, but not caring, holding hands as you slept every night.

You were one of the last people for three years.

It was the third anniversary of your meeting, you were looking through an antique store eating cookies that didn’t go out of date when you heard a cough from behind.

Turning around Steve on one knee held a simple but beautiful ring in his hand and proposed to you.

You cried and kissed him as he slid it on your finger.

You had a June wedding in a beautiful dress you found in that very antique store.

Spending the night dancing for hours to a stack of mixtapes with a million songs to listen to, laughing and smiling, by the time your feet were blistering he dragged you to bed and stared into your eyes blessing the world for giving him one thing to love in this world.

Many nights were spent talking of past, these kids called Dustin, Mike, Max, Lucas, Will, Elle and his friends Nancy, Jonathan and some estranged one called Billy who had spent his last moments trying ‘to make things right’.

You talked of family, things you wished you’d done and things you regret. You cried into each other's arms when necessary, everything was free and sacred between you, for only the two of you to hear. Husband and wife in your early twenties.

You were the last couple on earth for four years.

You coughed for the third time during dinner and Steve looked at you worried, but you waved it off took some medicine that wasn’t out of date and went to bed thinking of the trip to the bowling alley you’d planned for tomorrow.

When you woke up Steve was outside picking out fruit and vegetables to eat, a dog, a stray you’d found alongside him dropping a ball at his feet every minute or so. You smiled standing on the veranda of the small house you’d been sleeping in the past few months.

“How you feeling?”

“Better, I told you not to worry,” you reassured as your hands wrapped around his waist the sound of your dog panting filling the area.

“Well don’t do it again.”

“Don’t cough?”

“Don’t get sick,” he elaborated, “I don’t want to lose you to a cold.”

“Don’t worry about that.” you waved off picking up the ball and throwing it into the large field.

Steve looked at you anxious, it seemed you forgot how risky your life with him was. He wasn’t a doctor, there would only be so much he could do before he’d just have to watch you fade away.

But you said it wouldn’t happen. So he didn’t have to worry.

He would have to worry about something else.

“Dustin!” you called, but the dog was gone.

You and Steve had been searching the lonely town for hours, but your dog you’d come to love and cherish had disappeared into thin air and you were both extremely concerned.

“We should go into the forest we found him,” you explained, “It’s the only place I can think of.”

He nodded and you both rode bikes there and started searching together, you had made a rule two months into knowing each other; never split up.

It started raining, hard, you were glad you brought an umbrella but Steve was getting worried at the idea of one of you two getting sick and was trying to get you to go home, but you refused to.

“I think I heard him!” you yelled out as the rain muffled your words, “Over there!”

He grabbed your wrist, “Y/N we need to go back.”

“I’m not leaving Dustin here!” you replied, the mention of Dustin softened his grip and you wandered further into the rain. He called out for you to stop but soon he couldn’t hear you.

He couldn’t see you.

Steve was the last person on earth for two weeks.

Watching Dustin dropped the ball at your feet, he let his face screw up in a mix of anger and sadness as he screamed at the dog and threw the ball so far into the field the grass now overgrown before storming back inside and locking the dog in the open.

“Please come back to me,” he mumbled between tears and a clenched throat, his hair dirty and his eyes sunken in and burning red.

The silence was killing him, the silence at dinner as his cutlery scrapped against the plate alone had him shaking, even managing to spill his juice over the tablecloth.

But the world would show him mercy when you appeared at the door covered in bruises, pale and weak barely breathing at his doorstep.

Screaming shits as he forced water down your throat and food in your mouth, he panicked his hands fumbling and shaking as he laid you on the bed giving you medication and disinfectants for every scratch you had.

You remember looking up at Steve, eyebrows slightly furrowed and your hands dragging over his face softly, it seemed to calm and still him and he finally looked into your eyes. They were shaking with adrenaline, you smiled breath hoarse, “I love you so much Steve.”

You and Steve were the last people on earth for one more year.

Burying Dustin in the ground it proved to be a wake-up call for the two of you, you’d forgotten about death as you only experienced it once on a mass occasion so many years ago you were numb to the memories. You held each other knowing what you were thinking but not speaking a word of it. Because you were both thinking about what would happen if one of you died, and the other had to stay here.

Two days later you were driving in a new car, you had tried to leave your existential crisis in the dust and appreciate the life ahead of you, you were out of town for awhile, you’d made a small machine to keep the plants watered and were now ready to visit some states and explore like the old days.

You weren’t paying attention to the road because there was nothing to see, you held hands tightly and hummed in unison to the song on the radio. A song you’d listen to a hundred times yet never gotten bored of, you could even play it on the piano a skill you picked up after practising and reading several books.

Steve fiddled idly with you ring a band on his as well, he felt content and happy, now well into his twenties he imagined what kind of life he had ahead.

You both said no kids, not only did it seem too risky for you but there would be no outcome, or two kids doomed to live alone when your inevitable pass, then what?

Giggling you started to sing louder to the song playing taking the sombre moment and creating laughter. You started to sing louder and louder and Steve joined as you danced spastically and without technique.

“Do you think we’re really the only ones?”

Steve shook his head, “What do you mean?”

“Well,” you paused, “What if their people in... Australia?”

He laughed and turned to you, “Maybe.”

He didn’t notice the large ditch in the road.

Going beyond the speed limit the second it hit and dipped one wheel of the car you felt yourself getting thrown throw the glass of the car and launched onto the road beside Steve.

You could feel the broken bones in your body, you could feel the glass in your face and hands as you let out a guttural cry.

Steve, less injured than you but still bleeding from his head, looked over at you in shock. He managed to crawl towards you with shaky feet and kneel beside you, he felt his heart leaping from his chest and stabbing itself.

“Oh my god Y/N.” he mumbled cradling your head.

“How bad is it Steve?” you breathed out as you looked into his eyes tears of pain flowing from your eyes, you tried to look down at your lower half but couldn’t so Steve did it for you.

He could only look for half a second.

“I-It’s fine Y/N.” he said, “It’s fine.” he reaffirmed trying to convince himself more than you. But with dirt in your hair as blood flowed from your nose and mouth you knew better, you could barely feel anything yet feel everything all at once.

“You know I love you Steve right?”

He nodded, “I love you too, you know that.”

You nodded slowly throat tightening, “Right.”

Taking a deep breath you started to shake and you felt yourself pale as everything started to tingle in your body, “And you know I won’t hold anything against what you do when I’m gone... right?

“Once you’re gone?” he questioned, “No you’re not leaving yet.” he denied his head shaking causing his head to pound harder.

You saw it in his eyes, the fear and denial and you let out a large sob as more tears spilt from your eyes into your mouth, “I’m not going anywhere, I’ll always be with you.”

He nodded, “Right, because you’re fine, you’re safe I’ll protect you-”

“You have.” you confirmed, “And I love you so much.”

You could feel everything around you blur, and it wasn’t from the tears, everything started melting and you took in the last clear look of your husband.

Steve looked down at your weakening body with adrenaline and fear, he wasn’t a doctor he didn’t know what to do.

“Wha do I do Y/N? I don’t know what to do.” he explained his voice high and desperate as he looked at you mouth open and tears and snot falling from his face, “Don’t leave me yet.”

“I’m not.” you confirmed, you felt a small jolt of adrenaline allow you to lift your hand and drag it over Steve’s face for the last time, like you’d done the first time you met him, like you’d done when he kissed you for the first time, like you’d done when you said ‘I do’ and when he saved you.

Though his face was wet and slightly cold, you felt comforted, “I’m always with you Steve. Promise me you’ll remember that.”

“I will,” he replied quickly, “I won’t forget, I’ll never forget you.”

“Good.” you whispered your eyes fluttering closed, “That’s good...”

Steve was the last person on earth for three days.

Standing in front of the small house he lived in forever he looked over to the small grave with Dustin written on a wooden board and then looked to his left where adorned in flowers your name was sketched as neat as Steve could attempt in a wooden board that sat in the dirt.

In his hands was a box, filled with your favourite souvenirs the world had to offer, mixtapes, photos and rings, wedding dresses and letters you had written in case someone ever happened to find this.

Steve wrote a long letter in careful detail though messily as he hadn’t had much need for writing in years. It had your final words, anything he thought important, any moment he loved the most. He wished he could write it all.

But after reading it once more he placed the letter in the box and left it inside the house, locked it and turned away warily as he coached himself not to look back.

Don’t look back Steve... Don’t do it.

He stepped into a car and slammed the door looking at the road ahead. And he wondered; how many days could he be the last man on earth with an angel following him everywhere he went.

Tell me your thoughts xxx

#au week #it's over #i'm giving you angst 101 for my birthday #stranger things au #steve harrington au #last people on earth au #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things headcanons #stranger things oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington gif imagine #steve harrington oneshot #steve imagine #steve harrington x reader

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lifeofgroffsauce · 6 years

Text

Subject: Life Update (AKA Jon Spills His Soul)

June 25th, 2018. *Email contains TWs*

Today was the Mondayest of all Mondays. I got sunburned yesterday at Pride (super fun by the way, always recommend. Pride, not the scorched skin.) Really wasn't planning on going anywhere today. Our flight got in at 2 this morning, which was pretty rough. Probably should’ve planned that spontaneous trip to Cali better, but then it wouldn’t have been spontaneous now would it. Uh, I slept in until 8, if you could, on any level, call that sleeping in. Something I overheard yesterday kind of stuck with me in a negative way. I ran into (okay, more like eavesdropped onto) a group of gay men conversing about bisexual men. They were super insistent that there’s no satisfying a bisexual man because they always crave women. I know you know where this is going so yeah, bare with me. It’s so stupid; it even sounds just idiotic, because how can you shame an entire sexuality for the wrongs of a few people. I know it’s not logical. I know, I know, I know. It triggered this... I’m not even sure what to call it. Insecurity maybe? Naturally, the smallest of shit just exacerbated it. I got into a disagreement with my boyfriend over lube. Aloe as lube (which has a consistency akin to vaginal fluids (I’m sorry, even more sorry for brackets in brackets) so that just, BAD ). Specifically, him using it when he topped (dominated, if you’re not familiar) me. He didn’t want to and it fucking spiraled into this even bigger thing where my brain did that awesome cute thing of not shutting the fuck up. I didn’t even want him to touch me. How is that possible? How does it make sense? It’s so frustrating because I know it doesn’t. He started getting moody (I think) and for some reason that made me want to fuck him but- let’s put it this way: I’m finally seeing those side effects of Lexapro. As if I don’t already feel comfortable with my body, the one aspect I’ve never complained about doesn’t work. To top all of it off, I received an email from my agent that says filming for one of my projects has been moved up to August. The producers were talking about pushing this out until November, now it’s August? That’s less than six weeks away. I’m so fucking worried. I’m unfathomably worried that this is too soon to leave my boyfriend. I already know I’m going to miss so much: he’s having another baby in a few months (I can already imagine the new-baby-bonding with his not-even-ex wife he’s going to do), his third to accompany his two other small sons, one of which is still basically a newborn too. I’m going to miss out on these big stepping stones (there’s a better phrase out there, I’m adamant about it but don’t care enough to seek it; jk we both know I’ll get to the end of this and be anxious and not send this email if I don’t find it). WAIT, milestones! That’s the word. Including my commentary because I know how much you enjoy my psyche’s crisis. Um, yeah. I’m going to miss everything; I’ll be continents away in an entirely different time zone, filming a depressing fucking tv show, all alone; with the exception of my ex-boyfriend (who has been weirdly appropriate with me. Are you tired of all my notes in brackets yet?) Everything in my head is screaming it’s a bad idea: leaving. I can’t stay though; like, I can’t back out of this project. Papers have already been signed, the cast is locked in, and I’ve already removed myself from two other projects. It won’t look good on my theatre sheet/‘filmography’ to have that little *incomplete* red mark. To add (lol didn’t I already say thing or something? Fuck it, let’s keep rolling): Jesus Christ, my niece Camden has been so salty lately. She’s feeling so left out since I moved, but it’s not like I’m ten minutes away anymore and I can just easily pick her up. That little girl is my heart and soul; I’d never intentionally hurt her yet, here she is. Declining to spend the night or even hang out because she doesn’t get “all of me”. You have a daughter; what would you do with that one? Right, can’t make it personal. Sorry. Which, I think it super ironic when you think about how your patients (clients?) spill their motherfucking guts out on the ugly commercial carpet of your office (sorry if you chose it, so sorry!) and you’re not supposed to share much in return. My pop texted me to see if I was still coming to my parents’ wedding anniversary party, with my boyfriend. This will be the first time he’s meeting my dad, and the first time any significant other of mine will be meeting the rest of my PA family/friends. I don’t worry about Lin at all- he’s fucking amazing with people, and so, so charming. Jesus, does he have a way with words. Before this turns into a weird, unfulfilling love letter to him, let’s refocus. I don’t want to think about the way my father is going to look at me, at us, as a couple, together. Me, with another man. I’m still reeling over the last glance that seemed to scream, “ew, my son’s gay.” You know how people say things like, “Your parents love you unconditionally; they would never change a thing about you”? That’s definitely not true in my case, and I can feel it every time we’re alone. When we’re joking or talking, it’s cool, but then... then, there’s a silence that sets my teeth on edge and he acknowledges we’re not the same. Not that we were ever supposed to be but, I don’t even think I’m explaining this right, now. When I was a teenager (I know I’ve told you about this), a story came out on the local news about two homosexual men being wrongly jailed for a crime they didn’t commit. While awaiting trial, they were raped and beaten by a gaggle of bigger prison guys. Apparently it was so brutal they required stitching, to which the inmates tore out and repeated the first occurrence. Awesome, right. It’s forever burned in my mind what he said, because I know he wasn’t meaning to be cruel or callous but the words just came out. “I wouldn’t wish that on anyone but if anyone would like it, God knows it would be those sissies. That’s what they all want anyway.” Followed by, “Sodomy is sodomy; they shouldn’t complain.” Every time I’m at my parents house, my brother Dave is amazing at swooping in to provide this phenomenal (majorly liberal) support system. He really pushes to educate my parents and not leave an older generation in the dark. I have to admit, he’s worked wonders with them, on so many different topics. That one though. I just think he looks at me and wishes so badly I was hetero. He’d sell his soul just to watch me marry Lea, I’m sure. Wow, my “just” count is insane but, no editing. Rolling with it; thoughts as they come. TLDR; I just feel like I’m disappointing everyone, or if I haven’t already, I’m going to. I fucking shouldn’t, I know that I’m thirty-three and still waiting for my parents approval is so goddamn old. It doesn’t mean anything though. Regardless, I’m waiting for the ball to drop, and I’m not sure the meds are helping. I haven’t been hyperventilating or had an actual attack but I still feel the anxiety. It feels like a harsh hand around my throat that makes it hard to breathe but I always somehow manage to catch my breath; that must be the drugs. I’m shocked I haven’t once mentioned how huge and disproportionate my thighs looked in every pair of baggy sweatpants and basketball shorts I tried on today. There’s one. It’s so exhausting to even try to talk about, or convey through here. You know the drill: thought about it for hours, picked at my food, maaaay have googled ‘things to eat for slim thighs’. Definitely did. At this point in life... I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Between typing out sentences of this email, I stopped to try to get hard (you’re getting the explicit, uncut version, sorry; also hi, wishful thinking) but all porn does is annoy me. I feel so wound up, anxious, and almost angry. Low-key (this is new generation talk for like, “kinda”, I think) want to just... cry. In conclusion: Jonathan feels all the things and I haven’t even told you half of it... believe it or not. I have a headache and this couch is hurting my neck. This is all you’re getting. Relief, right? You’re like, “Thank fucking god, Jon, you already sent me a Harry Potter novel. Let me respond then you may continue rattling on about your not-even-bad life you’re complaining about.” It really ISN’T bad, for the record. It’s not, at all. I’m just in my feelings and at the peak of frustration. Okay, done ranting. I think I feel better? I might not even send this. Let’s play russian roulette with the enter key. If you get this, thumbs up. If you don’t... I guess I won’t expect a reply. Thank you, always, for dealing with me. I’m sorry these thoughts couldn’t wait... three days. Face palm.

[Sent]

#project: emails to jon's therapist #001 #Jon's lack of formatting directly corresponds with his anxiety so that's fun #tws apply

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