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hairmetal666 · 1 year

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Eddie's at a party, lunch box in tow, and he's making a fucking killing.

He sets up shop in the crowded kitchen, but that doesn't stop him from spotting King Steve in the living room. Harrington's face is still fucked up from the fight with Hargrove, and he's tipping a cup almost vertically into his mouth. He's not too surprised when--the next time he spots the jock--he has a can of beer in each fist.

More customers flood up to him, and he can't help but be a little grateful for the distraction. Harrington is one unrequited crush he just can't kick.

Lunch box cleaned out, Eddie heads outside for a smoke. He's fishing his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket when he hears a snuffling sort of shuffle that sends his heart racing.

He edges forward, just enough to make out the heap of a person half-heartedly sitting up against the house. A person in fitted blue jeans, tight polo, and Member's Only jacket; swoop of chestnut hair catching in the flash of fire from Eddie's Zippo.

"Harrington?"

The guy startles, stability wavering, eyes blinking too much. "Munson?"

"You alright, man?" He asks, though he can already tell that Steve is most definitely not.

Steve shrugs. "Why do you care?" It's not mean, sounds genuinely curious.

Eddie gets it. He has no reason on earth to show concern about King Steve. In answer, he taps his boot against Steve's sneaker, giving him a small smile. "Not sure. But I'm here, so..."

"Just needed some air. Clear my head."

"How much have you had to drink?" Eddie asks.

"One or two,"

"Dozen?"

Steve laughs. "You're funny. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"I've heard," Eddie says, can't help but laugh a little too. "Wanna talk about what's going on?"

Eddie thinks that'll be a "no," but then: "Nancy dumped me."

"Yeah, big news."

"Ugh, people are talking about it?" Steve whines. It's really cute and Eddie hates himself for noticing. Hates himself more when Steve loses his balance, tips onto Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie doesn't tip him back.

Eddie can tell that Steve isn't fully with him anymore. He's a little afraid to leave the guy alone, so Eddie talks about the latest Hellfire campaign. Sober Steve Harrington probably has no idea what dnd is, but the drunk version is kind of a rapt audience.

He's just explaining about owlbears when Steve's voice, soft and sad, says "I just want someone to love me, you know?"

The admission renders Eddie speechless for a second, his chest fucking aching for the jock. He says "Oh, Stevie," knows he sounds too sad, is sure of it when Steve's nose wrinkles (it's cute; it's so fucking cute. Eddie hates himself for noticing).

Before he can backtrack, Steve slumps over, body going limp as he passes out. "Jesus H Christ," Eddie barks.

With a heavy sigh, and way too much fondness, Eddie stands. "Let's get you home, sweetheart."

He gathers Harrington up in his arms--dude is heavy--and carries him around to his van.

---

Steve wakes up, head throbbing and tongue fuzzy, with no idea how he got home and into bed. Can't really recall anything after he stumbled outside, aside from talking to Eddie Munson. But maybe that was a dream? Either way, he's home, not really any worse for wear. It's enough to let him forget all about it; what's one drunken party in a life full of them?

That Wednesday, he opens his locker after the final bell, and a Hershey bar falls out. He picks it up, flipping it over to see a note on the foil wrapping, "thought you might need something sweet to cheer you up." It's not signed, and Steve slips it into his backpack, knowing he's got a silly smile on his handsome face.

The little gifts continue to show up once or twice a week. Candy, plastic vending machine toys, sketches of the school grounds, caricatures of classmates and teachers. Sometimes they even come with a note in handwriting he doesn't recognize.

Along with the little treats, he starts seeing Eddie Munson kind of everywhere. And it's not like Steve hadn't seen him before--guy was hard to miss--but he was never around this often. Wasn't around this often and he and Steve had never shared a smile, a quick bob of the head, a quiet hello.

It isn't long before they're talking. Nothing much, nothing serious. Complaining about teachers, about classmates; sharing weekend plans. Only now Steve can't pretend to not notice the way Eddie dimples up when he smiles, the subtle muscles that bunch under the sleeves of his Hellfire Club shirt, the long litheness of his legs. Steve knows he's attracted to other guys, it's just that he didn't realize he'd be attracted to Eddie.

The gifts keep coming. Once, he opens his locker to find a plastic ring fashioned into a golden crown and a note that says, "made me think of you, Stevie." There's something about the "Stevie" that catches deep in his brain, but he can't make it connect to anything.

A few months later, Steve opens his locker and pulls out a drawing. This one--it's of him. He's gazing out into space in a way that managers to be dreamy and wistful. The Steve in the drawing is lovely, and it makes something clench deep in his gut, that someone sees him like this.

Steve tries to be more aware of the people in his surroundings, to figure out who his admirer is. He's not very good at it, even as more sketches of him--all depicting him as a gorgeous, ethereal thing he definitely isn't--show up in his locker. Especially when, so often these days, the person he sees the most is Eddie.

---

The presents in his locker continue into April, and would probably last until the end of the school year, but Steve's got a migraine starting. He keeps aspirin in his locker, gets a hall pass out of English to get some.

When he reaches his locker, though, someone is already there, with the door open. Someone in ripped black jeans, heavy black boots, a black leather jacket, and patch covered denim vest.

"Munson?" He asks. His heart beats so hard it reverberates in his ears, making it hard to hear.

Eddie jumps back, hands fluttering, face flushing bright red. "Ste--Harrington! I--uh--," he's backing up, his hands held out from his body, like he's pushing Steve away even though they aren't touching.

"Were you--?" Steve tries to ask, but the words won't quite come. There's familiar warmth low in his stomach, a twisting that has nothing to do with his impending migraine.

"I wasn't doing anything, I swear," Eddie says. He's breathing hard, eyes too bright, and Steve thinks he might be about to cry, but then the metalhead is turning away, starting to run.

"Eddie, wait!" Steve calls, chasing after him without much thought. "Please!"

Eddie doesn't stop until after they've crashed out one of the side exits, are alone outside.

"It was you? Leaving the--?"

Eddie nods, presses his hands to his eyes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Harrington. I just--"

"Don't be sorry," Steve begs. "It's been--I liked it."

"Even now that you know they're coming from the freak?" Eddie spits. He still hides his face behind his hands.

"It's sort of been the best part of my year, if I'm being honest."

Only now does the metalhead remove his hands, blink back at Steve, dark eyes wide with shock. "Really?"

"Yeah. It made me feel-- important, I guess? Like, maybe someone saw me as something more than King Steve."

Eddie smiles now, looks down at the pavement. "I just didn't want you to think that you weren't--" he stops then, presses his mouth tight.

"Didn't want me to think what?"

"That you weren't loved, Stevie."

The statement hangs between them, Eddie's face pinking again, as the words wrap their way around Steve's heart. Loved. That he's loved. It clenches at every part of him, and he surrounds himself with the truth of it, what all those little presents were saying without words.

"Eddie, I--" he's overwhelmed by the gesture, the meaning, the reciprocal buzz in his chest, because Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson, loves him, and this fact is turning Steve's world on it's head in the best way.

"I'm sorry, Steve, really. Please don't hate me, or--or--"

"It means so much to me," Steve says, his voice a little broken. He reaches a hand out, slow, telegraphing the movement. "Can I?" He whispers.

Eddie nods, and Steve strokes the skin of his face with his thumb. "Thank you."

The metalhead nods, leaning into Steve's touch, they shift close, until their foreheads meet, until they share the same air. They stand that way for a while, long enough that they hear the bell ringing, and only then does Steve break their quiet. "Eds?"

"Yeah, Stevie?"

"You wanna hangout some time?"

Eddie laughs. "Yeah. I really, really do, sweetheart."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #one shot #secret admirer #fluff #a tiny bit of angst #friends to lovers #feelings realization #feelings confession #pining eddie munson #oblivious steve harrington #mutual crushes #high school au #eddie is in love with steve

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gavin-plz-call-me · 2 years

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Smitten

Mammon is absolutely in love with the human exchange student, and he especially loves all of their "flaws." He looks back on his life and tries to decipher what he did to deserve them.

This fic is inspired by Smitten by Leanna Firestone, but you don't have to listen to it to understand it :)

AO3

Word count: 1.1K

The first thing Mammon noticed about them, and not in the way one notices the color of someone’s hair or what shirt they’re wearing, but in the way where you have to be around them for a while and really look at them to see, was the way they always covered their mouth when they laughed. The first time it happened, Mammon had said something stupid while he, the exchange student, and the rest of his brothers (minus Belphegor, of course.) were gathered around the dinner table. He couldn’t remember exactly what he said these few weeks later, but he still remembered the sweet sound of their laugh, the first laugh they let out during their stay. It bounced off the walls of the dining area, filling Mammon’s ears with the delectable noise. Mammon couldn’t help but stare, wanting to catch a glimpse of the smile that accompanied the laughter, but their hand had made their way over their mouth, denying Mammon access to it.

Memories were one thing, but Mammon didn’t have to look in the past to see the person inhabiting his thoughts. He looked over to his right, and there they were, an unconscious smile plastered on their face as they read their book. These smiles were the only ones they allowed anyone to see, the slight, barely noticeable smiles. Their smile was filled with teeth that didn’t grow straight. Instead, they clustered together, some growing too much forward or back, some even being squished sideways. They were slightly yellow in color, and one of them even had a small chip in it. That’s why they always covered their smile, Mammon knew. Humans had ridiculous beauty standards and, from what Mammon had learned from the brief moments he paid attention to in his required human study courses at RAD, straight, white teeth tended to be one of these standards. The exchange student was insecure about their smile. Insecurity: something Mammon knew all too well.

The exchange student noticed Mammon staring and quickly covered their mouth with their book. “What?” They said, a hint of laughter in their voice, “Bored?” Mammon hummed in agreement, and they let out a giggle, “Just let me finish this chapter, then I’ll pay attention to you, ‘kay?”

Mammon sputtered, “I don’t need you ‘ta…” the complaint died on his tongue with a playful glare from the exchange student. They had warned him when he sat on the couch next to him that he’d better be quiet or they’d make him regret it, whatever that meant, so he obliged and sat still and silent.

Perfect teeth were a stupid standard, Mammon thought. Humans couldn’t control the way their teeth grew and… well the teeth on his human were the most perfect set of teeth Mammon had ever laid eyes on. Not straight, not white, but perfectly, unequivocally human. His own teeth, forged by his father to be perfect, were no match for the art in his human’s mouth. It was a weird thought to have, Mammon knew. Who spends so much time contemplating the beauty of someone’s teeth? But he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t help listing out every part of his human and how beautiful each and every part was, down to every last mole. It had become a sickening habit of his, one that threatened to spill out of his mouth like vomit every time he saw a new perfection.

Mammon continued to steal glances at the human as they read, and they didn’t notice, or, at least they pretended not to notice. He couldn’t help but wonder what he had done to deserve the piece of perfection that sat beside him to come into his life like this. Mammon knew, and if he ever forgot he had a chorus of voices reminding him every day, that he was no good. Mammon the scumbag, the horrible, the worst of his fallen brothers, yet here he was with nothing less than a gift from the universe by his side. Mammon had to be good, or at least have done some great deed, to land him with a treasure such as them. Looking back though, Mammon didn’t know what he did to deserve them. Ever since he had fallen, his life had been nothing but stealing, gambling, and spending. Selling everything, anything, for a quick bit of cash. He lied and cheated, even stole a human soul here and there to pay off his debts, nothing to warrant a prize, yet here they were. They weren’t smiling anymore as the half laid down, flipping to the next page of their book, but Mammon could still picture the sight of it.

The demon knew one thing, though: His human made him want to do better. Every time Mammon thought about gambling or selling one of Lucifer’s dusty old records to make a Grimm or two, their smile flashed through his mind. What would they think? They had never judged Mammon for his bad habits, never berated him for being a greedy scumbag, but one day, they might. He’d push it too far, do something so bad that even his human, his precious human, would see the ugliness that stood out in him, plain as day. Mammon wanted to hide it, desperately cover up his flaws, blotch them out until the exchange student would never be the wiser. And their praise, oh Diavolo, their praise when he did good was unmatched. It was a better motivator than any punishment Lucifer had given him in the past. A small smile (not showing off their teeth, of course) and a pat on the head flooded him with emotions he didn’t know he was capable of feeling anymore.

One day, Mammon would thank who or whatever brought them to him. Lucifer, Diavolo, the Universe, hell, he’d kiss his father’s feet if he was the one who sent them. Most importantly, he’d thank them for being them. Their perfect, crooked teeth, beautiful laughing self. His pride, the fence he kept around his emotions would be cast aside, maybe not today, but soon.

A small, almost unnoticeable sound snapped Mammon out of his thoughts. He looked over at the exchange student again. Their book had slipped out of their hands, drooping on the couch, their eyes closed, and their mouth slightly agape. Small snores fell out of their mouth like poetry. Another perfection to add to the list. One day Mammon would probably find the noise annoying, but today it was a beautiful, personal song performed just for him. He stretched to grab the blanket a few feet away from him and covered them with it. Today was not the day to reveal his feelings, this he knew, but that day would come soon. For now, all he could do was tuck them in and watch them, listening to their snores, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Sweet dreams, treasure.”

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actual-changeling · 4 months

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congratulations to @nightgoodomens for making me write the first ficlet of the year! this is so schmoopy and soft it almost makes me want to turn it super angsty instead—but i didn't, so enjoy the happiness while it lasts. inspired by this post.

you can also find it on ao3!

"Amazing how they came up with this all on their own, isn't it?"

Crowley leans back and stretches his neck as far as it will go, losing himself not in the noise but the spaces between sparks, the stars no one can see but are there living and shining nevertheless.

They find themselves on a different rooftop every year, always close enough to see it all but far enough away to create their own bubble of shared joy. His coat is hanging open, the cold, smoke-saturated air rushing past him, and when he closes his eyes just for a second, he can pretend the fireworks exploding above him are galaxies being born; his creations, still right where he put them after all this time.

Next to him, Aziraphale hums quietly, knowing all too well that Crowley is not expecting a response—nor would he hear it if he were to give him one. Instead, he keeps his gaze on his face, tracing the lines of his profile as he carefully pulls off his gloves, finger by finger, before stuffing them into his pocket. He remembers, oh, he remembers, the innocent love he saw flowing through him back then, before time, before earth, before Mother became God became the Almighty.

Before all they loved was lost, one way or another. Then again, while defying all possible odds, they managed to find it once more, not just in each other but in humanity.

Another explosion showers them with sparks that will never reach their skin, and a bright shout of joy follows right after, Crowley's eyes impossibly wide.

"Beautiful," he whispers, and Aziraphale cannot stop himself from tentatively pressing their palms together.

Absently yet with deeply ingrained care, Crowley intertwines their hands, pulling him closer to point at a spot in the sky, and there is smoke on his lips and warmth in their bodies—the same heat, given freely, shared.

"If you go that way, do you know where you'll land?"

Shuffling towards him until he can rest his chin on Crowley's shoulder, he carefully lifts their joined hands to brush a kiss over his knuckles, still watching him, carving out a spot for his fire-lit face in his memory.

"Alpha Centauri," he replies softly, leaving another, almost imperceptible kiss on his cheek.

"Alpha Centauri," Crowley confirms, leaning their heads together, and for a while, the world is everything he ever wanted it to be.

#alex writes good omens #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #happy new year #to more writing and ineffable idiots #fluff. too much fluff. makes my skin itch #tiny tiny bit of angst because otherwise i would have exploded on the spot

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stevesbipanic · 1 year

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Steve had always loved daisies.

A small patch of daisies had always grown just beyond the fenceline of his backyard. Protected and untouched from the clean-cut yard the Harringtons had. Steve loved to stick them in his hair, loved that when his hair was a bit longer he could fit whole bunches of them in.

The girls at school showed him how to weave them into flower crowns. He'd sit in a circle with them giggling as they wove the flowers together before dancing around the flowers in the field. One day Steve had come home with a crown still in his hair. His father made sure he learnt that daisies were for girls, he didn't go to the girls circle after that. Now Steve's crown was made of thorns and hollow popularity.

Eddie had always loved sunflowers.

His mum would keep a big vase of them on the windowsill. Big and yellow and bright, a beacon of love through the gloom of Eddie's childhood home. His mother would take him to the sunflower field every weekend to pick new ones. She showed him how to roast the seeds to eat and helped him find sunflowers bigger than him.

When she died, Eddie visited the sunflower field as often as he could, picking flowers to bring to her grave. The day Wayne took him in was the last day he left her some. There were no sunflower fields in Hawkins.

Those young boys were older now.

Together they sat in a field down the hill from where Dustin was calling Suzie. Eddie's head laid in Steve's lap, softly dozing as his boyfriend ran his finger through his curls. After awhile he realised Steve had stopped and so he looked up at him, blinking at the sunlight. Steve's face was punched in concentration as he finished weaving together the pile of daises he'd picked from around them.

"What've you got there, Stevie?"

"I made you a flower crown," Steve said smiling softly as he placed the crown on Eddie's head.

"I'm King of the Flowers, don't think I'll be beating those gay allegations anytime soon, sweetheart."

Steve giggled and smiled down at Eddie as he began to play with his hair again. Turns out Eddie was wrong, there was one sunflower in Hawkins, and he was the prettiest one of all.

#some fluff to make up for last night #like a bug hug for everyone ive made sob over my last post #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #st4 #steddie #stranger things season 4 #theres a tiny bit of angst #just bc steddies bio parents are shit #fluff #ficlet #flowers

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0v3rcast · 11 months

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Gnaw (2)

(Warnings: same as the previous chapter, found here.)

One of the largest issues with going from a simulated Teyvat to an actualized Teyvat is the sheer size.

The bridge outside of Mondstadt, which takes the Traveler like fifteen seconds to cross in a sprint? That's a good two minutes of walking at the least.

The rest of Mondstadt is massive, too, of course, but it's absolutely gorgeous. Perfect grass, clear rivers and ponds, rather imposing cliffs...

Maybe the people are a little unfriendly, but hey! The land itself makes up for your now-in-the-negatives social life.

Besides, this much air and sunlight are probably a good thing. You aren't too hot, there isn't like half of a forest worth of pollen up your nose, the breeze is really nice, and nobody's come to try and maul you!

As far as sightseeing tours go, this ain't the best. But it'll do.

Plus, you're pretty sure that the theoretical tour guide probably wouldn't let you pull up all the dandelions you wanted and blow on them to make their seeds go everywhere.

There's a faint gnaw in the pit of your stomach. You've eaten some berries, a carrot you found in a crate, and another Sunsettia, but you just can't shake the feeling.

The best way your mind can think to describe it is that your teeth are dissatisfied. You didn't do enough with this meal. It just sorta happened.

Perhaps you're going insane.

(On a distant cliff, the wind brings your breathing to an Archon, who sets down his lyre and raises a bow.)

There is a faint whistle on the air, one you swear you've heard before. Then it hits you - the sound of an arrow!

By some instinct, you hurl yourself aside, slamming into the grass and dirt.

A brilliant arrow is lodged into the ground at an angle that would have firmly made itself at home in the back of your skull. Had you not just launched yourself aside, you would be dead.

And then you hear another whistle.

You scramble up onto your feet and take off in a dead sprint. Anemo-powered arrows narrowly miss you four times as you zig-zag and duck behind stones or trees.

...you think you know who this is, or at least have a damn good idea.

Venti. Barbatos. Tone-deaf bard. Alcoholic lyre dude. That one.

You curse him out under your breath. The arrows seem to be coming faster all of a sudden.

The next arrow doesn't come down with a whistle. It comes down with a scream. The Anemo-charged arrow, cloaked in a blade of wind, pierces your back and launches you through the woodlands with enough force to demolish trees like matchsticks.

You skid to a stop, a fine path of devastation and upturned soil behind you, and your head lolls up on a shattered neck to stare blankly into the sky as you slip away into darkness.

(Dendro hisses at the other elements, their vast roots curling in anger. "We should have kept them out until this was solved!"

The others say nothing. Talking will do little to protect you, and those who raise their hands against you must be punished.)

Barbatos has a nightmare that night, after killing the one who stole the face of the World-Shaper.

He has been torn from his false face, cast into the heart of a vast hurricane, the wind itself screaming in hatred and rage, every whisper now purely poisonous. Every failure mocked, every mistake repeatedly shoved into his face, and every sin accounted for.

The wind wails, slipstreams like claws raking across his elemental flesh, battering him as he's tossed from gust of wind to gust of wind.

(He is unaware that to any observer, it would look like he was a rather hated captive ball in the world's most esoteric pinball machine.)

A voice tears itself from the monstrous storm around him, echoing in the bone-shuddering blasts of thunder.

Vile little wisp! You would dare to raise a hand against the divine most holy, our maker?!

He doesn't understand, and any chance he'd have to think or speak is repeatedly knocked from his head as he crashes into walls of wind firm enough to be stone.

Immense pressure crushes down around him, stalling him in place as if grasped in the enormous hand of a titan, and he cries out at it squeezes.

He looks up as he tries in vain to wriggle and flee, and he sees. Every part of him freezes in horror.

I am Anemo. The embodiment of sky, of breath. I am the Taker of Voices.

He is brought closer to the core of light at the center of the apocalyptic current.

I had such hope for you. A God of Freedom, one who would see the oppressed liberated from their miseries! One who would cast the sadness and hatred from his people to the winds, where they would be forgotten!

One who would spread the laughter of the First Breath to all corners of this world.

One who would be their protector, hearing misfortune on the winds and striking down those who would spell disaster for us all with the wrath of a great storm.

But you have failed. You have taken up arms against the one you were made to cherish with hatred in your heart.

You have forgotten your own freedom. The freedom to think for yourself, to act without orders. To go against what is known down a new path.

He cries out as some kind of tether is cut from his body, ripped away into the vortex.

You are my Archon no more. I shall find one more suitable to the task.

Perhaps in time, the Maker will find you pitiable enough to reinstate you as my envoy to Teyvat.

Enjoy your freedom, Venti of Mondstadt.

He plummets, the wind abandoning him entirely. The ground opens, a ravenous maw, stones and bedrock ground down like sharp fangs, and he falls into a lightless darkness.

He wakes, screaming and sobbing in equal measure.

He cannot feel the wind. He cannot hear it.

At his side, the light of the false Vision gutters out, dimming until not even a spark of Anemo remains within.

(Within a frozen palace, the light of the Anemo Gnosis dulls, waiting for a host to be chosen anew.)

consciousness returns to you in bits and pieces, your entire body an immense ache. Your joints are so sore you can barely move them without feeling the urge to weep.

Your nose is filled with the scent of the ocean. You can hear waves, and ever so faintly, the calls of birds. You feel safer here, somehow, as though this place is devoid of other intelligent beings.

Your eyes close again, body exhausted and unable to resist the siren call of unconsciousness in a space without threats.

On your back is a new scar, a spiral of gold starting between your shoulderblades and reaching out towards your ribs.

(Gnaw Taglist:

@the-dumber-scaramouche @iruiji @itz-luna @itsredactedlove @thatdeadaquarius @ssak-i @imyme20 @crierofirony

Thank you all very much for your interest.)

#genshin sagau #sagau cult au #sagau gnaw #genshin angst #part 2 #it is haunting me a tiny bit #so i'm gonna construct #Something Terrible #because that's what i do when i write #make mistakes i enjoy #beating archons over the head with a brick #reader has a terrible time #hopefully one of you likes this

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halokarii · 11 months

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I saw this tweet and it gave me a vision so have this silly little comic before shit inevitably hits the fan tomorrow

#soukoku #bsd #bungou stray dogs #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #skk #amids all the angst what we truly need is a tiny bit of silliness #cant believe this cured my art block smh #halokariis art

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sentientsky · 4 months

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words by tumblr user @traumabuck080 (i think)

get-ready SUFFER-with-me vlog :)

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vampykween · 5 months

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husband!simon x reader except they hate each other and they probably always will :,( i’m in an angsty mood today sorry (but also not sorry it’s my fav) also this is barely proof read so sorry for any errors

“i fucking hate you.”

“yeah, yeah try a little harder love. hit me with something i haven’t heard before.”

“god you’re such an infuriating, egotistical, and moody asshole. sometimes i wake up and want to roll over and smother you with your own damn pillow.”

simon simply quirks an eyebrow at you and his lips turn up in a devilish smirk. “oh really? what’s stopping ya? please put me out of my misery, truly. you think i want to come home to you bitchin’ and moanin’ all the time, huh?”

your husband’s words add fuel to the already raging inferno inside of you. if this were a cartoon steam would be billowing out of your ears. there was very little, besides the fact that simon was far stronger than you, stopping you from throwing your hands around his neck and popping his stupid head clean off his shoulders.

“fuck you. god if i had know you were such a piece of shit, i would’ve never married you.”

“ ya already did, babe. got the proof right upstairs.” at the mention of your kids, you felt some of the fight die down in you. god you swore you wouldn’t be those parents that fought around their kids, made them feel like their home wasn’t a safe environment to be in. now look at you, you can barely stand the sight of your husband sometimes, but you’re so afraid of being alone; so you grin and bear it in front of them, only to slam your bedroom door and rip into each other all night long. sometimes that was also literally, embarrassing as it is to admit, you’re pretty sure you and simon have far more hate sex than any other kind of sex. hell you can’t remember the last time you just wanted the intimacy of being with him.

simon notices your lack of griping and moves from his spot on the couch over to where you’re standing by the archway of the living room. he takes stock of the frustrated tears pooling in your eyes and is suddenly overcome with the urge to comfort you. once upon a time he did love you, really love you. then one day, marriage was harder than you two thought, and work always kept him away, and soon enough getting pregnant wasn’t as easy as the movies made it seem. slowly life took the two of you, chewed you up far past recognition, spit you out and said here you go, have fun un-fucking each other up.

simon pulls you into his arms and your face goes into the familiar spot in the crook of his neck.

you know soon you’ll return to nagging, fighting, screaming, and crying- but for now, in this moment, in your husband's arms, you can pretend everything is okay.

#all hurt but like a tiny bit of comfort #you two are so toxic for each other!!!#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley angst #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley angst #mic writes #toxichusband!ghost #toxichusband!simon

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hairmetal666 · 8 months

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Read Part One here

cw: implied child abuse

Eddie's coming over for coffee. Not Eddie with Nancy and Robin or Eddie with the kids. Just Eddie.

They haven't been alone in 9 years and now Eddie is coming over for coffee.

They're friends, of course. After Vecna they didn't have much of a choice, but they've never talked about it--that they used to be something.

After Steve kissed Eddie goodbye for what turned out to be the last time, they didn't see each other again for months and months, except for a devastatingly fleeting moment in the Family Video parking lot. And the next time after that, Eddie's pinning him to the wall of a rickety boathouse, a broken bottle to his throat.

What's going through his mind, his body, at that moment is relief. For days, weeks, months, he ached for Eddie's touch again, and even though he was in danger, he relished in the push of their bodies together. Thought, if this is how he dies, he won't mind going.

But they don't talk about it, about them, because Eddie is on the run and Max is going to die, and they have to save the world, so there's no time. In the aftermath, it's the least of their worries, and now it's been almost a decade and Eddie is coming over for coffee.

The thing is, it's not like Steve has been pining away for a love long lost in the intervening years, and neither has Eddie. They've both had longterm, serious relationships; Steve almost got married. But for Steve...Eddie is the one that's lingered, the one that knocks around his ribcage on late sleepless nights, the one that makes him dream of what might have been. Because Steve truly loved his other partners, but Eddie--nobody will ever compare.

Someone is knocking a rhythm at his front door, and he can't stifle his smile even as his heart runs riot in his chest.

"Hey, man," he says, remarkably nonchalant as he takes Eddie in. Still beautiful, still brimming with energy; his smile wide and dimpled, bouncing on his toes.

"Harrington!" Eddie grabs him into a quick side hug, slapping his back. "Since when do you wear glasses?"

Steve chuckles, touching the horn-rimmed frames. "Oh, god, Robin forced me to get them back in '87? Too many concussions." He touches his forehead. "I usually just wear contacts."

"It's a good look," Eddie says. He's very much not looking at Steve, eyes roaming around the Chicago apartment he's been to many times before.

He watches as Eddie spots the display of his own books, index finger slowly slipping across the spines in a way that makes Steve remember when those same fingers would slide down his spine. He stifles a shiver, turns towards the kitchen.

"So, how's New York? How's the book coming?"

"Livin' the dream." It's not flippant, not like how most people mean it. Eddie leaks genuineness, always has. "The book though...it's a little rough."

Steve sets the coffee maker going, brings fresh pastries and a couple plates over to the table. "I can imagine. It doesn't--it doesn't have to be the same, you know?"

"Yeah, if only I hadn't written three other books leading up to the evil mind wizard," Eddie chuckles. He grabs a croissant and tears it in half. "It'll be alright, Harrington. I'll figure it out. I lived through it the first time, after all."

Steve doesn't remind him that he almost didn't, that they almost didn't. Instead, he pours coffee, listens as Eddie talks about how to fictionalize the worst month of their collective lives.

He splashes milk into Eddie's coffee, taps in three scoops of sugar. He carries it to where Eddie waits, still talking about the logistics of Vecna-slash-Henry-slash-One in his novel, but his words abruptly stop as his hands wrap around the porcelain.

"Steve?"

It's only then that Steve realizes what he's done--made Eddie's coffee like he took it back then, made it without thinking, totally on muscle memory, when the best of his mornings were spent in Eddie's arms.

His cheeks glow crimson and he grips at the back of his neck. "S-sorry." He says. "It--is this still how you take it?"

"Yeah." Eddie's eyes fall from Steve's face, his own cheeks pink. "It's--yeah. Still the same."

"I'm sorry--"

"--Steve, I--"

They don't laugh. They both stop speaking and look at each other, faces still red. Steve thinks there's nothing for it but to get it all out now.

"I'm sorry, Eddie." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry I never came back. I'm sorry I didn't explain why. I'm just--really, really sorry."

Eddie's eyes are hooked on the table top, fingers twisting and twisting his coffee mug. "Can I--why? I waited and you--why?"

Steve swallows, but it gets stuck in his throat, and now he's the one who can't look up from his hands.

"My parents got home early," he manages. "My dad, he was waiting for me. I guess one of the neighbors thought it best to tell them who I'd been spending my time with."

Silence falls over the table, and he chances a look up at the man across from him, the one whose knuckles bite into his lips, whose eyes shine with unshed tears.

"You should've called me. You should've--you could've stayed with us. We would've kept you safe."

"Eddie, I couldn't. I physically couldn't," the admission costs him so much.

"Steve," Eddie chokes on his name, voice nothing but anguish. "Did anyone--You could've--you were all alone."

He shakes his head. "Robin knew. She snuck through my window to take care of me, but my parents--I couldn't--" This time the words really won't come. "We made a plan. We started that job at Family Video, and we saved up our money."

Now, Eddie's face is creased with grief. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

Steve shakes his head, smiles despite the wreckage around his heart. "You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. I left you with no explanation. I broke your heart. And--and--" He thinks, what does it hurt to say it at this point. "I love you. I love you so much. I convinced myself you were better off without me, that we could have a clean break and you could get over me."

Eddie's hands cover his face, muffle the sob that slips out. "Get over you?" He whispers. "There's never been one like you, sweetheart."

He slides around the table to kneel at Eddie's side. "Hey." Deep brown eyes stare back at him, Eddie's face wet with tears. "It's always you, Ed. Always. I didn't want to say anything, if you had moved on, but--"

There's not really any transition from them talking to them kissing; Steve slips into it like he did all those years ago, when he first asked for Eddie's kiss. Their mouths slot together, their bodies fit like they always used to, perfect puzzle pieces. Steve's knees give out at the first brush of Eddie's tongue, and they collapse into a heap on the kitchen floor. Even then, they don't part.

Eventually, Steve does break the embrace, face flushed and hair a disaster, glasses hanging off one ear. "Okay, trying to be responsible here. Should we take a pause, go on a date first? Slow down?"

"Nine years isn't slow enough?" Eddie's pupils are blown, hair frizzed around his head.

"When you put it that way," Steve can't help but laugh. "I just want to do right by you, Eddie. Make up for--everything."

Eddie grins down at him, that sunshine beam smile where his dimples pop. "Tell you what, how bout you take me to bed now, and I'll let you take me on a date tomorrow?"

"Oh, you'll let me?" Steve rakes a hand through Eddie's mane of hair. "I don't think you'll have any choice."

"You sure about that, Stevie?" Their lips are so close, the brush with every word.

"Uh-huh," Steve's having trouble keeping his eyes focused, overwhelmed by the sheer force of Eddie Munson. "Never letting you go again, Ed."

Surprise! Part 2! I genuinely had no intention on doing a follow-up, but so many of you asked so nicely that it gave me this idea. Sorry if I miss anyone in the tag list and thank you for reading! @everywherenothere @tiny-enthusiast @emma-elsa-0000 @fuzzyduxk @moonythepluviophile @anaibis @rhapsodyinalto @bunk12bear @tillystealeaves @velocitytimes2 @s-trawberryv-eins @marklee-blackmore @ignoremyworld @its-a-me-a-morgan @goodolefashionedloverboi @starman-jpg @djohawke @adaydreamaway08

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #getting back together #mutual pining #fluff #ficlet #part 2 #time jump #a tiny bit of angst #here's the happy ending #implied child abuse #part one was august i guess part two is the one #we were something don't you think so #and if my wishes came true it would've been you #jk eddie is the one #they're in love your honor #steve's parents are pieces of shit

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wearyeyebrow · 1 year

Text

Worthy In Blue

Summary: You’ve been working on a little surprise project for Lucifer involving navy blue rope and a mahogany chair. You know Lucifer has a penchant for ropework, so what if you gave him an evening to put those skills, and your own, to good use?

Tags under the cut.

Tags: submissive lucifer, dominant MC, rope, restraints, MC is in rope, Lucifer is restrained, pegging, cunnilingus, gn MC, afab MC, mutual possessiveness, romance, established relationship, pre-nightbringer

Tonight is the long awaited Grimte Banquet where all the noble houses gather. Relationships are maintained, new ones started, and it’s all Lucifer can do to keep his brothers in line. Luckily, he has you to keep Mammon by your side and Beel full of food.

The night drones on spent managing many noble advances. He spares you a weary glance and you wink at him from across the hall. He can’t help the quirk of his mouth, a slight smile amidst everything. You’re impossibly charming.

A few moments later and he hears your voice in his ear. “Meet me in the coat room, I have something to show you.”

You slip away and disappear somewhere in the crowd. Eventually he manages a moment alone, horribly curious as he finds his way to you.

You close the door behind him, nearly hidden amidst coats of all sizes. “Hi gorgeous,” you wrap your arms around his waist.

"A coat closet?" He muses.

“I won’t keep you. Pretty sure Beel is looking for me too… Here.” You hold up your phone, “What do you think?”

You’re showing him a picture of… rope? “This is what you wanted to show me?”

“I could hardly send it to your phone right now, what with the entire royal court surrounding you. Plus, I’d rather explain its implications in person.”

“Implications?”

“Mm. Are you free next Friday night? Around 10pm?”

“I…” he allows himself a small smile, “I might be able to spare you some time.”

“Oh might you?” You smirk, “Well, if you’re too busy I completely understand. I’m capable of appreciating my own hard work.”

He acts affronted, grabbing you by the waist and kissing your hand. “Would a willing participant not please you more?”

“Isn’t that why I asked you in the first place?” He’s captivated by the crinkle of your nose, by the warmth of your smile.

“You’ve caught me,” he chuckles, “I’m all yours.”

“Then it’s a date. Do you like the color?”

You show him your phone again and he hums appreciatively. "Did you get it from Cloven Boutique? I didn’t think they stocked colored rope."

“They don’t, I dyed it myself."

“Truly?” He looks closer, in want of his glasses. “It looks like a professional job."

"Well, I had to get the color just right - I love the look of you in blue."

"Oh?" His tone softens.

“Mhm…” You appreciatively sweep your eyes up his body, lingering the gold peacock tie-clip you got him last month. You reach out and adjust his collar, “I love seeing you in things I’ve bought.”

“You have good taste.”

“Do you really think so?”

He frowns. “I wouldn’t wear something if it didn’t suit me.”

You laugh, “I know, I just wanted to hear you say it.”

“You’re horrible.”

“I’m charming.”

He fondly rolls his eyes. “I suppose both descriptors are accurate. I will look forward to it all week.”

“I think it’ll be worth the wait.” You lean up and brush your lips against his, “Don’t dance with too many nobles now.”

“Haven’t you noticed? All eyes are on you tonight. It’s taken everything in me not to whisk you away.”

“Likewise, darling.” You wink at him again and his heart certainly doesn’t flutter.

Lucifer knocks on your closed door, waiting for you to beckon him inside.

The first thing he notices is an old mahogany chair in the middle of your room, stolen from the hallway. It sits odd against your comfortable furniture.

You make a show of locking your door, brushing against his shoulder as you pass by. Then you cast a noise canceling spell - nothing but an emergency could disturb you now.

When you meet his eyes you're delighted by his wanting expression, unguarded and open in his desire. "I wonder…" you walk over to him, "how much you've thought about this night, curious about what I've planned?" You straighten his tie, close enough to see him swallow.

"It has been on my mind." He takes your hand in his own and kisses your knuckles, looking every part adoring.

You chuckle fondly, "Especially in the evenings, when you think of me?"

His cheeks heat up but his gaze is steady. “I won’t deny it."

“Honesty suits you." He goes in for a kiss just as you pull away. "I want to show you something."

He makes a curious sound and you leave him to open your dresser drawer. "Now, you knew I'd be using rope tonight, but for what exactly I didn't tell you." You gather the rope in your arms, "It might not seem like much of a deviation."

"Oh?" He eyes the rope you've picked.

"You still like it?"

He turns the rope over in his hands, "It’s richer than I remember. How did you do it?"

"Blue mangled beetles - kind of like carmine, but the process is simpler. When dried and crushed they make a beautiful dark navy dye that doesn’t bleed."

"You did your research."

You chuckle and take the rope from his hands. "Only the best for you. Gloves off."

He slips off his right leather glove, finger by finger - wait. “Blue?” You look at him inquisitively. His nails are a rich navy blue, perfectly manicured and glossy.

His eyes flicker behind you, cheeks dusting pink. “I painted them a few days ago.”

You're confused for a minute, then it hits you. “Wait - because of me?”

His voice drops, “You - you mentioned-" He clears his throat, "I thought you might like them.”

"I love them, Lucifer…" You kiss his knuckles, his palm, his wrist, before pulling him in for a proper kiss. His hand cups your jaw and he makes a small, plaintive sound. He really had been thinking about your words all this time.

You pull away with reluctance. "It's time I tell you what we’ll be doing tonight. Shall we start the scene?"

He clears his throat again and sweeps his own magic over your door. "Let us begin."

"Any titles are allowed tonight, you can address me however you’d like. Red to stop the act, yellow to pause, and green for all good. Fire if you want to stop the scene entirely."

"Understood.”

“Then…" the glint in your eyes makes him a little weak in the knees. "I know you have a penchant for ropework. And I know how much you enjoy earning my praise. So, I had a thought - tonight I’d like you to use your ropework skills and tie me up, but I want full range of motion, you know, a design strictly for aesthetics.” You pull the rope taught in your hands, “And then, if you do a good enough job, I may reward you with some rope of my own. What do you say?” You hold out the rope to him.

You smile and oblige, settling into the cold wooden seat. He eyes you and then the rope, contemplative, before loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves. He circles you, and you admire the focused, pointed look on his face as he carefully plans an intricate design in his mind’s eye. He’s completely in his element and you love to watch him work.

“What an intriguing idea...” He takes the rope from your hands with soft reverence, feeling the rough texture between his fingers. “You really got such a nice shine to it,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. He breathes out slowly and gestures to the mahogany chair, “Please dear, relax.”

“Ah,’ you suddenly realize, “This might help.” You lift up your shirt and drop it next to the chair before shimmying out of your bottoms, leaving you bare before him.

“Yes…” he murmurs as his eyes roam your skin.

You feel a pleasant tingle up your spine when he brushes his fingers through your hair, gently gathering until he can put it up properly above your neckline. Your body relaxes under his touch.

The first knot is an anchor tie just below your bust, he uses four strands and divides them into two, slipping each half over your shoulders and back down to meet your back. The rough texture warms you from the outside in but his careful touch is cool against your skin.

You watch him as he works, loving the interplay of shadow that falls across his sharp features. He catches you staring.

“Am I pleasing to look at, Madam?”

“Yes, very much so.”

Your pact mark sings and you chuckle, bemused at the sensation. “You like it when I compliment you, don’t you, my little black bird?”

His cheeks heat up and his eyebrows furrow, as he’s put off by the pet name, but the humming in your chest only continues. “I can feel it, you know? Honesty really does suit you best - your face is much prettier wearing it.”

The tips of his ears turn pink but he circles you, wrapping his arms around your midsection to finish fixing a knot in place. Suddenly his warm lips press into the crook of your shoulder. The deep undertones of his voice make you shiver as he whispers in your ear. “You will be the death of me.”

You turn to meet his eyes, coy mischief in your own. “I think you’ll survive.” He chuckles and you kiss him once, twice, just to make him simmer. He almost goes back in for a third but you brush your thumb over his bottom lip. “Not yet.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He kisses your shoulder once more.

Time passes in a lovely, hazy sort of way. Lucifer relaxes into the process as you'd hoped he would. It’s a gentle sort of focus where his mind is set on something, a place where nothing else can bother him or tear away his careful attention. He loves taking your direction, easing him out of his mind, constantly wound too tight.

Finally he kneels to finish the job, gingerly maneuvering one of your legs up and over his shoulder to wrap a strand around the back of your thigh. His eyes wander this time, following the line of your body until he lingers between your legs. As if he can’t help himself he kisses your skin, leaving a delicate trail up the inside of your thigh.

You cup his jaw in one hand and he kisses your palm, eyeing between your legs. “After you finish,” you murmur, “You’ll have to earn what you get tonight.” His eyes flicker to yours and he continues moving, finishing the tie he started.

“I believe I’m finished, will you stand?”

You do so, feeling the bend and flex of rope. Nothing feels too tight, everything is snug, hugging the curves of your body. You admire what lacing you can see, particularly the delicate design around your hands and wrists. He truly had taken his time, a glance at the clock proves that an hour has passed.

Finally you turn around and examine his work in the mirror. Your eyes light up at his intricate ropework. You’re beautiful, elegant, fully mobile and yet covered in faux restraints. You admire yourself, making a show of your appreciation. His chest puffs out and the pact mark on your chest rumbles. You gently circle your clit with one finger and enjoy how he shifts uncomfortably behind you.

You want more from him. Your body aches from an hour of foreplay.

You cup his jaw with one hand. “Kneel.”

“Yes Sir,” he murmurs, almost breathless.

His willing, almost eager demonstration of your power over him, of his own lack of control, further spurns you on, and you know he can hold your weight.

"Show me, then, devotion to your work." You prop one leg up on the hard mahogany seat, exposing yourself for him. Rope hugs your thighs, indenting and highlighting what he wants most.

His eyes flicker between your face and your clit. He licks his lips. "Thank you, Sir."

You run a hand through his hair and brace the other on the back of the chair. As soon as his tongue touches your clit you gasp, unable to help yourself. You’ve been on edge for so long now, throbbing at every new rope and delicate detail. You savor his mouth, rocking your hips into his face gently. "Yes…" he sucks and licks as you drip onto his tongue and he moans softly at the gentle tug of your hand in his hair.

You'll come quickly and you know it - you rock against him faster now and he wraps his fingers through the ropes on the back of your thigh before squeezing your ass and petting between your legs.

You look down at him, at his disheveled appearance, tousled hair, and too-tight pants. “Lucifer, darling, you - ah - you don’t have to say anything, no thoughts, no control, just take what I give you."

He groans and claws at the backs of your thighs, pulling you forward against his mouth.

You tilt your head back. "Good man, good job-" he whines and flicks his tongue with renewed vigor, "fffuck, right there…"

You fuck his face, shivering and shaking, chasing your orgasm. He holds you upright and supports your body, grasping at his own ropework. You moan and twitch. A glance at the mirror brings you closer still, “Look baby, look at you, making me feel so fucking good… shit-” Your grip on his hair tightens as you twist your hand, pulling him forward. He moans, high and breathy, harshly breathing through his nose.

His right hand supports your waist while his left squeezes your ass. Just a minute more, a second more, finally, finally his palpable desire sends you over the edge, and god how it fills the air. He takes it all and you don't fall, even as your legs lock and your grip falters. You shake and shiver in his tight grasp, palms holding tight to his shoulders. He keeps licking, just enough to keep you there until tension dissipates and you’re overstimulated. Only then does his grip loosen, following your body as you stand on your own, knees shaking.

There's an unspoken tenderness in his eyes - your baby takes pride in service.

You step away from him when you can, fixing his hair and cleaning your cum from his lips. "Sit on the chair, darling."

His knees crack when he gets up, stiff from his place on the hardwood floor. He sits, bulge straining against his trousers, watching you with rapt attention.

"I think…" you turn around, "You've more than earned your reward - as if there was any doubt in my mind."

“Oh?” He practically glows at your praise.

"And…” you walk over to your nightstand once more, "I'm not done with this yet." He swallows, gaze fixated on the rope in your hands. You smirk, "You like that idea?"

He shifts again. "Yes I - very much."

You reach into your nightstand and pull out a matte black silicone dildo, smaller, elegant even. You hold it up. “What about this? Are you up for it tonight?”

“Yes,” he nods, “I prepared myself for the possibility.”

“Perfect,“ you breathe, already excited. “Then…” your smile is nearly wicked as you regard him and his cock throbs in earnest. “Clothes off. Hands behind your back - hold your forearms.”

He acquiesces, knowing exactly what you want.

Soon he’s sitting naked on the chair, hands held behind his back, willingly at your mercy. Your ties aren’t nearly as elegant, but they restrict his movement and hug his body. You restrain his arms behind his back with a chest harness, carefully distributing the weight of the rope, adding just a touch of flourish. Even in such a simple design he looks lovely. Blue really is his color, you think, admiring him. He catches your eye.

“I was right,” you say, tilting his chin up for a chaste peck on the lips, “You look lovely in blue.” He groans and chases your lips this time. You let him, just once, and deepen the kiss yourself, before grabbing him by the hair, wrenching his head up. “Not yet, darling.”

“As you wish.” He’s breathless and kiss bitten.

You leave him and stack two large pillows on top of each other. You motion for him to stand before grabbing him by the restraints. “I will help you get into position,” you chuckle darkly, “I want you face down.”

His cheeks feel hot but he nods, “Yes Sir.”

“Good man. Lie down.”

It takes a moment since he can’t move his arms but you finally have him exactly where you want him, chest pushed into the bed, hips and ass raised by the pillows beneath him.

He tilts his head to look at you with one eye, eyebrow raised as you appear with more rope.

‘Can’t have you squirming too much, now can I?” He groans into the pillow beneath him and nods.

“Tell me if you’re ever uncomfortable or need to readjust, this position might get tiring after awhile.”

“I’m sure I can take it.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m not asking. Tell me.”

He shivers. “Yes Ma’am.”

“Good.”

You uncap the lube on your nightstand and snap a glove on. He shivers at the cold feeling of your lubed finger rubbing against him, but as your hand warms so does his body and he slowly starts to meet your gentle thrusts as you enter him. You love this part. It’s incredibly intimate, almost more so that the ensuing sex, because anyone else would have been thrown out long ago - he has only ever done this with you.

Once you’re up to two fingers comfortably you withdraw your hand and replace it with your lubed up strap. “Ready?”

“I’ve been ready.” You smack his ass and he gasps.

“What was that?”

“I apologize, yes I - I’m ready.”

“That’s better. One more remark like that,” you murmur, pressing in slowly, “And I’ll rethink your reward.”

He hisses, wiggling his hips, “A-Apologies - it won’t happen again.”

‘I know it won’t,” you smile, “because you love this too much.” Finally, finally you move your hips, slow at first, until finding a gentle rhythm. You use his bound legs as leverage, pushing deep inside of him as his low, desperate moans fill the air.

As his body strains against the rope it holds tight, digging into his skin - this heat, this pleasure, your power over him is dizzying. For a few blissful moments he can’t think, all he can do is feel you surround him and hear your haunting voice in his ear.

It is easy to admire him, Lucifer Morningstar splayed out before you, rocking his ass into your hips, wanting more, more. You grab the rope holding his forearms tight against his back and pull, arching his back against the sheets. He cries out, and you lean down, pushing all your weight on top of him.

“That feel good, baby? Heh, you love it don’t you?” Your hips are slow and deep, grinding on his favorite spot, “You love being fucked like this. Wrapped in my rope, under my hand-” He moans, long and debauched. “I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like this, you belong to me, don’t you?”

“Yes-!”

You’re breathless above him. “We belong to each other, right, love?”

His eyes open and he gazes at you in the adjacent mirror, “Yes…” You dip and kiss the back of his neck, soft and sweet, "Hnn…" he takes in a shuddering breath and lets his head fall forward.

“That's right, no one else deserves to touch you, no one else is good enough, worthy enough.” You whisper in his ear.

He gasps your name and pushes his ass against your hips, pathetically fucking himself on your strap. Every slap of your skin sears welts into his body. You grab his hair and jerk his body up.

“Eyes open, look at yourself.” He didn’t think he could get any redder, but the sight of you behind him, fucking his ass with slow purposeful thrusts, restraining him while tied in his own ropework, it's too much, he can’t - he’ll -

You wrench his head up, “Keep looking,” you pant, “look at the face you make when you come for me.”

He can’t help it, he comes fast and hot, hips stuttering, mouth open and gasping. You slow but you don’t stop. He whimpers but dutifully stays, taking it all.

“Good man,” you praise him, “So. Fucking. Good-” you punctuate your words by digging your nails into his back. You slowly drag them downward and tiny specks of blood bubble to the surface. He hisses but his cock jumps beneath him. “You like a little pain, don’t you?” You slap his ass with an open palm. “Answer me.”

“Yes, yes Ma’am -”

“Yes what?”

"Fuck - more, please-!”

“Filthy.” You bite, before indulging him with another slap on the ass.

You run your nails gently over the welts and he sighs in bliss. In this moment of calm you use all your strength to hoist him upward again, until his back is flush against your chest. You wrap a hand around his throat and start to bounce him on your cock. His eyes roll back and he groans, reaching around to grab your hip as he rocks back into you.

“When I cut you loose,” you pant, “I want you to lie down on your back, legs spread, waiting and ready for me again. Do you understand me?”

He swallows breathlessly and nods.

You lean him forward and gently pull out. You untie his legs, and then his arms before dropping the rope next to the bed. His body is tinged red with slight rope burn, just how he likes.

He rolls over onto his back, finally making eye contact with you. You smile at him, gentle, and his pupils pin. “Spread your legs for me.”

Lucifer grabs his own knees, and spreads his legs while you refuse to let him lose eye contact. His red flush is delicious, and so is his twitching cock, clearly enjoying this.

You grab more lube from the nightstand and quickly reapply before holding one of his legs to your chest and slipping back inside. He groans and rocks his hips forward, savoring the feeling.

You slowly snap your hips forward, reaching deep inside him, you keep repositioning until he gasps and then you hold there. Little thrusts of your hips grinding against his ass. He gasps low, moaning sweetly in his deep voice as sweat trickles down his temple.

“Kiss me-” he croaks, reaching for you. You melt into him and grind against him as his hands roam your body. He doesn’t realize he’s whimpering and shuddering, or if he does he doesn’t care.

You continue like this for a while, enjoying his gasping deep moans in your ear, his lips and teeth on your neck. Finally, at your mercy, you gently trace your fingers over the head of his cock. The noise he makes is agonizing, and you have half a mind to continue neglecting him. But he has your heart as you keep up that gentle, light contact, and he doesn’t ask for more. His head is spinning, filled with thoughts of you, you, just you.

You speed up your hand as your hips get tired and he grips your back, rocking into you. Finally you feel him tense, feel his blunt nails dig into your back.

“There you go, my pretty bird,”

He gasps, light and beautiful, shuddering as he comes, keening as each slow, deep thrust of your hips milks another dribble of cum out of him.

You kiss again and again, covered in sweat, cum, and specks of blood, ignoring the passage of time.

Darkness blankets your bedroom, barely lit in deep navy shadow. Your fingernails fall up and down rhythmically over the rope burn on Lucifer’s back.

“I heard you were approached last week.” He murmurs.

“At the Banquet…? Oh, did Asmo say something?”

Lucifer chuckles, "He said something akin to "Everyone here is itching for their chance, don't let them out of your sight."

You feign exasperation. "And what did you do, you let me out of your sight. Now I'm in bed with a demon."

Lucifer snorts, "The very same demon you propositioned in a coat closet."

"What can I say? I know who I want," you kiss his temple.

Lucifer leans into you further, draped across your body. "Don't you have plans early tomorrow morning?"

“You yawn again, “Solomon said he has something important to talk to me about. What exactly, I’m not sure… he can wait until I've had breakfast.”

“That sorcerer…”

“He wants you so bad,” you chuckle, “I mean, it isn’t up to me, but I enjoy acting as if it is.”

“Rest assured,” he kisses your shoulder, “he’ll never have me, not like you do.”

Your smile is gentle. “I love you, Luci.”

“And I you.”

Lucifer closes his eyes and relaxes his sore body, satisfied and calm. He resolves to make you breakfast in the morning before seeing you off to Solomon.

Truly, he thinks, there's nothing he can’t face as long as you’re there when he wakes.

#lucifer obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me smut #sub lucifer #dom mc #my writing #wearyeyebrow #teeny tiny bit of nightbringer angst at the end #dom!reader #sub!lucifer #sub obey me

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atlaswav · 8 months

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LOST WITHOUT YOU ☆

INFO: 2812 words, Alhaitham x gn!reader, a little mildly suggestive content (16+) SYNOPSIS: after focusing your whole life on studies and beating Alhaitham, you find that you've lost yourself, and you don't know how to put yourself back together. AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is so rushed and bad but the ideas just kept flowing out and suddenly I wrote a whole short story 😓 (unedited pls lmk if u find errors! likes and reblogs also very much appreciated!!!)

It was never a competition – not to him, at least.

Him, with his cold, unwavering demeanour and even colder, unshakable gaze.

It never was a competition, but to you, everything was. You hated it all. You hated his expression, permanently arranged in disdain, and his withering glare. That look that he always gave you, always the same, blank stare.

Above all, you loathed his overwhelming sense of self importance. He carried himself with such an air that you felt absolutely unremarkable next to him, and in your drunken wishes, you yearned for him to be put in his place.

Wishful drinking, you called it, and such was suited to a night like this. The night before receiving the results for your final exams, the only one that really mattered in your seemingly futile quest to outshine Alhaitham.

Your roommates were fully aware of your infatuation, though you wouldn’t call it that. They teased you for locking yourself up in your room while they went out socialising and bar streaking, most often returning with the reek of alcohol staining their clothes, passing out on the couch.

They thought you weren’t a drinker, too, but truthfully, you only saved drinking for important occasions, and this seemed like an occasion important enough. With a flair for dramatic, you had claimed yet another bottle of cheap wine off the kitchen counter before retreating to your room, several glances of concern and curiosity following you down the hallway. Seated on the miniature balcony, you twisted open the cap on the bottle, wincing at the wine’s harsh bitterness as time slipped by, minutes blurring into hours with hushed murmurs outside your door.

They cared, they really did. But you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge them, not with your thoughts too occupied with outdoing Alhaitham to amount to anything substantial. Your roommates already thought you were a studying fanatic – those looks of concern weren’t a first time occurrence as you trudged up the stairs with the wine in tow. You didn’t care enough to correct or reassure them – though were they wrong?

You hardly left the house enough, if it weren’t for classes and your job, you’d be a hermit. It felt suffocating, sometimes, the life you’d given yourself. Though ahead in all other aspects, you couldn’t help but feel like you were falling behind. Everyone was falling in love, while you fell behind, caught in the grinding cycle of academics and validation.

Melancholic and dramatic, you were, when you were drunk. Though others may be hopeless romantics.

“[name]? Someone’s here to see you.” Your roommate knocks on your door.

You don’t glance over your shoulder as the knocking becomes more insistent. “No thanks.”

“May I come in?” A familiar voice echoes from down the hallway. Your hand freezes halfway to the bottle.

The door creaks open, and you turn around, slowly standing up and steadying yourself on the railing. Alhaitham stands in the doorframe, only his silhouette visible through the light pouring in through the hallway.

You’re suddenly far too aware of your pyjama pants and well worn hoodie, folding your arms across yourself. “Why are you here?”

He stands there for a while, completely still. Then he sighs. “I don’t know.” Stepping across the threshold, he starts to close the door behind him.

“I didn’t say you could come in,”

“Sorry.” He says. After a brief silence, he leaves.

You stand there, confused, with unspoken questions hanging in the air.

Then, the door opens again.

You’d never seen him so unsteady before, gaze darting around the room and a flush high on his cheeks. His Emerald eyes are bright as he steps into the dim light of your room. “I have to come in.”

You frown at him in confusion. “Why are you here?”

The moment doesn’t seem real as he crosses the room, joining you on the balcony. Quiet lingers around the two of you as you give up asking for his motive and simply reassume your position at the railing. Maybe you’re too tired or burnt out to care, but as he hesitantly joins you, casting you indiscreet side glances, you offer him the bottle.

A show of camaraderie, perhaps.

He shakes his head, and you take a swig from the bottle, yourself, before setting it back on the low, rusty coffee table.

He fidgets with his hands, turning the ring on his index finger over and over. It clicks with the ring on his other finger, occasionally, resonating an irritating ticking noise.

“Can you stop? What do you want?” You finally outburst, startling him. Alhaitham faces you now, entirely focused on you. But his usual look of casual disdain is gone, and you’re not sure you recognise the man staring at you.

His features bathed in moonlight, his gaze looks softer than it ever had before. The soft breeze brushes his hair across his forehead, and you can’t help but wonder how soft they’d feel to your touch.

“I want you,”

Before you can fully register his reply, he draws you in, one hand reaching around your waist, another reaching softly into your hair, and kisses you.

You fail to register anything at all – all other sensation is irrelevant with the sheer feeling of the warmth of his lips on yours. It feels so wrong, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

It’s intoxicating. He tastes like wine.

He withdraws, expression blank again.

“What?” You utter, and abruptly, as if snapping out of a stance, he flees your room with such rapidity that you have to consider whether or not it was all a dream. As his footsteps echo down the hallway, you run a hand through your hair, tousled by his touch, snatch the bottle from its place and drink deeply.

–

The autumn chill drifts in the air. Other students dawdle about on the lawns, boisterous laughter echoing across the courtyard. Your class sits in solemn silence. You with your ringing head in your hands, and him with his back turned to everyone, focused on the lecture hall’s door.

When you woke that morning, the morning after that, you were insistent on believing that it was a dream. But the empty bottle lying on the balcony and the ring on the ground said otherwise.

You turn the metal ring over in your pocket, running a finger over the miniature inscriptions on the inside.

‘Empathy, the double-edged sword’

You’d been fretting over how to return the ring, avoiding the primary subject on your mind – overshadowed with the return of the test papers.

The minutes tick by in anxious silence until the door bursts open with a professor whose arms are filled with papers.

If it weren’t for the pounding hangover, you’d be laughing at the anticlimactic atmosphere. The professor grumbles under his breath as he hands out the exam papers and results, not offering a general comment on the class’ results.

He reaches Alhaitham, and gives him the pleased look he always gives him. The class launches into whispers of speculation.

The professor’s walk down the aisles of chairs seems like it takes forever, and you have half a mind to snatch the stack of papers out of his hands and wildly search for yours.

Until he stops in front of you.

A slight smile as he hands the paper to you.

“Well done.”

A perfect score.

Over your shoulder, someone announces it to the entire class.

Alhaitham meets your eyes with a soft smile and a nod. A ninety nine is hastily scrawled onto the front page with red ink.

Relief; Your heart and head feel light, but your stomach is filled with butterflies. It should feel liberating, but you’re unsure what – how – to feel. The past few years had led up to this moment, but it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like you thought it would, like the victory you’d hoped it would’ve been.

As quick as it was, your relief is gone, quickly replaced by a sinking feeling of foreboding as you walk out of the classroom, congratulations falling on deaf ears.

–

It’s midnight, again, and you’re awake, tossing another empty bottle into the corner to join the others.

Your roommates were overjoyed for you, they cooked you a celebratory dinner, toasted to your success, and teased you about going clubbing with them that night. Yet you turned them down like you always did, because nothing felt right anymore.

That gaping hole in your heart, previously haphazardly filled with academics, now felt like a great, yawning chasm with no bottom in sight.

Your entire purpose had been fulfilled, and you had a bright future with job offers lying in your emails, untouched, but it didn’t feel complete.

You realised that you lost yourself.

In trying to become better than someone else, you’d lost yourself, and you didn’t know how to find a way back.

“[name], we’re going out, are you sure you don’t want to join us?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

A slight pause. “Okay. Also, your friend from before is at the front door. Should I let him in?”

You vividly recall the intoxicating, wine stained taste of Alhaitham’s lips against your own, the sensation of his fingers tangling in your hair, and his hand bracing your waist on this very balcony. The ring sits in your pocket, the tiny scrap of metal heavier than ever – a burning weight.

“Sure. Send him up here.” You manage.

Melancholic and dramatic were a few of the things you were when you were drunk, but you were also known to have made horrifyingly bad decisions.

You hear your roommate walk down the hallway and down the stairs. You hear the front door open and close. You take the ring out of your pocket and start turning it over in your hands, pacing around your balcony all the while.

A knock on your door, and you snap to attention, waiting a while before weakly calling for him to enter.

The door slowly creaks open, and his silhouette fills the doorframe. He leans against it, seemingly unsure of whether or not to fully enter.

A long silence ensues.

“Are you here to take your ring back?” You start, holding it out.

“Oh. Yeah.” But he doesn’t cross the room. So you do. You walk toward the door, stepping into the light of the hallway as he steps back.

His cheeks are flushed, gaze darting and fleeting.

With more daring than you’d ever displayed, you grab his hand and slide the ring back on, marvelling at his fingers – long, slender, pale. Pretty. A scholar’s hands.

“Thanks.” He murmurs, looking up from your hands, meeting your eyes for the first time.

The soft look is back again.

“Congratulations, by the way.” He starts, removing his hands from yours. “Professor said we were going to share valedictorian.”

You nod, suddenly immensely uncomfortable. “Not surprised.”

He nods as well, seemingly sheepishly, muttering something under his breath that you don’t catch.

“What was that?”

“Kaveh said that if I don’t tell you tonight, he’d tell you himself.”

“Well tell him that I said thanks.”

He rubs his face with his hand, exasperated. “No, not congratulations,”

“Then what?”

He gives you a long look.

“Are you going to stare at me all night?”

“Archons, I don’t know what you do to me.” He takes your face in his hands and brings your lips to his.

It all feels so right. Alhaitham tastes just as intoxicating as he did the first time, only now, there’s a fervour behind his movements. The cherry wine on his lips is exhilaratingly rich. You could get drunk off his taste alone.

His hands boldly move down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin – in return, your hands wander his torso, teasingly skimming the skin beneath his shirt. He shudders, pulling away, although the sheer intensity of his gaze tells you that he won’t be leaving you this time.

“Does that tell you what I'm here to tell you?”

“Might have to explain a little more,” You rasp, catching your breath.

Some sort of restraint within his self control snaps, and he pushes you into your room, locking your door behind you.

In light of what happened after that, you were tremendously grateful that your roommates had left to go clubbing.

–

Neither of you were sure what it was.

The morning after, he’d left before you woke up. Rather than feeling betrayed, you appreciated his absence, as it gave you time to gather your scattered, alcohol imbued thoughts.

It soon became a regular thing, where he’d stop by your shared house – that you’d never given him the address to (although he later explained that he got it from Kaveh) – to see you. It wasn’t always a hook up, sometimes he dropped by in the middle of the day if you were around, and made conversation.

The first few nights, however, were actively avoided. He would always hurriedly change the topic or avoid the question, averting your gaze. But it didn’t matter now – or so you thought – as he sat on your bed, watching you read.

A month ago, you’d have kicked him out without a second thought, but here you were, making idle conversation about something as ordinary as TV shows and work with him while you read.

It felt nice – right. It felt like you’d known each other for years when you were intent on resenting him for your entire college career. It felt so secure that you’d forget why you hated him.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, flipping through one of the novels lying on the bedside table.

“You.”

Alhaitham rolls his eyes. “Of course I am.”

You hit him lightly with your book. “Pretentious little shit.”

“Wounded.” He deadpans, setting the book back down.

“Seriously though, I find it so weird that you’re sitting on my bed and making normal conversation with me when a year ago I’d have given you a black eye if you showed up to my house unannounced.”

He frowns. “Why?”

You level him with a blank stare. “Are you being sarcastic?”

He shakes his head, expression genuine.

“You’re not kidding?” You set aside your book, leaning in. “I hated you, you know that, right?”

“What?” His expression is one of genuine surprise as he takes in the apparently new information. “Since when? Why?”

“You have to be kidding me.” You laugh at the comical nature of it all. “You didn’t know?”

He stares at you, mouth half open in shock. “The whole time?”

You nod.

He lies down on your bed, still digesting the discovery. “I thought…”

“What did you think?”

“Your friends always just said that you didn’t socialise a lot, I thought you just didn’t know how to socialise or something,”

You sit and observe him in silence for a while.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m surprised” he runs a hand through his steel grey hair. “It was so obvious, now that I think about it. How could I have not realised?”

“Your turn. Tell me.” You suddenly say, lying down next to him. “What did you want to tell me the first night you visited me?”

He goes quiet. He’s quiet for so long that you have to check if he’s still awake. His gaze is pointed at your ceiling, the glow in the dark stars there.

“I’ve been somewhat in love with you for the longest time.” He finally admits, voice thick.

“You what?” You sit up, mouth agape. “What the fuck?”

“If you want me to leave, I’ll go.” He says, sitting up as well. “I figured I should tell you eventually, and that time is now.”

Quiet ensues, as it so often does when you’re around each other. Not an uncomfortable sort of quiet – the quiet that speaks louder than words.

You’d both been blind the whole time. You, for your infatuation with him – with beating him, with his person, with his attitude and, though you’d never admit it to him, his looks – and him, with his one sided love for you.

And though you’d both been too near-sighted to see the other person in their entirety, now your cracks are showing. The recesses in his facade of steel, and the fractures in your mask of indifference.

Two puzzle pieces. Pieces that could mould to each other, shaping and weathering with time.

So when he makes to leave, you grab his hand. A silent question. The tension eases from his shoulders, and Alhaitham pulls you off the bed, wrapping you in his arms.

The past few weeks with him have proven nothing but the possibility of loving him. That the hatred that you’d accumulated over months of blind infatuation masked the presence of something far more confronting.

You couldn’t recognise yourself in the mirror anymore. So much of you was missing. But maybe, the two of you could find yourselves in each other.

written by @delat1ne, published 27th of August 2023

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mousestar369 · 9 days

Text

Bruce mixing up the voices he's meant to use in certain situations. Like;

Riddler: Hahaha! I've-

Batman, in Tired Dad voice: What did you do?

Riddler: I- uh- huh?

Batman, not realizing his mistake: What did you do, Nygma?

Riddler: I took like five people hostage-

Batman, finally realizing his mistake but also realizing it seems to be working??: And where did you put them?

Riddler: I'll show you-

Or;

Jason: Hey, B-

Bruce, in Batman voice: What did you do?

Jason, who just wanted to ask if Bruce wanted any cookies: nothingimsorry

#batman #bruce wayne #jason todd #the riddler #he didn't do that to Jason on purpose #light angst #like a tiny bit of it

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nandysparadox · 10 months

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"the prince always does the right thing! the good thing..."

#i love how there's always a little bit of roman angst subtext in even tiny little videos. correct approach 🙏#or im just looking too deep into it. love n light on this eartg #sanders sides #roman sanders

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nburkhardt · 1 year

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Lower The Noise (Won’t Be Putting My Heart on Display)

The moment Steve Harrington realizes he’s in love isn’t some grand moment. It’s the littlest of things, nearly the stupidest thing if he’s being honest.

But he can feel his heart beat faster, his mind start to race and it feels like he can hardly breathe. His palms get clammy and he can feel his eyes tear up just enough, that he knows exactly what’s going on in his racing mind and beating heart.

He’s in love with Eddie Munson.

Now, don’t get it wrong, it’s not that he’s upset with this information. He’s not. Really, he’s not that upset. At least… maybe he is a little bit. Just, Steve knows what happens now. He knows, ok?

Steve falls in love, and the one he loves…leaves.

They’re just dropping off the kids. Eddie’s in the front seat twisted around to glare at Lucas about something dnd related that Steve vaguely knows and understands. They’ve been arguing over some move since they got in the car, the only ones not speaking is Mike and Dustin, too busy watching Lucas try and fail at defending himself.

Steve is failing at hiding his smile as he drives, listening to it all as he comes to a stop in front of Lucas’ and Mike’s houses.

“Shut it, Sinclair! You just can’t handle that you fucked it up, suck it up” Eddie twists back around with a smirk, “now scram, brats!”

Mike rolls his eyes and jumps out, muttering a “thanks Steve” as he goes. Quickly followed by an upset Lucas, also giving a quick and quiet thanks. Then it’s just Dustin, who lives a little bit further away. Which gives Steve a little extra time with him and Eddie.

The drive to Dustin’s is short and the three of them are content to just sit quietly together listening to the tape Eddie shoved in at the start of the trip, Metallica’s Fade to Black playing but not at an ear-bleeding level.

It’s nice, Steve thinks to himself. He can hear Eddie humming along and beating his hands against his legs.

That’s when it hits. The minute the song fades and Trapped Under Ice starts playing, Eddie’s muttering, “Damn, I forgot how much I love this one” then he’s banging his head, despite the volume still being at a reasonable level.

Dustin’s in the backseat laughing his ass off, and Steve?

Steve’s silently freaking the fuck out.

He doesn’t know how. But somehow he manages to get to Dustin’s house and then away when the kid gets out with a happy thanks and promise to walkie tomorrow, if he needs a ride. Then muscle memory gets him back to driving Eddie home, all while his mind is racing and he’s freaking out.

“See you tomorrow, Steve?”

He glances over and finds Eddie hanging in the window now, his smile on display and his eyes shining.

Nodding, hopefully with a normal smile.

“Of course, man. Need a ride tomorrow too?”

Eddie shakes his wild hair, his smile still there and then, “nah, Wayne’s back with my van. I can even pick up the brats, give Mama Bear a break!” He ends it with a wink, laughing as he taps the door.

He laughs with him, praying the burning of his face isn’t showing. “Ha, thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Bye, Steve!”

He pulls away from the Munson home slowly, watching as Eddie digs in his pocket for his key and entering the house.

Somehow he makes it home even in his panic. He slams the door, locking it before falling against it and down to the floor. Head in his shaking hands, his heart pounding in his chest and his throat tightening from his panic. Mind racing with all the moments with Eddie.

How sweet the metal head is, how selfless, kind and nerdy he can be. How his smile looks pointed in Steve’s direction. How his voice sounds like music to him, his laugh even better. How he’s never afraid to be himself and how amazing he is with the kids.

Tears well up in his eyes and he chokes back a sob. Before he realizes it, his sobs break through and there’s a nasty voice in the back of his head calling him a crybaby.

A normal person would be happy with something like this. A normal person would immediately take this information and tell their friends, their family and the person they’re in love with. A normal person wouldn’t be freaking out and crying about it against their front door.

But Steve’s not a normal person, is he?

He’s unlovable.

——————

At ten years old, Steve Harrington overheard the neighbors speak about his parents.

“I just feel so bad for Janet, she doesn’t deserve this” one voice- a woman says with a sigh.

“What do you mean?” Another voice- a man says, “Janet Harrington?”

The woman lets out a hum and Little-Steve can’t see but he can guess she’s nodding, “yeah, her husband is a cheating asshole and she’s stuck with a little boy that’s probably going to be the same! I mean, he already looks like his father’s twin”

Little-Steve frowned at that, his gut twisting uncomfortably at the woman’s voice and he’s too young to really understand why.

“Well, I guess that’s unfortunate. But I don’t think their kid will be exactly like his father-“

The woman laughs and Little-Steve feels like maybe he should leave, but his feet are stuck to the spot, “Oh, honey, you don’t get it. Richard Harrington ruined Janet and I can guarantee, he’ll raise his son to do the same”

Little-Steve doesn’t understand the meaning.

He won’t truly understand until he’s fifteen and his mother is drunk one evening and spits, “Steven, you idiot! You’re going to grow up to be like your father, aren’t you!” To him when he told her about a girl he was thinking of asking out.

He really understands inside Tina’s bathroom when Nancy slurs out, “like we’re in love” and “bullshit!” at him when he’s sixteen.

Then at eighteen, high off the Russian drugs, admitting to Robin that he’s crushing on her and she quietly admits her own crush on another girl.

Ten year old Steve first heard it. But it wasn’t until he was nineteen that he accepts that he’s unloveable.

But, Twenty year old Steve, completely unaware…falls in love with Eddie Munson.

——————

It’s been a month since the realization and his breakdown.

He hasn’t told anyone. It’s locked up tight in his heart, that just keeps bleeding for Eddie. He’s had two other nights freaking out over the realization.

None of the group has said anything to him about him acting weird, so he thinks he’s safe and lucky they aren’t pushing him. Not even Robin, who usually can read him like a book.

Platonic soulmates and all that. And Steve has realized, all he’s going to get in life is platonic relationships. It’s a tough pill to swallow, because he loves too much and he knows, that all anyone wants with him is never anything more than platonic or maybe, just sexual. But it’s never what he wants, which is to be loved back, loved like how he loves.

A bang breaks him from his thoughts and he flinches so hard, he drops the tape on the ground. Looking up, he finds the kids all standing around him with curiosity and annoyance on their faces.

“What?”

He’s at work, and he just started and these kids know that. So, he’s a little confused at why they’re annoyed at him already.

Dustin rolls his eyes along with the rest, “what’s wrong with you?”

He freezes and his mouth drops, because, what? “What?”

This time, Max says something, “You’ve been weird all month. Weirder than normal, Steve.”

His legs are starting to burn from his crouch, so he gets up and drags the cart around so he can look away from them, “what the fuck does that mean?”

“You’ve been acting weird since you took us all home from hellfire last month, dude.” Lucas speaks up, “did something happen with Eddie after we were gone?”

He bumps into a rack and nearly trips over his cart as he chokes at what Lucas said and that must have tipped the kids off, because next thing he knows, all of them are speaking at once and he can feel his heart pounding.

These fucking meddling teens, who can’t keep quiet or ignore things.

His mind is racing and he’s trying to think back to all month. Has he acted weird? Who else can tell? Or are the kids just overthinking things themselves?

Because there is no way he’s telling a bunch of teens his problems. Especially these teenagers, no matter how much he likes and trusts them.

Both because, he’s afraid of what they’ll think of him being in love with Eddie and if they’ll do what everyone else does in his life and that’s leave. He might’ve been protecting them for the last few years, but he’s still the odd one out.

He’s shaken out of his head by someone snapping their fingers and there’s Max standing in front of him- towering over him, actually. When did he get to the floor?

“Door’s locked now, with the sign on.” Mike says and he sees the kid stick his hands in his pants, “What’s his problem?”

Max and Dustin shake their heads and- when did they get in front of him?

“Steve, what’s going on?”

He shakes his head, he can’t and won’t say it.

They all frown, including Mike, who usually avoids him. Steve knows the younger Wheeler doesn’t like him, at least he hasn’t for a while.

“Steve, buddy, something’s wrong, we can tell” Dustin says quietly, a hand on his arm and his eyes are searching his face, “You can tell us, we’re your friends. We won’t judge you”

He lets out a shaky breath and he pulls his legs to his chest, he’s twenty years old and he’s breaking down in front of teenagers.

It’s been a month, he hasn’t spoken the words out loud. Too afraid that just saying the words will cause Eddie to know and for him to break his heart, like everyone else in his life.

He can hear banging on the windows and he feels tears go down his face, Lucas and Mike walk away and he can’t hear whoever was banging, it’s just himself with Max and Dustin now.

“Steve-“

He doesn’t know who says it, but it makes him sob. He’s twenty years old and he’s sobbing in front of fifteen year olds. All because he’s in love with someone and he knows, ok?

He knows.

Steve Harrington is only meant for friendship and nothing else. He’s only meant to be here because he’s useful. And when he’s in love with someone, they leave or they stay but break his heart by staying only within arms reach. No one will love him, like how he loves.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

He freezes and blinks back tears to see Max and Dustin with broken, sad looks. It’s then that he realizes in his breakdown, he was speaking out loud and for people to hear what his broken stupid brain and heart thinks.

“Steve, tell me you don’t believe that do you?”

He looks away from Dustin, not wanting to see the look anymore, mumbling out, “it’s true, I- I’m unlovable and I’ve tried and I know, ok?”

The store is quiet now, except for his breathing and his heart beating stupid fast. Because he said something he swore to keep to himself. Not only that but he said it to the kids, the ones that are so important to him and now it’s ruined- they know the truth.

It feels like a lifetime passes and his sobs die down enough for him to wipe his eyes and he avoids looking at the kids, “You guys can leave- I’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t exactly see them, because he’s still avoiding looking. But he can just tell Max is shaking her head and Dustin lets out a huff, “No. no you aren’t fine, Steve, you said some concerning things just now,”

“Concerning?”

Steve completely freezes at that voice and he tightens his arms as he glances up to find the one he didn’t need to be here.

There’s Eddie standing just behind Dustin and Max, Lucas and Mike next to him equally confused.

He’s staring up at Eddie with wide eyes and red puffy cheeks from the sobbing and all his words are failing him.

“I don’t think he meant to say anything out loud but it was concerning to the point where I’m not leaving him alone with his thoughts” Dustin says, “because you’re my best friend, Steve. That means I love you, even if you don’t believe it”

Shaking his head he snaps his eyes to Dustin, “That’s- you don’t get it” he hisses at him, at all of them, because they really don’t get it and he’s just so tired.

He’s so frustrated with himself.

“Then explain it! Because all of us love you, and not just because you’re useful! You’re plenty loveable, Steve.” Dustin nearly shouts at him, a glare on his face.

Glaring back, his jaw clenched, he wonders for just a moment about what to say.

“Everyone I’ve ever loved, fucking left me.” He snaps back, feeling too heavy. Ignoring everyone around him, just looking at Dustin, the only one who actually wanted his help. His first real friend, and he’s going to ruin it. He knows it and he’s already planning on doing the running this time, “I tried, ok? I tried so fucking hard to not fall in love this time. I didn’t want to and I realized I was already in love with them. But I can’t, ok? Because they’re going to leave. My heart is too weak and bleeding, Dustin.”

He gets up on his shaky legs and turns away from them, “I’m unlovable and everyone leaves. My parents, Nancy tore my heart apart and Robin gently put me down, but it still hurt. So, I’m not letting myself get broken this time. I don’t want to ruin a perfectly happy friendship over my stupidity”

Without making it obvious, he quickly and clearly looks towards Eddie before making his way to the back room. He might’ve sobbed in front of Dustin and Max, but he doesn’t want to break down further.

He’ll do that by himself, much like the other times. Steve is meant to be alone, anyway.

Jolting awake, he looks around and finds himself still in the back room of Family Video.

His head is pounding and he falls back on the chair, glancing at the clock, it glaring at him saying it’s well past closing.

“Well, good morning”

Eyes nearly popping out of his head, he jolts upright and finds Eddie sitting across from him.

“What-what are you doing here?”

Eddie shakes his head and tilts his head to the side, “do you want me to lie or to tell you the truth?”

Confused, he opens his mouth and closes it before just nodding. Speechless.

Eddie drops his legs onto the floor and looks at him with a smile, “well, the lie would be that my van got stolen and you’re my ride now. The truth? I’m concerned and forced my way in here, locking the kids out and bribed them to get out of here. That was” he looked down at his watch, “three hours ago, gotta say, Steve. Having two breakdowns in thirty minutes is a lot, I’m surprised”

He snorts, without thinking. His brain slow from the headache. His heart, though, is beating like crazy.

“Yeah, well, I just ruined one of the only good things in my life. So,” he shrugged before looking at the ground, “but I’ll be fine. You can go-“

Eddie let’s out a ‘tsk tsk’ and stands up, just to sit next to him, a hand on his shoulder to hold him in place.

“Now, Stevie. You don’t get it, clearly.” Eddie starts, “Dustin filled me in on what you said, and he’s right, it’s very concerning. Clearly your parents fucked your head up and Nancy really did tear your heart apart for you to believe you’re unloveable.”

Shaking his head, he looks away from Eddie. Hoping his heart is only loud to himself, “Eddie, I- I don’t need-“

“Don’t need what? Someone to help you realize your brain is fucking stupid? Don’t need me here to listen to you?” Eddie takes his hand off his shoulder, “come on Steve, let me help”

Steve doesn’t know what to say, his heart is beating at an alarming rate and his head is screaming at him to stay quiet. The nasty voice in the back of his head whispering that it’s all a trick, that Eddie will leave him immediately.

But, maybe?

Maybe he can be like Eddie, brave and unapologetically himself. Not afraid to show his feelings.

Though, he doesn’t think he can handle being told again that the person he’s in love with isn’t and can’t be in love with him. This, this time will break him. He can’t be around all this rejection.

“Hey, Stevie, come back to me. Get out of your head.” Eddie whispers to him and oh so gently places his hand on his face and forces eye contact, “there you are”

He chokes on a sob and his eyes well back up, “I love you” he whispers it, hoping and praying that maybe this is a fucked up dream. Closing his eyes, “I’m in love with you and, and I can’t help it, I’m sorry”

There, it’s been a month and he said the words not only out loud but in front of Eddie.

Eddie who’s silent and Eddie’s hand hasn’t left his face. Steve doesn’t know what this means, his tears falling down his face and his heart is impossibly fast and the nasty voice in his head is laughing a bitter sound.

This is why he should leave, he needs to leave, needs to-

“Steve, look at me” Eddie’s voice doesn’t sound angry, the hand pushing his face back towards him but he has his eyes shut tight, “Steve, please”

He’s a weak, weak man.

Opening his eyes, he finds Eddie’s face is red and tears in his eyes but there’s a smile on his face. “Why are you sorry?” He whispers it, and Steve doesn’t know what it means.

“I-“ he starts and he shuts his mouth, trying to find the words. “Didn’t mean to?”

That startles a laugh out of Eddie, he shakes his head and moves his other hand to Steve’s face, nearly squashing his face. And, well, Eddie’s laugh is something that always makes him smile.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie starts and loosens the grip on his face, “I’m not at all sorry to say, that I’m in love with you.”

——

We’re gonna end it there! This was completely based around the song “Charlie Be Quiet!” By Charlie Puth. You listen to the song and tell me it doesn’t sound like a thought process from Steve. The ending is open so you can imagine Eddie pulling Steve for a kiss after. But it’s also open for myself if I decide to add more to it.

The middle part with little-Steve was rough. I didn’t know how I wanted to write it without it being a repeat of fics I’ve read. Also it’s hard to write about a 10yr old’s thought process when I haven’t been that age for 17 years now 😅 but I kinda figured a 10yr old would remember something better than a kid even younger.

#steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington fic #Eddie Munson fic #don’t ask me about the timeline idk #angst #angst with a tiny bit of happiness #be thankful I didn’t go the other way and make Eddie take off 🥲 it came to mind #nburkhardt writes

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timetoletmyimaginationfly · 6 months

Text

Welcome And Goodbye

Nanami Kento x Reader

(Song: welcome and goodbye by Dream, Ivory)

It’s been three years. Three years since he returned back to Jujutsu High.

Three years without you.

You both had the same mindset after the death of Haibara when you were in your first year as students. Having to risk your life as a jujutsu sorcerer felt too much of a burden, especially for you. You two didn’t realize it until later; how much of an impact Haibara made into your lives until the break up. He was the reason that you and Nanami became a couple for six years. The reason why you two left behind the life of a sorcerer. However, once Nanami returned, his death became the reason of the break up.

Nanami arrived home late again. He hated staying out late for work. It was seldom, but he knew you were going to worry yourself out. He stopped at Jujutsu High after his mission for Shoko to heal his injury.

He found his dinner on the table, wrapped up for him to eat when he arrived home. He looked at the counter filled with papers, textbooks, and your laptop. Guilt crept in him. Quietly, Nanami walked inside the shared bedroom. He found you curled up in a ball, fast asleep. The closer he walked to you, the more he saw the tears that stained your cheeks. He hated it. Especially because he was gone so late, he knew you cried so much with worry.

When he sat down, you felt the bed dip and woke up. You jumped up and wrapped your arms around him. You couldn’t help but cry. You couldn’t help but worry about the possibility of death happening to him. However, you knew the consequences when he decided to return.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly and kissed your forehead.

“I’m just glad you’re home safe.”

He remembered that week all too well. Three years later, it plays over and over in his mind. He remembered you two sitting on the couch, wanting to talk about the relationship and his job. He remembered the tears that you tried to hold but failed to. He remembered you mutually agreeing about breaking up. He remembered it all, detail to detail. The broken look on your face, what you wore, how your hair was. He remembered packing his things. The last time you two made love and kissed before he left to stay with Gojo until he found himself his own place.

He wonders everyday if you were doing okay. But he knows that you are. You still lived in the same apartment. You worked overnights at the hospital. You still attend the same school and you’re at your last year of it. He knows the café you visit frequently because he saw you a year later when he needed something to eat. So every now and then, he goes there to pay for your coffee and snack before you got there.

“I don’t see why you can’t go up to her and just say hi,” Gojo said. Nanami sighed, turning the page of his newspaper.

“She has her new and better life,” Nanami answered. “Besides, as long as I know that she’s okay, that’s all that matters.”

“But you won’t know unless you ask. She’s good at putting up a mask. And you know it. You just read her well.” Nanami was silent. Sometimes, Gojo does have a point.

“Do you talk to her?” he asked curiously.

“Of course! You know, I had her meet my students. She gives them great insight.” Gojo’s smile was wide. Nanami was surprised. He didn’t think you would keep in contact with anyone. But, Gojo was the one who kept tabs on you for him during the recent stage of the break up. It only made sense that you and Gojo would talk to each other now and then.

Nanami made it to the café again. He paid for your future order and sat in the corner, drinking his own cup of tea as he read the newspaper.

He found you walking inside. He enjoys the surprise look on your face when you found your order paid and ready to go again. He couldn’t help but smile to himself. You sat at the opposite side of the café where the windows were. You always love being by the sunlight. You were typing continuously. He could assume that you were typing a paper. Nanami thought of ways to approach you, but stopped himself every time.

The next time he looked up, he found a man sitting down in front of you. His heart sank. You smiled widely at him and laughed at whatever he said. He wanted to leave. He wanted you to be happy, but he didn’t want to see it with another man.

“Hello?” you said, answering a sudden phone call. “Satoru?” The name coming out of your mouth made his ears perk. He couldn’t help but look up just a bit. “I might be a bit late. Later.” He couldn't help but wonder when you called Gojo by his first name, too. Panic settled within him.

You stood up and packed your things, and told the guy that you’re heading out. Nanami watched the man lending you his sweater but you politely declined. The man was persistent and Nanami smiled as you continued to reject the offer. He could safely assume that you weren’t interested.

As you left, Nanami stood up. He folded the newspaper and threw his empty cup in the garbage. He left the café, deciding to go home and not continue to see you what you were going to do with Gojo.

“Hey there, stranger.” The sound of your voice surprised him. He slowly turned around and found you hugging yourself warm and giving him a shy smile. “It’s been a while.”

“Y-Yeah. How did you—“

“It’s not everyday that a tall man with blonde hair comes in the café. You’re not hard to miss, especially with that tie of yours,” you said with a small laugh. Nanami couldn’t help but smile back. There you were, finally in front of him three years later.

“I…I um…” You were the only one who could get him flustered like this. It still amuses him to this day.

“Thank you. For the coffee and snacks,” you said.

“How did you know?”

“I only realized it a few months ago. I noticed you the day it was paid for. I…I didn’t know how to approach you.”

He called out your name. His voice was soft and gentle. Your heart fluttered at the sound of his voice. It was music to your ears. You had to stop yourself from touching him, from holding his hand. You were dying for his touch and kisses. Everyday for the past three years.

You thought about him every day. You were heart broken that day. Nanami Kento wasn’t just your lover but also your best friend. He knew you inside and out. He knew you more than you knew yourself. But after your talk with him three years ago, the worry was too much where you agreed to end the relationship while he didn’t want you to worry. And you regretted it ever since. Because no matter how happy everyone sees that you were, deep down you still weren’t.

Nanami watched you shiver again. Swiftly, he took his suit jacket off and placed it around your shoulders. You felt weak from his smell. You missed him too much.

“You should hurry. Gojo-san is waiting,” he said sadly and quietly.

“Satoru can wait,” you said. He watched the tears form and he watched you hold them in. “You seem to be doing great though. Kicking ass I bet.”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” he replied softly.

“Kento, I—-“ You blushed, you haven’t really said his name in a while too. It felt foreign but it also felt so right. You lost your train of thought. Nanami usually has that effect on you.

“Do you have time then? I-I really missed you and…”

“Follow me.” And so he did. Nanami followed you for a few blocks. He realized that you were leading him to your place. “Want some tea?”

“Please.”

It was the same as it was, except there were no pictures of the two of you around the apartment. The couch was new and even the table yet the layout and arrangement never changed. He went in the kitchen with you. He sat at the high chair at the counter, watching you heat up water in the kettle.

“The truth is, I’ve been training with Satoru for the past two years,” you confessed. “I told him not tell you because I wasn’t ready to see you just yet.” Nanami’s eyes widened.

“So…a-are you coming back?” he asked.

“Somewhat? Not completely,” she answered.

“What made you change your mind?” You knew that he wanted to protect the younger sorcerers. You couldn't say no to him for that reason. Strangely, you missed the action. You missed helping people in need. It was why you decided to go into the healthcare field but sometimes, it just wasn't the same.

“I miss helping people,” you answered. “But I also miss the action. That was fun.”

“What about school? You worked hard.”

“I’ll still do it,” you said. “I still don’t want to be a sorcerer forever.” Nanami nodded. He understood. It was the same for him.

“Itadori-kun has a lot of potential,” Nanami said. You nodded.

“A lot of growth is needed for him. But Satoru has promising students."

“So, you train and partake in missions?”

“No missions. Just training and teaching whenever I can.”

“I never noticed you.”

“I haven’t either.”

It was quiet again for the two of you. You went back and turned the stove off. You poured hot water in two tea cups and gave each other black tea bags. Nanami quietly thanked you and blew at the hot liquids.

You texted Gojo. You were going to cancel the training session. All he did was text you good luck. You feel like you know Gojo well enough that he knows that you’re with Nanami.

You vented to Gojo a lot. And he’ll tell you the same thing every time. To go and talk to him. You had it all planned out today. But the moment you stood in front of him, everything you planned for was gone. So for a while, the two of you drank your tea with content silence until it was prolonged and awkward. Nanami looked at the time and stood up from his seat.

“I should head back,” he said. You looked at the time. It was already eight. And you knew Nanami. It was almost time for him to get ready for bed.

“R-Right,” you said, disappointment evident in your voice and it didn’t go unnoticed by him. He slowly got ready to go. By the time he was at the door, the two of you two remained silent. Both of you wanting to tell each other to stay.

“I’ll see you around,” he said and turned around. He immediately felt you grab his wrist. He turned around and the moment he saw your tears, he pulled you into his arms.

“I missed you too, Kento,” you said, replying to his statement from the café. “I missed you so much. I regret it. I never should’ve left. I should’ve tried harder and—“ His grip on you tightened.

“I never should’ve brought it up,” he said. “I never…I should’ve…fuck. I missed you so much.”

The two of you remained like that for a while, with you in his arms and his face buried in the crook of your neck. When he pulled away to look at you, he cupped your face and used his thumbs to wipe your tears away. You couldn’t help but smile from his comfort. Nanami smiled back and rested his forehead on yours. You two took in the comfort that was missed for the past few years.

“I never stopped loving you,” he confessed.

“I love you too, Kento. So, so much.”

He captured your lips. He closed the door and lifted you up. You wrapped your arms around his neck and legs around his waist. Nanami carried you to your bedroom. Gently, he laid you down, lips still glued to each other. He gently bit your lower lip and caressed the side of your body. You softly moaned at his touch. You loosened his tie and unbuttoned shirt. Nanami was the first to pull away. He admired your flushed and breathless look. He smiled softly and gave you soft kisses all over your face.

“Have you ever…was there ever anyone else?” he asked curiously. You shook your head.

“Just you Kento. How about you?” Your answer made his smile wider. He captured your lips again before replying the same answer you gave him. And the two of you stayed up together, catching up on the three years missing each other.

The sunlight shining through the thin curtains stirred you awake. Memories of last night flooded your mind and you blushed as you turned around. Next to you was Nanami. You smiled, missing his serene and sleepy face in the mornings. You couldn’t help but softly brush his hair back. Nanami smiled and slowly opened his eyes.

“Good morning, darling,” he greeted, voice hoarse and tired.

“Good morning.”

“Come here.” He opened his arms and you eagerly went to him. Nanami gave you soft kisses on your shoulders, up to your neck, then to your lips. You shuddered and sighed in content. “After last night, I'm not leaving you ever again."

“I wouldn’t let you,” you said.

“Do you have class?” he asked curiously. You nodded and told him that it started in a couple of hours. “I’ll drive you. Go get ready then we could go to my place and I can do the same.” You got up out of bed and walked to your closet. You pulled out clothes, but what surprised him were also clothes that he left at your place.

“They were in the laundry. I couldn't throw them away,” you said. “We can spend more time together before we go now.” Nanami got up and hugged you.

Students couldn’t help but stare at the two of you, especially at Nanami. Nanami carried your bag and held your hand. You guided him to the building, excitedly telling him about your semesters in school.

“What are your plans for today?” he asked.

“This is my only lecture, but I go to lab and practice skills for about an hour. Then the library to study. If Satoru calls me, I might train instead. I have work tonight, too.” You pouted at the idea of work. You hated working and going to school. It was tiring, especially when you train with Gojo. Now being back with Nanami, you were contemplating on calling out tonight. It has been a while.

“Call me. I might be able to pick you up," Nanami offered. “I’m going on a mission with Itadori-kun, but it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Text me when you get to the place and let me know when you’re done?”

“Of course, love.” He walked you all the way to your classroom. He gave you back your backpack and pulled his wallet out to hand you his credit card.

“Wait, Kento—“

“When you need coffee and food,” he said. “I know you need the coffee.” When you didn’t take the card, he sighed and took your hand and placed it there. “Let me take care of you again. I miss it.” You couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay,” you said happily. “I’ll see you later.”

“I love you, darling.” Nanami gave you a soft kiss.

“I love you, too.”

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wonijinjin · 8 months

Text

thinkin’ about you

author’s note: inspired by the song ‘thinkin’ about you’ by seventeen. also, this fic will probably get a second part, because i just cannot leave this on a cliffhanger without a sequel, that would be a shame

update: second part of this fic can be found here.

synopsis: you drinking a little too much and calling joshua to take you home wasn’t the best idea, or was it?

word count: 1.2k | genre: fluff, mutual pining, kinda slowburn, the tiniest bit of hurt/comfort and angst, close friends to something more | pairing: joshua x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of alcohol and being tipsy/drunk, the curse word ‘fuck’

your exam season at university was finally over, and to celebrate passing your tests you and your friends decided on going out to party at a club in the city. it was already past midnight, the party going on for several hours at that point, when you started to get really tired, having had multiple shots and cocktails, but your friends insisted on staying a bit longer. you could feel yourself get tipsier by the minute so you thought the safest option would be going home before you did something stupid or embarrassing you would regret in the morning. you took out your phone and dialed the first number that came to mind, your close friend’s, joshua’s. while waiting for him to pick up the phone your messy thoughts wondered to your long existing not so platonic feelings for him. he made your heart jump every time you thought about him, which was almost always, not just due to your feelings, but because you spent a lot of time with him on a daily basis as he was a very dear person to your heart. you have known him for as long as you can remember, and he was truly the most amazing friend you had, always being there for you, always treating you with so much care. he was like this with most of his friends, he cherished people around him and never took them for granted, you really admired him for this. you sometimes hated loving him, because it was so difficult to keep your emotions to yourself for this exact reason. who could blame you though? he was all anyone would wish for in a partner, kind, intelligent, considerate, caring.

“hello? y/n? what’s up?” he said as he picked up, voice hoarse, laced with sleep. “ah were you sleeping? sorry, should’ve known you need your beauty sleep to be this handsome.” you slurred, clearly more drunk than you thought. “were you drinking?” he questioned “are you hurt or something?” his voice sounded concerned. you laughed at this “nooo silly, i am perfectly fine, i had so much fun” there was a moment of silence before you continued “…but i need a favor, all my friends want to stay here longer, so i need a ride home. no way i’m getting into a car driven by a stranger, plus i don’t even have enough money for a taxi.” you expected him to say no, after all, it was in fact the middle of the night and he clearly had better plans on how to spend his. he sighed on the other end of the line “fine, i would much rather drive you home than letting you ask a stranger from the club to do it when you are clearly wasted as fuck.” he said while shuffling echoed in the phone, indicating that he was already getting up and changing. you knew he was right; you were not in the best shape. maybe the last margarita was a bit too much? “thank you shua baby.” the nickname slipped out on accident and if you were sober you would’ve gasped and started apologising right away, saying that he should forget about this, but you couldn’t really care less in that moment. you could hear the hitch in his breathing and the tension in his voice when he said goodbye over the phone, asking for your location and saying he would text you when he was there. you wondered; maybe drinking was a good decision, maybe getting a bit bold with words is what you needed as encouragement to tell him the secret you’ve been hiding for quite a while now, maybe you should really confess to him while you are not scared of the consequences.

20 minutes later you got the text from him and you were ready to leave. your confident march from the entrance to the car failed though when you tripped over your own feet, almost breaking half of your bones in the process. “oh my god y/n how much did you drink?” someone asked while helping in restoring your balance. you knew it was joshua right away, that voice cannot be mistaken for anybody else. “a little too much, i think?” you giggled. joshua took you to his car and opened the door for you to climb into the passenger seat. “wow thank you this is so fancy i feel like royalty.” you commented, still grinning. “well i do feel like a personal chauffeur now, coming here just to be taking your ass home. let’s go, put that leg inside so we can go, your highness.” he demanded while grabbing your leg, tired of waiting for you to clumsily get into the vehicle.

after he shut the door and got in himself to start the engine you two sat in silence for a little while before you spoke up. “i’m really sorry you have to take me home, i know i was selfish for asking, but i really didn’t have a better plan. i didn’t feel like i was this drunk when i was inside, but sitting here made me regret having the last drinks.” he looked at you at the red light. “look, i don’t mind this, really. you are one of my best friends, i would do this a hundred times if it meant you got home safely and some weirdo didn’t kidnap you or something. also, you thinking about me first when asking for help is quite flattering too you know.” he smirked. you nodded, eyes getting heavy suddenly from all that partying. “i can see you almost falling asleep. there’s a jacket on the back seat if you want it as a makeshift blanket. i will wake you when we get there. go to sleep y/n.” you didn’t bother to search for the jacket, just closed your eyes, letting sleep overtake you. “what you said is true. i do think about you a lot, shua. probably more than a close friend should.” you mumbled, already half asleep, still not sobering up enough to control and censor your thoughts before saying them out loud. “what do you mean?” his eyes went wide and he looked in your direction as if he misheard what you had said, only to see you knocked out cold, sleeping soundly like a baby. on the way to your house he couldn’t stop himself from replaying your words in his head over and over again while he checked on you from time to time to see if you were alright. he couldn’t believe what he had just heard, that you might’ve felt something more for him, something friends don’t feel, something he had been suppressing for a long time, a warm feeling in his chest. when you arrived he turned off the car, however didn’t have the heart to wake you. he knew you were exhausted, so he draped his jacket over you, and let you sleep for a bit longer, watching you rest so peacefully after shaking up his heart with your drunk monologue. he didn’t know if he should believe you, if he really had a chance of being more than friends with you after all these years. he got comfortable in his seat, facing your form, eyes looking at your still face.

“i know you are sleeping, but just so you know we will definitely have to talk about this little sentence of yours in the morning y/n. i do think about you a lot too, you know? you need to be more clear next time, because you cannot do this to me, driving me crazy and leaving me to chase false hopes.”

#wonijinjin #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #joshua #joshua x reader #svt joshua #tiny bit of angst #friends to lovers #slow burn #comfort #fluff #joshua hong #jisoo hong #seventeen

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