#so guess whos semester is starting up again
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Tying Up Loose Ends
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Okay I'm back!
(But you had hardly left!)
Whatever! Here's the next chapter and the conclusion of this
TW/CW: creepy whumper, jealous whumper, manipulative whumper (I guess?), nsfwhump (not graphically described), noncon (at the very end, not graphically described, and honestly you could end the chapter just before it happens and it would still make sense)
A rhythmic series of knocks reverberated through the door of the office at half past eleven, just as Thomas had planned. He scooted closer towards his desk and minimized the windows he had opened on his desktop PC. “Come in,” he replied.
The door cracked open. The kid –Nico, my nephew, Michael once told him–stepped hesitantly inside, shoulders to ears, brows drawn tensely. “Y-you wanted to see me, Boss?”
“I did.” He gestured to a chair in front of the desk. Nico approached it stiffly, visibly uncomfortable being so close to the Don of the Costa Family. “Oh come on, sit down, I don’t bite, you know!” he chuckled.
Nico briefly looked around the room, eyes bright and alert. “Wait, where’s Khaled?” he asked, blinking at the empty space behind the Boss’ chair.
“On a coffee run,” Thomas answered simply. He suppressed an eye roll as Nico looked down, squinting at the bottom of the desk as if he could see through it if he stared hard enough. He cleared his throat, and Nico snapped his gaze back up. “I could ask him to get you something before he leaves the café, if you’d like?”
Nico shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience him like that,” he insisted. The young man drew back the chair and took his seat across from the Don, and waited in questioning silence.
No matter how many times he had rehearsed this meeting in his head, nor how many arrangements he had to make over the past couple days to lead the boy to this point, Thomas still couldn’t help the nerves that feathered into the edges of his composure. Keep it cool, keep your tone calm, never betray how you truly feel, stay in control, a familiar voice once told him.
“So, how’s school?” An innocuous line, and as good an opener as any.
“Great, it’s been great.” Nico huffed an awkward little laugh as he hung his signature smile. “Which reminds me, thank you so much for allowing me this job in the first place, sir! I never got to thank you properly, or in person before-”
Thomas stopped him with one raised palm. “Hey, hey, that wasn’t all me. Let’s give a little credit to your Uncle Mike, too, right?” Nico conceded with another awkward laugh. “I understand it that this job helps you pay for your schooling, is that correct?”
“I mean, yeah,” Nico began to answer. “I don’t know how much college was back in your day, let alone law school-”
I never went to college, Thomas remembered, trailing off into his own thoughts as Nico kept nervously rambling. That was never really my scene. Never really had the brains for it, or the personability, according to my teachers. My brother, the Golden Child, on the other hand…
He redirected his thoughts at the right time where Nico started to complain about the most important part. “Wait, can you say that again?” he requested.
“My last tuition payment didn’t go through,” Nico repeated, an edge of desperation in his voice. “And if I don’t scrounge up enough money within the next two months, I won’t be able to afford my next semester’s worth of classes!”
Thomas gave a sympathetic expression of concern, even though he knew about this all along. After all, he was the one who delayed the payment to the college. “Is that so?” he asked with feigned interest.
The door cracked open again, though this time a familiar young intern entered. He cradled a cup of coffee in one hand and carried a takeout bag in the other. The guard whipped his head around, nearly bolting from his chair in shock. “Khaled?”
“Nico?” The boy approached, dumbfounded as he wordlessly set the spoils of his errand onto the Boss’ desk.
“You actually were out?” This time, Thomas rolled his eyes. Was it so hard to believe he used his fuck toy for honest work sometimes? (He supposed maybe yes, considering how much Nico had probably inadvertently witnessed over the past three years.)
Khaled’s well-timed entry provided a natural transition to the second half of his plan. “Speaking of which, I would like to thank you for looking out for Khaled this last weekend,” Thomas said. His boy silently took up post behind the desk, standing up straight with eyes slightly downcast, as he had trained him. “You’re a good kid for that. Most guys, they probably would’ve taken liberties, but not you.” Thomas craned his neck to look over his office chair. “Isn’t he a good kid?”
“Yes, sir,” Khaled readily agreed.
“Oh, no, please, I’d have done that for anybody! He’s my friend.” Thomas noticed how Nico cast a furtive glance at the boy behind him.
Friend, my ass. The very thought of how ‘friendly’ those two might have gotten had he not intervened that night made him seethe in possessive jealousy, though he maintained that icy façade of control.
“Of course, even if Khaled doesn’t remember it, you and I both know he was a wreck, wasn’t he?” The boy had sworn up and down and sideways that he didn’t remember what he had told his friend that night, no matter how much he’d tried to beat a confession out of him. Thomas leaned over the desk, dropping the volume of his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. Since Khaled still had no idea what he had told Nico, the next best course of action was to discredit his words entirely. “He was saying some pretty crazy things, wasn’t he? Things that you and I both know not to take too seriously?”
“Well… I don’t know” Nico began, “don’t they say ‘in vino veritas?’”
“Don’t they also say ‘God don’t pay tuition?’”
You’re being too blunt again, a familiar voice in his memory chastised. Yet he couldn’t help but smile as he saw understanding dawn on the young man’s face. “Well, go on,” he coaxed the young man standing behind him. “Tell him.”
Khaled bristled uncomfortably before hanging his head low. “He’s right,” he agreed somberly. “I may not remember what I said, but, it was probably not true. You should just forget it.”
“But, Khaled-” Nico began to protest.
“You heard him yourself, kid,” Thomas cut in. “Now, you’re gonna forget whatever it was he said when he was wasted, and just keep studying hard, alright?”
Nico attempted to make meaningful eye contact beyond the boss’ shoulder, but Thomas didn’t have to turn around to know Khaled would keep his eyes firmly fixed to the floor. The young guard let out a defeated sigh as he slumped back in the chair and offered a small, reluctant nod. “Yes, sir. Like it never even happened,” he muttered.
Check mate.
“Good boy.” Thomas leaned back in his chair, his hands folding on the top of the desk as his mouth curled into a small smirk of victory. “Now, try contacting Student Financial Services again. I have a feeling your tuition payment might’ve been resolved after all.” He waved him off with a final self-satisfied smile. “You may go.”
The kid looked green around the gills as he pushed himself up from the chair and excused himself from the room. As soon as he left, Thomas swiveled around to face the boy behind him. Khaled ventured a resentful, hopeless glare into his owner’s eyes before looking once again to the floor. “Well?” he goaded. Khaled did not rise to the bait.
Thomas pushed away from the desk, motioning to the familiar darkness underneath the hardwood like he was commanding a dog to lie. “Go on.” He took a sip of the slightly cooled coffee as he watched his intern crouch and fold himself into the space with stiff reluctance. “You know what to do, and you know how hard you need to work to get back in my good graces,” he sneered. “Now, put that tongue of yours to a better use.” He pushed himself back in and trapped the young man underneath the desk.
Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344
#whump writing#creepy whumper#jealous whumper#manipulative whumper#nsfwhump#tw implied noncon#not graphically described but its there
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Don't you have anything better to do?
Just let them go.
(Yes its based off that pic from Veil)
#okay sansnomaly rant time.#ITS ABOUT. THE YEARNING.#one of the main themes of undertale is letting go#toriel lets go of her stubborness. letting you go and giving asgore mercy#asgore letting go of his anger#flowey/asriel accepting that chara is gone#chara refusing to let go of hating humanity... to the point of destroying themselves to take em down#and of course#us.#if we cant let go then neither can they. but thats tough. to let em go#we have that “perverted sentimentality”.#as mr alex hirsch says#“the first hardest challenge is to convince people to fall in love with your work"#“second hardest challenge is to create a finale because youre trying to break up with the people who just fell in love with you”#okay personal time#so guess whos semester is starting up again#so high chance i cant post as much as usual HAHAHHA oof#med school is gonna be a toughie ; w ;#ill try to interact but i probably cant draw as much anymore... enjoy this extremely rushed drawing... maybe ill clean it up one day#the brainrot is still strong though#thank you sansnomaly#keep trucking on everyone#sansnomaly#sans x self insert#sans x reader#junie art post
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#tfw ur life has been so busy that u forgot that with a new school u have a new email to keep track of#and u forgot to hook it up to ur outlook so now u open it up and see emails from abt a month ago#telling u to do TA orientation stuff. uuuuuh oops#so i guess i have some bullshit to figure out tomorrow. also i should finalize my class sign up staff#stuff* bc when i was doing yhat my brain was on fire. also i should email my new boss. oh god. why didnt i check that email????#i dont even kno if im supposed to b a TA this semester??? i should just email the guy but also i dont wanna roll up like yo#im already damaged goods bc ive suffered a whole year in a state of burnout. also i fucked up my sign up process by not paying attention#but uh hi hello nice to meed u again for the 2nd time in my life. this is definitely not a bad omen for things to come#ugh. why have i done this to myself? i cant even call to try to fix anything until Monday. fuck.#but i mean. i cant b thr only one who's ever done this. so maybe itll b fine? hopefully?#but i wouldn't have this problem if id just fucking looked at my fucking email in the 1st place#i can already feel it. this is where the overlap starts. the overlap between my old lab and my new lab#will it tear me into pieces? perhaps. i have to shift into go mode. i cant b a sad sack anymore#ugh. im usually really good at being on top of stuff like this bc im such an anxious freak but here we r...#unrelated
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having social anxiety at the ripe old age of 24 is actually so embarrassing 😭😭😭
#we had a break in class today and some of the people went to smoke which they always do#and i went to the bathroom first but then was also gonna go have a ciggie and i saw them standing outside and i was conflicted if i should#go join them or go outside on the other side of the building#and guess what i ended up doing…..#i went to the other side and sat alone like a loser#anyways then when i went in again they also came in and a girl complimented my outfit#and said she has the same leg warmers as me and we talked about how they can’t stay up#and she gave me the tip to put a hair elastic at the top so they stay up better#and anyways i felt so silly for not being able to just go up to these people who i’ve been in the same class as for 3 semesters now 👹#but anyways it’s also embarrassing bc i only started smoking recently and no one irl knows it#and i’ve never smokes in front of anyone so i’m scared i’m gonna look stupid hahahagga#and anyways this is the last week of classes and after this semester i won’t see these people again bc they’re japanese majors while it’s#just a minor for me#so it also feels unecessary to try and befriend anyone in this class now
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as an underclassman early morning classes and boring classes were what i detested and feared most of all. now it’s difficult classes and evening classes. my evening class last semester actively made me want to become the joker with how disruptive it was to my schedule. i sure would have never wanted to switch into a 9am yawnnnn history lecture class but at this point that sounds like a dream compared to all the tons of active work outside of class with every single professor trying to scare us to death on the first day. i would rather wake up early every day than suffer the hell that i’m currently slated for. last semester brutalized me so badly it’s not even funny i can’t do the same workload again yet worse i need a relative mental break. i do not have that dog in me. i will be going to my advisor screaming and crying tomorrow asking her to make some changes
#like i will take almost anything i can get into at this point#if it fits into my schedule contributes to my actual credit requirements and does not actively make me upset#sounds perfect#and like i am a night owl. it is known i am a night owl#but i can suffer the pain of waking up early for the greater good#i cannot suffer the pain of multiple classes at once in which the professor acts like we don’t have other work to do#like genuinely the workload hasn’t even started yet this semester we’ve had one day of each class so far#and i am like already in absolute dread and depression. just from how they’re making me feel right off the bat#i need out#i need to fix this i thought it would be ok back in november but i don’t know if the pain of last semester really sunk in until afterwards#during winter break i was like oh yay break :]#now that i’m back at school i’m like Huh. so there’s something i never actually recovered from i guess#like now that i’m here i’m like you’re telling me .. i have to do it again. even worse.#and like i was off for 3.5 weeks. but now i understand no amount of time would have ever been enough to prepare me for this#i don’t care if it means i have more work later i’m ahead on credits#this course i wanna drop isn’t strictly required anyway so like.#why kill myself. especially now of all times#sounds like a problem for a future me who isn’t having a mental episode#peach rambles
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#ahahah hey guys guess who actually decided to express my frustration w this assignment and also how I’m struggling this semester to my dad#and worked myself up again (bc dad is nottt a comforter he’s so bad at it and I knew this)#i am now calmed again but hm. starting to get the vibe that I am having emotional problems 👍 I have cried more this year or well since#this summer than I can remember in like years#affirmations I’m gonna get through this I will submit what I have tomorrow night and next time alert my literal combination teacher and#advisor if this class is still a dumpster fire for me#no tags just venting#also if sif happens to see this I did see ur reply on my last vent and I am doing a little better now at reaching out to ppl for stuff#not rly teachers besides getting the extension on this one thing but yeah
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Soo thankful my ra is great this year and has both common sense and critical thinking. Genuinely one of my favorite people in college
#i have to unfortunately deal with housing things all I want is to be terminally online again but nooo I got stuff to deal with#my roommate recorded our conversation the other night without my permission which is unfortunately legal in this state#however quite frankly it’s probably better for me that she did bc i handled her meltdown rather well#and god knows she loves to lie. she’s been asked by 2 RAs now for the recording she took#and so far hasn’t given it. so either she lied (shocker) and didn’t actually record it or she knows it makes her look really bad#also fun fact! she had a friend on the phone and I think they were the one recording it. if they were that isn’t legal which I mean#housing wants to kick her out so bad that’d be the final straw#but she decided to demand a roommate agreement change which I’ll happily oblige to so I get to do that at some point#honestly?? girl is digging herself in a hole. p sure her goal was to scare me into just not making sound so we wouldn’t need a meeting?#but like. we gotta meet with the housing coordinator which is great bc they know who she is and how she is#i really don’t think she expected me to go out of my way to get a meeting set up. also?? she gets mad when I’m up til like 2 or later#last night she was up til 7am. I guess only she’s allowed to be a hypocrite lol#objectively all the drama she tries to start should either really anger me or worry me or something at least#nah. this is pretty funny. her entitledness and drama is digging her so far into a hole she’s transferring next semester#and the best part is everyone in housing knows her. can’t stand her shit. i was talking to a friend in class and she tells her friend#her friends like oh who is she? i tell her. she goes oh that explains it. and I’m like oh u know her? and she goes. I’m an ra. i know her#like girl!! if you’re so universally hated why do u keep this up???#like girl will call the ra on call for any minor inconvenience at all#she hasn’t since finding out calls r logged tho lol which is like oh man! u r self aware!#i have no tolerance for bs and man bestie is made of it#cannot wait for this meeting genuinely excited. bc she’s gonna make up stuff that I can easily defend myself. and then she’s gonna#essentially make demands that I can’t make noise after a certain time. and say if anyone agrees it’s discrimination over sensory issues#she’s already said that fun fact. i have sensory issues too. they have equal importance in this agreement#but like. it has to be a fair agreement. and I’m not required to sign another contract#so really she’s going into this meeting to be a problem and she’s gonna crash and burn. it’ll be a firework show#soup talks#watching bestie experience karma in real time
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#so after an ugly debate and fight and some really harmful words...#my mother now wants to help me get my life back together by helping me clean my room and idk but I feel like a stupid little child again &#I hate it... I mean it's nice that she wants to help I guess but also I really don't want her help me clean my room because... Privacy who?#she really doesn't have to see everything that's in my room (I mean yk? doesn't even have to be anything embarrassing or private#it's just like a general thing that I don't want her to see everything in my room...)#and then my parents want to force me to throw away basically everything I kept from my childhood which is also amazing...#oh and they'll force me to study chemistry once I'm done with my room and I hate it here...#and also to get up early even if I'm still on semester break...#which is fun...that probably means I won't get to write anymore at all and I don't want that because I have so many ideas but I won't#be able to write shit once uni starts again soo...only time I have are the two weeks I have left before that happens and now they wanna#take it from me#🥺#I don't like this... ;-;#personal
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all chemistry classes DIE. like NOW.....i am done joking
#i know god gives his toughest battles to his silliest girls but idk how longer i can gaslight girlboss gatekeep in these conditions#guess who just failed that fucking class with the exact same grade as the last exam....TAKE A WILD GUESS#i have two classes holding me back AND THEY'RE BOTH FUCKING CHEMISTRY#and i have NOOOOO idea how tf i'm supposed to pass one of them#and NOW i have to wait until february to retake it and possibly retake the lab part AGAIN for the 3rd fucking time (i didnt have to this yea#and it's the first day of my period so yeah i'm pissed#and i gave up my apartment bc i didn't have enough classes to warrant what i was paying#and NOW if i have 1 class in the 2nd semester let alone TWO bc that ochem bastrad#*bastard prob won't let me take it in the 2nd semester if i flop the 1st bc his criteria for retaking the class are RIDICULOUS#so i have to stay there the entire week bc the classes start in the morning until late afternoon past the last train....like ok bitch if u#like they had to open the class in the 2nd semester bc the fail rate was like 90%#insist on failing me pay me the 200/week i have to spend so i don't sleep on the street....#and STILL he barely let's anyone who failed it go to the 2nd semester and only picks the ones who were closest like#what's the fucking point of that??? i s2g i'm *this* close to going full fucking joker and now my day is ruined#i know they think i'm scrooge mcduck with so much money idk what to do with it to keep paying full tuition for their 2 classes alone#but i'm really not and i'm just really fucking tired and demoralized tqfh#wow anna said something#anna's shitposts#delete l8r#txt#i have to stay in the hotel now and it'll be veryyy expensive on the 2nd semester bc classes are on tuesday and thursday
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Today was a bit of a rough day, but the most important part is that it is over & it’s time to move on
#text#I….think that I do need to start talking to someone again because I think the imposter syndrome’s coming back………#I…did not like admitting to the slp that I’m still not quite comfortable w/ doing artic Tx yet#even though I’ve already taken the grad artic + phono disorders course#it was…hard to focus and keep track of things in that class since I had my Tx session w/ my client an hr beforehand#and I just…rlly struggled w/ her &…had a hard time disengaging from my sessions w/ her & moving on after#I think because of that exp I’m still feeling uncertain abt my footing as a clinician#I honestly feel like I didn’t get to do much w/ this poor woman#it wasn’t her fault in the slightest—the nature of her stroke was just so severe that she doesn’t have the energy for much anymore#and I saw her much later in the afternoon…so it wasn’t her fault but it was an unfortunate situation for everyone involved#it’s hard to build rapport/connection w/ someone who doesn’t have the energy to recognize herself in photos#so yeah….I was not able to actually work on her goals most of the time…especially as the semester progressed#so it was hard to feel like the expert in the room when nothing I suggested was working#& she was actively getting worse despite not actually having a progressive disease/disorder per se#so yeah…it was hard to not internalize that#anyway I feel like that’s part of why I kinda got frustrated at myself quickly today#& also this job…I feel the expectations are a bit vague since it’s up to the SLP to decide what sort of help they need#I have to remember this was only my second time seeing this slp..but I did try to ask abt what those expectations are#& how I should be helping her so she did talk more abt that at least#but idk…I guess I’ll also ask the coordinator if theres more expectations for grad students to be more hands on…?#it’s weird cause we’re almost doing the same things as SLPA’s….without the license#cause you do need to be licensed as a slpa & get 100hrs in take tjhe exam etc#so….moral of the story is I need to make appointments and ask more questions…#it is a lot to work even just part time hrs while in grad school but I need the money…#but yeah I definitely need to talk to someone abt this#anyway
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"is there any chance i can fix this?" where james and reader are best friends since birth but he begins to pull away and spend less time with her in favor of the boys, so she just cuts him out of her life and after a while he doesn't know how to deal with it anymore. hiiiii
sad beautiful tragic
james potter x fem reader (angst)
a/n: sorry about any grammar mistakes, english isn’t my first language (also i’m pretty bad at writing angst but i tried my best) also immediately thought of the title because of the taylor swift song, so hope you don’t mind the association. also the first kiss part came to my mind because of a tiktok i saw a few weeks ago but i don’t really remember who’s it was to credit them
warnings: friendship distancing, kissing, fighting, cursing, a bit short (sorry), happy ending
“i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry, honey, please. is there any chance i can fix this? just tell me, please”
you knew james potter and he knew you. knowing meaning comprehending each other, meaning that you stood by each others side for as long as you can remember.
he was your first friend. he was your neighbor and you both grew up together, it was expected that you both would know each other better than anyone.
sure, it felt different when you both started hogwarts and suddenly he had new friends, but so did you. you spent the time you could together, always saving a bit of your days for each other.
during the sixth to seventh year summer vacation, he had spent the whole summer with you, you both would hang out all the time.
until he kissed you.
it was the last day of summer and you both had spent the evening in his room. you were talking about a book you had been reading recently and he listened quietly, like it was the most interesting thing he had ever heard of. until you paused for a brief moment and he moved closer to you. you were sat on the floor with him, the carpet tickling your legs as you played with the fluffy yarn under you.
“honey” he said, you looked at him, doe eyed waiting for him to continue. “a phrase. two words, six letters, two vowels. guess.” he said lowly whilst looking at your lips. your mind went blank.
one vowel for each word. you still didn’t get it.
“what are the vowels?” you whisper back, he smiles.
“i and e” he answers, not taking his eyes from off of you for a second. you knew.
“kiss me?” and so he did. his lips met yours abruptly, his hands grabbed your hips and yours went straight to the back of his neck. it completely changed the way you ever saw him, hell, it completely changed your expectations to a kiss. it was better than anything you’d ever experienced and you loved it.
when you got back to school, it seemed like he didn’t do that, actually, it seemed like he didn’t even talk to you the whole summer.
sure, he did casually say hello in the halls and you might’ve shared one or two conversations, but what the hell? he kisses you like that and expects you to just forget about it? that was the most fucked up thing anyone could’ve done. as the semester went on, your mind was absolutely torturing you over that kiss.
it made you overthink every single thing you ever did around him. but maybe he didn't have time, maybe he was really busy with his studies and quidditch, right? that was probably it.
he saw you every once in a while, said an awkward hi or whatever that thing signaling head thing he did was.
the crush you had developed for him didn’t help at all. it made you crave his presence in your life, even now that you hated him more than you ever thought you possibly could. you missed his pet names for you, ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’ sounded so amazing coming out of his mouth.
but from the moment he started to ignore you, you decided he was absolutely done. he was never going to see a smile coming from you ever again, he was never going to get another hello, nothing. james potter didn’t deserve a single thing from you.
your friends agreed. they thought he was a piece of shit and said you should’ve cut him off a long time before.
life went on without him, you barely thought about him. your studies were going well, everything was great.
christmas break came up and when you saw james at the train station, you were pissed. you knew he was going to be there for christmas dinner, he was always invited alongside with his family. you didn’t know how he was going to act then, was he going to pretend it never happened?
when you got home, your mother instantly started asking you what you wanted for dinner and you were glad to be home, you just hated that he was in the house next to yours.
a few nights after you both got home, you were invited for a date by steven, who worked at a bookstore near the city park. you said yes, he took you to see a shitty movie and tried to kiss you after dropping you off at your front porch. you dodged it and gave him a good night kiss on the cheek. james saw it all.
once the date left, you heard him yelling from his porch:
“who’s that?” you ignored him and went inside, sure, you weren’t going to see steven again but james didn’t deserve to know that.
on christmas day you went to the potter’s for dinner, your parents insisted for you to go, even though you tried to fake being sick. sirius was there too, you politely greeted all of them them and didn’t bother to answer james’ “hey”.
when you sad at the side of the living room table james sat next to you, even though that wasn’t his usual seat. you played with your dress awkwardly and ate less, being there was making you so irritated you lost your appetite.
after taking a bite from your desert, you thanked euphemia for the food and told your parents you were feeling a bit sick and that you were heading home, telling them to enjoy the rest of their night.
as you were opening the door to head out, you heard footsteps behind you. you knew james was there and you had no interest to talk with him.
“don’t” you simply stated, stepping out and shutting the door lightly on him, he followed you during the small walk between both your houses.
“hey!” he shouted, trying to get your attention. you were about to shut the door to your house on his face, but he held it with his foot, going into your house.
he pulled you by your wrist but you tugged it away from him.
“don’t touch me!” you shouted at him, staring into his eyes for the first time that night.
“now you can talk to me, huh? ‘the fucks up with you?!” he shouts back, brows furrowed. you couldn’t believe him, what a fucking nerve he had.
“whats up with YOU?!” you step closer to him, throwing your keys on the coffee table in the middle of the living room. “you’ve ignored me for the whole semester and now you wanna talk?” he had never seen you like this. you had never been this angry at anyone or anything around him.
“i’m sorry?” he had no reaction, he knew he was wrong, he just couldn’t deal with it. with anything. he didn’t know what to do after he kissed you, he couldn’t handle any of it. he knew that if he spent more time around you he would fall harder, he couldn’t risk it.
“i’m sorry! now that you don’t have anyone else near for you to talk to i’m worthy of your attention? i’m so lucky, right?!” your eyes started to tear up, but you held it in, he was not getting to see you cry.
“honey, i’m sorry i didn’t talk much with you these past few months, but i tried to speak with you tonight and you didn’t even bother to answer me!” he ran his hand through his hair, looking at you as you sat down on the couch, staring at your hands.
“you didnt even look at me. the entire fucking night. one lousy ‘hey’ is not trying to do anything” he handed you a piece of paper, it was crumpled up in his jeans’ pocket. you knew he was bad with words, but the paper was written front and back. what was he even trying to do? did he think a letter was enough to fix the damage he had done?
“really? you’re a little too late for this, don’t you think?” you said, looking at him angrily.
“fine, don’t read it then. just keep it, okay?” he knew you were about to cry. it was the worst feeling he had ever felt.
“you don’t get to do this to me, james” you hold back tears once you say it.
“i know, honey, i know” he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, cupping your face as you try to not melt because of his touch. he kisses you, but this time you pull away.
“no. don’t do this to me” you say, a single tear streaming down your face, he wipes it off but more tears just keep coming
“im sorry, im so sorry for everything i did and-“ you interrupt him.
“could you just try to listen?!” you shout, pulling away from his touch again. “what makes you think that i want this? after all you did, better, all that you didn’t do?! you kiss me and expect me to forget about it? expect me to be okay with you ignoring me all the time just because you kissed me again? i can’t be okay with any of this unless you actually explain to me what happened. i really try to understand you, but all of this doesn’t help!”
“i love you” he says “i have loved you all my life and i didn’t know, after i kissed you it all hit me and i couldn’t trust myself around you anymore, i didn’t want to hurt you so i pulled away, i just didn’t know it would hurt you more like that. i’m sorry, but im here now and i want to show you how much I do love you” he pauses and sits next to you on the couch.
“i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry, honey, please. is there any chance i can fix this? just tell me, please” he wipes the tears from off your face again. you knew he meant it, you just didn’t know how to trust him again.
“i don’t know” you whisper, looking into his eyes, you had never seen him look this sad. you wanted to trust him, you really did, but how could you? how could you know he wasn’t going to pull something like that again?
you couldn’t be sure of anything, you could only hope for the best and be careful. so you gave it a shot.
“come here” you say lowly, pulling him in for a hug. he buried his face in the crook of your neck and gave you small kisses.
“i’m so sorry, baby” he whispered.
“i know” you whisper back, he looks at you and gives you quick kisses all over your face. you can’t help but smile.
it was going to take a while for you to trust him again, but you knew you could.
#james potter x reader#james potter fic#james potter#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter angst#james potter oneshot#james potter imagine#james potter fanfiction#mrsaluado#lila writes#silencesscreams
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I've had a realisation,
So, we all like to dunk on Akechi for having a stupid plan- which, well, yeah; but I think that a lot of people (whether they like Akechi's character or not) tend to miss the point:
That being, that the holes we all poke in his plan; "Why didn't he just kill Shido at the start?" "There's no way he'd live/be free after that," "His plan to ruin Shido's reputation would never work," are actually far more revealing as to Akechi's priorities, than they are of him just being 'stupid'.
For starters, "there's no way he'd live/be free after that." -as a fandom I think we've all already come to the conclusion that Akechi's regard for his own life is spotty at best. I wouldn't necessarily say that he wants to die by the time of the third semester, which really just adds to the tragedy of the whole situation, but I digress. Point is, the kid needs therapy, moving on.
"His plan to ruin Shido's reputation would never work," Ah, now this is where I think some cultural differences start to come in to play- I won't say much, since I'm relatively uninformed, but by the sounds of it, revealing that Shido has an illegitemate child is actually the kind of thing that would make a lot of people raise their eyebrows. And, more importantly, the kind of thing that would really throw his "easy election win" into some serious jeapordy. (AND, it's never exactly stated that "revealing himself as an illegitemate child" was Akechi's tactic to ruin Shido- more of a "hey, Shido, guess who it was that ruined you, you piece of shit?"- which, well, more on that mindset later)
Next, "Why didn't he just kill Shido from the start?" This is where I think a lot of people get tripped up. To my memory, there is not a single point in the engine room where Akechi says that killing Shido is the cornerstone of his plan (localisation differences notwithstanding. I'm sure someone will come yell at me (/lh) if this is the case). Now, to be fair, Akechi in the engine room is really just him giving a very desperate powerpoint while he sharpens his sword- so I don't doubt that he's skimming over a couple points. But, you'd think that Akechi would remember to mention that if that really was his main goal.
Okay, so Akechi doesn't want to kill Shido. Cool, follow-up question, "Why didn't he just give Shido a pshychotic breakdown from the start?" That's the kind of thing that would have ruined Shido's reputation, too, right? And, it would have been before he would have had the means to try and cover it up. Well, finally, I can get to my point:
Akechi needs Shido's disgrace to be loud, because he needs everyone else to care, too. Akechi's revenge isnt just against the man who left him and his mother for dead, but also against the society that continued to leave him for dead, again and again; the society that only lauded him as something special if he slapped some pretty wallpaper over the past he had absolutely no control over.
Looking at it like this does a lot of things:
First, it really amps up the whole "the PT's justice and Akechi's justice foil each other". Akechi's revenge is also a vehichle for revolution, since it is, in essence: "Look! Look at the man who you lauded as a saviour! Look at me, the man who brought him down. Aren't we both disgusting, in your eyes? Take a look at yourselves. Aren't we all the same?"
That leads pretty nicely into Akechi as a pawn for Yaldabaoth, too. Akechi wants to make sure he and Shido go out with a bang, and leave a shitshow in their wake. That's prime God of Control real estate! It's also prime "metaphor for Ruin" real estate; you get the point.
And, finally, an interesting point comes from all of this. That being, that, well- the only reason that Akechi's plan wasn't going to work, is that he placed too much stock in the idea that Shido has any concept of loyalty or gratitude. Shido, as we all know, is an absolute piece of shit- and still, Akechi had believed that maybe, just maybe, his father would feel bad for being terrible to his son.
(I'm not going to go on too big of a tangent, but that is an interesting insight into Akechi's idea of Justice, and into what his personas might represent. Contradiction, as ever, is the name of the game, and Akechi simultaneously believes that there's no way to get anywhere in life without force and violence, and that there is also a fundemantal truth of what is good and fair within human hearts)
The message of this, I'm pretty sure, is not: "Akechi failed because of that lingering belief in humanity" (wouldn't that be one hell of a heel-turn lmao), but rather: "Akechi, with his distorted (ha) priorities, was never going to be happy in any quest for vengeance, even if his plan succeeded entirely"
tl;dr, Akechi needs therapy. Wait- Maruki, no! Not that kind of therapy!
#persona 5#goro akechi#I'm sure someone has made a similar analysis of this before#but all my thoughts about p5 have for the most part just been me talking to myself- so I wanted to get this one down in writing lmao
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Neighborhood Dilf (Joel Miller x Reader)
Word count: 2.7K
Summary: joel finds out he has a nickname and he asks you what it means
Tags: pre-outbreak this is a happy fic guys!! I didn’t specify a year but let’s put it at 2000 for funsies so sarah is like 11 and joel is like 30ish. also fluff, humor, flirting, age gap, goofy plot (I don’t know what this is honestly), joel being the definition of a dilf and not knowing it, crushes, overall cuteness. also suburbia
A/N: I saw a tiktok where someone said they just knew joel was the neighborhood dilf and they were so real for that I had to write it. and no I don’t care that the word was popularized online we’re using it here. I’m here to provide a cute fluffy fanfic not a historically accurate one lol. also sorry if your name is bee, I tried to come up with a name for the friend that was a nickname so if it was someone’s actual name they could just imagine their full name (I overthink)
cross-posted to ao3 • tlou masterlist • main masterlist
The loud music coming from outside woke you up from your afternoon nap. After spending a semester at college struggling to find even an hour of sleep, you were taking as many of those as possible. You were a little grouchy at first as you threw your covers off and stormed to your window, but quickly calmed down when you realized it was the annual block party your neighborhood hosted during the summer.
You’d gotten an in-person invite from Bee, another girl home from college who you’d been friends with in high school before going your separate ways. You still kept in touch since she was nice enough, which is how you found out her family was hosting this year. She’d confided in you personally that she would quote “go crazy if it was all kids and old people.”
As you looked out into their front yard, which was diagonal to yours, you saw that’s pretty much all it was. Since you were such a good friend, you decided that you’d go.
You were getting dressed (at a leisurely pace) when your phone started to ring. You picked it up from your desk after you pulled your pink sundress on and flipped it open. The caller ID read Bee’s name and you answered, ready to tell her you were on your way.
“He’s here,” she said, sounding mistified, before you could even open your mouth.
“Who?” you wondered, furrowing your brows a little to yourself as you went to the window.
“The neighborhood dilf,” Bee replied under her breath.
The nickname made you laugh. It reminded you of high school. It had started as a joke, something you had started calling the new guy who’d moved into the neighborhood with his daughter a few years back. Later you found out his name was Joel Miller, but the nickname spread like wildfire to all the other girls in the neighborhood and it just stuck.
Everyone knew about it; the girls of course, their confused parents, jealous boys who thought Joel was stealing their attention—the only person who wasn't aware of the moniker (as far as you knew) was Joel. Well, you hoped his daughter didn’t know either. Thankfully, after time, everyone forgot that you had started it. It was a bit embarrassing.
You walked away from the window to your closet and slid on your flip flops—it was summer in Texas, after all.
“You need to get over here, Y/N—what?” the last word sounded distant from the phone. “Yeah, she’s supposed to be on her way,” Bee replied, but to someone else.
“Um, hello?” you asked, waiting.
Bee was quiet for a few seconds, then whisper shouted into the phone, “you’ll never guess what just happened!”
“Let me guess, Joel just walked up and professed his love for you,” you teased, laughing at your own joke. “What, were my parents asking for me or something?” you guessed for real that time, recalling the small bit you had heard her say.
“Unfortunately no, and also no,” she sounded a little too disappointed about the first part, which made you chuckle again. “He did just ask me about you though.”
“Who?”
“The dilf.”
“Just use his name,” you told her with a roll of your eyes, heading out of your room to the stairs. “Wait.” You stopped for a second. “Joel asked about me?”
“Yeah. I changed my mind, you’re not invited.” If it wasn’t for her obvious sarcasm you might’ve thought she was serious. “He heard me say your name and asked if you’d be here soon. I—hey!” she yelled, causing you to pull the phone from your ear for a second. You continued your descent down the stairs as she yelled something about ‘kids’ and ‘stay out of there’. “I gotta go,” she said suddenly, then hung up.
You just shook your head with a small, amused smile and left your phone on the counter. Stupid dress and no pockets.
You headed out the front door and walked across the street towards the party.
It was in full swing. Music, games, food table—it looked like something out of a magazine. The Grants had a huge front yard—it was one of the nicer houses in the neighborhood—and it seemed like everyone was there. There were kids running around, adults all mingling—some sitting at the fold out tables, others walking around, others chasing their kids—there was also a group of dads surrounding the grill. You glanced that way and didn’t see Joel. You wondered where he was and if you should find him, but Bee found you first.
“The kids aren’t supposed to go inside alone and two of those little jerks went into my room,” Bee complained right away, straightening out her white blouse over her jean shorts. Her pinned back brown hair was a little messy, though. You wondered what happened, which she quickly answered. “I saw them jumping on my bed through the window.”
“Sounds like fun,” you commented sarcastically. Bee looped her arm through yours.
“My dad set up ring toss and it’s all little kids, I don’t wanna be the only adult playing. Come on.” She dragged you along in that direction and you willingly went with.
You saw a few kids from the neighborhood playing, mostly the preteens who were too old for hopscotch but whose parents had told them they weren't old enough for the mini golf (one of the boys had overshared that little comment).
“Y/N!” a girl's voice called. You looked that way and saw Sarah Miller walking towards you. A few days out of the week when her dad was working late, you’d go over to their house and keep an eye on her (before you left for college). It was the easiest babysitting gig you ever had; she was polite, always did her school work, and hardly caused any problems. Her dad had raised her very well.
She looked older than you remembered her being, but you had been gone for both fall and spring semesters—well, you had been home for winter break briefly, but not enough to see anyone other than your parents.
“Sarah, hi!” you greeted, accepting the hug she offered when she got close. “How are you?”
“Good!” she said with a smile. “Are you guys gonna play with us?” she asked you and Bee. “I keep beating them and it’s not fun anymore.”
You and Bee both laughed at that. “Sure, why not.”
“It feels weird playing with her after talking about how hot her dad is,” Bee whispered in your ear when Sarah went first. “You think he’ll come over here?”
“And what would you do if he did?” you challenged while hiding a chuckle, raising your brows at her.
“Um, probably nothing,” she admitted, cheeks a little pink. “He’s fun to look at though.”
You hummed. “You’re not wrong.”
The two of you played a few rounds of ring toss, although Bee got very bored quickly. “Can we go get some drinks?” she asked after not that long of playing.
“Sure,” you decided. You waved bye to Sarah and the others as the two of you walked off towards the cooler.
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed some of the other girls in the neighborhood that hadn’t been in attendance before. For a couple that you knew, it didn’t seem like their scene.
“What are they doing here?” you asked Bee.
“I may or may not have also told them the neighborhood dilf was here. They, uh, wanted to… see him,” she answered, avoiding eye contact.
You raised your brows in slight disbelief. “Are you serious?”
“I wanted more people our age here,” Bee defended. “I wasn’t sure if you were even gonna show.”
You scoffed out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous,” you told her.
You reached the cooler and knelt down. You handed Bee a water, but she didn’t accept it. You looked up at her.
“Keep an eye out for the dilf, I haven’t seen him in a while. I’ll be right back,” Bee told you, taking off before you could say anything. You guessed the bathroom given her speed walking inside.
You laughed a little to yourself as you stood back up. You kept the water for yourself. You looked out amongst the crowd, realizing you were now on your own while everyone was in groups. You saw a couple people you were friends with and thought of maybe going up and joining them, but someone else spotted you first.
Joel Miller, the aforementioned neighborhood dilf, was walking towards you. Bee would be jealous, especially if she knew you and Joel were actually friends.
You had thought about telling Bee and some of the other girls that you were friends with Joel, given how much they just loved to gossip about him (how he was still single, how he looked really good in his pajamas getting the mail, that one time he took his shirt off while mowing the lawn—that was a big day) but then you thought better of it, not wanting to be run out of town by a jealous mob.
You were already getting glances by the time Joel stopped by your side so maybe your humbleness was pointless.
“Saw you all alone, thought I’d come keep you company,” Joel broke the ice with ease.
How long had he been watching you? The thought made your cheeks feel warm.
“Wow, what a gentleman,” you teased lightly, causing Joel to chuckle.
“I try,” he joked back, shooting you a small wink.
When you had first met Joel you were nervous around him. It was much easier to talk to him now that the two of you had become friends rather than acquaintances. He was an easy guy to get along with and you found yourself genuinely enjoying his company rather than just gawking at him in his yard from your window (like you used to do in high school). Your crush hadn’t disappeared though, so you joked around with him as a way to keep things casual and avoid getting in your own head.
“Sarah told me you were finally here, she was happy to see you,” Joel mentioned with a light smile.
That made you smile back. “She’s a sweet kid,” you told him. “I was happy to see her too.”
You fiddled with the water bottle in your hand as you spoke, trying to unscrew the cap. The stupid thing was stuck and after a few seconds you gave up.
Joel gave you an amused look, glancing between your face and hands. “You want help with that?”
“Yes, please,” you handed it to him. “There you go again, proving chivalry isn’t dead. Thank you.”
Joel unscrewed the cap with ease and handed it back. “Happy to be at your service.”
“So, you guys been here a while?” you asked, sparking up conversation.
“Not too long, only an hour or so. It’s been fun though,” Joel explained. “More for Sarah than for me,” he admitted, glancing around to find his daughter. He spotted her and she waved, then continued playing with her friends.
“Why’s that?” you wondered, looking up at him just as he looked down at you.
“Just… I mean, everyone is nice and all,” he started. “But I just feel like I got nothin’ to talk about with them, y’know? Except you.”
“Really?” You tried to not sound too thrown off by that, but you didn’t know he felt like that. It was interesting to say the least.
“Is that such a surprise?” he wondered, raising an eyebrow curiously.
You shrugged. “Maybe a little. I get it though, I haven’t really talked to anyone other than Bee yet.”
“I don’t know if you’re friends with them, but I saw a bunch of girls your age walking around,” Joel said as a suggestion.
“Nah, I’d rather just talk to you,” you said casually, before you could even think about what you had said. The look on Joel’s face changed a little, like he was trying to bite back a bigger smile.
“Well, that’s nice to hear,” he said after a moment. Your eyes met his and the way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat. You had to look away to be able to breathe, almost certain you were reading into things. You really, really did not want to be disappointed.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” Joel said, making you realize you hadn’t spoken yet.
“Sure, yeah.”
“You know… young person lingo, don't you?”
You laughed at the awkward wording. If it had been any of the other adults here using the word “lingo” you would’ve cringed, but there was something cute about the way Joel said it. You tried to snap that thought out of your head.
“Mostly, yeah,” you replied with a little chuckle paired with a curious tone. “What’s up?”
“Do you know what a dilf is?” he asked bluntly. That alone told you he had no idea.
You were so stunned, all you could think to say was, “why?”
“Well, those girls I mentioned… I overhead some of them calling me that,” he explained, his eyebrows furrowing a little. “It’s not bad, is it?”
Was this karma coming back to you for starting the nickname? It wouldn’t have surprised you.
“It’s not bad, no,” you assured while also avoiding the main question.
“What is it then?” Joel’s interest was piqued now and while you couldn’t blame him, you also couldn’t think of a way to make this not weird.
“It’s an acronym,” you started. Joel watched you intently, waiting for an explanation. “It means dad I’d like to…” you trailed off, hinting at him the word to fill in the blank.
Joel just looked even more confused. “To what?”
Somehow he made cluelessness incredibly attractive.
Screw it, you thought. This was already weird. Rip the bandaid off, right? “Fuck,” you finished before you could think better of it.
“Oh,” he stated. You knew it took a second for realization to hit. “Oh. So that means they, um,”
“It’s basically like saying you’re hot,” you explained, filling in when he couldn’t. You hoped he wouldn’t find it insulting or anything like that.
Joel looked a little bashful but found amusement in the situation nonetheless. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should,” you suggested, then sipped your water. You looked out at the people milling about rather than meeting his gaze.
“Do you think I’m one?”
You nearly choked on your water. “What?”
“Sorry,” Joel apologized quickly, trying to laugh it off. “I shouldn't've asked that.”
“It’s alright,” you assured him. You paused for a minute, contemplating what you might say to that. You got a rush of bravery. “If you’re asking if I think you’re attractive… the answer is yes.”
Joel couldn’t hold back his smile. He tried, but it was a failed effort. It was like he was trying to contain his anticipation. “What about if I wanted to ask you out? What would your answer be then?”
“Yes.”
Joel grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he admitted.
“Dad!” Sarah’s voice caused the two of you to look away from one another. You saw her running up to you guys and hoped she hadn’t heard a word of your conversation. “Can you come play with me? Mr. Grant just set up a bean bag toss!”
“Sure, kiddo,” he told her. She grabbed his hand and started to drag him away.
You smiled a little to yourself at the interaction—he was such a good dad.
Joel slowed her down a little bit to look back at you. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Sounds good,” you replied, chuckling lightly.
The Millers disappeared into the roaming people. You tried to follow them with your gaze but your attention got torn away.
“Waiting in a line for the bathroom in my own house is messed up,” Bee said, popping out seemingly out of nowhere. “What’s got you so happy?” she wondered, eyeing the smile on your face that couldn’t be erased.
“You won’t believe what just happened,” you replied. A part of you still couldn’t believe it. “I’ve got a date with the neighborhood dilf.”
joel taglist: @the-ice-frozen-ground-red-rose @dontphunkwithmylove @cilliansangel @amethystwonders11 @frogsmuahh037 @andy-rocks @melllinaa @alitaar @melanie451 @b00kw0rmsworld @reverieisaway @avengersfan25 @aheadfullofsteverogers @strangeh0rizons @spideysimpossiblegirl @shannonmariebee
if you would like to be added to the joel taglist just send me an ask or a message! <3
#quin-ns writing#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller#joel x reader#the last of us#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you
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I guess it’s never really over
mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers
chapter three -
This has got to be the longest crush ever
Robin’s bad date, and a late night that changes everything.
warnings: 18+ A little bit of queer and mid twenties crisis angst for Robin, with comfort obvi. Tension, but are we surprised at this point?, and a secret third thing, wonder what it could be? 😚
wc: 6.3k
authors note: Hi babies! I am taking just a week off from my posting schedule for this week long work trip I’m taking on Monday. There’s lots of conferences and I won’t have much down time. We will resume our normal posting schedule for chapter four starting 3/20 🌻🧡
series masterlist | series playlist
June -
Would you believe me if I said I’m in love?
Baby, I want you to want me.
You can’t believe you landed yourself in detention.
All your late night study sessions for the SAT’s that led to oversleeping and missed alarms finally catching up to you just like Robin warned you it would. Miss O’Donnell is the one who makes your best friend's predictions come true, handing you that notorious pink slip for walking into her class ten minutes late for the third time this week.
When you arrive at exactly 3:15, the classroom is mostly empty. Your eyes scan the bored faces of the few students joining you, hoping to at least see Eddie’s familiar head of curls. But of course, today of all days, he’s managed to be on his best behavior or just didn’t get caught.
Sighing defeated, you give Mr. Clark a tight lipped smile, ignoring the shocked look on his face seeing you in here. Picking an empty desk in the middle away from anyone, you decide to busy yourself with the Algebra homework you’ve been avoiding for the better half of a week. It’s when you lean over to unzip your backpack that you catch the sounds of sneakers squeaking against the ceramic floors.
”Ahh, Mr. Harrington. Even fashionably late to detention, I see. Your hair looks good enough to sit in silence for an hour and a half to me.” Mr. Clark announces the king of Hawkins's grand entrance with the kind of sarcasm that makes you smirk as you start arranging your things on your desk.
“That’s good to know 'cause I was doing it for you Mr. C.”
Steve Harrington always thinks he’s so charming
Snorting as you click your pen, you dare to look up only to catch ‘the hair’ looking right back at you with that golden smile that you’ve seen take even the strongest soldiers out.
Oh no.
Eyes going big, you quickly bring your attention back down to your homework, silently hoping he doesn’t take the seat next to you and land you in here next week too.
“So thoughtful of you. Now why don’t you take a seat and do some studying for that test on Monday. And maybe this semester you won’t have to worry about relying on extra credit to keep playing basketball.” Mr. Clark dismisses him, earning a low whistle from the boy who holds his hands up in surrender, Nike covered feet coming down your row.
No, no, no, NO.
You still don’t look up, rereading the same question over and over again because no matter how many times you try, you’re too distracted by the cedar and clove that invades your senses kicking them into overdrive. The whites of his sneakers catch in your peripherals when he does the unimaginable and sits next to you.
Staring at the equation with the kind of concentration that’ll be sure to give you a migraine later, it takes him a good thirty seconds before he temporarily gives up trying to get your attention to grab something that gives the illusion of studying out of his backpack.
Trying to play it cool, your stomach twists in nervous knots worse than the ones you get when Robin forces you on the janky rides at the summer fair every year. Sure, you’ve been hit on by a guy here and there, but no one can prepare you for what it’s like to catch Steve Harrington’s attention—especially for someone in your Hawkins hierarchy who would never be on the receiving end of it.
He flips through the pages of his textbook loudly, earning his first warning glare from Mr. Clark, and you decide to write your name on the top of the page so at least it looks like you’re doing something. After a couple bounces of your knee, you can feel the heat of his gaze back on you.
”Psst, hey.”
The last letter of your name comes out illegible, and you jump at the hushed sound of his voice. Taking a deep breath, you work up the courage to meet his flirtatious smirk and golden brown eyes. The sun leaking through the windows gives you a glimpse of the green that hides inside them from this close. You hate to admit that he’s just as pretty as everyone says he is.
”Hi,” you smile a little shy, offering a small wave of your pen and it lights up his whole face, making your body buzz.
”You have a highlighter I can use or something?” He keeps up his ruse, the whites of his teeth showing in a grin.
You arch an eyebrow at him, something sarcastic reminiscent of Mr. Clark flashing behind your eyes.
“What? You don’t think I’m actually going to study?” He acts shocked, slapping his giant hand across his chest and it earns the kind of giggle from you that pushes him full steam ahead.
”It’s blue, is that okay?” Giving into the bait, you try and hide the way your face warms, ducking down to dig in the bottom of your backpack.
”Are you kidding? I love blue. Favorite color actually.” Laying it on thick, you can see the way he scoots to the edge of his seat, the spice of his cologne making you bite at your bottom lip as your fingers wrap around what you’re looking for.
Sitting up in your seat, you aren’t expecting him to be so close and it threatens to steal the air right out of your lungs.
”H-here,” you manage, holding the blue writing utensil in the small space that's left between you.
Steve's eyes roam your face freely, pink tongue coming out to wet his full bottom lip before they settle back on your gaze, lids a little heavy, voice low and somehow sticky sweet.
”Thanks, honey.” He leans forward more, purposely brushing his fingers with yours when he takes it out of your grasp, “but now, I’m afraid the only way you’re gonna get it back is to let me drive you home after this.”
“I’ve got plenty, you can keep that one,” you try to stay strong, but when that second giggle slips out, you seal your fate.
”I can’t do that, this is your favorite one.” He tisks like it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard, with a crooked grin that makes you bite the inside of your cheek.
”Is it?”
”Absolutely.”
“Are you two done? Or should we schedule a second date for next week?” Mr. Clark interrupts.
”That would actually be date number three. We’re going on two after this is over.” Steve smirks, throwing you a wink ignoring the harsh way you whisper of his name.
Yeah… you were fucked.
“I’ve got a date tonight!”
Robin sings excitedly, bursting through the front door in a wild ball of energy, successfully waking you up from your nap on the couch. Blinking slowly, as you start to recognize your surroundings, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you force yourself to sit up, wincing at your stiff neck and the fact that you dreamed about Steve Harrington again.
“A date with who?” You grumble, still a little grouchy, yawning with a stretch that pops in your back.
”This girl that I met at the record store this morning, we talked about Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos for what felt like hours. She’s just, wow, she’s so cool. Almost too cool for me, you know? She’s a senior in college-“
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up.” Cutting her off before she can ramble any longer, you wave your hands for her to stop: “First of all, no one is too cool for you, okay? If anything, it’s always going to be the other way around.”
“Yeah, okay, Steve.”
It takes a minute for her words to sink in about the man you haven’t seen in almost a week and a half, but when they do, the glare that settles on your face makes her laugh.
“Ha ha, very funny.” You deadpan with a tight-lipped smirk, before clearing your throat, “Well where are you guys going? Do you want me to go undercover in case you need saving? I’m fully prepared for a stakeout.”
Robin rolls her eyes, but her smile, which spreads wide enough to see all her teeth, gives away her love for your dramatics.
“No, I don’t need you to go undercover or anything. I mean, it is going to be nice knowing you’ll be here waiting for me to tell you all about it instead of having to call you and hope the city girl answers.” She teases, earning the scoff from you that she was looking for.
“I’m choosing to ignore that, and if at any point you change your mind, you know your own number.”
Earning a genuine laugh from Robin always makes your soul feel lighter, so when your joke lands and you get one, the heaviness of Steve that’s been weighing down on your shoulders eases up just a little bit.
”I’ve just never been approached in public before like that, you know? It’s not just the other girl you know is gay on campus. I don’t know, it feels good.” Your best friend’s confession makes you want to wrap her up in a hug, keeping the urge to remind her of your offer to move to the city with you to yourself for right now, letting her bask in the moment.
”Well, you're hot. Can you blame her? If you weren’t basically like a sister to me, I’d be all over it.” Wiggling your eyebrows, she flips you off, but you still catch the tinge of pink that paints her cheeks rosy.
”Please, Steve would have my head on a stake.” She snorts, purposely trying to get under your skin now.
”Robin.”
”What? I thought he was going to pop a blood vessel in his eye when I mentioned your little ‘adventure’ last week” She giggles, heading towards her bedroom.
If only she knew just how much those words were true. Your thighs meet like in the memory you can’t stop playing on a loop, palms turning sweaty, remembering the velvet of his lips so close to your neck.
”Wait! Did you ask that on purpose?!” You gasp, jumping to your feet to follow her.
”Maybe.”
”Maybe?!”
”You know what I do need help with?” She ignores you, spinning on her heel to meet your narrowed eyes.
”What?”
”Help me pick any outfit?” Pushing out her bottom lip, she gives you the kind of puppy dog eyes that no one in their right mind could say no to.
Sighing heavily, your feet drag on the carpet before flopping yourself onto her bed huffing out a “Fine” as the box springs squeak.
The rest of the day is spent going through what feels like every outfit in Robin’s possession, even getting desperate enough to try on some of your clothes despite your clashing styles. Settling on a pair of boot cut jeans, a black half crop top with a flannel shirt that you’re pretty sure she stole from Steve and the Dr. Martin’s you got her for her birthday last year, she was ready to break hearts. Blue eyes roll in the back of her head when you make her say ‘I’m the prize’ until you feel like she halfway believes it before handing over her I.D. that you’d found stuffed between the cushions of the couch in a frenzied panic to search for it only ten minutes prior.
The sun starts to set on Robin’s small apartment after she finally heads out the door, and the shadows that bounce off the white walls bring back the thoughts of Steve you’d successfully gotten rid of for a few fleeting hours.
Huffing to yourself with crossed arms, you watch the flat bag of popcorn spin around in the microwave. You can still hear the beginning Moonstruck playing on the TV in the living room, over the loud hum of the machine. Comfortable in an oversized shirt that lands just at the bottoms of your cotton sleep shorts, goosebump dot across your legs from the cool of the A/C. Your skin still tingles everywhere he touched and the week of radio silence feels worse the second time around.
The shrill sound of Robin’s phone and the first kernel of popcorn exploding in the bag overpower your ears all at once, making you jump. Mumbling cuss words under the now constant sound of popping, you try to calm your heart rate down, wandering to the living room. Your hand hovers over the phone, the realization about who might be on the other line making your stomach drop. He hadn’t called Robin yet. There’s a moment of hesitation, but you take a deep breath, letting the air expand in your lungs, silently counting to three before you grab the phone off its hook.
”Buckley residen-“
”I need you to come get me, I- I’ve made a huge mistake and I’m just so fuck - “ Robin cuts you off, the rasp in her voice cracking like she’s trying not to cry, “I’m just really embarrassed, please come get me.”
“What happened? Where are you? I’m coming, just - just tell me where you are.” Running to her bedroom to grab your sneakers with the phone pressed to your ear, you can hear her sniffle.
”Benningans, it’s the next town over. I’ll be outside -“
”Are you safe?” You panic, slipping your foot into your shoe as quickly as you can.
”I’m safe, I’m just, I’m embar- I don’t want to talk about it right now. I’m safe, I’ll be outside.” She mutters.
”I’ll get there as fast as I can, okay?” Feeling a little helpless, you try to ease the hurt that’s evident in her tone with soft reassurance.
”I’m just, I’m really glad you're here. I’ll see you soon.” She manages to get out before the line clicks dead.
Slipping your second shoe on, the realization that you don’t actually have a car to save her with, hits you like a ton of bricks.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Stomping back to the living room, your eyes find the mustard yellow address book next to the phone’s dock. Your fingers fumble through its pages, eyes squinting as you try to read Robin’s messy writing, searching for a familiar name. You find two:
Eddie and Steve.
You stare at the page, your moral compass going haywire. Despite the way he’s rented a space in your mind, the thought of seeing him alone again makes your stomach twist. Eddie would be simple. Eddie would be easy. Your thumb hovers over the first number in the one she has scribbled down for him, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t bring yourself to press it. She needs Steve.
You groan loudly, stomping your foot for good measure, before letting out a long breath through your nose, dialing his number that you knew you should have all along.
It only rings twice.
“Whatever it is, the answer is no,” Steve deadpans.
”Is that really how you answer your phone?” You scoff, doing your best to ignore the butterflies you’ve managed to stifle as they start to come alive at the sound of his voice.
“I thought this was - shit, I thought this was Henderson - erm I mean Dustin, you remember Dustin?” He stammers and you know that hand of his is running through his hair right now.
“Yeah, the middle schooler.”
“Well, he’s like nineteen now -“
“I didn’t call you to talk about Dustin, Steve,” You sigh heavily, rubbing the bridge of your nose, “Robin called me really upset from Bennigans, and I don’t have a car or any way to go get her-”
“I’m on my way.” He cuts you off without any hesitation,“Be outside in five minutes for me?”
”My shoes are already on.”
After a click, you’re left with the sound of the dial tone in your ear. You hang up the phone as warmth floods your body, easing some of your temporary worries.
Steve Harrington is making it hard to hate him.
The short walk to Steve’s BMW from Robin’s front door feels like stepping through a time machine.
One that takes you back to late nights sneaking out your bedroom window, always being extra careful not to wake your parents up so you could go make out with your secret kind of boyfriend under the stars. Those were always your favorite nights with him. The nights he’d put away the king Steve armor, those nights he’d just be Steve. A boy who just wanted to make his father proud, thinking maybe he’d stay home more if he was.
You can feel the way his eyes roam your body, the heat of his stare lingering on your exposed legs, setting your skin on fire. Suddenly more than aware of your lack of pants, only part of you regrets not changing into some leggings, but you try not to think about that too hard right now.
He clears his throat when you open the passenger door, the smell of leather and the dark woody sweet scent of oil surrounding you as you slide into your seat. The spice of his cologne tickles your nose when you close yourself in, clicking your seatbelt in place before daring to meet his eyes. The golden brown inside them shimmers with something you’d missed in the orange glow of the street light and the nerves still feel the same way they did five years ago. The only thing that hasn’t changed.
”Thanks for doing this,” you offer with a weak smile.
When he realizes you’ve put your weapons down for the night, his face softens with a crooked grin, subtle pink dusting the apples of his cheeks.
”I meant it when I said I can’t say no to you,” he starts, selfishly letting his eyes roam the smooth lines of your face that are finally not twisted up into a glare before realizing his slip up, “and Robin, my best friend obviously.”
”Our best friend, Steve.” You tease trying to ignore the tension that crackles in the empty space between you even worse than before.
”Whatever you have to tell yourself,” he winks, forearm flexing as he puts the car in drive.
Scoffing a ‘whatever’ with a playful roll of your eyes, you let your muscles relax into the familiar seat. The Police’s Every Breath You Take spills through the speakers just loud enough to be heard over the low rumble of the engine, and you become hyper aware of his hand resting on the stick shift, the tips of his fingers just close enough to brush against your thigh every time you hit a bump.
There’s a silence that falls between you once the street lights run out and his full focus shifts to the pitch black road ahead. The quiet is filled with what almost happened in his room, unspoken words that don’t dare to roll off of sober tongues. You wait until he’s too distracted looking for surprises that might run out from the woods on either side of you to let your eyes wander over and really take him in.
A white drawstring hangs low on his heather gray sweatpants that fit tight over his thighs spread wide. Your throat goes dry at the white tank top that hugs his broad chest, the gold chain that wraps around his neck getting lost in the thick patch of curls on display. You’re finally able to really make out more of his tattoo for the first time, thin, precise lines that look like feathers attached to a set of sparrow wings.
”Did she tell you what happened? I mean, is she safe?” He interrupts your greedy stare, eyes lighting up when he catches you, tucking it away for another time.
”Uhh, yeah,” you answer with a shake of your head, teeth biting down on your bottom lip with hot cheeks, “she’s safe, she kept saying she’s embarrassed but wouldn’t tell me why, just kept begging me to come get her.”
He just hums, lost deep in thought of all the things it could be, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens with worry.
“We’re only ten minutes away, so it won’t be too much longer now.”
He reassures you, but it feels like he needs it too, especially when his hand leaves the stick shift to run through his hair that looks more tousled than usual, making you wonder if he was lying in bed before this. A worried breath exhales through his nose, with a tight jaw, and you hate the way your stomach drops when both his hands find the steering wheel after he tugs on his roots a little bit.
Nervous fingers play with the bottoms of your sleep shorts, trying your best not to stare while you keep your gaze out the passenger window. Stolen glances are followed by tight lipped smiles when you’d always find him staring back. Honey and chestnut make your stomach flutter, and you think maybe some things never change.
It takes less than the ten minutes that Steve promised for the back roads to turn busy, and bright with the kind of lights a small town on a Saturday night has. A slouched frame sitting on the side of the road catches in his headlights, getting closer you see that Robin’s waves have lost all the bounce she left the house with, along with the rosy tint in her cheeks. The flashing Bennigans sign spins a block behind her, and the orange bulbs match the burning ember on the end of her cigarette that dangles from her full lips.
“Shit, it’s bad if she’s smoking,” Steve mutters, turning on his hazards as he pulls up next to her, the wheels of his car coming to a stop.
She hollows her cheeks out, taking one last drag, waving at you to stop unbuckling your seat belt as she gets to her feet. Blowing the smoke from her lungs into the wind, she flicks the half smoked butt into the street before opening the back door, sliding into the leather seats with an exasperated huff.
“Just, don’t – I’m okay,” she starts, closing the door and shutting out the whir of the traffic outside. “Turns out her boyfriend’s best friend really likes Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos too. She really thought me and him might hit it off after our talk at the record store today. I don’t want to talk about it, I just want to go home with my two favorite people and feel sorry for myself.”
“Well, you’re in luck,” Steve doesn’t miss a beat. Turning around in his seat, he flashes her his million-dollar Harrington smile. “I’m the king of feeling sorry for myself.”
Her lips twitch, but when she sees the natural roll of your eyes at the boy next to you, it turns into a full blown smile. A little shimmer came through in the dulled-out color of her eyes.
Got me up all night
all I’m singing is love songs.
“Honestly, now that I’m thinking about it, this girl sounds like a scammer, Rob. I mean, come on.” Steve snorts, rifling through her cupboards in the kitchen. Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos, what kind of game was she playing at anyway?”
Robin giggles from her place next to you on the couch, her head resting on your shoulder, the green apple of her shampoo still lingering on her curls that tickle your cheek.
“Plenty of people like those artists, Steve.” She sighs, but you can still hear her smile, “It’s fine, I’ll just stay the lonely Hawkins lesbian for the rest of my life, no big deal.”
”Shut up!”
”Will you stop?!”
You and Steve chide her at the same time, hard eyes meeting from across the living room and softening. He doesn’t even try to stop the lopsided grin that pushes up your favorite cheek and you hope Robin doesn’t feel the way it makes your skin warm.
“Whatever, I already warned you I’m going to be miserable. Gimmie a break, and you’re actually taking forever in there, by the way.” Whining, she sits up, sending a rush of fruit and leftover tobacco to your nose.
“Yeah, well, I can’t find your peanut butter,” he mutters, opening up the cabinet above the sink, the bottom of his tank top rising enough to see a sliver of sun kissed skin and a few more freckles. Why does it feel like there's always more?
”What are you even making anyway?” you ask, ignoring the way Robin’s head whips around. A smirk spreads wide across her face because you’re actually trying to make conversation with Steve.
“Just a little something that’s going to cure my best friend’s heartbreak,” he winks, the jar of JIF extra crunchy looking extra small in his grasp, twisting the cap off. “We came up with it together, actually.o biggie.”
Your gaze narrows, but he doesn’t miss the way the corners of your mouth twitch, something sparkling inside the dark gold in his eyes.
”Interesting, considering I ran to the store earlier to grab my best friend’s favorite ice cream, just in case.” You counter, something mischievous twisting up your lips. “You didn’t even think to stop and get it on our way home. Some friend.”
Robin’s smile lights up the room, very obviously enjoying the show, maybe even a little too much. Clapping her hands together, she lets out a content sigh before leaning back into the couch cushions.
”I really could get used to this,” she beams, “maybe we should have a contest, see which one of you can do the nicest things for me.”
You can’t stop the snort or the roll of your eyes that has Steve throwing his head back in a fully-bellied laugh, giving you the perfect view of his neck, and only Robin clocks the way your giggles are cut short and the secret way your eyes glaze over.
”I’m not gonna lie as much as I love crunchy peanut butter banana s’mores, I have to say Steve, the fact that she actually called you makes her the winner for the night.” She smirks, chuckling harder when you shove her with a hushed ‘Robin!’
His smile doesn’t fade as he starts to cut banana slices. Big eyes meet yours with the kind of look that threatens to melt you into the couch.
”That’s alright, I’ll be a gracious loser tonight, but just know, honey, I’m very competitive.” He warns, long fingers spreading the fruit evenly throughout the peanut butter that messily coats graham crackers.
“I don’t like to lose, so it’s fine.” Your quick reply deepens the smile lines in his cheeks, putting the finishing touches on your snacks.
“Yeah, this is definitely the life I was meant to live,” Robin gloats, nudging you, “I’m the prize, right?”
It’s your turn to throw your head back in the kind of laugh that rattles in your rib cage, too distracted to see the lovesick way Steve bites his bottom lip watching you from across the room.
But Robin does.
With a heart so full it might burst, tears threaten to spill from the ocean in her eyes, daydreaming about moments like this, only ever thinking they would be something that stayed trapped in the confines of her mind. The warming feeling of happiness wraps around Robin like a blanket when she gets to sit between you both on the couch. A distant friend she hasn’t seen in a long time, a secret she’s kept mostly to herself.
With a messy plate of half eaten treats and sticky fingers, she’s content watching Cher and Nicholas Cage fight over how much they love each other. Fully knowing that Steve is sneaking looks at you from over her head, smiling to herself at the nervous way you fiddle with your hands in your lap because of it.
Robin doesn’t fight the exhaustion that starts to make her eyelids heavy just a little halfway through the movie. It’s easy to give in when your body weight relaxes deeper into her side, and how Steve drapes his arm over the back of the couch, tucking you both into his chest with evening breaths.
You’re warm, cozier than normal, and it surrounds every part of you.
Cheek pressed against something that’s not firm enough to be the couch, you nuzzle yourself deeper, chasing the heat and the sleep that’s threatening to evade you. Your cushion starts to move, making eyes shift behind lids that aren’t ready to open yet. Lashes flutter, feeling the way your leg is slotted between someone else’s, and the warmth of a palm finds the small of your back, pulling you closer.
A deep sigh rumbles in your ear before fingertips lazily trace up and down the dip of your spine. Stubble tickles your forehead, and as coherency starts to come back to you, a softer patch of hair rubs against your cheek. The kind of spice and lingering sunshine that could only come from one person hits your senses, and the white cotton of Steve’s tank top finally becomes visible.
The shift in your breathing brings his soft touches to a halt, the muscles you’re pressed on your side against stiffening. Realizing your hands are sprawled across his chest, just under your chin, you can feel the way his heart races under your palm. He’s everywhere, and despite the way you’ve told yourself you hate him, your fingers curl into the cotton of his shirt because it feels like home. Toes pressing into his calf, you wind your leg around his tighter, and it turns timid fingertips sure of themselves, tracing patterns between your shoulder blades. You don’t dare look up at him yet, or it would make the way your own hand starts to explore his abs that twitch under your red nails real.
He feels different than you remember, there's more of him now, harder in spots that used to be soft. Your fingers get greedy, the blunt ends of your nails scratching along the outline of his happy trail, earning a low groan from him that vibrates deep in your core. Those butterflies that have made a permanent home out of you start to stretch their wings, and when they feel the soft velvet of his lips against your forehead, they tickle at your ribcage and kick up your heart rate. You wonder if he can feel it.
It’s the faintest kiss, one that you’re not sure you would’ve even felt if you were asleep, but it makes you lean in closer. Inhaling deeply, tears sting at the corner of your eyes when the familiar scent only makes you crave him more. After years spent denying the existence of his touch from your memory, it’s almost overwhelming to feel it again.
The muscles in his arm underneath your neck twitch, and the fingers that have been drawing lazy circles on your back move slowly up your shoulder. The backs of them run down your arm before they finally connect with your skin, goosebumps exploding underneath his touch in a ball of electricity that you can feel on the pads of them that start a new path up the loose sleeve of your shirt.
You fiddle with the bottom hem of his tank top, the heat of his body radiating against already flushed skin. Brave fingers dare to dip underneath only to get stopped by a large palm wrapping around your wrist
“Baby,” there's a hint of a smile and a little bit of grogginess in his voice that gives away that he hasn’t been awake that much longer than you, “I think you should at least look at me before I let you get under my shirt.”
Biting at your bottom lip, you push yourself deeper into his chest, embarrassed, feeling the gentle shake of his body when he laughs.
“Come on pretty, let me see your face.”
His affection makes your heart swell, and you know what it means if you look him in the eyes. Your nails dig into the cotton, tugging at the fabric a little while you pull yourself together, lashes fluttering against your cheeks, shaking the rest of the sleep. Lifting your head up from its hiding place, you cross the line you promised yourself you wouldn’t, but when you meet the green that shimmers in the darkness of his eyes, and the crooked grin that twists up his full pink lips, it feels good to give in.
Releasing the hold on your wrist, he’s gentle, almost hesitant, when his warm palm cups your cheek. The rough pad of his thumb traces the line of your cheekbone feather light, and you can’t help but lean into his touch. No more armor, fleeting glances, or stolen looks, not when he’s this close and even more handsome in the glow of the moonlight.
“Beautiful.” He murmurs just loud enough for you to hear, and your legs somehow wrap around his tighter.
”Yeah?” you whisper, your fingers coming up to the play with the gold chain dangling from his neck. “Why didn’t you kiss me then?”
”What?”
”Last week,”
”That wasn’t the right time,” he sighs, eyes tracing every line of your face like he’s committing it to memory, “It would have ruined it.”
“Ruined what?” You press, twisting the metal between your fingertips, heartbeat ringing in your ears.
“My chance at trying to do this the right way, the way you deserve.” He doesn’t hesitate to say it, like it’s something he’s thought about for years, and it makes your head spin.
“What about now?”
“That depends,” he hums, the pad of his thumb dragging across the slight pout of your bottom lip, threatening to steal the air from your lungs.
”On?” Your voice comes out just above a whisper. Tilting your chin up, you can still smell the peanut butter on his breath.
”If you want me to.” He breathes, the tip of his nose running along the length of yours.
Your hold on his gold chain tightens, pulling him even closer. His eyebrows pinch together when he feels the slightest brush of your lips against his, and he can still taste the sweetness of the banana.
”Please tell me you want me to.”
The desperation in his voice is enough for you to tug him down, closing what’s left of the small gap, your top lip catching against his full bottom one. Just enough to feel the familiar silk that could leave a wildfire in their wake before you finally speak.
“Kiss me, Steve.”
A groan rattles deep in his chest, and he doesn’t hesitate to do what he’s wanted to since he saw you. Applying just enough pressure to wake up every last butterfly, the tip of his nose pushes into your cheek when he slots his lips with yours. It’s soft at first like he’s testing the waters, taking it slow so he can savor it, just in case you never let him do it again.
He pulls away enough to look at you, chestnut eyes blown out wide, and you hate that you already miss his kiss. Giving into everything you’ve fought for so long, it’s your turn to capture his lips. It stuns him at first, but when you open your mouth, his body melts easily into yours, and that big hand of his moves from your cheek to hold the back of your neck. Tongue swiping boldly across your lower lip, he begs you to let him in.
Moans get hidden, muffled inside each other's mouths after you grant him access, your fingers tangle themselves inside the thick forest of his hair that’s still just as soft as you remember. Nipping at his bottom lip, the grip on the back of your neck tightens and you can feel the way he kicks up in his sweats because of it. Your own thighs threatening close when you’re reminded of what’s between his legs.
“Baby,” he warns in between kisses, feeling the roll of your hips, but you don’t miss the subtle way he tries to meet them with his own.
It’s too easy to get lost in him, and the years it took to move past him make even more sense when your tongue finds his again. Fighting for dominance, you try not to think about the irreversible damage tonight might do to you as you tug at his roots, teeth scraping together, the kiss turns more heated by the second. Years of anger and longing come out in desperate touches. His hand finds its way to your hip, the pads of his fingers brushing against the skin under your shirt, sending a shiver up your spine, letting you roll them one, two, three times before tightening his hold.
He pulls you closer, letting you win before his nose nudges against your cheek, his lips finding the corner of your mouth. Catching his breath, he trails them along your jaw before making his way down your neck. Your chest heaves, fingers turning soft and slowly running through his hair. He hums against your skin, his hand staying under your shirt, the warmth of his palm covering the small of your back, leaving wet kisses on the sensitive spot behind your ear.
”Let me take you on a date,” he whispers, leaving one more under his jaw before pulling back to look at you.
”Steve -“
”Just one,” he begs, bumping his nose with yours, smirking when it makes you smile.
”Let me sleep on it,” you sigh, ducking your head under his chin to hide. Too many thoughts trying to occupy space in your mind with a head still dizzy from his lips.
”I’ll take what I can get,” he laughs, the tips of his fingers starting up the familiar patterns that started all of this, quickly make your eyelids heavy, nuzzling deeper into his chest. You weren’t ready to think about tomorrow yet.
🌻 chapter four
#my writing#steve harrington#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington x reader smut#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington fic#steve harrington x y/n
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You’re Everything . CC
pairing: caitlin clark x reader
synopsis: caitlin clark is the best basketball player in the media right now and you can’t help but feel like you’re no good for her.
y’all i don’t even write (so sorry if this is actual ass), but the cc content on here is almost no existent lol. so i hope you all enjoy :)
my masterlist: here
college is extremely hard, and unfortunately for you, it has pushed you to your breaking point.
unlike your girlfriend, caitlin, you’ve never been the athletic type. typically confined to your textbooks and essays rather than on the court or out in the field. Your studies were incredibly important to you and you were GOOD at school, but by no means were you as talented as the caitlin clark.
you’re so proud of caitlin, truly. she’s come some far in her athletic career. she deserves all the praise and all of the awards and all of the support. but regardless all the praise and admiration you showered her with, you couldn’t help but feel like you weren’t enough.
books littered the covers of your bed, chemistry worksheets and math textbooks seemed to stack up to the ceiling. your fingers dug into your scalp, lightly pulling at your hair. you had midterms coming up and you were starting to panic. last semester, midterms and finals flew by like a breeze and you were able to hold a very high gpa, but unfortunately this semester you’re crashing and burning. you were falling behind on assignments, forgetting due dates, and failing exams no matter how hard you studied. caitlin constantly reassured you that you were doing amazing regardless of how different your grades were last semester, but it’s really easy to say that when you’re passing every class and making history in basketball at the same time.
tears threatened to spill from your eyes and it felt like you were going to faint from all this stress. as you were sloppily scribbling down equations and flipping through flash cards, you failed to hear constant knocking and the lock of your front door turning. heavy footsteps echoed up to your room and you knew all too well who they belonged to. trying to get everything in order before your girlfriend reached your room, you quickly wiped your tears away and fixed your hair.
“YN i’ve been texting you like crazy, did you not-” she began. “hey hey hey what’s the matter, baby”
caitlin immediately seemed panicked at your distressed state, rushing over to you and sitting next to you on the bed. her arms instinctively wrapped around you as you nuzzled your head into her neck to hide your tears.
“it’s nothing, i swear, im just stressed for my chem exam” you lied. “you caught me at a bad time i guess” you attempted laugh it off, pulling a fake smile into the side of neck.
she pulled away from you, hands moving from you shoulders to your face, forcing you to look at her. she seemed to be looking at you for hours, studying the pain on your face and the dullness of your eyes.
“baby this is obviously not ‘nothing’…i’ve never seen you like this. over anything”
it didn’t take long for you to start tearing up again. “caitlin, i…i really don’t know…”
you can’t even get the words out. it felt like your sentences were building up in your throat and suffocating you. a small whimper managed to work its way out of you before you broke down in tears. again, caitlin was all over you, confused and hurt because she doesn’t know how to help you.
“YN please, please talk to me i need to know what’s going on, you’re scaring me” she said, pushing loose stands of hair out of your face and wiping your tears with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.
“i just-” you began, hiccuping from your sobs “i just feel like a failure!”
and that started it all. before caitlin could even protest such as absurd statement, all of your feelings and insecurities came spewing out.
“caitlin i’m extremely proud of you, please know that. i’ve never been so astonished by someone’s talent than yours” you sounded hysteric, you were sure. “but i cant help but feel like i’m a failure compared to all the amazing things you’ve done. you’ve broken records and changed people’s lives…you’ve won the awards and the adoring fans…and again, i can’t even begin with how proud of you i am…but looking back at all the things i’ve done…i’m nothing. for fucks sake i can’t even pass a god damn chemistry exam or a math quiz without losing my fucking mind. i don’t leave the house cause i’m too busy studying and i don’t have time to hang out with our friends or hang out with your team. i can barely pass my classes this semester and i just feel like such a burnout.”
it felt like it all came out in seconds. “you deserve so much better than someone like me. i’m nothing”
the silence that filled the room was heavy and haunting. you worked up enough courage to finally look at caitlin, scared that she’d realized you were right and confirm your worst fears. but to your surprise, she was crying too.
“you’re everything” her voice cracked, barely managing to get the words out. “baby you’re everything.”
“what?”
“is this how you’ve really felt? like you’re nothing?” you avoided her gaze “YN i couldn’t even begin to tell you how amazed i am by you. forget me, look at you!”
“cait.”
“no, i’m serious. you work your ass off every single day. you study you do your homework you go to work, and you still find the time to shower me with so much love and attention. you pour your soul into everything that you do and of course it’s hard, but please do not sit here and tell me i deserve more than you because i need you more than i need air, YN”
it felt like you had no more tears to shed, overwhelmed with feelings. so instead you took your girlfriends face into your hands, forcing your lips upon hers. you could feel her hands meander to the back of your head, toying with the hairs at the nape of your neck as she pulled you into a much deeper kiss.
eventually pulling away for air, you rest your forehead against hers while she whispers gentle “i love you”s . you finally feel relieved for the first time in a while.
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How am I going to work for a living when being around other people, moving between different environments and expectations, or being exposed to noise for more than 3-4 hours a day makes me so exhausted it's challenging to perform basic self-care tasks, and pushing past that makes this condition worse, and doing that frequently creates long-term spillover that impairs my functioning for a much longer period
The psychologist who diagnosed me with autism insisted that I could become desensitized to noise through exposure, but it's been almost 10 years and I've never been able to increase my tolerance to stimuli even temporarily, only dramatically decrease it through, I guess, the cumulative effect of exhaustion.
The last semester in school I was having anxiety attacks every single day the first week, and from there I just...limped. I never got to the point where I felt okay and could think beyond just surviving the next day.
I would go to work and basically just, screw around hoping I wasn't in the way too much, because I could not move myself to think on the level of problem-solving and work on projects I wanted to accomplish, I was just too exhausted. I didn't meet any new friends. I didn't go to a single non-required event, even though I wanted to. My mom would ask me if I was enjoying my classes and I would be like..."I don't know." I was often too tired even to play Minecraft.
And I didn't read or write any fiction, even though my love of doing so used to be the fundamental part of my identity.
I kept getting extremely dehydrated and having scary symptoms and being unable to figure out what was wrong. I remember feeling certain that I was starting to get sick/run a fever at many different points throughout the semester, and then I would keep going and feel like 10% better and after a few days it would be clear that I wasn't sick and I wasn't going to become sick nor would I get significantly better quickly. I was sleeping a LOT—like I would be too tired to stay awake by 11:30pm, which is seriously unusual for me and usually means I'm getting sick, and yet I overslept my classes more times than I could count. I felt sure I had some sort of infection or something for the last couple weeks, and then when I came home for the holidays, everything just... cleared up. Still not sure if it was the dehydration or what.
Also, my menstrual period went irregular again??
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