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disneyprincemuke · 2 days

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you don't get to tell me about sad * fem!driver

outtakes of her year that i didn't know where to fit lol so this is the last(ish) angst installment

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver

notes: iM BACK BABYYY

(series masterlist) | (📂 2025: fall from grace)

(prev)

so she runs from her garage again. just another weekend where everything has skewed from what was discussed and there is no reasoning to be done.

she finished the race damn near last over a pitstop that ran longer than it should have.

the minute sebastian could not spew an excuse she would hear out was the minute she stopped listening to him during the race. and honestly, it was the only way she could salvage not finishing last of the pack.

“let’s talk about it,” sebastian says, hurriedly chasing her down as she storms into the racing home, her presence immediately silencing the chatter in the room. “let me talk you through what happened. it’s not your fault.”

“i know it’s not!” her distress is made known, echoing in the air of the room. she stops in her tracks and turns to face sebastian still by the door, flinching back. “how could that be my fault? i was doing my end of the bargain as a driver!”

he takes a deep breath. “rocky, just listen to me, okay?”

“it’s not fair! none of this weekend was my fault!” she shrieks, turning back around and trudging up the stairs loudly. “the team fucked me over, that’s what happened! i can’t possibly think of a reason you could come up with to excuse what happened!”

“i’m not excusing it, i’m just–”

“oh, god, sebastian!” she stomps her foot on the ground to demand sebastian’s attention. which surprisingly works. “just admit it — the team fucked me over. point blank period, that’s literally what happened.”

sebastian sucks in a deep breath. “yes, we did. and we’re extremely sorry. but–”

“’but’ again,” she laughs dryly, rolling her eyes. she makes a sharp turn for her driver’s room and holds a hand up to stop the step he tries to take towards her. “take your apology to the headlines being drafted about me as we go in circles over this, sebastian.”

“you know i’m not breaking up with you,” matt says amidst the silence that they’ve been sitting in as he packs his bag. “i just need a break.”

“from me,” she points out shakily, dropping her head low.

“from this cycle.” he lifts his head and sits back to look at her.

she sits on the edge of her bed, feet hovering slightly over the floor. she watches her feet swing slightly, counting in her head, desperate not to lose the last remaining sanity she feels she has.

initially, she sat in the vacant room in tears, refusing to watch him pack up to leave her all alone in her apartment. she wallowed in her woes in a dark corner before she eventually dragged herself back into her bedroom.

she’s been sitting here watching him in silence ever since, trying to find the words in her head to say something to him.

maybe he’ll change his mind; maybe he’ll stay if she says the right thing.

“yeah, i get that.”

“i don’t think you do.” he stands from his position on the ground and walks over to her on the bed. he takes the empty spot next to her, resting his hand above hers that grips the mattress tightly. he feels her grip loosen slightly. “i still love you, bub.”

she shakes her head with a sigh. “i would have stopped a long time ago if i were you. i’m not very nice.”

“it doesn’t work like that,” he squeezes her hand, “you’re having a hard time. i get that and it’s okay. but i want you to want the help i’m giving you. i’m not going to force it on you if you’re just going to keep pushing me away when i try.”

“i don’t know why i keep doing that,” she admits with a scoff. she drops her back on the bed behind her and looks up at the ceiling of her bedroom. “i’m not usually like this, i promise. i’m better than this.”

“i know.” matt mirrors her actions and drops himself on the mattress.

she wants to say she’s sorry and that she’s thankful for him sticking around longer than he had to. it’s at the edge of her tongue but she simply cannot get herself to admit that she’s wrong. that perhaps this time, someone is finally right about her.

“do you, really?” she hums, “i’m the worst.”

“i think you should give yourself a little more credit,” he sighs, reaching out for her hand again. this time, she moves her hand away before he can grab it. “i’ll come home soon, okay? i’ll come back for you, i promise.”

she repeats in her head the gameplan she’d drafted with sebastian. the one that seemed so foolproof all weekend that made her believe she could turn it all around.

instead, she’s standing on the grass next to her wrecked car, another unfortunate mishap she’s sure would make her talk of the town again.

she puts her hands on her hips as her eyes trail over to her blown tyre. then she remembers that her crash wasn’t caused all by herself.

“are you alright?” charles asks softly, slowly approaching her as he takes his helmet off. “unlucky weekend.”

she glances over her shoulder where he approaches her. she forces a small grin to her face and tries to wave his concerns away. “i’m fine.”

her chest starts to hurt slightly, tears prickling at her eyes.

this is not the time and place to be breaking down. especially not at someone like charles because surely, something went wrong with her that caused this.

“it’s my fau–”

surely, it can’t be his fault. there’s no way that the person she’s looked up could cause this crash.

but there’s also a voice in her head telling her to believe charles. he wouldn’t be apologising if he didn’t actually think that he caused it.

“unfortunate,” she chuckles. she swallows the scream threatening to make itself known and shrugs at charles. “i’ll see you in the paddocks, mate.”

“thought i might find you here.”

“fuck off, max.”

the older driver laughs, walking over to her with hands in the pocket of his jeans. he drops himself on the little platform she’s resting on.

“everyone’s looking for you,” max chuckles, innocently taking a sip from his water bottle. “i heard seb panicking and sending out a search party to get you.”

“i know,” she snorts, “i heard him screaming and delegating people to find me.”

the only reason max knew where to find her is because he is the one who introduced her to this place. he had found her holding her tears in at some point last season walking around the paddocks and he whisked her away without another word.

it’s a pretty obscure location in the paddocks, one that max often resided in when it got too chaotic and loud. she’s the only one he’s ever given this sort of information to.

“how’s everything?” he asks with a sigh, leaning back on the wall behind them. “matt flew back to the states already?”

she nods and drops her head, picking at the grass beneath them. while she truly tried to keep her problems to herself, max approached her a week prior when he saw her entering the paddocks all by herself.

he had asked why the man, typically found on her arm every race weekend, was not with her today.

she softly admitted that they’re on a break, prompted by her reactionary behaviour from how her year is going so far. still, she tries to keep the confession minimal.

it’s hard enough to watch your boyfriend pack his things in silence to leave you behind. it’s even harder to admit that there’s nobody else to blame but yourself.

her mishaps every weekend on the paddocks, she can point all the fingers she wants. but when it came to her matt, there was nobody else she could pin it on. there were 2 people in that relationship and she knows that she’s the one that’s burned it down.

“i’m so sorry,” max sighs, resting his cheek in his hand. he props his elbow on his knee as she leans forward. “that must be really hard for you.”

she shrugs. it’s really not that big of a deal. or, at least, it shouldn’t be to somebody else in a happy relationship of his own. “it’s my fault, anyway. i don’t blame him.”

“you can still be upset about it,” he mutters. “i know you love him, so i don’t imagine any of this is making you feel better at all.” he puts a hand on her back and rubs circles, something he honestly wishes someone had done for him when he was younger. “it’s just me, mate.”

“it’s alright, but thanks for trying to be there for me,” she grimaces, turning momentarily to give him a small smile. “but i don’t reckon i get to feel bad for deliberately pushing him over the edge.”

she’d been fine all day. she thought she was genuinely getting better: she’d even gone for a walk in the sun and felt enlightened most of the hours she’d been awake.

that was until she had sat down at her dining table with dinner, consumed whole by the silence and emptiness of her apartment. without understanding why, she lost her appetite as her stomach started to churn.

her heart feels like it’s skipping beats from how unwell she suddenly felt.

she finds herself on the floor of her bedroom, phone pressed up against her ear as the ringing pulls her in and out of her trance.

her world has spinning for the better part of 5 minutes, her chest feeling like it’s closing in on itself and the framed picture in her peripheral vision taunts her.

there’s no climbing out of this rut; she’s almost sure she will be stuck in here forever. she either lives with the fact that she’s a failure or it’ll someday kill her.

“hello? is this really you?”

tears she hadn’t realised were there start to fall out of her eyes. the sob she didn’t know she had in her throat fills the room as she drops her head into her other hand.

“i don’t know why i called,” she pauses with a soft sob, “sorry, i should go.”

“no,” a firm voice demands, “just stay on the line.”

“okay.”

she had just spoken with matt this morning, on a short 5-minute welfare check video call. she told him she was feeling slightly better with the biggest smile on her face.

now she doubts herself if she’d even meant it. if she was truly better, she wouldn’t be here on the floor feeling worse than when she woke up this morning.

going backwards isn’t supposed to be the way she’s going.

it’s always forward. if there’s no progress towards the betterment of her situation, then she’s simply not trying hard enough.

she should try harder. it’s the only way.

“hey,” matt coos softly to catch her attention. “if you need me there, just say the word. i’ll come home.”

she wants to say yes. she even wants to break into a louder sob and admit that she misses him; probably might even be going crazy without his presence as of late.

she hasn’t got anything figured out.

but instead, she says, “i’ll be okay.”

being alone in her hotel room is the last thing she wanted for herself, the silence too overbearing for her to handle. though asking to hang out with her friends she watched leave together to get dinner wasn’t an option either.

so she opted to lock herself in her driver’s room until someone chases her out. perhaps she’ll sleep over without anybody finding out.

she’d coddled herself up in her beanbag under a blanket, reading away furiously on the things people said about her.

sure, she shouldn’t be on these sites speaking ill of her, but there’s nobody to stop her. she’s fallen down the rabbit hole of everyone’s opinions of her once more and she can’t seem to stop.

she’s stooped even lower this time: she’s on social media reading what the public has to say about her.

it’s not just about whoever in the industry is saying now.

she never tried to let anyone’s opinion of her, in forms of tweets and social media posts, get to her much.

but a post highlighting about the two mere instances where she had unintentionally lashed out on matt in the paddocks did it for her. and the one time she had a disagreement with sebastian in her racing home after a pitstop mishap.

“for fuck’s sake,” she cries, throwing the blanket off her.

she can’t throw her ipad. she starts to heave, feeling it all coming down on her once more.

she grabs the closest thing to her. and unfortunately, it’s the very mug she’d gotten 2 years ago as a present for sebastian.

you know, the matching mugs she got as a celebration for scoring points as a race engineer and driver duo on the grid.

and it does what a mug would do if you threw it against the wall: it shatters. into pieces.

it’s repairable if she really thought about it rationally. the handle has popped out along with another large piece straying by its side.

only then she realises what she’s done.

“oh, fuck.” she sits hurriedly and brushes the stray hairs from her face. “oh, no.”

she scrambles from the ground and runs over to the other side of the room where her favourite mug sits in 3 separate pieces, tears prickling at her eyes as she realises what she’s done.

she gathers it into her hands with a heavy cry, dropping her hands into her lap. if she’d known sooner that this mug was what she’d grabbed out of fury, she wouldn’t have chucked it across the room.

“come on,” she whispers to herself, trying to fit the pieces together as if it would magically mend itself. “fix yourself. be a mug again?”

“i thought you were back at the hotel– are you okay?”

“i didn’t mean to do it,” she cries at the familiar voice and accent, lifting her head and hands to show him what she’s done. “i didn’t mean to, i didn’t even realise what i was throwing until it broke into this many pieces.”

“hey,” sebastian coos, softly closing the door behind him. he walks over to where she kneels on the ground and grabs her shoulder. “you’re okay. it’s okay.”

she shakes her head profusely and rests her head on his shoulder. “i didn’t mean it. i didn’t want to break it — i still like you, i promise. you’re like my dad when we’re on the road. i’m s– i didn’t mean it.”

“relax.” he squeezes her shoulder, pressing a firm kiss to her temple. “it’s just a mug. we’ll just get a new one, okay? don’t even worry about it.”

he waits for a second as she processes his words, slightly hesitant to agree with him. she nods slowly, “are you sure? you’re not mad?”

“i’m not mad,” sebastian hums with a smile. “let’s get you back to your hotel room, okay? i was just about to head out.”

“okay.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @c-losur3 @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @mclarengf @xoscar03 @nomie-11 @green-thots @tinyhrry @iwilleatyourgod @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool

#sebastian vettel x reader #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 grid x reader #f1 female driver #formula one x reader #fem!driver #f1 fem!driver #female driver #disneyprincemuke vr #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #vettel reincarnate

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cameronspecial · 2 days

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cpuld u do an angst to happy ending with rafe where like there could be a bet that he dates the reader kind of like the plot of ‘after’ if youve seen or read it and when she finds out shes like “youre breaking my heart” like that scene from padme and anakin but it ends up happy? MEERY CHRISTMASSS

You're Breaking My Heart

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

A/N: Merry Christmas to you too! I'm so sorry this is late.

Masterlist

Y/N should’ve known he was going to break her heart. He isn’t meant to be in a relationship; he isn’t one to be tied down. What she heard just proved it. “I bet that I can have her wanting me by the end of the year,” he says in the video coming from her phone. It was sent from an unknown number to her and Rafe, yet it doesn’t matter because the damage is already done. The front door opens and he comes through the door with the takeout he went to get. His grin is wide as he looks at her, setting the bag on the table. He notices her sombre mood and hurries to her side. “What happened?” he asks, holding her face between his hands. She steps out of his grasp and escapes his touch every time he tries to approach. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he repeats. She lets her tears brim at the corner of her eyes, refusing to look at him. “Tell me what happened!” Having enough of his questioning, she whips towards him with anger. “You’re breaking my heart. That’s what’s wrong,” she yells, staring daggers at him. His frustration grows as he tugs at the end of his hair, “What are you talking about? What did I do, Baby?” She shoves his phone into his chest. “You went down a path I never thought you would. You are a liar and a cheat and I hope I never see you again,” she mumbles, picking up her purse and storming out.

His phone screen lights up and he sees a text notification. He opens the video attached, not needing to see more than a second of it to know what it is. It’s a video of the night he said something he never should’ve said because now, it ruined the best thing he ever had.

———

The tears haven’t stopped pouring in hours and she doesn’t know how to stop it. The knock at the door pulls her from her bed cocoon. She pads towards the door and swings it open, immediately trying to close it when she sees who it is. His strong hand stops her and he pushes his way in. “I don’t want you here,” she sniffles, turning away so he can’t see her vulnerable state. His heart aches at her pain, “I know, but we need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to a liar and to someone who doesn’t even love me.”

By now, he has cornered her against the wall and she has to crane her neck to look at him. His fist slams against the wall, “Don’t say that.” He takes a deep breath when he sees her small jump in fear. He brings his hand up to place on her cheek but second-guesses himself at the memory of her removing herself from his hold. The new tears that begin to crop up make him hate himself even more. He runs his fingers through his hair, “I’m sorry. Can we please just talk?” “Okay,” she mumbles, a little afraid of what he may do. Although, deep down, she knows he would never hurt her. She holds her hand up with her palm up for him to begin. He takes a step back and lets out a breath. “I do love you. And I know I should say the bet was a mistake, except it wasn’t,” he begins. She chuckles, “That is a horrible way to begin.” He rests his warm hand on her cheek. “Because without it, then I wouldn’t have been able to get to know how amazing you are. And that is a thought that kills me,” he states, drawing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Why would it kill you?” she mutters, letting her heart lead the conversation. He lowers his face closer to her, “Because you are the only thing in my life that has ever made me feel alive. I will understand if you can never forgive me and I will forever be sorry for the pain this bet has caused, but I will never be sorry for making it because it gave me my time with you.” Her heart tells her to jump into his arms and forgive him, yet her brain tells her to slow down. Sweet words don’t mean all is alright. So, she settles for something in between. She holds him above his elbows and looks into his eyes. “If you really feel that way, then I guess we can try again,” she offers. The excitement he shows is cut short by her continuation. “However, you have a lot to do to gain back my trust and we can’t pretend you never hurt me.” He nods like a madman, “I’m fine with that. I would rather have to walk on broken glass without you if it leads me to your trust than to lose you forever.” She wraps her arms around her waist, bringing him down for a kiss.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader

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pb524830 · 2 days

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right where you left me

part: 8 pairing: paige bueckers x oc word count: 1.5k c/w: language a/n: sighhhhh i'm not so happy with the way this ended, but i had so much fun writing this series. honestly, though, i'm very excited to start on some new stuff, so please please please stay tuned for that. let me know if you guys have requests, i'm feeling uninspired. thank you all so so much for staying tuned for this series, and while i'm sad it's over, you may be seeing more of paige and maya later on! let me know what you think!

When I wake up the next morning, I try for a moment to fool myself that this is my normal. That I always wake up wrapped in Paige, her hair tickling my nose. That I get to press a soft kiss into the skin of her neck and watch her eyes flutter open every single morning.

But in reality, we've fucked up. Paige’s eyes bore into mine. “We shouldn’t have done that,” she sighs. It’s not a question. It’s the truth. I search her eyes, trying to find some semblance of calm in the baby blue. This morning doesn’t forecast clear skies, as it would seem. Instead, I’m met with a raging storm.

“Do you wish we hadn’t?” I ask. My voice sounds foreign to my own ears. She hesitates. “I should,” she tells me. “But I don’t.” I shut my eyes, exhaling through my nose. She keeps talking. “I got to touch you.”

“I got to kiss you. Got to hold you, get to wake up to you.”

I nod, pursing my lips. “I know.”

“Maya, baby.”

I let myself look at her, opening my eyes to let them rove over her lips and her nose.

“I need to tell you something,” Paige says quietly.

She sits up, clad in one of her own t-shirts she’d grabbed from my closet. My eyes follow her movements, waiting with bated breath to see if she’ll leave.

“It wasn’t you. It was me.”

I sit up cautiously, narrowing my eyes at her. “Are you… re-breaking up with me, right now, Paige?”

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head indignantly. “No! No, no, no! Just-just listen, okay?”

I nod, encouraging her to go on.

“I was insecure. I was so worried that everyone else would see what I see in you - how beautiful you are, how smart you are, and kind, and funny, and talented, and-and sexy. How could they not? I mean, you’re all that and-and more.”

“But I should have trusted you, too. It was unfair of me to throw the situation with Nicky back in your face. I’m the one who kissed you. I called you and you came, because you always do, because that’s how good you are. Because you love me. You’ve never done wrong by me, Maya. Ever. Even if I missed a comp, you were always there at my games. Even when I fucked up, you showed up for me, Mai.”

“And I’ve known. That it’s you. Maybe as long as we’ve known each other, I couldn’t tell you. But I don’t want anyone to touch me the way you do. I can’t imagine looking at someone else and-and feeling the things I feel when I look at you, Mai. I can’t even put them into words. I just know that this feeling that I have - right now - waking up to you and knowing that I’m yours and you’re mine… shit, Maya. I want this feeling for fucking life.”

My eyes sting with tears. “Paige,” I whisper.

“And I know you want time. And space. Or whatever the fuck. But I’m telling you I don’t need any of that shit. I just need you. Us. However much you’re willing to give. I’ll take it. Some of you, all of you. I don’t give a fuck. I’ll wait. However long it takes.” She rushes all of this out, her tone taking on a sense of urgency.

I’m silent, still processing her words.

“My bus to the airport leaves in an hour. If I’m not there, Coach will skin me alive,” she tells me, getting off the bed. “I know… you have doubts. I get it. But I’m telling you right now, you’re fucking it for me, Maya. And if you need a day, weeks, months, years to get to that place - I’ll still wait for you.”

Paige walks briskly to me, taking my face in her hands. I feel as though I’m in a state of shock. “My bus leaves from the Hilton. If you come, I’ll know you want to keep trying.” She kisses me chastely. “Please come,” she whispers.

Then she’s gone. I glance at the clock on my phone. It reads 9:30.

I let about fifteen minutes pass.

Then another fifteen. I pick at my blankets, my fingers twitching.

Twenty minutes go by.

Then thirty more.

I check my phone again. Nothing from Paige. The time reads 10:52.

I hesitate.

Then I grab my car keys off my nightstand.

*******

Paige’s POV

“She didn’t come?” KK asks softly. I stare out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of her dark hair. “Nah, guess not.” I try to play it off, acting like it doesn’t bother me, but my heart feels like someone stabbed it and twisted the knife. I pull my jacket tighter around me, as though it might hide the bloodstains.

The ride to the airport is slow and painful. I wallow in the words I said to her before I left.

The truth is, I don’t want to be without her. I can’t. I’ve been in love with her since I was fifteen years old. I’m 23 now, and the sun still rises and sets on that fucking smile.

I trudge through the airport, drag myself through security, and plop down at a seat at our gate. Azzi tries to poke me, trying to tease me to cheer me up. It doesn’t work. I shoot her a glare, then turn to the other side, determined to ignore the rest of my team.

That’s when I see her.

Maya.

She’s wearing what she wore to bed last night, a hoodie thrown over her t-shirt and shorts. She looks frantic, just about running through the airport. She clutches her keys in one hand, wallet in the other.

I shoot to my feet.

“Maya,” I breathe. KK gives me a weird look. “Yo, I know you’re down bad and all, but you have to chill.”

I swat her, my eyes still trained on the dark haired girl running through the Detroit airport. “No, dude. Maya. She’s here.”

KK’s eyes go wide when they spot her. “Girl, what are you standing here for? Go get her!”

“Right,” I mumble, nearly tripping trying to get past the bundle of duffels we all have on the floor in front of us.

“Maya!” I call, praying she hears me. “Maya!”

She spins to find my voice, her hair swishing around her. I see her lips form my name, and then she’s sprinting towards me, launching herself at me. Without hesitation, I gather her in my arms, squeezing her to me, letting her wrap her legs around my waist. “Paige,” she whispers into my hair, placing a kiss at my temple. “What are you doing here?” I wonder aloud. “I-I bought a ticket to Miami,” she splutters out, tears filling her eyes. “They wouldn’t let me in otherwise, but I had to see you-”

“You came,” I breathe, locking my arms around her body.

She stops, pulling back to look at me, a ‘duh’ look on her face. “You called,” she replies.

I bury my face into her, breathing in her smell. “Don’t do that again, okay?” I beg.

She laughs tearfully, nodding and clutching me to her. It occurs to me momentarily that this is an awfully public display of affection to be having in an airport, but I don’t give a shit.

“Never again,” she agrees, slowly unhooking her legs from around me.

“God, you scared me,” I tell her, but I’m too busy drinking her in to actually be mad.

“I just thought about what you said. We’re so over everything that happened in high school. I’m not scared you’ll hurt me again. I trust you too much for that. And I don’t need days or weeks or however fucking long, Paige. It’s been four years. I’m done waiting. I want this. Now,” she tells me earnestly.

I nod eagerly, unable to believe my ears. “We’ll- we’ll make it work. I’ll call you every day, every hour if you want. Whatever you want. You can visit! I’ll pay for your flights. I got NIL bank now, I’ll pay for whatever. I just-”

I know I’m babbling, but I’m just so unbelievably happy, I think I might be high off of it. I interrupt myself to kiss her, pulling her to me, not caring who sees. She laughs against me, kissing me back, and I think at this moment that if I could bottle her laugh up, I could get drunk off of it.

I lift her up off her feet once more, grinning at her.

“I hope you know I’m never letting you get away from me again,” I tell her.

Maya smiles at me, pecking my nose. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy,” she retorts.

I grin at her, stupidly in love with every single part of her. “You and me, baby?”

The smile she flashes at me is blinding, and she’s so beautiful I think I might pass out.

“You and me.”

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #fic #wcbb #uconn wbb #✂️ anon #ncaaw #paige bueckers x oc #fic talk #right where you left me

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swordsandholly · 1 day

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Mother’s Day Blues

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Reader

Word Count: ~900 unedited

Johnny loves Mother’s Day. You hate it.

MDNI | cw: vent fic, big mommy issues, mentioned childhood spanking, ED mention

Johnny loves Mother’s Day.

You hate it.

He watches you stand in the card aisle, shifting side to side, reading every single card. Snatching them up and shutting them hard just to shove them back into their little displays - huffing and growing ever more agitated as you go.

“It doesnnae matter what ye pick, bonnie.” He tries to be encouraging. “They’re all nice.”

“That’s the problem.” You mutter in a voice far too weak and bitter for his liking. “Why can’t they make one that just says, like, ‘You sure are my mom!’”

“Sweetheart…” Johnny knows you’re trying to cover it with humor, but the way your brow furrows breaks his heart. He sets a hand on your waist, pointing to a very generic, sparkly joke card. You nod and take it, grimacing still.

He hates it - hates watching you chew your lip and your hands shake while you pace back and forth before the 10 am alarm you set to call your mom goes off. Hates holding you while you sob in his lap after because of course she had to ask in a pathetic, whiny voice ‘is everything okay with us’ when she knows damn well it isn’t. When she won’t ever try to fix it or admit that she fucked up.

You carry the effects of the way she raised you everywhere you go. Johnny sees them all - knows them all by heart. Every time he notices you cutting portions and weighing yourself more than normal. When you use cruel words to describe your body. Every time you don’t tell him that you’re upset with him because you’re frightened of his reaction - body shaking so hard that you look like an earthquake personified. The lack of confidence in your interactions with others, how easily you fold and are ready to people please. Every time you get that glazed over, far away look in your eye after you remember something a little too clearly.

You only took him to meet her once. He’s never wanted to punch a woman like that before.

Johnny is, and always has been, of the opinion that you should cut contact. Cold turkey. Block her on everything and leave it be. You’ve argued about it more times than he can count, going back and forth about what would happen if you did. What the worst outcome could be.

“It’s not like she hit me…” You mutter.

“Spankin’ is hittin’, love.” Johnny takes your hands. “And it doesnnae matter if she did or not. She was rotten tae ye in every other way.”

You just get quiet. Tears well up in your eyes and what is he supposed to do when you get like that? Keep fighting? No, never. It’s your decision anyway. He just hates what she does to you and, by extension, how it effects your relationship with his mother.

Every time you visit is perfectly cordial. His mum loves you - sees you as her own. You’re Johnny’s after all. Her only son. You want to love her. You really, really do but when she says ‘I love you’ it feels like you’re going to die. Every time she hugs you he can see the way your shoulders tense up by your ears and your lips purse.

They’ve talked about it. Johnny and his mum. The horrified look she gave him when he told her only the little he knew at the time was more than enough. Bless her. She made it her goal to be the perfect mother-in-law. Never overbearing, never too needy. To love you quietly and meet you where you’re at.

He’s cried over it a few times - though he’d never admit it - watching her treat you with the gentle hands and words you deserve. It breaks his heart as you try to figure out what to do with it.

Johnny has known he wants to marry you for a long time. You’ve both talked about it, both made it known that you’re fully committed to one another forever. It’s just hard to plan a proposal when he isn’t sure how long he’ll be in town. He got the ring months ago and has just been holding onto it for the right time. So, in the end, he decides to be a bit spontaneous with it. His whole family is going on a beach day, and you look so pretty in your little cover up dresses.

His little nieces and nephews gladly help him set up a little path leading to a circle of flowers. His sister brings her big, fancy camera to take pictures while his other sister hints at you to wear something cute and invited you to get your nails done a week before.

Thank god you’re one of the most oblivious people on the planet.

Of course you say yes, tackling him down into the sand while you both cry. He knew you’d say yea but it still fills his heart to bursting. He buries his face in your neck to hide it, but he can’t stop it. You’re his, always and forever.

As the family congratulates and talks, his mother finally comes up and tenderly takes both your hands in hers.“Welcome to the family, love. It’s so nice to have another daughter.”

Johnny freezes, watching for your reaction.

Your eyes turn to saucers, a quiet hiccup shaking your chest before a full on sob follows. You bury your face in your hands and she wraps her arms around your shoulders. Johnny grabs onto you both.

She might not be your mum by blood, and you may never truly open up to her, but either way you deserve a good mother. He’s more than happy to share his own. Maybe someday you’ll heal. Little by little, by the same gentle hands that raised him.

A/N: Sorry for the angst but Mother’s Day has me fucked up.

#john soap mactavish #call of duty #cod #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x you #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #fem reader #ed trigger warning #cod x reader #reader insert #vent fic

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tomssexdoll · 1 day

Note

what’s up babygirl how you doing?

Sooo here’s my request Tom is reader’s boyfriend and you know he’s smoking but he won’t allow reader to smoke not like the master way but like the caring boyfriend way and she wants to try cigarette so once she steal one from Tom’s pack on his bedside table and smokes it and Tom catches her and it’s on you how it will end

that’s all ily byeeee

HEYYYY BBG IM GOOD HRU

My boyfriend Tom is a smoker, yet he doesn't allow me to do it?

I was always confused by it, howcome he could destroy his lungs but not me? I eventually figured it out to him caring for me, he wanted me to take care of myself and not pick up bad habits like him.

One day I was curious, wanting to try a cigarette, I knew he kept his cigarettes in the draw, not hiding it from me because he knew I didn't smoke. He was busy in the backyard, installing the new grill he bought.

I ran over to the draw, grabbing a cigarette out of the pack and a spare lighter he stashed in the pack. I looked at it, observing the small orange bit at the butt, the long white bit where all the tobacco was.

I lit it, holding it to my lips and sucking in, because i've never smoked, when I inhaled I immediately started coughing, my throat raw and chest slightly burning.

"Fuck..how does he smoke these" I sighed, grabbing some water and chugging it before going back to smoke it, getting used to the burning feeling at the back of my throat.

I eventually got down 3/4, my throat sore and head fuzzy. I wasn't used to the nicotine, it hit me like a truck, the headspin kind of intense. I didn't notice the heavy footsteps coming down the hall and Tom emerging into the room, seeing me at the window, smoking a cigarette.

"Oh Y/N! No!" Tom called out, rushing over to me and snatching the cigarette from me, I was stunned, looking up at Tom, his expression softening as he saw my eyes.

"Baby..I've told you not to do this, you know how bad these are for you?" he put a hand on my shoulder, stomping on the cigarette and throwing it out the window, "I heard coughing and decided to see if you were ok, why are you doing this?" he sighed.

I looked down, ashamed for what I'd done, "I just wanted to try it..you do it all the time" my lip slightly quivered, I hated confrontation. He kept on scolding me, "you never listen" he sighed "I should've known you'd do something like this" grunting slightly, his tone getting more angry.

I started to softly cry, tears streaming down my cheeks, "I'm sorry..i thought if you could do it why can't I.." wiping my tears quickly. "Oh baby..no no don't cry" he pulled me into his chest, holding me close, "I didn't mean to get mad..fuck..you know I love you, that's why I'm upset schatzi" he caressed my head, running his fingers through my hair.

"I'm sorry.." I repeated, my tears coating his white shirt, "no baby it's ok..cmon, sit with me" he held my hand, sitting me onto his lap on the bed, rubbing my back softly as I buried my face in his neck.

"You're so cute.." he chuckled "so sensitive" he kissed my neck, continuing to rub my back, reassuring me.

"You want my cock to cheer you up..?" He whispered softly, I perked my head up, nodding softly. He chuckled and layed me down onto the bed, pulling my panties off.

"Such a naughty girl..stealing my cigarettes" he muttered, sliding off his shorts and boxers, my hands reached out to his shirt, pulling it off and revealing his sweaty, toned body.

"Fuck.." I mumbled, my pussy aching for him. "Look how wet you are for me..so needy" he smirked, his tip prodding at my entrance. "Put it in..please.." I moaned, he chuckled "of course baby.." grabbing my hips and slamming his cock fully into me, stretching me out quickly.

"Fuck!" I yelped, my hands flying to his shoulders, holding onto them desperatly, he started to thrust harshly, pounding into my pussy.

"Such a sensitive girl.." he muttered, leaning down and kissing my neck softly, leaving small hickeys wherever his lips landed. "Mmmph.." I groaned, his nails digging into my hips, my back arching as his tip hit my sweet spot, pounding into it relentlessly.

"So tight.." he mumbled against my neck, rubbing his thumb over my hips, soothing the sore skin with his marks. "Ah!" I cried out, his cock continuing to slam into me, hitting all the right angles, waves of pleasure coursing throughout my body.

"Cum for me baby..make me proud" he grunted, his pace quickening, desperate to feel my pussy clamping down on his cock. I felt a knot forming in my stomach, coiling down to my core as his cock repeatedly rammed into my pussy, pushing me closer to the edge.

"Ohh fuck!" I whined, my legs twitching as my orgasm crashed down, my juices spilling all over his cock. He groaned and kept on thrusting, shooting his load into me, fucking it deep.

He rode out our highs, collapsing on top of me and playing with my hair, "you're so adorable honey" he smirked, flipping us over and letting me rest on his chest.

tags: @itsmealaiah @itsangelll @kaulitzsbabyy @ballhair @ge-billsgf @estxkios @bkaulitzlover @charliesgoodboy @tomsonlyslut

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andromeda-nova-writing · 2 days

Text

"Are you laughing at me?" "Yeah, I am. What are you going to do about it?" - Wriothesley Request from @isekyaaa

When Clorinde said she knew someone who could teach Y/N the basics of a different hand-to-hand combat style she wasn’t expecting that Wriothesley would be the one to teach her. One would think it would be easy to take the guy seriously but all the stories from Clorinde and that his back was absolutely covered in stickers made it so hard. It would have been easier if she said she would just show up to the fortress for her lesson rather than agreeing with him to take advantage of the nice weather out at the beach. With his coat on, the stickers were at least out of sight.

“You know I never got the reason why you agreed to this.”

“Clorinde didn’t tell you?” He was focused on wrapping his hands.

“Nah. Just said she knew a guy.” Her head tilted to the side. “Is there something I should know? Heard from her that you both like betting. You lost?”

He sighed. “Yeah, but this is better than me winning and my shelves filling up with more law books.”

Y/N laughed. “So you’re the reason I end up swinging by the bookstore to pick up a law book for her every now and then.”

Wriothesley rolled his eyes with a smile. “Seems so. You ready over there.”

“Been. You were the late one.”

“Work’s a bit far from here to be fair.”

“I thought I was gonna have to tell Clorinde you were a no-show. I’d be back on the hunt for an instructor. Probably could find someone better if I spent more time looking.” She teased.

“You’re gonna give me a headache.”

“Don’t tell me I’m too much for you to handle.”

He looked away biting his lip, he pushed his bangs back before letting them fall in front of his face. “Let’s just get this started.”

It didn't take long for Y/N to begin understanding the basics. The only issue was that she kept falling back into the stance of her normal fighting style. It was definitely something she’d have to work on to fix but at the same time being able change styles mid fight could be an advantage.

After some time of just focusing making sure she was picking things up correctly. It didn’t hurt to test some things out in a small scrimmage. It would just be a few blows back and forth with no real weight behind them.

Y/N had thrown a punch Wriothesley way. She focused on pushing him further back towards the water. It was her best bet with that they were in two different weight classes. It wasn’t hard for him to dodge. But in doing so he tripped backwards trying to avoid stepping on a crab and fell into the waves that crashed against the shore.

She couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. Yes, he had been a more than perfect teacher the entire time. But with the knowledge he was helping cause of a lost bet, the stickers that covered his back and that he was soaked beyond belief she let go of everything that kept her from laughing at the man.

He looked up at the woman who was now towering above him as the waves gently splashed at him leaving no part of his clothes dry. “Are you laughing at me?” He wasn’t mad but he for sure knew he had to look a bit stupid.

“Yeah, I am. What are you going to do about it?” She teased. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it.

He sighed. “You’re right nothing I can do. Help a guy up?”

Y/N wiped a tear that formed from her laughter before holding a hand out to him to pull him back up standing. Wriothesley took her hand pulling himself up just slightly before pulling her down into the water with him.

“Ugggh, You asshole!” She laid in the water beside Him.

“It's what you get.” He let go of her hand before splashing her lightly.

“It’s not like I was the one who pushed you in.”

“You were laughing enough where you might as well have.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe Clorinde set me up to learn from a man who doesn’t know how to even treat a lady.”

“I don’t know if our activities here would even have you being considered lady like.”

“I think it’s very lady like knowing how to defend yourself. After all you never know when a big oaf is going to pull you into the ocean.”

“You say that like you haven’t been having a good time.”

She turned her head away to hide the smile that was creeping onto her face. “Let’s just go dry off already.”

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #Can you believe even after our talk last night the amount of fics with a wriothesley kiss is still zero #It was fun to do a different reader than the one i normally write for him though #If it wasn't for the fact I'm trying to keep these short i would have written so much more #Of the three I've written so far I feel the most confident about this one #But that's probably cause I've written him the most out of late #I guess i'm off to work on that other fic now #fem! reader

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foxaftershocks · 2 days

Note

I don't if your okay with this but if its okay I'd lot to request another thing (I just can't get enough for your writings)

So basically this would take place during a battle similar to the final in frosen empie (or just go with the actual fight) and the reader had gone to try and help Phoebe but the sewer dragon tried to stop them which resulted in the getting hurt pretty badly but they just bearly managed to win and after everything was over and they laid eyes on lars they ran at eachother and held on tightly think that they'd lost eachother but of course they didn't.

Did my best to come up with an idea off of the prompt of: running into each other's arms after barely surviving

Keep requesting. I love it. I hope I did the prompt justice.

Your grip on your proton gun tightened, creeping through the tunnel. It felt too quiet. You’d been wandering for a few monists, looking for the next ghost that would spring out at you. It had been too long without a sighting. You were alone and on edge.

Turning the corner, you hefted the gun higher. Nothing. Another empty hall. You trudged forward, sweeping your gaze over the space in front of you. Trying to keep your footsteps silent, you crept forward, knuckles turning white from how tight your grip was.

A scream went up from somewhere in the distance. You bolted, not evening thinking about it. Your feet pounded through the tunnels, not bothering with keeping quiet as you tried to get to the scream in the rabbit warren under the building. You skidded around a corner, finding Phoebe with a proton stream coming close to your head. You ducked, swearing as you did your best to avoid the destruction tearing through the stone of the wall.

A high pitched giggle drew your attention to the huge ghost standing at the end of the tunnel. You rose as Phoebe swept back towards it, the panic clear on her face. You braced your feet, ready to use your own gun to help her.

A body burst through the ground between the two of you. Stumbling back, you cursed again, losing your footing. The sewer dragon, the same fucker that had been plaguing you for so long. You weren’t even near Hell’s Kitchen. It shouldn’t be there.

Jaws snapped at you. Rolling, you got onto hands and knees, trying to crawl away. The gun was abandoned in your desperation to put space between you and the ghost. your heart was thudding in your ears and you were desperate to get out of the way.

The tail flung around, catching you in the ribs, sending you flying. You slammed into the wall, your breath rushing out of your body. You fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Bracing your feet, you pushed up again, tugging on your proton pack to get your gun again.

Sending the proton stream towards the sewer dragon, you pressed against the wall, aching and bruised. The tail got caught by the stream. Thrashing against the hold of the stream, it let out a high pitched screech.

Its body slammed into the wall, sending a shockwave towards you. Falling forward, you caught yourself on your hands, unsteady and unbalanced. You rolled out of the way as it’s tail came down towards you.

“Phoebe,” you called out.

“Busy,” she shouted back.

Still around the corner, you could hear her own battle going on. A piece of rock fell, smashing into your shoulder. Your moment of distraction had been a mistake. You scrabbled away, trying to get back to your feet. Another shockwave went though the ground, making you have to stop to keep your balance.

Another piece of rock fell from above. You dived out of the way, grasping your gun. Letting a stream go free, you did your best to catch it, to stop it from moving. A thump, a crash, a cloud of dust rising int the air. A hacking cough came from you as you breathed it in, desperate for air in your lungs.

The sewer dragon screeched again, thrashing against the hold you had on it. You held on, letting yourself be dragged across the tunnel. You slammed into the far wall again but you held on. You had to deal with this and then you could go help Phoebe. This was your job. You had to do it. You had to go help the teenager and get the situation under control.

Jaws full of pointed teeth opened above you. You had to throw yourself out of the way or be caught up in them. The tail whipped out again and you found yourself flying through the air, still able to move you from the proton stream connecting you to it. Slamming into the ground, once, twice, three times, your finger slipped from the trigger and the stream cut off.

You ached, your entire body was one giant bruise. The breath had been knocked so far out of you it wasn’t clear if it was coming back. You wheezed, the dust in your lungs and your eyes burning. it was growing difficult to see and you were trying to drag air into your body.

Something cracked above you. You rolled onto your back, squinting through the dust and the darkness. Something fell, stone smashing into the ground beside you.

“Fuck,” you weren’t even aware of saying.

You tried to scramble away as stone continued to fall from above. Curling into a ball, you pressed against the wall, trying to keep out of the way of the collapse going on around you.

It took a long time for the world to settle around you. Looking up, opening your eyes, you found yourself in a small gap, stone keeping you blocked in. You pushed against one with your foot, not even able to extend your leg fully. It shifted slightly, but didn’t give. You tried again, pressing back against the wall to give yourself more leverage.

Someone shouted your name in the distance. You called out, hoping to get someone’s attention. You kept digging your fingers into the rocks, trying to pry them apart. You needed air. You needed escape. The walls were closing in on you.

Another rock shifted, over to your right. You cried out as one fell, striking your shoulder. Another rock shifted. Doing your best to help, you dragged rocks away, unable to duck away when a few fell towards you.

“Are you okay?” Phoebe asked, her face peering in at you as she kept hauling rocks away.

“I think that’s all relative,” you replied.

“We need to find the others,” she said.

Your mind flashed to the rest of the team. Gary, Callie, Trevor, Lucky. Lars. If something had happened to Lars you might not recover. You might lose your mind.

“Do you know what happened to them?” you asked, slow to climb out of the hole you’d been trapped in.

Lars rushed past, going after the sewer dragon after the earthquake stopped,” she said, “he told me to find you. I think Mum was heading to the surface.”

“Did you get him? The big guy?” you asked, leaning heavily on her.

“Yeah, I’ve got him,” she said, tapping the still smoking trap at her hip, “we should be done now. If the others did their part.”

“Let’s get out of here then.”

Every single part of you ached. You took slow steps with her, heading out, trying to find your way back to world. The rabbit warren worked against you, leading you in circles until sunlight began to break through from above.

You stumbled out, into the fresh air of the surface. You coughed again, trying to brush the dust from your eyes. Phoebe ducked out from under you, running off as she caught sight of her mom. You swayed, eyes scanning the crowd that had gathered, watching from a safe distance.

Your eyes alighted on a figure, standing hunched, gaze sweeping over the people. You straightened when he paused on you. One step forward then he broke out into a run. You began to limp towards him, going as fast as you could. The look of relief on Lars’ face became clearer the closer you got.

Flinging yourself at him, he caught you, lifting you off the ground. Your face was buried in his neck. Your legs around his waist, the aches unimportant as you felt how solid he was against you. He was real, he was there, he was okay. The aching sob surprised you, tears gathering while the fear seeped out of your body.

“Are you okay?” he asked, the frantic tone so different from how cool and collected he usually was, “please tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you parroted back.

You felt the sigh of relief, still wrapped around him.

“Are you…” You didn’t know how to finish your question, wanting to know everything, wanting to make sure he was okay and the others were okay and that you’d won.

“I’m fine,” he replied, “we’re all fine.”

You were slow to be put down, your arms still around his neck, his wrapped around your waist so tightly you were pressed together. His lips pressed to your temple, nose brushing your hairline, lingering. Your fingers wound through his hair, right at the nape of his neck, holding on. You needed to feel him there.

“I thought you’d… I saw the cave in,” he said.

“You didn’t want to dig me out?” you asked.

“I left Phoebe to get you. I wanted to get the bloody thing that put you in danger,” he replied, sounding angrier than you’d expect.

“And did you?” you asked, catching his eye.

“It won’t ever hurt you again,” he promised, sounding deadly serious.

You could feel him, so steady against your body. His heart was beating, pulse thrumming, breath ghosting over your face as he bent towards you. You didn’t even think about it, just grateful he was still there with you. He was still breathing. He was still alive.

You pulled him down, closer, your lips finding his. The way he kissed you, it was like he was worried you were going to disappear any second. That he had to make the most of it because you might not be there again. He had no idea.

It was desperate, a release of all the panic and anxiety and pent up emotions. You couldn’t get close enough. You needed more of him. You wanted to feel all of him. You wanted to be reminded how alive he was and you were and the future you could have together.

“Oi, stop sucking face and get over here.”

You ignored Trevor, kissing Lars deeper, more, longer. He wasn’t giving you space, but was matching you for every kiss.

“We need to get back,” Trevor tried again.

It didn’t stop either of you.

“I guess I’ll just have to drive the van back myself then,” he called over.

“Fuck,” Lars mumbled against your lips, “he’s not fucking doing that.”

“Later then,” you said.

“If you think I’m letting you go in any other vehicle but mine you’re mad,” he said, lacing your fingers together, “I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again.”

“That might get a bit awkward,” you giggled.

“Worth it.”

He caught your cheek in one palm, kissing you again, lingering long enough to make Trevor cough to stop you before it became too much.

“So that’s a no to driving?” he asked, falling into step beside the two of you.

“Go bother someone else,” Lars all but growled, “we’ll see you back there.”

“Don’t take any detours,” he called, peeling away to join his family.

Lars grumbled under his breath but softened when you squeezed his hand. You pressed your lips to the back of his hand, uncaring of the sweat and dust and grime. It was Lars, and that was good enough for you.

#lars pinfield #lars pinfield imagine #lars pinfield x reader #request #shadow tumbler

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remember-that-one-blog · 5 hours

Text

Waiting for You

A/N: This is a little shorter than I normally do, but it felt right. Enjoy, lovelies!

Rhys x reader

word count: 1.3k

Warnings: none

You woke drenched in sweat. The remnants of the nightmare lingered behind your eyelids. You couldn’t bring yourself to think of it. You saw a flash every time you blinked. You couldn’t shake the jitteriness you felt. You didn’t have to look at the clock to know sunrise was hours away. Throwing the covers off your body, you stood and tugged a robe on while you slid your slippers on. You made my way downstairs to the kitchen. There already at the table was Mor. She caught your eye as you made your way down the last few steps.

“Couldn’t sleep?” You shook my head.

“You either?” She mirrored my earlier action. She slid a warm mug of tea toward you. She answered your question before you could ask. “I heard you tossing and turning. I figured you’d be down here soon.” She knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes. You couldn’t believe how lucky you got with her, with them. Your family.

“How are you holding up?” You raked a hand through your hair. You didn’t want to think about it. That’s what your nightmare was about.

“I’m barely holding on, Mor. It’s been weeks.” She nodded silently. It’s been months since any of us had heard from him. Your mate. “I don’t feel anything at the end of our bond either. I don’t know how he survived when I had to do that.”

“He was about like you. Barely hanging on, but he knew he had to put his people first. Just like you’re doing.” You took a deep breath. Being High Lady of the Night Court was everything you didn’t know you wanted. You loved it, loved your people, but dammit if you didn’t want to hide away until Rhys was back. Or we found him. You didn’t know what to do anymore.

“What happened that day? You were right with him.” You let out a breath as you contemplated your next words. How do you tell them you failed them? Failed your mate? It was quiet for so long Mor didn’t think you were going to answer.

“It was so quick.” She looked at you while you looked at the mug of tea between your hands. You thought back to that day. Your nightmare. “We were trying to contain that rogue. He was quick, not as quick as Rhys but quick enough to surprise us. Rhys lunged and then there was a flash and they were gone. I wasn’t quick enough.” You whispered the last part so quietly you weren't sure it even left your lips.

“Don’t you dare.” The tears in your eyes that threatened to spill stayed at bay, teetering on your lids. “You couldn’t have known, neither did he. You did everything you could and so did Rhys. He’ll come home.” You just nodded as the tears silently slid down your face. He had to come home.

It had been weeks since that night with Mor. You were still waking up to watching Rhys disappear. In your nightmare it was always the same. Every. Time. His end of your bond still felt silent. You couldn’t feel him or hear him. You missed him. You missed his smirk. You missed his smart ass comments. You missed his laugh. You miss it all. You missed all of him. You would send your thoughts down the bond even though you knew there wouldn’t be a reply. You would try. You would always try.

“Are you listening?” You startled as you saw Amren, Azriel, Cassian, and Mor looking at you. Amren was waiting for your reply.

“I wasn’t. I’m sorry.” Amren sighed.

“You know what, we can handle this. You go home, get some rest, girl.” Without another word to the others, you stood up making your way out of Amren’s apartment.

Sighing you looked out at the Rainbow. You loved this place. You adored your home. It just didn’t feel like home without Rhys. You sighed as you let your mind wander. In those weeks he had been gone you hadn’t felt like yourself and you knew why. You had kept your scent concealed since you figured it out. The others just assumed it was because you hadn’t been yourself since Rhys disappeared, wanting to keep to yourself. Keep your sadness to yourself. It just didn’t feel right having them know when Rhys couldn’t. You made your way to the townhouse. Oh, how you wanted your mate back.

You sighed as you entered the townhouse. You kicked your shoes off and hung your jacket up. You were so lost in your thoughts you didn’t notice the man sitting in the living area as you made your way toward the stairs.

“Seems to me you need to pay more attention to your surroundings, darling. Anyone could sneak right up on you.” You whipped your head around to see Rhys a little worse for wear sitting on the couch. You couldn’t decide what you wanted to do more, run to him or drop to your knees. The latter won as you sunk to the carpet unable to hold yourself up anymore. Rhys was instantly up and kneeling in front of you. You felt his hands cup your cheeks. You looked into those violet eyes of your mate.

“You’re alive.” His smile damn near broke you.

“I am. I had to come back to you, my love. I will always come back to you.” You held your mate’s face in your hands. He was here. He was in front of you. It wasn’t until this moment you could feel him on the other end of the bond. You felt him stroke the walls of your mind asking in. You immediately let him in. You felt him as he held you in every way he could.

“My darling, mate. I have missed you these weeks.”

“I’ve missed you. What happened? Where were you?” He sighed as he took you in. He was going to answer your question, but he wanted to look at his beautiful, beautiful mate first.

“Under the Mountain.” Your eyes widened. “It was some fae, who are now dead, and who figured out too late to never take the High Lord of the Night Court. They managed to put the wards back up that Amarantha had in place. No one will ever be able to do it again.That was why I couldn’t reach you, or you, me.” You stroked his cheeks with your thumbs. You hated those who took him back down there. That gods awful place. He was here, in your home. Right in front of you. He looked exhausted, you could feel it. You moved to stand, Rhys right behind you, moving his hands from your face to your waist.

“Let’s get you washed up, my love. I know you’re exhausted.” The soft smile he gave you nearly broke your heart.

“Always looking after me.”

“I always will.” You were so caught up in having him back, you didn’t realize you let your other guard down as well. You watched as Rhys’s brows furrowed. He took a deep breath trying to figure out what was different.

“Love, what-” That's when it hit him. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “Darling…”

You smiled at the High Lord. He was speechless for once in his five hundred years. He looked down to your still flat stomach and then to your eyes for confirmation. You gave him a small smile and nodded. Tears sprang to your eyes and his. He let out a strangled laugh. He kneeled in front of you, placing a hand on either side of your belly. He placed a kiss right below your belly button. You couldn’t smile harder if you tried as the words left his mouth.

“Hello, little one, we’ve been waiting for you.”

#rhys x reader #rhysand x reader #azriel x you #cassian x reader #rhys acotar #acotar #cassian acotar #azriel acotar #acomaf #mor x reader

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loves0phelia · 2 days

Note

miguel o’hara x nurse!gf pls

All This Time?

Summery: the request

Words: 1.1k

Warnings: injuries, getting hurt on purpose, grammar mistakes.

A/N: Thank you :)

You and Miguel met each other on a normal day. Usually when you meet someone new nothing very extraordinary really happens but your encounter with him was so uncommon it felt like it was staged.

Still wearing your usual blue scrubs, holding a well needed coffee after a 16 hour shift, you were on your way out of your workplace. You went to violently open the entry door of the hospital, but you hadn't noticed Miguel on the other side. So when you slammed it open the door stopped abruptly making your nose knock right into it.

Your coffee dropped from your hand right onto the white tiled floor.

“Shit!” You yelled, your now unoccupied hand came up to your face to hold your nose in pain.

“Dios mío, are you okay? I'm so sorry” He finally came around the door. His body was towering over yours and his gentle eyes observed you in pure concern.

“Do I look okay?” tears had welled in your eyes involuntary because of the impact.

“Not really…” he admitted, not sure what more to say.

“Of course I don't! im dirty, i smell and now I have a swelling nose” your salty tears were now rolling down your cheeks. This accident was your last straw.

“Would it make you feel better if we went to the coffee shop around the corner? it would be better than that cold hospital coffee you had” he eyed the brown liquid now dripping into a bigger puddle and then lifted his gaze to yours.

“I- sure” you wiped away your crocodile tears and passed him to finally go outside the building. You couldn't stay one more second inside that place.

That night you and Miguel had coffee, and a pastry he begged you to taste, but you also shared numbers.

You guys ended up calling the next day to meet again, and the day after that and the next one. Which led your friendship here.

Almost two years later after he proposed you a job, you were now a nurse at HQ. He had seen how bad your work conditions were at your old job and couldn't live with knowing you were treated badly at work. Now, he was your boss and Miguel would always make sure you were comfortable and happy, especially after you learned about him being spider man and the entire multiverse. Nothing could stop him from doing so and you knew he would never let you down.

“Lyla, could you tell Peter I've gotten Mayday’s report back and tell him she only has the flu. Nothing to worry about '' you call out to the AI. Even though she wasn't physically present she had ears everywhere in the headquarters in case a spider person needed her help.

“Consider it done!” She appeared out of thin air and talked in a bubbly manner. But that wasn't unusual for her. Lyla was always cheerful.

“Also, Miguel is on his way” she added before disappearing and you couldn't even react to her statement before Miguel came through the door out of breath, as if he had been running a marathon.

You watched as he made his way into the medical bed, he groaned and shifted trying to find a comfortable way to lay down.

“How many times do i have to tell you to be careful during your missions, almost seems like you do it on purpose” you sighed before gathering your equipment to treat all of his injuries.

His hologram spider suit disappeared and you noticed the large bruises forming along his chest. Your eyes examined the rest of his body and you frowned seeing the various other scars and cuts.

“i thought it was the Rhino anomaly again” You said, genuinely concerned about his health.

“it was” Miguel’s eyes avoid yours.

“How come you're so banged up then? You've dealt with the rhino anomaly hundreds of times. You know how to get rid of it” You said in a scolding tone.

“I know” he kept his eyes low.

“what happened?” you said now lowering your tone.

“you were right” his eyes finally found yours.

“About what?” you asked, confused,

“I did it on purpose,” he admitted and something in you snapped.

“What the hell! Why would you do that? You could've gotten seriously hurt” you were angry and sad at his confession.

“I knew I wouldn't have gotten hurt badly, I knew what I was doing ok?” He tried reassuring you but he failed miserably. You couldn't understand why he would do this to himself. You couldn't stand to see him hurt.

Your hands worked on his injuries furiously but still gently enough not to hurt him anymore. He tried explaining but you were not letting him.

“y/n stop please. Let me explain, caríno” he grabbed your hands to stop any of your movement and you sighed, accepting to finally let him speak.

“Ever since Iost Gabriella i never allowed myself to love anyone else, but when i met you i knew instantly that i could not resist you. I tried countless times to ask you out and express how I felt but everything I did felt wrong. The only way I managed to see you and talk to you was when I got hurt during missions” he sat up in the bed as his hand squeezed yours but you couldn't bring yourself to look up at him.

“So you thought the best idea was to get hurt purposely to be able to be near me?” you spoke lowly.

“yes, i know it was a bad idea-”

“It was the baddest idea Miguel! I thought you knew i loved you” you slapped your hand on your forehead.

“wait what? you love me?” he genuinely asked.

“Of course I do, you big idiot, you didn't notice all the times I looked at you? or all the times I wanted to be around you?”

“Now that you mention it-” his cockiness makes you grab the nearest pillow and slap it on his head.

“Okay, Okay I'm sorry!” you both laughed.

“So you're telling me I was getting hurt on purpose to get your attention all this time for nothing?” he smiled and you almost melted on the spot but you still nodded.

Slowly he leaned in and placed his lips against yours. He lingered there for a moment like he was asking for permission, silently, and then he placed a delicate kiss on your soft lips.

It was slow but passionate and in this very moment you never felt more happy.

“You're telling me I could have been kissing those pretty lips all this time too?” you giggled, nodded and pressed another kiss to his lips.

#miguel ohara x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel ohara angst #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara fluff

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robbinghisdick · 20 hours

Text

Jason can't help but think that Dick should really consider dying his daughter's hair to a more natural color. Elani's silver hair is easy to pick out amongst the kids at the playground. Elani would be about six now, if Jason recalls correctly. He hadn't seen her since she was a baby.

But this isn't about seeing his niece, this is about ruffling Dick's feathers.

Although Roy is watching her along with his own daughter, all it really takes is for him to become preoccupied with Lian. Just a moment of distraction, and for Elani to be off on the other side of the playground for Jason to grab her.

His car is parked right at the curb, he's tossed her into the passenger seat before the girl realizes what's going on and causes a fuss. She immediately grabs the door handle, but Jason has it slammed shut and locked before she can push her way out.

Elani looks more angry than scared as she looks at Jason. "My dad will kill you."

Jason snorts at the blunt threat, starting up the car. He glances over and see's that Roy has noticed Elani is missing. "Nice try, sweetheart, but Nightwing doesn't kill."

"I didn't say Nightwing."

Now THAT surprises Jason, but he doesn't have time to question further. He pulls away from the curb and takes off, waiting until he's sure he's not being followed.

"So, who's gonna get me then?" he asks. He never did figure out who Elani's other parent was before he died. All he knew is that it caused an explosive fight between Dick and Bruce, and he had decided to stay out of it.

Elani doesn't give him a response but gives him a withering look of a grumpy child.

"You seem very certain that he'd kill me. Just talking big or did he actually kill someone?" Jason presses, reaching over and poking her.

"I've been kidnapped before, and they were much scarier than you!" she snaps back, swatting away his hand. "He shot them, and he'll shoot you too."

Jason finds himself laughing, wondering how the perfect golden boy Dick Grayson ended up with this mouthy of a child, much less had a baby with a killer.

///

The longer they drove, the quieter they both got. Jason's thoughts settled back on Dick. Roy has probably called Dick by now, and an automatic message Jason had set up has likely reached Dick's phone. He was going to have a little fun messing with the man. Bruce would likely be made aware soon too, desperate to find his favorite kid.

When they got out of the car, Elani put up a fight, screaming and yanking against Jason's hold, but he doesn't pay it much mind. No one around would come to save her.

His grip tightens and he yanks her along as they head into an old building.

Then he freezes. Something washes over him, dulling the swarm of thoughts in his head, the rage he feels.

He feels Elani kicking his leg and he glances down to see that she's started to cry, desperately trying to pry Jason's hand off her wrist. She looks at Jason with teary eyes, a peculiar light gleaming in them.

I'm hurting her. Something twists in his chest, and he relaxes his grip on her wrist just a bit. "I don't plan on hurting you," he says, continuing to move through the old rundown building. "Just play along for a little bit, alright?"

She stops fighting against him, but he hears her still sniffling.

The plan was to leave her locked up here and move to another building to throw off Dick, but curiosity decides to nag at him.

He picks up Elani as he sits down, and she flinches as he wipes at a tear.

Jason pulls off his helmet and sets it to the side. "Do you remember me, Lani?"

Elani studies his face for a moment before shaking her head. It stings a little, even if Jason knew it was unreasonable to expect her to remember his face.

"I'm Jason."

At that, her demeanor changes, eyes lighting up. "Oh! Uncle Jay," she says immediately. "Daddy talked about you a lot."

The past tense doesn't go over Jason's head. "What'd he say?'

Too vague of a question. Elani shrugs. "He missed you a lot," she says. "And would pull out pictures sometimes. I have one in my room!"

Jason finds himself surprised to immediately know what photo she was likely talking about. Dick joked about how Jason was Elani's favorite person in the whole world and had a framed photo of Jason holding Elani up. She couldn't have looked more delighted in that photo.

He remembers just how excited he had been to be an uncle. He'd spend any moment where Dick was out of earshot trying to get his name to be Elani's first word just to tease Dick. Elani would refuse to smile whenever Bruce held her, but Jason could always get giggling.

It was hard to believe that Elani was only in kindergarten, but those moments felt like they happened a million years ago.

"He said you died."

Jason nods. "I did."

Elani registers that for a moment, looking very concerned. "Are you a zombie?"

Jason blinks. "I don't think so. I did come back to life, though."

"Did it hurt?"

"A lot," he confirms. It was hard to comprehend just how much pain he had been in. "Still hurts."

Elani is quiet for a moment before rubbing her bruising wrist. "Why are you doing this?"

Suddenly his reasoning didn't seem very sound, and it left him baffled. He had been so sure and convicted only moments ago. He didn't want to think about it.

He avoids the question.

///

Jason had completely forgotten the run around he was going to give Dick. He instead spent that time just talking to Elani. It was the clearest his head had felt since he was resurrected.

He hears the floor creek and glances up to see Nightwing at the door.

The man is tense and freezes when their eyes meet.

Jason glances back down at Elani who was still talking about some mean kids at school that she was dealing with.

With a sigh, Jason gestures take her. He doesn't feel like fighting Dick anymore.

That seems to startle Dick and he carefully approaches, glancing around as if there were some trap that would spring out once he got too close.

None came.

"Hey, Dove."

Elani looks over her shoulder and springs out of Jason's lap and into the arms of her father. Dick holds her tightly, body sagging with relief before he stood up with his daughter in his arms.

Neither of the two men say anything. Dick's mouth opens, hesitating, but seems to decide he doesn't want to jinx anything and quickly leaves with his daughter.

Looking over Dick's shoulder, Elani waves.

Jason waves back.

In the next hour, he'll wonder why hell he just let her go, why he didn't follow through with any of his plans. His thoughts crowd and his anger brews.

///

Maybe next time.

[Previous]

(A/n: Sadly it isn't the power of love that got to Jason, just an undiscovered meta-ability lmao. Idk if anyone is actually gonna read this, but it's been buzzing in my head for like... two weeks. I'm still familiarizing myself with Jason so like, give me a lil bit of grace if anything is too OOC. This is placed vaguely after Jason killed a bunch of people dressed like Nightwing)

#dick grayson #jason todd #dc universe #batfam #elani grayson #my writing

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thecreelhouse · 15 hours

Text

accident prone

part two - I laugh often, so, I suppose, I’m gonna be fine

Paring: Steve Harrington x fem!OC - Francesca “Frankie” Amato

Summary: Steve and Frankie really get to know one another, and the friendship blossoms quickly. So fast, Steve can’t keep up with his own feelings, even in the face of an emergency.

WC: 8.6k+

Includes: angst, hurt/comfort (like, a lot), internalized ableism, language, PTSD, revolving around Hawkins/the Upside Down, discussions of chronic pain/illness and disabilities, a teensy bit of fluff and flirting if you squint, medical emergencies, etc.

series playlist ⋮ masterlist

here, here and here - meg & dia

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

“I’m a wanderer now, sorrow befalls me / I laugh often so, I suppose, I’m gonna be fine”

A/N: hey there! Wow. I didn’t think this would really gain any attention— this fandom seems to hate OCs (y’all’s loss tbh), but the support I got on the last chapter, though small to some major blogs, means a fuck ton to me. I don’t want to tag everyone, but thank you to whoever sent me a kind message or pep talk after posting the first part— I really am glad this is relating to others with chronic health concerns, one way or another. Even if it relates to one person, it means more than meaningless notes. Also, may 12th is Fibromyalgia Awareness Day! So, consider this my contribution lol. As previously stated, for anyone with fibro, or without, but living with a chronic illness/condition, mental and/or physical, I am sending all my love, and this is for you <3

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The next morning, Steve’s up early; if he can’t push past the pain, he’ll try working with it. He refuses to let the opportunity to get to know Frankie slip away.

And the opportunity for a possible job. That’s important, too. Just… not right at this very moment.

What the hell do I wear?

He glances at the pair of glasses he’s been neglecting lately, just annoyed he needs yet another tool of assistance to help him function; his vision blurs easily these days, especially with migraines. And while it’s not severe, he’s been warned to wear the glasses to prevent further deterioration of his vision.

To Steve, it’s another reminder of how broken he feels. If this was about anyone else, he wouldn’t feel that way, but when it comes to himself, the internal ableism never ends.

Just like the day before, everything hurts terribly. It’s one of those days where even certain fabrics and elastics add to the widespread ache, and it’s not like he has to dress up, but he doesn’t want to just show up in sweats, either.

At least I don’t have to wear that ugly, stiff uniform anymore.

He opts for a well-worn, loose cardigan with a pair of jeans that he ripped at the knee years ago; the tear is conveniently over his bad knee, making it easier to wear the brace he has on his bad joint days. And today, he really needs it.

Steve also needs a boost of confidence and a way to shake his nerves; the thought of seeing Frankie again and possibly getting another job have him on edge.

Too bad there’s no medical device to assist him on that one.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Noticing the ‘CLOSED’ sign on the door of the record shop, Steve hesitates, realizing he should’ve asked Frankie about the hours; a tiny note taped to the bottom of the sign catches his eye. “Unless your name is Steve,” is scribbled in disheveled handwriting, with a small smiley face drawn at the end.

Entering the record shop, he first sees Frankie, sitting criss-crossed on the checkout counter; her cane is laid over her lap while she’s meticulously applying stickers to the aluminum. The door’s chime goes off, and her head pops up, immediately breaking into the warm smile Steve had thought about since the last time they spoke.

“Steve!” There’s an urge within her to hop off the counter and greet him with a hug, but she holds back, reminding herself that they’re barely even friends. “Hi,” She opts for a wave instead, eyes falling to the coffees, one in each hand.

He shyly nods with a sweet smile, all bundled up in layers most folks would consider unnecessary. For him and his temperature intolerance, the obnoxious amount of warmth is very necessary.

“Hi, Frankie,” He hands her coffee over to her, in all its icy, sugary sprinkled glory. She takes it, eyes crinkling as she smiles wide. Steve can’t help teasing, “Cade’s right, you really are sick for liking iced coffee in the winter.”

Her smile flips into a comical frown before snarking, “He’s never getting that damn tape now.”

“The one about dinosaurs?”

Frankie snorts just as she takes a sip of her coffee, covering her face with her sweater bundled arm.

“Robin told me you’d say something like that.”

“… So it’s not about—“

“Steve, it’s the name of a band,” She giggles, moving her arm away from her face. Steve notices the way her sleeves cascade over her hands completely; the sweater she’s in is way too big, but with that and her flowing skirt, she looks comfortable, and warm.

“Right. I knew that!” He tries playing it off with a shrug, “They’re great.”

“You’ve never listened to them before have you?”

He laughs at the knowing smirk Frankie gives him, shaking his head, “Yeah, no, not at all.” If this was high school, he’d be trying to save face right now, to look cool, pretend he knew what he was talking about. Mid-twenties Steve is able to let it roll off his back, poke fun at himself, move on.

Plus, Steve knows this interaction wouldn’t happen at all in high school. Labels and useless popularity would keep them far, far apart. He’s alright with that; Frankie definitely didn’t need someone like ‘King Steve’ and his bullshit to deal with.

“Okay. What about Jawbreaker?”

“… The candy?”

Frankie giggles, shaking her head, before running down a list of bands off the top of her head; The Cure, Joy Division, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Strawberry Switchblade, Sonic Youth, Nirvana, the list went on. Steve says most he’s heard of, but never listened to. Some, he’s heard some of their singles on the radio.

“You’re into all that… punk stuff, right?” He’s a little lost, but he’s headed in the right direction. Frankie doesn’t tease him for it, though.

“To an embarrassing degree,” She smiles, crinkling her nose, and oh, god, Steve’s not expecting the way that sets off butterflies in his stomach. “And new wave, grunge, honestly some pop, too— oh! Dolly Parton! Just her, though, can’t get into any other country otherwise. I’m a mess when it comes to music interests.” She shrugs.

He shakes his head, shrugging his jacket off before unwinding his scarf; Frankie catches on immediately, pointing to the coat rack behind the counter.

“No… it suits you.”

“Is that an insult or a compliment?”

“O- oh, no, I meant that in a— it’s a— nice way, promise!” Frankie smirks as he stumbles over his words. “So… got any recommendations on what to start with?”

“Oh, don’t you worry, Steve. I’m gonna make you a mixtape later.” No pretentious undertone can be found in her words; Frankie’s just really excited to introduce someone to music they haven’t heard. “What do you listen to, then?”

Steve sits on the stool behind the counter while Frankie still hangs out on the countertop, kicking her legs over the side now. He watches as she continues sticker-bombing her cane; it’s got quite the variety of holographic stars sprinkled about.

“Uh…” He shrugs, tugging at the edges of his sleeves before shoving them in the pockets of his cardigan. “Whatever sounds good, I guess.”

Frankie narrows her eyes at him, “C’mon, you can do better than that.”

Steve nervously laughs as a hint of red creeps across his face.

“Okay, uh… Queen, Springsteen, some of Bowie’s stuff—“

“Some?”

“I just- I can’t get into it all!” He stammers out. Frankie dramatically sighs, throwing her head back with a hand over her forehead, pretending like she’ll faint. When she levels her gaze to him again, she gives a teasing smirk, and he carries on, red in the face. “I like U2’s last album… uh, shit. What’s it called?”

“Achtung Baby?” She’s so quick to answer in a nonchalant tone, like this is common knowledge.

“Yeah! That one.”

“Oh, you’d really get along with my dad, then,” She teases, watching Steve’s expression flatten in a playful annoyance. “That’s not a bad thing! Bring it up in your next appointment— actually, don’t. He’ll talk about it for hours.”

Steve laughs, pushing his glasses up his nose with his pointer finger, “Alright, I’ll try to remember that.”

“Might want to write a reminder with the brain fog,” She quips, and it easily earns a chuckle; if anyone else tried to joke about his symptoms, he’d be bothered. To laugh it off with someone else equally as sick as him, though, is weirdly… cathartic. “Sorry, I’m distracting you. Go on.”

“Okay, don’t make fun of me, but Blondie’s got some good stuff, too.”

“Yes!” Frankie throws her hands out excitedly. Steve admires how animated she can be.

“I like a lot of other stuff,” He’s becoming more comfortable talking about this, not as afraid of rejection. Frankie didn’t give that kind of attitude off, but he second guesses himself always these days. “But it’s just singles and stuff.”

“Gimme a list one of these days, I’ll give you some recs.” She looks up from her sticker work on her cane, warmly smiling, but it falters seconds later. “Not pushing that on you, but it might— you don’t— don’t be afraid to tell me no—“

“Frankie.” Her name comes out of Steve’s mouth like the night before, a combination of reassurance and teasing. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

Dusting over her cheeks is a tint of rosy pink as her smile returns, ever so slightly. “Okay, cool.” She plucks a star sticker off the page, leaning towards Steve to stick it on his forehead. Her touch makes Steve’s heartbeat quicken, but it’s over as soon as it began. “Congrats, Steve, you’re hired.”

Brows furrowing, he doesn’t bother to remove the sticker. “What? Seriously? That was the interview?”

Frankie nods enthusiastically. “You already seemed nice, and got a good review from your best friend—“

“Seriously, what did she tell you?”

She pretends to zip her lips shut and shrugs, holding back giggles.

“I’ll get you all that boring ass paperwork later, but yeah, I’m serious.” She holds her cane out, rolling it in her hands to make sure the stars are placed the way she wants. Her tongue pokes out while she’s focused, and Steve thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world. Directing her attention back to him, she continues, “I don’t wanna work with someone I just tolerate.”

Though Steve’s flattered to find he’s more than just tolerable to her, he’s still skeptical; not of her, but how this friendship is growing so easily, so suddenly. “Frankie, we barely know each other.”

“I don’t know anyone else my age that’s disabled, and you just… you get it. I wish you didn’t, but you do. If you don’t wanna work here, no hard feelings, but I want to continue getting to know you.” Her words, her tone, even her facial expression, they’re all sincere. “If you’re up for having a new friend, that is.”

Steve nods embarrassingly fast, but he doesn’t care. “My friends get it to an extent, but I don’t have to explain shit to you, and it’s… well, I don’t want to say nice, ‘cause like you said, I wish you didn’t know what this was like, either. But it makes me feel a little less alone, I guess.” His fingers grip the edge of the stool between his legs, arms straight, as he looks away shyly. “And I- I’d like to make you feel a little less alone too— jesus, that makes me sound like a douche. You get what I mean, right?”

“I get you, Steve, don’t worry,” Frankie picks up her coffee, holding it out to Steve. It takes a few seconds, but he catches on, grabbing his own coffee to hold out to her. “To a sick friendship. Get it. Sick? ‘Cause we’re both—“

Steve knocks his cup against hers, smirking, “Yikes, I thought my humor was corny.”

“Fine, no more jokes at all, then.” She deadpans, but her expression immediately cracks, breaking into a laugh, one that scrunches her nose and crinkles the edges of her eyes. It’s contagious, pulling Steve into her fit of laughter, too. “Yeah, I got a good feeling about you, Steve.”

“Huh? Like what?”

“Oh, we’re not that far in the friendship, buddy.” She props her cane onto the floor, sliding off the counter. The proximity between her and Steve when she’s on her feet is a little too close for him to handle, breath hitching in his throat. “Gotta earn the sappy moments, man.”

With that, Frankie rounds the counter, heading towards an aisle of vinyl records. She turns back to him, “Well, you want a tour?”

Steve’s eyes widen as he scrambles off the chair, “Y- yeah, that’d be— I probably need to know where things are.” Frankie resists teasing him further, leading him around the shop.

The pair walk slowly as she points out the main sections, split into three— vinyl records, cassette tapes, and CDs.

“I still can’t get behind ‘em. They’re too flimsy for my clumsy self.” Frankie’s lips curl in a snarl as she eyes up the racks of the shiny discs, tucked away in their jewel cases.

“At least they’re not LaserDiscs,” Steve murmurs, cringing. “I hated those things.”

“Yeah, never was a fan myself,” Her brows crinkle. “They’re like frisbees.”

“But vinyl… isn’t?”

“No. And I’m not elaborating.”

“Francesca, you’re something else.”

She scoffs playfully, “Can’t believe you just called me that. You’re fired.”

“Mhm, sure.” He smirks before glancing around the shop; it’s on the smaller side, but jam-packed with nearly anything and everything music related. Beyond CDs, tapes, and records, are band shirts, Walkmans, headphones, record players, tape players and boomboxes, useless novelty items, and so on. “So, when’d you open the store?”

“Oh, I didn’t. It’s not mine, only running it for now… kinda took over when the owner had to take a sick leave.” Frankie begins leading Steve towards the back, through a worn, beaded curtain. She points to an open door, “Stockroom,” Then, to the door across the hall. “Break room.”

Steve acknowledges her directions with a nod before asking, “Oh, are they okay? Well, wait. Shit. I guess not if they’re on— my bad.”

Frankie gives him a half-smile, more for the sake of reassurance, along with an answer, “Dementia. So, uh, yeah. Probably not coming back.” A pained expression washes over Steve’s features. “The own— Mr. Fisher wanted to close the shop when his health continued declining, so I told him I’d keep it going for him. This was before the diagnosis, he just knew something was wrong and warned me he’d most likely shut down.”

“That’s… fucked.”

“Yeah. He actually lived a few floors up, now he’s in a senior living home.” She wanders into the break room, falling onto the worn couch hanging out in the heavily used space. Steve sits on the opposite side, not wanting to invade her personal space as he listens intently. “Cool dude, hired me years ago, and he was really into jazz when he was younger. Like, used to play the sax for a living. He knew nothing about punk music, but he loved asking me about it. I learned a lot about jazz from him, too.

“He was empathetic with my pain, too. The couch is back here ‘cause he felt bad I had nowhere to rest on break. Then he ended up using it more than I did.” Frankie’s a little dazed as she retells the circumstances. “I knew he’d never get better, and he knew it too, but I told him I’d love to watch over the business until he’s ready to come back. Couldn’t stand watching this place close, so… yeah. S’why I asked you.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie.” It’s all Steve can come up with, but it’s genuine, and she can tell.

“I hope it doesn’t come off like I’m telling you this so you’re guilted into being here, ‘cause if you wanna find another job, don’t feel like you have to st—“

“You do that a lot,” Steve blurts out, but it’s not mean-spirited. He stammers, “N- not that— it’s not bad— sorry—-“

“And you do that a lot,” Frankie observes bluntly. “Guess we’re kinda similar in the whole ‘overly apologetic’ department, huh?”

Steve glances at her, sighing with a hint of a sad smile. “Guess we are.” He rests his head on the back of the couch, blowing air between pursed lips as his eyes fixate on the ceiling. “Anyway, you’re not guilting me. I’m staying.” Then he sits back up, narrowing his stare at her. “Unless I’m still fired.”

She sits up, shoving her hand out towards him. He grabs it as she shakes it obnoxiously, snorting, “Steve Harrington, you’re re-hired.”

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“Fibro’s just like… a bag of jellybeans.”

Steve scoffs out a laugh, lost on Frankie’s words. “I’m sorry, what?”

At the end of the day, Frankie and Steve wound up at a diner, still caught up in the excitement of getting to know a new friend.

“Y’know, it’s always a mystery over what color and flavor you end up with ‘til you get it.” Frankie begins to explain, hands on the diner’s table; Steve’s noticed she talks with her hands, a lot. She’s always so animated, even talking about the most mundane subjects. “And you might have ‘em all, but there might be more of one flavor, or another. Fibromyalgia is just a bag of symptoms, ‘cause you don’t know what’s gonna hurt that day ‘til it does— does that make sense?”

“Oh, like, I get a lot of headaches, sometimes ocular migraines— the first few times, those freaked me out, and joint pain the most, but the other symptoms still exist, too, just not as frequently.” Steve scrunches his eyes shut with a nod, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Right? Or maybe I’m way off—“

“No, that’s exactly it!

“That’s actually… a really good analogy,” He tucks the comparison away in his mind, for future use. “Wait, so you also have fibromyalgia?”

Frankie’s about to answer, until the waitress brings their milkshakes and fries to the table. Her smile over something as simple as a milkshake is contagious, and Steve finds himself grinning along with her.

“Yeah, but we found out lupus was a bigger concern,” She shares casually. “Y’know, I wouldn’t wish fibro on anyone, but I’m pissed you have to deal with it.”

Steve’s face distorts into confusion. “Why d’ya say that?”

“It’s such a fucking mess of a disability. Tests come back normal, x-rays show nothing, MRIs are clear, too— shit is so infuriating. You’re living in constant pain and most people don’t believe you. Then ya’ got these fuckin’ misogynistic doctors who see it as a “woman’s disease”— yeah, it’s more prevalent in women, but men get it too, and it’s like y’all are told to just… suck it up. “Man up”. Deal with it.

“Honestly… not sure which sucks to be told more, that you’re just “hysterical and attention seeking” for being sick as a woman, or being told you’re just a “whiny baby” if you’re sick as a man.”

Steve only stares at her; Frankie feels warm under his gaze, sinking into the booth.

“Sorry, I— you’re so spot on, I have nothing to add.” Steve’s shaking his head, fidgeting with his napkin. “But I can’t get over that someone my age fucking gets it.”

Frankie sighs, relieved to hear she wasn’t overdoing it with her rambling.

“Steve, I hate that we’re both in pain, but it’s… it’s nice not having to struggle alone, for once.” She stretches her legs under the booth, resting her boots on the cushion on Steve’s side. He mirrors her, sneakers kicking up to rest next to her. She smiles, nudging his shoe with her elbow. “Copycat.”

“You really lucked out having a dad who’s a doctor,” Steve softly chuckles, and Frankie smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Immediately, he panics he might’ve said the wrong thing. “I- I don’t mean that in a bad way—“

“No, I know you didn’t. He—” Frankie looks off, eyes fixating on the bustling traffic out the window, despite the two of them being seated in the far end of the diner. She looks back to her milkshake, swirling the straw mindlessly. “He wasn’t always a doctor. He wasn’t in the medical field at all, not ‘til I got sick as a kid.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yup. He got tired of taking me to specialists for them to always say I was being overdramatic, or “Oh, she’s a girl, she might just be faking that for attention.” I guess what I was going through made him realize shit had to change for the sake of us sick folks. I don’t know how anyone would be able to juggle a full time job, full time med school, and raising a kid on their own, but he did it. Even if shit is terrible most of the time, I’m grateful to have a dad as incredible as him.”

Steve let Frankie’s words sink in before curiosity took its hold, “He’s a single parent?”

Frankie sips from her milkshake, looking back at Steve as she sits back. “Wasn’t always, but yeah. Never met my mom, she, uh, she was sick, too. Cancer. Passed before my first birthday.”

“Jesus, Frankie… I’m so sorry.”

She shrugs, trying to let the everlasting sting roll off her back. “I heard she was really sweet, and funny. My dad showed me some home movies a few years back, and it was the first time I heard her voice. She was so pretty, and happy, and—“ She shakes her head, scoffing at herself. “God, I’m sorry for rambling.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. If you ever wanna talk about this… or anything, I might not know what to say, but I’ll always listen.”

“Right back at ya’, Steve,” She murmurs, gaze friendly before sipping her milkshake.

“I don’t think you want to know my story,” He tries shrugging it off, as if a chuckle would follow, but never does.

“I do, and I mean that.” She firmly states, locking eyes with him. “But only when you’re comfortable sharing it.”

Steve nods, “Yeah. Maybe someday. Kinda hard to even talk to my therapist still about it.”

“You’ll get there eventually. On your own terms.” Frankie can tell he’s uncomfortable, searching for a change of subject. She looks back at his legs, still next to her in the booth. “Isn’t your leg cold?” She nods to the hole in his jeans, right above his knee.

“Yeah, but I needed to wear my knee brace today.”

“I can sew loose, stretchy fabric in, and snaps to remove it, if that helps,” She slurps down the last of the milkshake. “You cool with hanging out longer?”

Steve can’t suppress the grin that graces his face.

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Frankie’s apartment is in a repurposed warehouse; a large studio, cluttered with art supplies scattered all about. An easel hangs out in the wide open room near a window, with canvasses, both finished and unfinished everywhere surrounding it. Cups and cups of paintbrushes, tubes of paint, pastels, graphite pencils and drawing pads strewn atop nearly every surface. A sewing machine rested snug in a corner of the open room.

Among it all was the kitchen and living room; down a hallway were the doors to the bathroom, and her bedroom.

After Steve changes into the sweats Frankie found for him, he enters the main room, holding the sweatpants up by the waistband awkwardly, handing his pair of jeans over to her.

“Sorry, I knew they’d be kinda big, but not that much.” She has jersey knit fabric already cut, sewing snaps to the edges. As she works, she elaborates, “I keep a buncha sizes in clothes, ‘cause my weight fluctuates all the time with flare ups.”

“That’s actually… really smart.”

“Yeah, I got tired of buying and donating the same several sizes over and over. Just easier, and cheaper, to keep ‘em all on hand.” Frankie’s zoned into the impromptu project, so Steve wanders around her apartment, stopping at the kitchen table, blanketed with multiple sketches.

“I didn’t know you could draw.” He wonders aloud, glancing over the sketch pad papers. There’s a certain style he can’t quite put his finger on with her work; for plain subjects and ideas, they’re incredible.

Steve turns to the easel with her latest work in progress. It’s a portrait of a woman weeping, holding a mask of her face that’s smiling over her real expression. It’s gorgeous work, but he feels a pang in his chest, wondering if Frankie feels this way more often than not.

“Holy shit, Frankie…” He breathes, recognizing his own struggles through the piece; how often he feels as if he needs to bury his own pain to keep everyone else comfortable. Then again, who hasn’t felt at one point or another they need to cover up how they truly feel?

“I hope that’s a good “holy shit”,” She responds as she continues sewing.

“Your work is amazing,” He’s still staring at the painting, admiring how her art style is slightly unkempt, and leans toward traditional tattoo-style art, but she makes it work somehow; some of the paint bleeds outside the lines, or speckles in random splotches, like watercolors, but it adds character. “Do you just paint as a hobby?”

“I actually had plans to become a tattoo artist, did an apprenticeship and everything,” She murmurs, loud enough for him to hear, but still weighed down with disappointment. She pulls the denim away from the sewing machine, trimming away the loose threads. “Can’t really tattoo when you’ve got unpredictable hand tremors, though. S’why the paintings are such a wreck.”

Oh.

“Shit. That’s…” Again, Steve can’t find proper words of empathy. “I’m sorry.”

Frankie finally glances over her shoulder at him, “Kinda normal for folks like us to leave behind our dreams. Mourn what our lives could’ve been, and what they used to be.”

The familiarity of surrender in her voice hits Steve hard. He might not have had the same dreams to give up to prioritize his health, but it’s still an experience similar to hers. Giving up any dreams or goals he had to accept they probably wouldn’t, couldn’t, come to life. He’s watched his life’s potential slip through his fingers, and has no way of stopping it from vanishing completely.

Mourning what your life was isn’t easy, either. Reminiscing on better health in earlier times of your existence, proof you’ll never be that happy, that healthy again— even if Steve was unhappy deep down in high school, he wishes he had the energy to still fake it.

“Yeah. Fucking sucks.” He mutters. At the same time, Frankie turns to him, holding his jeans out for him to take.

Steve glances over her handiwork, grateful to have soft fabric that’ll finally work with his knee brace, while being removable when it’s too warm out.

“On the bright side, at least you’ve got a friend who gets it now.” She’s speaking softly, with so much, too much, understanding. It helps to finally have a friend who can relate, but with that comes sharing the same emotional hardships, ones that feel endless.

Still, it’s better than navigating that all on your own.

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It’s been a handful of weeks— maybe about a month and change— since Steve’s life began to feel good again. He’s not sure how long exactly, he just knows since finding a doctor that sincerely cared for his patients, and befriending Frankie, someone his age he could finally relate to, he doesn’t care to keep track of time like a dismal countdown.

He’s not counting the days he feels like a prisoner in his own body anymore.

Timing, though, is always perfectly unfortunate when it comes to Steve’s luck, and life.

On a dull Wednesday night, he and Frankie are closing up the shop before their plans to meet up with Robin at the diner. Steve has had a muted ache in his head since the previous night, but it wasn’t enough to keep him in bed, thankfully. He took some Tylenol earlier in the day, and that helped with staving off most of the pain. Any relief he can find, he happily takes.

The sun isn’t setting as early anymore, a sign winter’s almost at its end; he’s been looking forward to spring, because this cold has done no favors to his aching joints. Until then, he’s still bundling up ridiculously to keep from violently shaking in the cold.

“Hey, Frankie?” He’s looking behind the counter, puzzled. His head feels heavy, thoughts settling in a thick fog. Pushing past it, he asks, “Have you seen my scarf?”

Frankie returns from the tiny stockroom, keys swinging lazily on her finger. “Is it the blue one?”

“No, it’s—“ Steve pauses, hands on the counter to hold himself up from a sudden bout of dizziness. He gives a weak laugh, “I can’t even remember if I wore one at all. Maybe I didn’t.”

Frankie’s quick to notice something’s not right when Steve practically white knuckles the edge of the counter; her firsthand experience with chronic illness is setting off alarms in her head.

“Steve, you should sit down—“ She rushes around to him, pushing the stool towards him. Grabbing his shoulders, she pushes him gently into the chair. “What’s going on?”

“S’blurry,” Is all he mutters to her. She lifts a hand to his forehead, and he shivers, speaking up a bit more, “You’re always cold.”

She keeps her panic to herself, and rolls her eyes with a tiny smile, pulling her hand away to reach into her bag on the floor; straightening back up with a heavily sticker-bombed water bottle, she hands it to him.

“When’d you last eat?”

Steve shrugs, weakly sipping out of the bottle. “Uh, a few hours ago, I think.” He’s struggling to stay in conversation as the vision in his one eye blurs. “Frankie, I can’t see shit out of this eye.” He points to the right side of his face, hand nearly limp.

“Does your head hurt?”

“Been hurting all day, actually,” He waves his hand in front of his own face, repeating, “Yeah I- I can’t see a damn thing out of this eye.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Wasn’t a big deal ‘til now— shit—“ Steve clutches his head; everything’s too overwhelming. The lights are too bright, the buzz of electricity is too loud, and he feels nauseous. The dizziness is only growing stronger, too. Curling into himself, he doubles over, head in his hands as he leans towards his legs. “God, I hate this.”

Frankie rushes to the light switch across the room, turning off all the lights inside; the only light available is what wanders in from the city outside through the windows.

There was one crucial detail Steve left out when he confided in Frankie about his ocular migraines: the pain is so intense, it works in tandem with his anxiety, triggering flashbacks of those miserable last few years in Hawkins.

They roll through so quickly in his mind; the first time he fought off a demogorgon with Nancy and Jonathan. When Steve became a personal punching bag for Billy nearly one year later, the same night he had been roped into fighting off demodogs with the kids, nearly dying multiple times before the sun rose again. The fucked up elevator in Starcourt that plummeted to an artificial hell that also nearly killed him and his friends. He could picture the fists flying at him, his honest answers for the countless times he was asked “who do you work for?” never enough for his captors.

“Stop, stop, stop—“

Frankie hears Steve whimpering while his flashbacks drag him deeper into the past.

Because who can just forget nearly dying far too many times with your friends before turning twenty? Why forget it when the past just continues to help you survive even further carnage?

His lungs burn while he recalls swimming down to the bottom of the lake, in search of the gate, only to be pulled back down after resurfacing to his friends. It’s not easy to erase the way he fought for his life once dragged into the Upside Down, especially not when the scars refuse to fade, continuing to keep the nightmare alive. Even if his scars blended into his worn, tired skin now, the proof lies in each and every person in the group. Hell, the proof is in anyone from Hawkins.

“Steve—“ Frankie’s voice breaks through to him, only for a moment, too quick to pull him out of this traumatic loop of memories.

Vecna. Stumbling upon Eddie, nearly dead, in Dustin’s arms. The “earthquake”. Max deep in a coma in the hospital. Watching the Upside Down bleed into reality on this plane of existence. The ultimate downfall of what was once his hometown— once a haven of memories, good and bad, ones that taught him life lessons, ones that he still reminisces on to this day. Leaving behind everything he loved in that shitty little town. Goodbyes with everyone as they all split their separate ways, with hopes and dreams of making the most of a new life somewhere safe.

Hawkins, Indiana was wiped off the map. Wiped from existence to keep the rest of the world safe.

Hawkins was only a memory, now.

Hawkins was gone.

“Hi, y- yeah, we need an ambulance, my friend, h- he—“

Everyone made it out alive, but what was the point when everyone was hurting badly, one way or another?

What’s the point in surviving if you continue to live in your own personal hell? He thinks, barely making out Frankie reciting the address for the record store. He blindly reaches out for her, still folded over in agony.

Instead of finding her, he finds himself slipping off the chair, hitting the cold, hard floor before abruptly losing his grip on reality.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The first thing Steve sees when his eyes weakly flutter open is Frankie. Everything is blurry, but not like before; his vision slowly comes into focus, while the edges of tunnel vision have faded away. A dim, frail smile appears on his face at her sleeping figure, curled up next to him.

Pressure in his head spreads, like there’s an ache about to begin, but it never does, held at bay. That’s when he notices the IV in his arm, prying his eyes open a little more, baffled and trying to sift through the brain fog.

Frankie stirs, eyes squinting open, but once she sees Steve’s awake, her eyes widen; she sits up too quickly, stumbling out of the chair she folded herself into, catching herself at the last minute.

“Steve—“

“Hi Frankie,” He smiles, dopey and sleepy, like he just woke up from a nap, and not a medical scare. She grabs his hand, and he blushes. Looking down at their hands clasped together, a dazed look covers his features. “Your hand’s not very cold. You okay?”

A laugh slips out of Frankie, “I think all the panic made me overheated.” Her bottom lip wobbles, despite Steve’s lips still curved up lazily, “You’re the one in the hospital bed, I should be asking you that.”

“M’fine, I feel great, actually.”

“That would be the drugs doing their job, buddy.” She’s surprised to hear herself giggle, but it rises a weak yet genuine laugh out of Steve. Her thumb softly swipes back and forth on his hand, still in hers. “You scared the hell outta me, Steve.”

His face drops, beginning to realize the severity of the situation, despite gaps of memory to recall on. “I… don’t remember anything.”

“Do you want me to tell you?”

He wordlessly nods.

“Your head hurt all day, but you didn’t tell me until a migraine started,” Frankie sighs, gently pushing his sweat-matted hair away from his eyes. “I think it was an ocular migraine, ‘cause you told me you couldn’t— well, in your exact words, you said “Frankie, I can’t see shit out of this eye”, and then it— you—”

It all floods back to Steve in a flash— his headache that rolled into a sudden, ocular migraine, making him dizzy and weak. How his right eye went blind, then everything hurt, sent him into a panic, and triggered the flashbacks.

“You fell, too, but thankfully you landed on my bag instead of the floor.” She reaches down to his forehead, just above his brow, gently sweeping a thumb across his skin. “There’s a small bruise, but could’ve been worse.”

That, he ignores. Instead, Steve’s heart drops at the thought of what Frankie might’ve heard or seen. Before he can ask, she gathers the courage to tell him.

“You we’re crying, saying ‘I wanna go home’ a- and ‘stop, stop, stop,’” Her fingers grip his hand, shaking. He squeezes back, sobering up fast from the pain medication. “You kept calling out names, calling for Robin, and I- I don’t know who else, but you sounded so hurt, Steve.”

Steve doesn’t even realize he’s crying until Frankie whispers, “oh” and grabs a handful of tissues from the side table, handing them over to him.

“I— goddammit. I’m so sorry, Frankie.”

“It’s okay—“

He shakes his head, eyes falling shut; he can’t look at her right now, he feels nothing but shame.

“It’s not. It never will be. I wasn’t trying to hide anything or lie, but I- I- I—“ In the midst of his panic, he remembers the plans they had with Robin. His bloodshot eyes lock with Frankie’s teary ones. “Shit, does Robin know—“

“She’s on her way. Thankfully she stopped by instead of meeting us at the diner, right when the ambulance came. I asked if Robin wanted to go with you, but she asked if I could instead; she wanted to grab your meds and a few other things.” Frankie reassures him, but Steve can’t shake the guilt, can’t escape the embarrassment. “Robin’s really a great best friend.”

Steve rubs his eyes, nodding as his voice wavers, “Best friend I ever had. I- I’d be dead without her.”

“Give yourself some credit, man.” A familiar voice floats into the room; Frankie and Steve both look across the hospital room to find Robin, along with Eddie and Dustin trailing in behind her.

“It’s definitely that charming stubbornness to survive y’got going on,” Robin teases lightheartedly.

Frankie looks back at Steve, finding his face about to light up, but he just falls apart again. She releases his hand so Robin can hug him. Steve shakes in her grasp, while Robin murmurs “you’re okay, you’re safe”, soft enough for only Steve to hear; Frankie’s still able to catch it, though.

“Wh— what are you two doing here?”

“You picked the best time to go to the ER,” Dustin grins, trying to point out the bright side. “We were gonna surprise you at the diner, but now we get to surprise you here!” Steve’s smile wavers; he wants to be happy to see his friends again, but the sudden visit and multiple voices, louder than Frankie, makes him wince, too.

Still, he finds himself asking, “Dustin, why are you excited about that?”

“‘Cause, hospitals suck. Unless Eddie and I are in ‘em.” Dustin looks over at Frankie with a questioning, yet friendly look. “Who— oh. Are you Frankie?”

Her cheeks turn rosy while Steve groans, head falling back on the pillow.

Trying to redirect, Eddie teases, “The kid tells no lies, we’re the best free entertainment a hospital can get.” He’s shooting Steve a knowing look that earns a short-lived laugh out of him.

Now Steve knows how Max felt when she woke from her coma, when Eddie was finally stable enough to leave his room next to hers. How him and Dustin did everything they could, said whatever they could say, to crack a smile on her face.

It’s the thought that counts, he thinks, grateful to have friends who care. Steve always felt like everyone would forget him when they all left Hawkins behind. After all, he was usually the one looking out for everyone else. Putting them first. Making sure everyone was safe and sound before himself.

How relieved he was to be wrong, for once.

“How you holding up?” Dustin asks,

“Uh… I…”

All of this is overwhelming; Steve’s still trying to process what happened, was in the middle of Frankie retelling details, and now he’s on an emotional rollercoaster from a surprise visit from two friends he hadn’t seen in god knows how long.

On top of all of that, his head is one loud, startling noise or bright light away from kicking off another migraine.

Robin can tell he’s a step away from falling apart, so she jumps in to give him some breathing room. “I think… we should get snacks from the vending machine. Do either of you want anything?” Frankie shakes her head, and Steve only shrugs without an answer. “We’ll be back, ‘kay?” She backs up, gently pushing the two curly heads out of the room despite their protests; the room falls silent once again.

Steve sighs loudly, eyes shutting as he relaxes into the bed. “I love them, but I— it’s just—“

“Bad timing, I get it. There’s nothing wrong with asking for space.” Frankie assures him, then adds, “I should’ve asked too, do you need me to leave?”

“Don’t,” Steve’s cursing himself inwardly for answering so quickly. “Un- unless you wanna leave—“

“I wanna stay,” She answers at an embarrassing speed, making Steve smile. “I— I can stay overnight, if you want. But don’t feel obligated to say yes.”

“They’ll let you do that?”

“Usually, no, but I know the nurse on shift tonight, and she’s incredibly sweet. Told me already I can stay if I need to.” Frankie smirks. “One, tiny upside of being a hospital regular. Honestly, everyone’s nice here, at least who I’ve met.” She stops herself from rambling, glancing at Steve with concern. “You need anything right now?”

Steve murmurs, “No, just cold,” and releases her hand to pull the covers over himself, shivering. As he does, Frankie catches the scar around his neck while the flimsy hospital gown shifts along with him, exposing a sliver more of him than she’s seen.

He notices her stare, hand flying to his neck in a pathetic attempt to cover it; he’s quick to stammer out an excuse, “Oh that’s, uh, from— it’s actually a long story, but it’s not— it’s—“

Frankie shakes her head, reaching for Steve’s hand to squeeze softly. “You don’t have to tell me anything, not unless you’re ready and want to. Whatever your story is, Steve, it’s for you to tell on your own terms.”

Again, she watches him relax from a tensed state.

“Thank you, ‘Key.”

She smirks, “Y’know, I only let people I’m close to call me that.”

“Oh- oh, shit, I’m—“ He sits up, about to stammer out an apology, but her free hand gently stops him before pushing him back down slowly.

“That includes you.”

“Really?”

“Just one condition.”

“What is it?”

“You tell me if you’re in pain. I know that’s nearly all the time, but if you can’t come in, or can’t hang out, you tell me. Hell, if you need, you can call me if you’re home alone and just need to talk about it.” She softly demands and suggests. Steve nods; it’s only fair, especially after tonight’s scare. “Or even if you still come to work or want to keep plans, don’t be afraid to ask for what you need. I’d rather you take care of yourself than push your body past its limits.”

Steve’s mind races around for the right words to return to her, but all he can respond with is a sincere, “Thank you, Frankie.” Then he adds quickly, “All of what you just said, that applies to you too. Got it?” He tries coming off stern, playfully, of course; instead, his lips crack into a smile, but the sentiment is still true.

“Got it, Stevie,” She tries winking, but it looks more like a twitch, and the two burst into giggles. “You make it look so easy whenever you wink!”

Steve just shoots her a smooth, quick wink. In return, he gets her playful eye roll. He finds comfort and safety in the harmless teasing between one another.

Things might’ve gone to hell tonight, but at least Steve didn’t go through it alone.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

When everyone returned to the hospital room, they made sure to keep their tones quiet, soft, and Steve felt some guilt over that, but he reminded himself too that he’s lucky to have friends who accommodate his needs.

He catches Robin, Dustin, and Eddie up to speed, leaving out the gory, telling details of his flashbacks; Robin must’ve warned Dustin and Eddie to not speak about the Upside Down, for Frankie’s sake. And really, for Steve’s sake, too. After his mind ran through every event, every memory, down to the very last detail, he was exhausted. The last thing he wanted to think or talk about was Hawkins, and all the horrors it once contained.

And once proper introductions were made, Steve admired the way Dustin and Eddie automatically included Frankie into every part of the conversation, making sure she felt welcomed among them, too.

Steve needed this. He needed the distraction, needed the laughter, the inside jokes, with stories explained to Frankie to keep her in the loop. The longer the visit went on, though, the more Steve realized at some point, he’d have to explain everything to Frankie. She told him to take his time, that he wouldn’t ever need to talk about it if he wasn’t ready, but he’d rather get it out in the open sooner rather than later.

This friendship was something Steve never had with anyone else before, and he was quickly growing attached to the dynamic. He never expected to grow attached to Frankie so fast, either. Or at all.

Visiting hours end, with Dustin hugging Steve a little too tight, apologetic as he loosens his arms when Steve grumbles in pain. Dustin narrows his eyes at Steve, repeating a sentiment from the time they were stuck in the elevator in Starcourt. “If you die, I die. So don’t die.”

“Oh, we changed that one up a bit? Alright,” Robin snorts, and Dustin flips her off.

Meanwhile, Steve only shrugs. “Okay.”

“Some things never change,” Robin mutters, shaking her head.

The older two out of the trio say their goodbyes, too, with Eddie reminding in a sing-song voice, “Gonna bother you again tomorrow, Big Boy.”

“Please, for the love of—“ Steve sighs, sinking under the covers, embarrassed. “Stop calling me that.” Frankie’s lost, but still giggling over the exchanges; he points at her, “No, don’t— do not encourage his nonsense”

“Respectfully, no, I’ll never stop.” He grins while Robin shoves him out of the room. As he’s nearly out the door, he waves and shouts, “Nice meeting you, Frankie!”

Alone, yet again, Frankie bites her lip to contain her laughter, and Steve narrows a glare at her. “Oh, I can already tell you’re gonna be trouble with them.”

“Listen, it’s not my fault your friends are funny and charming.”

“They’re anything but—“

“Oh, I’m telling ‘em tomorrow you said that.”

“Where’s your proof, Amato?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Harrington.” She sticks her tongue out at him.

Laughing, his brows knit together, “I would!”

He tries to conjure a better comeback to throw her way, but his thoughts fizzle out while watching her set up the chairs into a makeshift bed.

“Frankie.”

She spins around, watching Steve lean up on his elbow. “Huh?”

“You’re not sleeping on those chairs. That’s gonna kill your neck. And your back.” Steve deadpans, pulling his glasses off to set them on the nightstand. “And every other joint in your body.”

Frankie snorts, holding her arms out, “Then where am I sleeping, Steve?”

“Up here,” He’s even surprised by his own boldness, but carries through. “With me.”

If one could hold someone’s gaze in a death grip, Frankie would be doing that right now with Steve’s stare; disbelief and skepticism floods through her thoughts.

“Unless that’s too— if you’re not comfortable—“

“Steve,” Frankie pushes past the way her round cheeks flush red, “We gotta stop second guessing ourselves like this.”

“Yeah, but I just don’t want to assume—“

“When you’re close with someone, assumptions are kind of a given. When someone gets you, it’s not offensive.” She holds the extra pillow a nurse gave her earlier to her chest. “I’m okay with it, if you are. And I’m going to assume you are, because you asked—“

“Demanded—“

Her mouth falls open at his bluntness, “Okay, Big Boy, slow down—“

“Francesca,” He groans, falling back onto the pillows, “please do not call me that.”

She laughs softly, tugging the edges of Steve’s lips into a soft smile; he’s a goner. He knows he is. He’s known for awhile now, but her laugh, her smile, solidifies it.

“Okay, Steven.”

Waving his arm out towards the uncomfortable hospital bed, he sasses, “Will you shut the hell up and get up here?”

“Didn’t know you were so bossy in bed, Steve,” Frankie waggles her brows at Steve, and while he tries rolling his eyes, his face falls back into a deep shade of red she’s been so easily able to pull out of him these days.

“Christ, Amato, do you ever sh—“

“Shut it, man. I’m moving as fast as a cripple can,” She teases, rounding the bed to climb into the empty side. Kicking her boots off, she swings her legs into the bed. There’s just enough room for her, but only if she presses against Steve by just a touch. “If this is too close—“

“It’s not—“

“Okay, well—“

“‘Key?” Steve’s voice wavers, soft and unsure of himself, despite the habitual teasing. “Can you— shit, this is stupid—“

“Whatever it is, it’s not stupid.” She reassures blindly. “Ask me.”

Steve takes a deep breath, nerves seeping through the overly confident demeanor the drugs gave him. “Can you… can—“ He sighs, frustrated with himself, before blurting out, “Can you hold me?”

Frankie doesn’t answer, not verbally; already on her side, she winds her arms around Steve’s torso, hugging him lightly from behind.

“This okay? You’re comfortable?”

He just nods definitively.

“Steve… your gown is open.”

He panics, shooting up and throwing a hand behind himself to try closing the opening, until he feels Frankie shake against him with laughter.

“You’re such a— quit laughing!” Steve laughs as he tries demanding this of Frankie.

“M’sorry, it was just— the opportunity was there, I had to take it.”

He sighs, suppressing his grin, his chuckles, laying back down. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

“Best place to have one though, no?” Frankie settles down, snuggling closer to him; her position is certain, yet leaves room for Steve to distance himself if he wants.

He doesn’t answer with words, just tugs her arms closer around his body, her hands to his chest.

“Hey, Frankie?”

“Mhm?”

“Thank you. I know those migraines aren’t exactly life threatening, but…” He trails off, closing his eyes before admitting the truth, “They make it so… so hard to want to be alive. I’m grateful for your help. I’m sorry you had to witness that, but I— you—“ Oh, fuck it. “I didn’t expect to become so attached to our friendship, to you. But… I’m one lucky, unlucky son of a bitch to have someone in my life like you.”

Frankie feels her tears well her eyes; her and Steve are both so easily emotional— it comes with the territory of being sick on a regular basis. Who wouldn’t be? Realistically, how can you expect someone in the depths of internal and external pain to navigate this life with ease?

Neither of them are cured from the security of this friendship, but it’s reassuring to both that neither are alone in this fight against the bodies they pilot, day in, day out. No definite future for either separately, but at least they can navigate it together.

Frankie’s almost sure Steve’s asleep, so she speaks up to make sure.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

She sighs, pushing her sentiment into words, solidifying the security of their friendship, at the very least.

“Whatever hell you lived through,” Her voice wavers while on the precipice of sleep, barely heard under the heart monitor’s routine beeps. “I’m glad you survived.”

He’s half asleep, heart monitor rolling to a steady crawl “M’glad I survived, too.”

#Steve Harrington x fem!oc #Steve Harrington x oc #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #my fics #accident prone

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giannasturn · 2 days

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ׂׂૢ b l u e. ✧.* M.S & C.S

Chapter 1….

Warningsss: smoking, cheating (don’t do this) drinking, sex, p in v, cussing, arguing, cheating (for all chapters) ׂ

Summary: Matt & y/n start of as friends but it slowly turns into something more, what will happen when she ends up with his brother and leaves their connection unsatisfied..?

comment to be added to the tag list !! <3

this is my work, my writing & ideas, I don’t condone stealing other peoples stories so please don’t!! <3

Chapter 1, “pilot”

“Shut the fuck up and listen to me!!” Chris says, making my heart drop even more if that’s possible, and making me burst into loud sobs that I’ve been holding in for 45 minutes now.

“I knew there was something in between you guys I knew it, I knew you couldn’t be trusted and I chose to do nothing about it!”

“And every time I try to confront you about it, you cut it off quickly, and change the subject.”

“Your not fucking slick, I’m trying to tell you, tell you how I know everything, but your still choosing to fucking cut me off and try to fix it”

“But you know what y/n, there’s no fixing it now,I never want to see your fucking face again y/n, and that’s something that will never change”

“You know that’s not true” I say, the words come out of my mouth as me trying to convince him, but I think it’s really me trying to convince myself.

“You know what’s not true? our entire fucking relationship y/n the whole fucking thing” Chris says, now yelling so loud I’m pretty sure the entire street can hear

“I’ve been lied to, I’ve been cheated on, I’ve been manipulated, I’ve been fucking broken down into pieces over and over for you, and your still not admitting to it.”

Every word hits me like a bullet straight through the heart, I know he’s right, I know I fucked up, but something in me just wants to keep fighting because I love him more then anyone, and I need him, I need his hands all over me constantly, I need his praises and compliments 24/7, I need to wake up every morning to him snuggling the shit out of me, I can’t live without it.

“Chris I know but plea-“

“Get the fuck out.” He says, with a straight swollen face, I’ve seen him say things he doesn’t mean, but this is different. This I can tell he means it deep down. He means everything.

“I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT!” he yells.

His voice sounds numb in my ears, my heart feels like it’s been beaten with a knife over and over again, my face is swollen, my body is shaking, and tears are still falling even though it feels like I’ve barley let any of my emotions inside of my body out.

I quickly grab my bags since they were already packed by Chris, and make my way towards the door, follow me Chris, tell me to wait, tell me to stop.

Right before I open the door I hear him start to talk, a part of me feels relieved because I think he’s going to tell me to stop, part of me feels guilty because I don’t know if I want to stop.

My emotions are all over the place, do I wanna go and be happy with the love of my life, but be full of guilt, live with the fact that Chris hates me, and he’s not mine anymore. Or do I wanna stay and leave all my guilt and past mistakes in the past, and live a amazing future with Chris.. but without him I don’t know.

All I know is that if I could go back and change it all I would, I would’ve never went to the mall that day, I would’ve never became friends with them, it all would’ve just stayed the same and my life wouldn’t completely be destroyed like it is now.

2 years ago, (the setting where most all this series takes place)

The smell of salty fast food mixed with cinnamon and vanilla surrounds us as me and my best friend walk through the food court of the mall

“what do you wanna eat?” Ella asks me. The smell of salty food just makes me want fries, Chic fil a fries specifically, I want Chick-fil-A, I say.

Standing in the insanely large line to order, I get snapped out of my trance when I hear “oh my god Madi snapped mee” Ella says. “What is she doing?” I ask.

“Let me ask” she says. “does she wanna come to the mall with us?” I ask. Madi Filipowicz, is one of me and Ella close friends, we hangout as a trio a lot. We met her at a weird influencer party Ella was invited to, she brought me because me and Ella don’t go anywhere without eachother obviously.

“She’s with the triplets” she says. I don’t know the triplets, I follow nick on Instagram, and he follows me back, but that’s it. Madi is with them a lot, but I’ve still never met them. I know Ella has met them multiple times at her little influencer events.

Ella is not that popular, but she has a tad of a following on TikTok where she makes her “get ready with me’s” and stuff, so that’s how she gets invited to the events & parties.

“She said she would love to come and that the triplets are coming with her” Ella says. “Okay sounds like fun” I say, as we grab our food after waiting in line forever.

We are half way done eating, and as I reach for another fry, I see 3 same-faced men + Madis gorgeous self walking towards us.

“Wait you didn’t tell me the one on the right was so fucking fine?!” I whisper. She turns around, “Matt?” She says.

“Heyyy guys” Madi says. “Hey I missed youu” I say while hugging her. “Matt, nick, Chris, this is y/n, and I know you guys have met Ella before.” Madi says. “It’s nice to meet you” I say while shaking all 3 of their hands. “Nice to meet you” they say.

-ˋˏ✄

We all 6 have split up now, I’m in lush, i just left Madi & Ella in Sephora, no idea where the triplets went but last I saw Chris.. I think? Was in American Eagle, yeah it had to have been Chris because I know what nick looks like and it wasn’t the hot one so yeah Chris.

As I go through the bath bombs, I find one with green, blue, red and black swirls on it. “Oh my god that’s my favorite scent from here!” I hear from behind me. I turn around to see it’s Nick.

I bring the bath bomb up to my nostrils and immediately smell fresh cotton, mixed with pink sands and hmm.. lavender? “This does smell amazing” I say. “Not to mention it reminds me of Billie Eilish” Nick says, I give him a weird look.

“You know… her hair has been green, red, blue, and black?” He says. “Ohhh I see what your saying now” we chuckle. “I love Billie, I have a Billie tattoo actually” I say. “shut the fuck up, your joking” Nick says. I laugh and start to pull up my sleeve, revealing the tiny tattoo that says everything I wanted in a beautiful italicized font. “Oh my God I love you already” Nick says.

After I get done purchasing the bath bomb, and a few other things of that scent, I grab the bag from the worker and start heading out the store with Nick. “Look” Nick says, pointing to a line at the Starbucks in the mall. “We should prank them” Nick says, referring to Matt, Madi, and Ella in the Starbucks line. “Bet” I say.

We quickly walk up behind them and push them into the people in front of them, they all jump and sorta bump the people in front of them at the line. In front of them is an older lady, blonde hair, looks like a Karen, with her daughter looked about 14 had highlighted hair, looks like a preppy pink Barbie girl.

The older lady gives us the weirdest look and we all just start laughing even harder at that, the daughter kind of starts giggling with us too.

Eventually we find ourselves at the counter and Matt, Madi, and Ella all give their orders. Matt turns around and says, “Nick, y/n want anything?”

I stand their and look into his eyes while he asks us the question, his eyes are bright blue and his brown silky hair sits perfectly above them. He has the perfect amount of texture on his skin where he looks normal but not like concrete, and he has the perfect amount of smoothness to his skin but not to where he looks fake. “No I’m good” Nick says. “And you Ms zoned out?” Matt says while giggling.

I quickly leave my trance, embarrassed, but in shock at how perfect he is. “Oh, sorry.” I say. “I’ll have just a iced white mocha please, basic I know” Matt gives an indescribable look and says “I don’t know if I should be offended or if I should be glad we have something in common, because that’s my order too” He says chuckling. “Be glad we have something in common.” I say. “Yes Ma’am” he says.

If I were being respectful, I would say that made my stomach flutter a little, and made me blush, which is true but it did more then that. Since I’m being myself, I’ll say it made my underwear soaked, and I’m now clenching my thighs.

I quickly hand him my card from my wallet and he puts his hand over it. “I got it pretty girl” he says, this one made me lose control. I want to pull him to the nearest bathroom and get down on my needs right then and there, but I barley know the kid, let me keep it my pants for now.

-ˋˏ✄

We make our way back to the car, the sounds of bags bumping together and crinkling makes me wanna pull my ears off, until I hear the most perfect voice I know start to speak. “I hate the sound of shopping bags” Matt says. “That’s so fucking weird what?” Madi says. “Hey I don’t think it’s weird” I say. “I was legit just thinking about how I wanna cut my ears off due to the obnoxious noise these bags in my hands are making.” I say.

Matt’s voice is different compared to Nick & Chris’s, it’s more low & soft and to be honest I could listen to it for hours.

As we start parting our separate ways to our cars, i hear “meet us at our house, yeah?” Nick says. “Yeah just send us the address.” Ella says.

I open the door passenger door, and get in the seat. I turn to look at Ella only to see her already looking at me, giving me a “your not slick” look. “Girl you like himmm… and he likes youuu” Ella says.

“No I don’t, and no he doesn’t.” I say, blushing. “See you do though, and you know he likes you.” Ella says. “I don’t even know his favorite color” I say. “Blue” she says. “Okay…i don’t even know how old he is.” I say. “18”she says. (this part of the story is taking place 2 years ago) “Okay shut up” I say.

ˋˏ✄

We arrive at the triplets house, as I grab all my bags, I see Ella is already walking into their house, along with Chris, Nick and Madi. As I start walking up to the door I hear footsteps next to me, I turn to see Matt. “Do you get made fun of taking too long too?” Matt says. “Yeah all the time.” I say. “My nickname is turtle” I say, which is true. “Ella calls me a turtle because im always late everywhere, and I take forever doing everything” I say. “Nick and Chris say the same thing of me too” Matt says. “But they aren’t the one driving the car so they can shut the hell up” Matt’s says. We both laugh while entering the house.

“Okay so here’s the deal, im going to order pizza & we are gonna watch a movie and maybe play a few games and then you guys can sleepover if you want” Nick says. “Sounds good to me” Madi says. “Yeah” me & Ella say.

Nick picks up his phone and starts typing in numbers while walking to his room with his shopping bags. “I’m gonna film a haul for my TikTok” Ella says. “Anyone wanna be in it?” She says. “Me and y/n will show our stuff in it too” Madi says, swinging her arm around my shoulder and pulling me closer to her.

As we are filming the haul, nick returns to the room and says “pizza is ordered, i was thinking we watch Shrek” he says, wearing bunny ears & sunglasses. Everybody starts dying of laughter, Chris is on the floor smacking it, Matt is covering his eyes and laughing silently, Nick is giving us the side eye while giggling, and me, Madi, and Ella are just dying in front of the still going TikTok.

“Nick they were trying to film a TikTok” Chris says, still laughing harder then ever. “And what’s with the bunny ears and glasses?” Matt says. “Don’t worry about it” Nick says while winking, everybody just laughs even more.

After everybody finally cools off from laughing so hard, we sit around the couch and decide to watch the Smurfs, since Madi does not wanna watch Shrek, and Chris wants to watch the Smurfs.

Our pizza finally arrives, and everybody dives in. Chris eats 8 slices of pizza which is an absurd amount, everybody else just eats a normal amount of pizza except me and Matt only eat 1. Nick ordered 4 pizzas for some odd reason, so their is a whole pizza leftover.

ˋˏ✄

After 6 hours of watching different movies, stuffing our faces with candy we ordered from DoorDash, playing board games & random games like truth or dare, we all eventually get tired and decide to go to bed. Madi is sleeping with Nick in his bed, and Ella and me are sleeping on their couch.

I wake up and look at my phone to see it’s 6 am, we went to bed at 4:30 am which means I’ve only been asleep for 1 hour and 30 minutes.

I hear my stomach growl, and I feel very hungry. I get up off the couch and tip toe to the kitchen. I open the fridge and grab the pizza box and place it on the counter. As I go to grab a plate I hear footsteps behind me. Oh shit I woke somebody up I think to myself, I turn around and see Matt standing there, shirtless with blue plaid pajama pants on.

His tattoos perfectly visible and pigmented on his arm, and his hands looking veinier than ever. I can feel myself clench around nothing.

“Came to eat more pizza too?” He asks. “Yeah” I say chuckling. He moves beside me and grabs a plate as well. We start to put our slices on our plates. “Could you not sleep either?” He says, as I start to open my mouth to speak I get cut off by him speaking again. “If the couch is uncomfortable you can sleep with me if you want.” He says.

I wanna take his offer more then anything, but if we sleep in the same bed, I don’t know if I will be able to contain myself. “I was asleep, but I just woke up hungry.” I say. “Oh” he says. “Why couldn’t you sleep?” I say. “I don’t know, just couldn’t.” He says.

We eat our pizza together sitting at the table, and talk about random things. Eventually we part our separate ways, and go to sleep.

ˋˏ✄

The next morning, I wake up to Chris smacking Matt for some odd reason, and Nick rolling his eyes. I check my phone and see it’s 2:30 pm. I quickly get off the couch and make my way towards the boys, Madi and Ella. “Someone finally woke up” Chris says. “Chris, the pretty girl needs her beauty sleep.” Matt says smiling. I blush and smile, but try not to make it obvious.

We gather all of our stuff, and tell everyone bye. As me and Ella walk out the door with our overnight bags, and shopping bags in hand, I feel a buzz in my pocket where I placed my phone, I grab it too see a message.

……. The end

A/N I really hope you enjoyed the first chapter of blue, I know the name of this series doesn’t really make sense right now, but just trust you gotta wait till further on in the story, anyways so i put my whole badussy into this so please give ur thoughts in my inbox I wanna hear it all!! Love you guys smm

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #fandom #fanfic #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #tumblr fyp #spotify #sturniolo fanfic #giannasturn #bluebygiannasturn #series #matthew sturniolo

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remarkablyretr0 · 15 days

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‘Keep going because you’re our only hope’: Palestinian journalist’s mess...

This is comforting but so so sad at the same time. The strength of the Journalists and the people in Gaza can never be compared.

#the way she was trying to hold back tears in the end #unmatched strength #free palestine #israel #free gaza #end the genocide #israel is a terrorist state #boycott israel #israel is evil #decolonise palestine #Palestine #journal #news update #world news

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baeshijima · 5 months

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it is now officially the 25th which means...

merry christmas everyone !!! regardless of whether u celebrate or not, i hope u all have a lovely day with whoever u spend it with or with urself <33

#sophie's idle chatter #this is scheduled so im HOPING it posts at 12 am.... prays....#i havent been super active in the past month or two bc life is kicking my ass (<- has said this countless times already but its still true)#also !! i see asks and ill try and answer them when i actually have the time and energy 😭 ik i say this a lot but ive been drained good god #(not so) mini life updates :#the new lovebrush chronicles main story update has made me weep so much... ive done both clarence and ayns routes and....#my god.... this story is darker and honestly im loving it AND i love how they did the chara roles in this world (alkaid... ourgh...)#my tear glands arent tho bc ayn ending 3.... what the fuck was that i couldnt sleep after doing that ending??? ITS WAS SO SAD AND FOR WHATF #currently having to wait until the 27th so i can do lars route 😔#the recent ep of apothecary diaries.... ourgh my heart.... jinshi and maomao beloveds :((#oh !! and ive gotten back into my ace of diamonds/daiya no ace phase and have been rewatching the series...#sobbing chris and yuki and miyuki my beloveds.... kissing ur foreheads and holding u gently.....#the way i got back into it bc im catching up on s2 of a clean sweep (a korean baseball variety show that i love with all my heart ;w;)#my mum is a traitor tho bc she watched every new ep that came out on tuesdays while i was in uni 🧍‍♀️ so now im catching up on the 30 eps #on my own 🧍‍♀️#OMG AND ALSO DR STONE S3??? WHY WAS I NOT NOTIFIED THAT PART 1 CAME OUT MONTHS AGO AND PART 2 WAS MORE RECENT???#i havent been doing that much writing recently tho bc the fingers wont type but the brain is exploding with ideas i cannot handle this #i do want to get back to the haitham sxf series tho.... and also my oc various x reader series.......#tbh ive been contemplating abt publishing the haitham series on ao3 once i write more chapters before publishing them #idk i feel like the series would be nice to have on ao3 as well as tumblr JHDG #thats abt it i think?#anywho if u read this far then know i am giving u a warm cookie as a condolence prize for getting through this life dump <33 #ill leave it off here but i hope u all have a lovely day !! mwah mwah merry chrysler everyone 🎄🫶#queue... ueueue

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ieirism · 7 months

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crybaby.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

setting: modern au

genre: smut and fluff

contains: brother’s best friend gojo, protective older brother geto, use of pet names (baby, princess, sweetheart), unprotected sex, slightly mean gojo (but he ends up soft and sweet, I promise), dirty talk, overstimulation, mutual pining, dacryphilia, oral (f receiving), cheesy and happy ending <3

summary: satoru had promised suguru that there'd be no funny business while he takes care of his heartbroken baby sister... but he's never been the greatest at keeping promises.

“Stop being so mean to her, Satoru.” Satoru looks over at his best friend, who's clicking his tongue in disapproval, with a nonchalant grin.

“Not my fault she’s such a crybaby, Suguru.”

“Come on.” Suguru shoots him a warning look. “That’s my little sister you're talking about.”

“Hey, hey,” Satoru laughs, raising his hands in mock defense. “You gotta teach her how to grow thicker skin. Not my problem.”

“Every time you come over, she ends up crying.” The black-haired man sighs. “Don’t be a jerk just for one moment, won’t you?”

“Mmh, no promises.” Satoru grins. Sue him, he’s simply too addicted to the way your face scrunches up indignantly whenever he teases you, the futile yet endearing clenching of your small fists at your side, and most of all, the uncontrollable blubbers that leave your lips as tears roll down your cheeks.

Years later, you’re still the same. Just a little crybaby coming apart at the seams, completely at Gojo Satoru’s mercy.

“S-Satoru…” The high-pitched whine of his name only elicits a laugh from the man between your legs, sending shock waves of pleasure shooting through your body.

“Baby, you gotta stop movin’ so much.” Satoru’s large hands grip your thighs, holding them firmly in place as he continues to feast on your dripping pussy. “Gotta let me eat you properly.” He punctuates his point with a loud suck on your clit that has you mewling and twitching under his hold.

“T-Too much!” You sob, hands curling into the silky white stands on his head, tugging uselessly. “S’too much, S-Satoru…”

“You wanna take my cock later, princess?” He hums against your cunt, licking a hot stripe up your slit, chuckling as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. His gaze lazily travels upwards, greeted with the sight of you nodding furiously as tears stream down your cheeks.

“Yes,” you plead with wide, teary eyes. “N-need you.” Satoru smirks.

“Then be a good girl and let me prep you,” he coos, before diving right back between your folds, enjoying the broken sob that leaves your lips as he draws zigzags across your swollen clit.

“I really don’t understand you,” Suguru bristles, frustration evident by the way his eyebrows furrow as he eyes Satoru.

“Hmm?” Satoru looks at him with feigned innocence. “Whatever could you be talking about, dear Suguru?”

“You’re unbelievable.” He sighs. “Those gifts you bought her… they’re worth almost a million yen. What the hell is wrong with you, really.”

“Well, you told me I made her cry.” The white-haired man shrugged. “I had to make up for it, didn’t I?” Suguru squints suspiciously, at a brief loss for words.

“...You are not normal,” he finally scoffs.

“Of course not,” Satoru agrees, unfazed.

“You can’t keep doing this. You’re gonna end up spoiling her.”

“And what’s so bad about that?”

“Gimme another one, baby.” He’s faintly aware that if he makes you cum again, you really might pass out. However, he can’t really bring himself to be too concerned about that, not when he’s quickly becoming addicted to the taste of your dripping cunt and cries of pleasure.

“C-Can’t, I can’t — “ You sob, entire body shaking around his mouth; you’re so sensitive.

“You can,” he insists between hungry slurps, not letting any of your arousal go to waste. “Fuck…” You’re so sweet. Just how did he survive this long without having a taste of you?

“Please…” You’re still shy, trying your best to stifle your cries even as they fall in a steady stream from your trembling lips. Each loud squelch of your sopping pussy still has you cringing a little, not to mention the embarrassment that washes over you every time you catch a glimpse of your juices all over Satoru’s face.

“Don’t hold back anymore, sweetheart.” He reaches up to grab your wrists, pulling them away from your mouth even as you blubber out a weak protest. “Wanna hear you this time, say it loud. Say my name when you cum.” One more combined thrust of his fingers, deep into your hole with a flick of his tongue across your clit has you creaming on his lips for the fourth time.

“S-Satoru!” You’re unable to control the beautifully loud whine of his name as Satoru greets your orgasm eagerly, savoring every last drop of your release on his tongue.

“You made her cry again.” Suguru says, rolling his eyes as he approaches his best friend at their meeting spot.

“Huh?” Satoru raises a brow. “Haven’t even seen her since two weeks ago. What’d I do?”

“She’s sad you’re moving away.” Suguru tuts. “Can’t imagine why. Probably because she won’t be able to use you for your wallet anymore.”

“You implyin’ I’m just a wallet to her?” Satoru exclaims, a little offended. The black-haired man shoots him a deadpan glare.

“You know you’re not. But even you’re not enough of an asshole to use that against her.”

“It’s just college,” Satoru muses. “Kid thinks I won’t be back for her?”

“In two years she’ll be going off to college too.” Suguru shrugs. “She’ll get over you.”

“What a cruel thing to say.” Satoru laughs it off, ignoring the small flicker of jealousy that flares to life deep in his chest.

Satoru watches as your chest heaves up and down, in your effort to try to recover from the multiple orgasms he had just given you. You’re lying limp on your bed, unable to move save for the periodic twitching of your thighs.

“Sorry, princess, was that too much?” He’s teasing, but there’s a genuine edge of concern to his voice as he cups your cheek in his hand. You nod, a few tears falling down your face. “Aww, forgive me. You’ll forgive me, right?” In response, you tug weakly on his shirt collar, asking him to come closer. He relents, allowing you to drag him down towards you. Satoru’s about to ask what you need, before you suddenly tilt your head upwards to kiss him.

Satoru lets out a small noise of surprise as your soft lips press against his, hesitant at first, but deepening once your fingers find further purchase in his shirt, gripping tightly. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you up into his lap.

You kiss him a little clumsily, still boneless from your release but Satoru doesn’t mind. Doesn’t mind at all, of course, when your lips are so soft against his, and he can swallow every quiet whimper that escapes you.

“Satoru…” Your voice is raspy and small, but your eyes are wild as you cling helplessly to him. “A-Am… Am I ready yet?” His jaw goes slack in awe at the adorable, troubled expression on your face. Your lips are swollen into a permanent pout now as you look up at him with those wide doe eyes that always had him weak.

“...Think you are,” he heaves, realizing that he’s just as fucked out as you are. It takes everything in him to hold back the urge to just take you.

“She’s grown up.” Satoru raises his eyebrows in pleasant surprise at the pictures that Suguru shows him. Your family had recently gone on vacation, so Suguru had been gone for an entire week, leaving his best friend and roommate all alone.

“That’s what you’re looking at?” Suguru shoots him an annoyed look.

“Oh,” says Satoru, glancing back at the picture. “Uh, nice waterfall.”

“One of the seven natural wonders of the world and all you can see is my baby sister.” Suguru exhales deeply.

“What? You can’t blame me too much. Kid’s changed,” the white-haired man shoots defensively.

“She’s twenty, not sixteen anymore. Of course, she’s changed.” Suguru pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I know that, I just…” Satoru pauses, glancing back at the picture. You’re still tiny, only reaching up to your brother’s, and by extension his, chest. Your face has matured, though, baby fat gone from your cheeks. That didn’t stop you from being any less adorable, though — your smile is as radiant as ever. He can’t help but let a small smile of his own slip onto his face.

“Hopeless,” Suguru mutters in disbelief. “Hopeless, the both of you.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

Satoru lets you unbutton his shirt, watching in amusement as your eyes narrow with focus as each button pops open, slowly revealing more and more of his skin.

“Um…” You’re nervous. It’s plain as day from the way your lip wobbles as your eyes sweep down the view of his chiseled chest and torso, only to end at the prominent bulge in his slacks.

“You sure you’re okay with this, princess?” He cups your chin in his hand, gently tilting your face to look straight at him. “Need to rest?”

“N-No!” You protest immediately, shaking your head. “I…” You glance back down at his erection, a flicker of desire in your eyes. “I need…” You trail off, unable to say it.

“Okay.” If he was feeling meaner, he would make you tell him exactly what you want. But he wants to be nice today, especially since you’ve already cried so much for him. “Okay, baby. Don’t worry, you’ll have it. Can you unzip me? Can you do that for me?” You hesitate for a moment. Satoru briefly wonders if he’s perhaps pushed you a bit too hard.

But then you’re reaching for him, small hands finding the top of his pants and slowly undoing the button. Your fingers close around his zipper, slowly tugging it down.

“Good girl.” He pecks your forehead. “Take me out of my boxers, alright?” As his angry, swollen cock springs free from his underwear, you can’t contain your gasp.

“Oh…” The soft sound leaves you almost involuntarily as you stare and wonder at how the hell that’s gonna fit in you. He’s thick and long, rock hard and dripping with pre-cum. You slowly wrap your own hand around his cock, lips parting as your fingers fail to meet in the middle. Your own pussy clenches in a combination of fear and excitement.

“See why I needed to prepare you, now?”

“Sorry to spring this onto you all of a sudden, especially since you just got into town.” Suguru sighs over the phone.

“Don’t worry about it. If you’re not around to take care of her, duty falls on me,” says Satoru as he reverses his car out of the parking lot, heading to the location Suguru had sent him.

“Let me know when she’s home safe. Tell her I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Yeah, will do.”

A pause.

“And… no funny business, got it?”

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“I’m serious, Satoru. She just confronted her asshole cheater ex. She doesn’t need you drooling all over her right now.”

“Relax, dude. I’m not that desperate.” Satoru rolls his eyes.

“Good. Keep it that way.”

His conversation with Suguru lies in the back of his mind, forgotten, as Satoru places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Lay back and relax for me, sweetheart.” You immediately obey, laying yourself down on your bed, heart beating fast in anticipation.

“S’gonna hurt, right?” you ask softly.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ve gotten you ready, see?” Satoru comforts you, brushing his fingers against the wetness still soaking your entrance.

“Oh.” Tears suddenly well in your eyes. “Um, s-sorry, it just always hurt with him…”

“What?” Satoru’s eyes darken, unsure if you mean what he thinks you do.

“He just…” You bite your lip, trying not to let your tears fall. “H-He just p-put it in, y’know?” His heart drops in his stomach. Two years, two whole fucking years with that asshole, and he had never given you proper foreplay? No wonder you were so sensitive and responsive to his touch, your body had never received the attention it’s always deserved.

“Baby.” Satoru squeezes your hand, fighting down the urge to find that asshole and beat him up. That could come later. Right now, he has to focus on you. “It’s not gonna be that way this time. Not with me. Okay?” You nod, squeezing his hand in return.

“O-Okay.”

It’s the first time he’s seen you in person in four years, and here you are in the passenger seat of his car, crying your eyes out.

You feel absolutely humiliated. You had called Suguru to ask him to pick you up from your ex-boyfriend’s house after you dumped him, but he had told you he couldn’t.

“I’ll send someone to get you. Hang tight,” he’d said.

You just didn’t know it was going to be Gojo Satoru, who hadn’t returned to your hometown since he graduated high school.

“I’m gonna bring you home,” Satoru had told you, getting out of the driver’s seat to open the car door for you. “Relax, okay? You’re safe now.” He had buckled your seatbelt for you before settling in himself, starting the engine without another word.

The car ride back to your house is silent, save for the continuous sniffles that wrack your body as you try your best to stop your tears. Satoru silently puts a box of tissues in your lap at some point, and your heart stutters at the action.

You’ve known for many years now, that you never got over your first love.

Clothes fully discarded, Satoru lowers himself on top of you, enamored with the way you shyly glance down at`his cock, gaze wavering for a moment before slowly looking back up at him, eyes begging for him to do something.

“Tell me if you want to stop.” He brushes his fingers, tender and gentle, across your cheek. You nod, hand curling around his bicep.

“Kiss me,” you request, and he gladly obliges, leaning down to peck your lips.

“M’gonna go slow,” he tells you. “You want me to stop, hit me real hard — “ He smacks his own chest. “ — Right here. Got it?”

“I won’t,” you say bravely, eyes glimmering with determination. “I… I can take it.” Satoru laughs quietly.

“Alright, princess. Don’t act all cute, you’re just rilin’ me up now.” You smile, a little mischievously.

“Oh, you caught me.”

“Fuck…” Satoru groans, pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re gonna kill me.” His fat tip taps against your clit once, twice. You gasp, eyes going glossy as you feel your swollen pussy clench desperately around nothing.

“Satoru,” you plead. “P-Please…”

“I’ll give you what you need. Relax for me…” He aligns his tip with your entrance, prodding between your folds. Inch by inch, he sinks his cock into your warm, throbbing cunt, almost blacking out himself at the sensation of your tight, velvety walls clamping around his cock.

“A-Ah…!” You whine, gripping his bicep and squeezing your eyes shut. The stretch is almost too much, but the delicious sensation of being filled to the brim has you seeing stars.

“You okay?” Satoru pants, willing himself to stop from splitting you open on his cock to check on you.

“Yes,” you whimper. “Yes, a-ah, please k-keep going…” Satoru rests his head in the crook of your neck as he continues to push himself in, enjoying the soft, labored whimpers as you take more and more of him, deep into your sopping hole.

“Almost there,” he coos. “Almost there, princess…” After what feels like an eternity, he finally sheaths the last of him in you, biting at your shoulder as he finally, finally feels exactly the sensation of being one with you.

“Drink. You’ll feel better.” Satoru places a glass of water in your hand as he leads you to your living room couch. You stubbornly refuse to look at him, letting the glass sit uselessly in your hand as you stare down at your lap.

He sighs, not sure what he should do. He’s never been good at comforting others, let alone his friends’ kid sisters. He knows you’re not a kid anymore, you’re a full grown adult, but the way you’re sulking and ignoring him says otherwise. Still, his fondness for you wins above all else as he takes the water back and puts it on the coffee table, letting you sit in silence.

”You gonna be okay by yourself?” he asks instead. Satoru doesn’t want to leave you alone, but he’s not sure if his presence will even help. He hasn’t been an active part of your life in years, and he has a feeling that this incredibly vulnerable moment isn’t the best time to barge back in. You don’t reply, twiddling your thumbs.

“Call me if you need anything,” Satoru says hesitantly. “You have my number, right?” No response. “I’m gonna write it down for you.” He finds a spare stack of Post-Its and does just that. You don’t react even when he sticks the note right on top of your forehead, in a shitty attempt to lighten your mood. Your deadpan glare, so much like your brother’s tells him it did not work.

“Suguru’s gonna be back tomorrow,” he tells you, taking the note off and soothing the annoyed crease between your eyebrows. “Go get some rest now, yeah?” You look away. Satoru sighs. Seeing you upset like this hurts him way more than he would like to admit. “M’gonna leave. Get to bed soon.” He pats the top of your head, just like he always used to do, which always made you whine when he messed up your hair. You’re quiet now, not a peep of complaint leaving you.

He really misses hearing your voice.

“Bye, then.” Satoru’s about to turn around and leave, but you do something that seems to shock both of you. Your fingers curl and grab onto the hem of his collared shirt, stopping him in his tracks. He stares down at you in surprise, trying to process the sight of your small, thin fingers holding onto him for dear life.

“Stay.” The one word was enough to crumble his self-control.

You’re struggling to adjust to his size; he can tell from the way you’re digging your nails into his arm and the trembling of your thighs around his waist. Satoru stays still, waiting for your permission to go any further, right hand rubbing soothing circles on your hip.

“Don’t stress yourself, baby, just tell me what you want, when you want it,” he murmurs against your neck, waiting patiently, torturously, for permission to move.

You’re so overwhelmed by the sensation of being stuffed full; Satoru is much bigger than your ex-boyfriend and yet, the feeling isn’t painful. It’s so good, a throbbing ache that extends outwards from your core all the way to the top of your head and the tip of your toes. You can hardly form thoughts, let alone words, as your pussy stretches around him, trying to accommodate the sheer size of his cock.

A few more moments pass, and you feel like you’re going crazy. The feeling of being so, so full is one that you’ve never felt before, but you think you’re already addicted. Your thighs flex instinctively, closing tighter around Satoru’s waist and pushing his cock even deeper, pressing right against your sweet spot. You mewl, wrapping your arms around his neck, silently begging to be closer to him.

Satoru leans into the kiss you give him, groaning as your walls suddenly clench once around him, brain filling with nothing but white noise. “Fuck,” he grits out against your lips. “Fuck, baby, I don’t know how much longer — “

“Move.” Your command is quiet. Satoru almost wonders if he’s misheard you. But one look into your pleading, begging eyes confirms what you want. Unable to hold back any longer, he pulls his hips upwards, snapping right back into you with one long, hard thrust. You cry out, nails sinking into his shoulder blades.“M-More,” you whisper. “Need more.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

Satoru’s at a loss for words and actions as you stood on your tiptoes, reaching up and bringing his head down to kiss him. His arms instinctively wrap around your waist to steady you, craning his neck to allow you better access — oh shit, what the hell is he doing?

He lets go of you like he’s touched something on fire, pulling back from the kiss. As your heels land back on the ground with a soft thud, he’s greeted by the sight of you looking like you’re about to cry again. “Wait — “ He reaches for you, but retracts his hand; he’s not sure if he can trust himself to stay in line. His heart is beating so fast, you had just kissed him, completely out of the blue.

Satoru knew about your crush on him when the two of you were younger. You started having feelings for him when you were thirteen and he was fifteen, making it painfully obvious. You followed him and Suguru around like a lost puppy whenever he came over, despite Satoru’s constant teasing.

He thought your actions were funny at first, becoming the root of his continued teasing. Despite still making you cry all the time, you always came right back to greet him with a smile upon his very next visit. After a while, Satoru looked at you with fondness, in the way that one would gaze at a small animal. You were harmless, sweet, and so very adorable.

Satoru didn’t return your feelings at the time. You were just Suguru’s kid sister that he liked to toy with sometimes. You were awfully cute when you were mad.

But now, as you look up at him with desperation and longing, his heart clenches faintly in his chest. You’re so, so beautiful — the pictures Suguru had showed him hadn’t done you justice in the slightest. You somehow look so enchantingly gorgeous at this moment, even with tears glistening in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks.

Would you hit him if he tried to wipe away your tears?

He never gets to find out, because you speak his name softly, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Satoru leans down to carefully listen to what you have to say. “W-Want you.”

“So good, so fuckin’ good for me, princess,” Satoru groans, reveling in the dizzying heat of your pussy as he drags his cock in and out of your walls, fucking you at a steady pace. “You feel me in there? You feel me in your little cunt?”

“Y-Yes,” you manage to sob out between moans, each rough snap of his hips into you melting your brain into jelly just a little more.

“What a perfect lil pussy,” He chuckles as you squeal after a rather rough thrust, the loud squelch of your hole sucking him in echoing through the room. “No sane person in this world would ever give this up this tight wet cunt.” You whine at his filthy words, drool dripping out of the side of your mouth as Satoru continues to ram into you, faster, harder.

“Satoru!” You’re crying out his name over and over, legs wrapped firmly around his waist, pushing him deeper and deeper. “S-Satoru, I-I — “

“You likin’ this, baby? Tell me how much you like this,” he coos into your ear, hand reaching down to rub at your swollen clit.

“I l-like it s-so much, i-it’s so ahh…! I-it’s so good,” you sob out. You never thought sex could feel like this — you never understood why the people around you were so obsessed with it, especially with the treatment you received from your ex.

Now, though, as each rut of Satoru’s dick into your cunt kisses your sweet spot, you get it. You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forget this feeling of being filled by cock so brutally sweet.

“Hold on.” Satoru had tried to protest, he really had. You’d just broken up with your boyfriend. Like Suguru said, the last thing you needed was any funny business. “Listen — “ He sighs out your name, making your bottom lip wobble. “You have to go rest, don’t be reckless.”

“Please.” You tug at his sleeve, staring at him with that puppy-eyed look that always gets you what you want. He really had spoiled you, hadn’t he?

“Not now,” he tried to reason with you. “You’re still hurting, you’re not in the right mind.” You glare at him.

“Who’re you to say m’not in the right mind?” you whine. “I…” You suddenly seem to lose your confidence, staring down at the floor. “...I only ever wanted you.”

“What?” Satoru stares, wide-eyed, at your confession.

“Know you don’t want me that way,” you continue, voice small. “But I… don’t care.” You sniffle. “Don’t care, Satoru. Just want you.”

And when you tug desperately at his shirt again, this time, Satoru is too far gone.

“Fuck, I’m close.” He growls into your neck, his pace picking up as he chases after his release, He coaxes you to join him, thumbing at your clit and cooing for you to “Let go, cum for me, c’mon. Cream all over my cock, princess.”

The only sounds in the room are a symphony of your moans and the slick sounds of his cock pushing in and out of your hole as a coil forms deep in your gut, threatening to snap at any moment. You feel tears stain your cheeks as Satoru’s pace increases, pounding into you so deep you can practically feel him in your throat.

“S-Satoru, I’m g-gonna — !” You cut yourself off with a loud, lewd moan, cunt clenching down hard around him as you come undone for the fifth time just this night. You swear you lose consciousness for a second, lost in the euphoric feeling of your release as your swollen pussy throbs in satisfaction.

“Shit..“ A few quick, shallow thrusts later, Satoru finishes as well, thick ropes of cum splurting into your womb, filling you with a warm sensation.

“A-Ah…” you whimper out, pussy fluttering weakly around his softening cock, which is still fully sheathed inside you. A white ring remains on his dick as he gently pulls himself off of you, cum dripping from your spent pussy onto the sheets. Satoru tuts, placing a pillow under your hips so you won’t leak.

You’re only faintly aware of what he’s doing as he leaves briefly and returns with a warm, wet towel, gently asking you to open your legs for him. You obey, but you’re so exhausted you can’t help it as your eyes droop shut. The last thing you remember before falling asleep is Satoru leaning forward to peck your forehead, praising you for taking him so well.

You wake up a few hours later to sunlight streaming through your bedroom window, making you squint a little as you sit up in bed. You immediately gasp at the ache between your legs, and the soreness racing up and down your body.

Memories of the previous night come flooding back as a sleepy groan sounds from next to you. Satoru stirs, awakened by your panicked sound, asking softly, “You okay, baby?”

Oh god. Shit. Fuck. You actually had sex with Gojo Satoru.

“Hmm?” He looks a little concerned at your lack of response, pulling you against him. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You in pain? Sorry, did my best to clean you up and everything.” Only then do you realize that the place between your thighs is no longer sticky, and that you’re wearing a fresh set of underwear with Satoru’s unbuttoned shirt wrapped around you.

“...What did we do?” You whisper in a muddled mixture of shock and amazement.

“You regret it?” he asks carefully, pulling back a little to gauge your reaction. You shake your head vehemently, snuggling back close to him. You breathe in his scent, eyes fluttering closed. You feel so right at home in his arms.

“No.” You ponder for a bit. “But it’s never gonna happen again, right?” Satoru’s breath catches in his throat.

“What?”

“I know last night might’ve given you the wrong impression.” You swallow hard, trying to contain the feelings bubbling up within you. Satoru just looks so beautiful under the morning sun, his crystal blue eyes glittering in the light. You know you’re not mistaken, you’ve never been so sure about it — you love him. “I don’t… do this. Thank you for being with me for this one night, but…” you trail off.

“Hey, hey.” You’re crying again, and this time, Satoru wipes the tears off your cheek, cupping your face between his hands. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“Don’t want just this from you,” you continue vaguely, looking away shamefully. “But I don’t… I don’t expect you to want the same.” He stills at your words, trying to decipher them properly.

“You still in love with me?” He deciphered them spot on, but that doesn’t stop a humiliated squeak from leaving you. You’re huffing, face on fire with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment.

“F-Fine, whatever! You know already, so…” You look away, gnawing at your lower lip. “That’s w-why — “

“Don’t really know why you’re so upset, princess,” he cuts you off, pulling you out of the downward spiral he sees you’re about to fall into. “Think…” Satoru pauses to swipe at a tear at the corner of your eyes. “Still such a crybaby,” he can’t help but say, watching with amusement as you scowl at him with all the ferocity of an angry kitten.

“Ugh, jerk! Four years later and you still can’t take me seriously, God, why do I even bo — “ He cuts you off again, this time with a kiss. When he pulls away, he’s smiling gently, chuckling at your dumbfounded expression.

“Think I love you too,” he finishes. “So you’ve got nothing to worry about.” A few moments pass.

“...Are you fucking with me?” You look him dead in the eye.

“Technically, I already did,” he replies cheerfully. You look at him in disbelief. “Okay, sorry, sorry, sweetheart. Let me spell it out for you.” Satoru holds you close to him, tracing slow, comforting circles along your back. “Be my girlfriend?”

You answer him with a kiss of your own.

Suguru sighs, fishing in his pocket for his house keys as he approaches the front door. He’s worried about you; although the bastard had cheated on you and deserved to have you dump him, he knows you’re still probably heartbroken.

Or at least a little heartbroken. Suguru’s aware you never really that into your ex, if your drunk phone calls about how much you miss Satoru were enough evidence. Hiding those from his best friend was tough work; he would have to sit in the bathroom or the closet with his headphones and speak as quietly and carefully as possible to not rouse any suspicion.

Either way, he knows you definitely need some cheering up right now. He’s brought you a box of cupcakes from your favorite bakery, hoping it would be enough to at least get you in a talking mood.

Imagine his surprise when he opens the door and the first thing he sees is Gojo Satoru. Not only is Gojo Satoru standing in his kitchen, but he’s wearing Suguru’s apron, a gift from you many Christmases ago. To make things worse, he’s nearly butt naked under it, only wearing a pair of boxers that are — wait a second, are those Suguru’s as well?

“Oh hey, Suguru!” If Satoru is nervous or embarrassed, he plays it off well as he turns around and waves, flashing the stupid, faded picture of Remy from Ratatouille on his apron right in Suguru’s face. “You hungry? Was just makin’ some eggs.”

“What the actual fuck,” Suguru grits out, putting two and two together as you choose that moment to wander out into the kitchen, wearing nothing but an unfamiliar collared button down that reaches down nearly to your knees. Satoru’s.

“S-Sugu.” Your eyes go round, stopping in your tracks. No one speaks for a moment. Satoru’s still happily cooking eggs. Suguru’s expression is stone cold. You’re staring at your brother with embarrassment written all over your face.

“Baby, you ready for food?” Satoru steps away from the stove to wrap an arm around your waist, smooching you on top of your head. You make a stuttered noise under your breath, glancing back at your brother.

Suguru’s smiling now, but not in the traditional sense. He looks almost maniacal as he slowly places the box of cupcakes on the table before locking eyes with Satoru. Finally, the white-haired man has enough shame for his casual grin to falter.

“What happened to no funny business?”

Satoru is forced to abandon the stove, running away from a fuming Suguru chasing after him with the first thing he could find on the dining table — a carrot.

“Sugu, stop, it’s okay — “ Your pleas fall on deaf ears as your brother is hell-bent on finding a way to murder his best friend with a vegetable. You sigh deeply, moving to go after them when you suddenly smell something burning. Your head snaps to where the eggs Satoru was cooking are now sitting blackened over the flame.

Needless to say, the first morning with Gojo Satoru as your official boyfriend was far from perfect.

Thankfully, you would have many, many more mornings with him, each more wonderful than the last, that this one quickly faded from importance.

But not from Suguru’s.

“I still remember,” Suguru says, clearing his throat for dramatic effect. “When I opened the door on that one morning, and you were not only in my house, but you were half-naked wearing my apron and my underwear — “

Satoru groans as the audience bursts into laughter at his best man’s speech, burying his face in your shoulder. You’re giggling right along with them, sparing your new husband a peck on the cheek as his best friend continues to tear him apart.

“Then you had the audacity to pretend nothing was wrong — “

Satoru knew he would never live this down, but he had zero regrets. Not when you’re sitting right next to him in a pretty white dress holding his hand under the table.

“Well.” Suguru looks over at him, raising a brow. “Got anything to say?” Satoru takes the mic from him, face splitting into a shit-eating grin as he says two words:

“Worth it.”

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