#'two people get along platonically and they don't fuck each other and fall in love?'

[perceptivehands]

imagine declaring a (m/f) friendship "unhealthy" bc it doesn't lead to romance i-

[gotham-daydreams]

Planned Fics [For Batfam]

Will be listing both Romantic and Platonic fics that I not only have planned, but will be trying to prioritize! This is not the full list of what I have in mind, but kind of what I'd like to show first at the moment! Oneshots and smaller ideas are not included, and everything here is going to be multiple parts long.

'Bite-sized' are smaller fics like the Not [ ] Series, 'Long' fics are.... well, long, and I consider them to be more on par with full-length fics people post on other sites and such. With 'Medium' being somewhere in between 'bite-sized' and long fics. They don't really determine the actual set length of a fic, but moreso how long I think they'll be in the long run- so its more of a general idea then anything else!

'Mixed' fics are also a, well, mix of both platonic and romantic yanderes - or have yanderes that I feel cannot be defined as solely romantic or platonic. Though for simplicity I have placed them under romantic or platonic, and will specify which ones I consider a 'mixed fic'. Romantic and Platonic fics are also fics that predominantly has romantic or platonic yanderes - which basically means that one or two of they may be different.

I will also keep the descriptions of each fic short as... well, if I don't, I think this post will be waaayy longer than it has to be.

With that out of the way, let's get onto the lists!

Platonic:

Flick of the Wrist (temp title) [Villian! Artist! Reader] {Medium (?)}

Destroying the city your father seemed to love so much turns much more personal when you realize that your entire family is composed of costume wearing freaks. At least your trying to spice things up, geez. Though, for a bunch of detectives.. they can be fucking idiots for not realizing who you are. Guess being ignored really did give you a leg up in that department, so, really, you can't be too mad about that.

One Chance (temp title) [Kidnapped! Reader] {Long}

They thought you didn't know. That you'd be too young to remember what they did that night, that you didn't know how they treated your parents. Though, over the years, you didn't really help clear that idea... if anything, you fed into it. You play their little game, just so that they all could fall into the very palm of your hands. No matter what they try to do, no matter how much power they think they have... they will never know that you're still waiting. Waiting and making sure that when the time comes, you'll finally seize your opportunity- but you have to do it right the first time. You know that there won't be a second, especially at this point. One chance is all you're getting, and you'll be damned if you don't make sure it counts.

Ghost [Heavily Neglected! Reader] {Bite-sized}

You were the ghost in Wayne Manor. That's what everyone called you. That's what even the media saw you as, and at this point, it was all by design. They gave you a role to play, and you've done everything you could over the years to see it through. But, what happens when you finally want to leave, and go haunt some other place? What happens when your family finally decides to do a little 'Ghost Hunting' after all the rumors?

Prodigy [Prodigy! Reader] {Bite-sized (?)}

Born from an affair, and after your mother's unfortunate passing, you are given to Bruce Wayne - possibly the richest man alive and with a booming buisness. Yet, having been born and raised in this industry, you were practically made to take over the buisness. You've proven time and time again that you're more than capable of it, along with keeping your family's secret. Buisness and work is all you know. It's how you've lived, and you saw no reason to explore or look into things outside of it - along with the money it brought. So why is you family so insistent about 'spending more time' with you? Don't you give them enough free time already?

Bond [Reader who is obsessively looked after] {Bite-sized - Medium}

You keep them together. You keep them sane. You are their family. They need you more then you will ever know, and nothing will ever take you away from them.

Even a Worm Will Turn [Spider-Man! Venom! Reader] {Long} [Also known as 'Waiting Reader'] [Sort of mixed?]

You were so young when everything went down. You didn't know any better, not with how you grew up before your adoption - and not with what followed after. It wasn't your fault, or was it? You didn't think so, you were still in highschool for crying out loud. You were still just a kid... but, it's no wonder you grew up hating them. It's no wonder that, when given an out - when actually getting a taste of what they had robbed you of, did you finally see past the barriers that your parents had put up and that they reinforced unknowingly. Yet, when you finally seemed tired of waiting, they came crawling right back. Though, this time, unlike before- you weren't alone.

Husband! Reader [Technically I have two ideas for this concept so.... no title or length- how I go about it is going to be a little weird so just trust the process on this one, folks!] (Married to Bruce... obviously..)

It was peaceful for a while, or- well, as peaceful as it could get in Gotham. With you just caring for your insane family, and your doting yet equally insane husband. Though, just being apart of this family... maybe you should've expected things to go sideways.

(The more Batfam focused idea is focused on the reader basically being flung into a different dimension that is essentially the reversed Batfam AU (so Damian is the oldest, Dick is the youngest and such). The other idea is more JL focused so I won't go into it here.)

Darkest Night, Brightest Day (temp title) [Batman! Reader] {Medium - Long (?)}

It's a wonder how you've come this far. From being the newest addition into the family, to now the only one who's left to dawn the mantle. The world needs Batman, after all, and though many have argued that you've likeness is too much like Bruce's, you just see that as a sign that your efforts are paying off. After all, you have sacrificed your mind, body, and soul to keep up with the original... especially with all that's happened. Especially when everyone else is dead. Yet, it seems life really does love tormenting you, and one day, people that look like your deceased family come stumbling into your world, and would you look at that?

Their Bat is alive, and more human then you've ever been in a long, long time... maybe it's about time you ask how the hell he does this job without having to do half of whay you've done just to keep up. Maybe then, you'll feel like you aren't disrespecting those that came before you.

Romantic:

Letters [Fan! Reader] {Medium - Long (?)}

Ever since you were young, you've always been a fan of the unusual family that was Batman and every bird and bat he seemed to take under his wing. So to show your appreciation, you wrote letters to each and every one of them... that you ended up being too shy to send. As you grew up, your appreciation and admiration seemed to grow with you - but it also did extend to the Wayne family, who, in your opinion, really did seem to be boing just as much good as the Bats when it came to Gotham. You loved the Bats so much you even trained and became a vigilante yourself... but, now that you work beside them.. you can't help but keep your letters closer to yourself. With them becoming more personal as you lost hope in ever being able to send a single one.

Though... maybe now you have an opportunity? Especially when they've taken notice of you too, and don't seem to realize that their admiration is matched.

Clover [Reader taken from a diff universe] {Medium - Long(?)} [Sort of mixed. Platonic -> Romantic for some.]

They took you away from a life you didn't know you missed, and tried to play it off as if the life you lived before was all a dream... as if it never happened. You believed them at first, and yet, it seemed that just as you were becoming the very thing they were trying to shape you into, they began to change gears. No longer did some of them want you to pose as a family member that had long since passed - but rather, you were supposed to be something more.

Brotherhood and Co. (temp title?) [Dilf! Reader] {Medium(?)} [Mixed]

You trusted him. You trusted him with your life- he was like your god damn brother- and yet, he stabbed you in the back. Betrayed you like no other, and they both knew for years. Years of your life wasted away loving that woman, just like that.

So it's no surprise that you took the kids and left. Left and tried to do what you could to provide them with the life you knew they deserved, and provide the stability you knew they needed. Yet, it seems that your dear 'friend' isn't quite done with you yet, and nor is his godforsaken family. You really should've known not to trust them from the start, but hell, it was your big heart that got you in this mess, isn't it?

Intruder [Isekai! Reader] {Medium(?)} [Mixed.] [Also has a JL ver. though, again, just focusing on Batfam/Gotham for this post.]

Who knew that a crazed fan like you would end up in this situation? What are the odds that you of all people wind up being an unexpected artifact of some insane villian who could open portals across dimensions, space, and time? Granted, you aren't the only one- but you managed to slip under the radar. With you being able to use your knowledge of the universe you've plopped into to survive, and make sure to not catch any unwanted or unwarranted attention. It'd be horrifying and embarrassing as hell to meet Batman, only for him to be able to easily see that you're a complete fucking loser..

Yet, even when they do find you, you manage to catch their attention too well. And now... well, let's just say that while it was their job to bring everyone home, it wouldn't hurt to let you stay, right? After all, you seem to be adjusting so well... it'd be a shame to let you go now, wouldn't it?

Never-Ever After [Friend! Reader] {Medium - Long (?)}

Being a friend if the Wayne's wasn't all too bad, especially when you're basically friends with everyone. So when they ask for your help, and also for tickets to concerts of a particular idol duo you're also friends with- you don't think anything of it. It slips your mind when they ask for you to introduce them to your idol friends, but it becomes a little odd when they begin to ask for more... personal information on them, and sure, you answer their harmless questions - but not much else. Even if you do know the answers, that's weird and an invasion of their privacy! Not to mention your friends' trust in you!

Then the threats start coming... and suddenly the Wayne kids aren't so friendly with you anymore... and you can't help but notice how obsessed they seem with your idol friends... and yet, when you try to cut them off and avoid them, its like you can't. Like they won't allow you to anymore.

It's only when your life starts taking a horrible turn for the worst do you even consider the idea that maybe... just maybe.. did their obsession turn to you instead?

Gotham's Finest (temp title) [Insane! Villian! Reader] {Bite-sized - Medium (?)}

With the villians, rouges, and thugs of Gotham as your main infulence in life, it's no wonder that you became a villian yourself - and not only that, but aspired to be just as good as the people who really brought terror to the streets of Gotham. You were one of the best, 'trained' yourself to be as such. So is it any real surprise that you catch the attention of the infamous Bat and his family once you finally take your crime to the next level, and begin to become active at night?

Maybe not, but the real kicker is how much they seem to love how you drive them absolutely insane.

Birds of a Feather (temp title) [Winged! (Metahuman?) Reader] {Bite-sized - Medium (?)} [Mixed.]

You hate them. You'd do anything to get rid of them. And you're friends- they promised that they'd help you find a way to get rid of them forver. They did- they... they said they would, and you trust them, of course you do! You'd do anything, anything to rid yourself of these cursed wings. But, you just couldn't wait. It was taking too long. So... you took matters into your own hands just a little, and had a solution! A cure! So why... why are your friends and their family looking at you like that?

These lists may or may not be updated- especially as they get posted and people ask questions. Again, these are moreso the stories I'll be trying to focus on after the Not [ ] Series. Though, to be fair, some things may be a bit different after that series in general, but no need to think about that just yet! Author here is just trying to think of how to go about certain things and organize some stuff, especially since I'll dabble a bit into JL and Superfam stuff down the line- but that's not important right now!

If your curious about anything, don't be afraid to send in an ask! Or even if you want to hear more about an idea, and so on and so forth.

Also, as I'm sure you can tell... naming things isn't exactly my strong suit 😅 I'm more of a plot guy, y'know? Love me a good, dark, horror-esc story!

[ahungeringknife]

Let's talk about Aspec characters and relationships!

I'm aroace. I write a lot of characters who are aspec in some way. I have a lot of aspec friends. And this is why your aspec character is driving me crazy. There's also sex talk in here so if you're not mature enough to handle it please scroll past.

Edit: Allos also should reblog this if you found it helpful.

First lets get some terms right:

Aromantic (aro) and Asexual (ace) are two distinct things. Aroace means you're both aromantic and asexual at the same time. It is generally referred to as 'aspec' (aro/ace spectrum) when you fall on one or both spectrums. If you are not aspec you are allosexual/alloromantic (allo). It just means someone who isn't ace or aro. You can also be aroallo or aceallo (aromantic allosexual, asexual alloromantic). All these terms are neutral and not used in derogatory ways similar to trans/cis. It's a descriptive word not a put down.

Now about those characters and their relationships. Because that is the most :))))) to me as an aroace is when people just don't know how to handle an aspec character. Usually because they're allo. But that's okay you probably don't know and we're all here to learn from each other. Here's some things to consider when you want to make or write an aspec person.

Ace's do sometimes have sex. They just aren't motivated by sex. That's it.

Along with sex your ace character may also masturbate and feel good being touched. They also might only like touching themselves and hate when other people do it. They usually also know when someone is hot/sexy and will comment on it. Finding someone sexy =/= we want to fuck them. Thinking someone is hot =/= we want to fuck them. We're still human. We know what a hot human looks like. Your ace character might be attracted to someone's appearance aesthetically but have no interest in their bits. Your ace character might fall in love with the most beautiful person in your story and never show any interest of wanting to bed them.

They can have boyfriends/girlfriends/romantic partners they do or don't have sex with. But they can be anywhere on the spectrum of sex repulsive, to sex positive, to absolute sex hound. Some of the horniest people you know are probably ace. Some of the horniest people I know are ace, and I have a lot of ace friends.

And we're not all virgins. Some ace's had sex and realized 'nah fam. Didn't do it for me' and never did it again. Others are virgins and have no intention ever of having sex. Others are virgins but don't care either way? It just hasn't happened. Others enjoy sex with their partners. Some are parents! You can be ace and had enough sex to procreate. Some also think sex is icky or it squicks them out. Some might be squicked out at the thought of sex with another person but they're fine looking at porn or doing it themselves. There is a wide range of what asexuals are into just like allos.

Aros also sometimes do the sex. They are not motivated by romance. That's it.

That being said your aro character can have a boyfriend/girlfriend/partner and it can be 'romantic'. It doesn't have to be a queer platonic relationship. Your aro character also might not want to be in a relationship at all. It is not weird for your aro character to call their partner their partner or bf/gf or if they're married their husband/wife.

Aro people do not get butterflies. They don't really get flustered around people they like. There's no spark. And they don't feel that romantic attraction allos do when they meet someone and fall in love with them. I've found that aro people are also terrible at flirting or picking up flirting cues. At least in my own personal experience when it took my aro ass 3 years to realize some girl was flirting with me and I just thought she was being nice to me. Take the 'useless lesbian' trope and take it to 11. We just don't know. Aro people also know when other people are hot. Just like aces just because we're aro doesn't mean we don't know a baddy when we see one. We just probably won't realize said baddy is flirting with us...

Aro character still love. They love their family, they love their friends, they love their partners. And it's all real love. The love is still there. Aro characters also probably know what they should do to mimic being in love. Even if we don't love someone more than platonically they may still do the things romantic partners do with their partner. Some don't! And that's fine too. Sometimes you're boyfriends and you share the same bed with him, and sometimes your girlfriend is just your roommate. Both are totally valid aro relationships. Maybe your character kisses their partner passionately and they like it, or they might only kiss during sex, or they might not kiss on the mouth. All valid and correct, still no romo. Kissing =/= romance for aros. Sex =/=romance for aros.

Aroace characters do all those things! At once! They can do the sex, and the boyfriend/girlfriend/partner and loving their friends. They just are not motivated by sex or romance. Kissing =/= sexual attraction. Sex =/= romantic love.

Being aspec is looking at the most beautiful and delicious cake in the world and going 'neat, cake' and walking away not even wondering what it tastes like, not even for a second considering having a bite. It's a cake. Neat. You are not motivated by cake. You don't even really care about cake. It's nice that other people fucking loooooooove cake but it's just not for you.

We also know what love is supposed to be like, what a 'healthy sexual' relationship should feel like. It's everywhere. All around us. Constantly. It's also sometimes fucking exhausting! It's why some aspec people can be a bit agro. We get it you're in love/got a new partner/are sleeping with someone/really sexually attracted to this person/keep spamming us with your celeb thirst pics/etc. It does get tiring sometimes. We don't care about the cake and sometimes listening to you talk about the cake drives us crazy. Consider that too when writing aspec characters. Sometimes their friends and their cakes are annoying no matter how much they love them platonically or romantically.

Anyway just some things to consider for your aspec OCs from an older aroace. Should be said aspec is a wide spectrum and I'm drawing on my own experience as an aroace with aspec friends, and my writing of those characters. If you have more questions about writing characters on this spectrum feel free to ask!

[alaskashigh]

Do have more california x new York Headcanons??

holy shit how did i miss this?? fuck yeah I do

New York is very closed off and doesn't have the time or patience to deal with other people, as we know, so it is really hard to get him to open up or to at least want to talk to you. Because of this, he doesn't have many friends or people that he really trusts (he barely trusts the Northeast states.)

Well, one day he wasn't having the /best/ day, so to say. He'd woke up feeling like shit because of his old worn out bed, missed the subway so he had to walk to work, and on top of that got into a fight with a rude customer at his job (almost got fired). So his day was absolute shit.

California had luckily? unluckily? decided to stop by his apartment because New York had forgotten some important work for Gov in the meeting room. After a while of knocking without getting an answer, he walked into his place to see his apartment trashed from a real bad episode and New York having a panic attack on the floor, leaned up against his stove.

It took a lot of time and effort, but he eventually got New York to calm down and ended up helping him clean up the place. The two of them had food door dashed to his place afterwards.

After that they slowly started to open up to each other more and more, hanging out every so often for awhile. Course with their oblivious selves it took a few years for them to realize that "Hey, maybe my feelings for my best friend are more than platonic." but y'know, their dumbasses in love.

Y'know how New York likes to "fuck off" to Florida when his state gets to cold? Yeah? Well I think that when Cal and him had started to get closer (eventually getting together after years of being friends) he started going to his state more often, saying that he "Doesn't want to deal with Florida's shenanigans, fuck off." California didn't think too hard into New York going to his state for the winter (At least he tried not to so he wouldn't get his hopes up about his friend wanting to be around him) A lot of the states rolled their eyes or teased him for his obliviousness, but he didn't understand why at the time.

I think New York's kids (cities) would be more comfortable at times going to California for help with mental stuff, after a long time of getting used to California and their dad getting together.

Speaking of that, it took a hella long time for New York and California's kids to be okay/get used to each other, even if they weren't living together (then, that is) it was still weird and kind of upsetting for them knowing that they'd have to like each other and get along with each other for their parents sake. Their was a lot of arguing between the two families, and a lot of getting used to, but after a while they ended up accepting it and moving on. A lot of them became close with each other, practically hanging out everyday or so, which was something that made California really happy and New York feel at ease knowing that his kids had Cal's kids to fall back on if they ever needed too.

(the kids would never admit it, but they all see each other as a family and would lose their shit if something happened to one of them.)

They don't really like doing all of that fancy shit for every date, or really at all sometimes, so their dates are usually skateboarding around their cities and getting two different flavors of different icees and snacks to share. They enjoy letting loose and running around their states, going into random shops and buying weird things for each other or eating out at different fast food restaurants. They still like being fancy every once in awhile, but they prefer just doing fun stuff all day outside in comfortable clothes and no restrictions or dress codes. So they usually don't do the fancy itchy clothing and 5 star restaurants every date.

New York forgets when their anniversary is until the day of or before, leaving him rushing around his state for stuff whilst also regretting ever getting his fellow Northeast states help.

California does the same thing, except with the west states including Florida and Louisiana.

They both don't know that the other also forgets about their anniversary before it's already time so they usually feel pretty bad knowing that they had forgotten and the other boyfriend didn't.

(Their so oblivious at times it makes the states want to smash their heads together)

While they are oblivious as hell at times they can be really in tune with the others body language when out (sometimes), so a lot of the time it looks like they are talking to each other with their eyes.

Florida and Louisiana teases them about it a lot, saying that they are a married couple.

Since they aren't really used to people or good with other peoples emotions, sometimes they really struggle with trying to understand what is wrong with the other which can lead to them both getting a bit frustrated. It used to be something that was a problem at the beginning of their relationship until they started to talk about it and figure out how they can help each other when they are in this position. Talking through things has helped them get through a lot of rough periods in their life and has made their relationship stronger.

California's kids like to go to New York when they need backup in fights.

California is good at being the voice of reason and with some emotion and mental health related problems, while New York is good with escaping the law and fighting/physical things.

They both struggle with their own mental health problems though.

California knows how to say "no," but struggles to at times, while New York knows how to say "no," and mean it.

They have both on many occasions had to cover for their kids when they got in trouble with the law, having to lie their asses out of jail time when the police show up at their home. They can't even count how many times they've had to show up at the police station to bail out their kids.

Their kids are going to be the death of them, they swear it. (Though they would be lying if they said that their kids didn't get their reckless behavior from them)

Alright i'm tired so i'm going to end this here. Sorry it's so much, I don't really get asks so I get hella excited when I get one occasionally, especially asking for headcanons (I have so many that I haven't said, this is just 1% of some of my headcanons for yorkcali. I don't really say my headcanons much unless asked too or I feel like it.) man I wish people would leave me asks more without me prompting it lol

also a lot of these headcanons are for a fic that I've been wanting to write for forever now, I just need to plan it out and get to a point where I like my writing. it showcases a lot of my favorite ships, and includes a lot of background stories and shit, so it's like how I see Ben's states/world. if only I had the motivation to write chapter fics and to work on it more. I think i'm getting somewhere though, which is nice.

i'm rambling so i'ma just cut this off here lol, thanks for the ask! I appreciate it

[nastasyafilippovnas]

Hey! Thanks for feeding my butcher x annie obsession lol. They could have explored so much with them in the show sadly the writers just abandoned their dynamic after s2.

Incoming big rant I am sry I had to share with someone who is equally obsessed with them.

Annie being the person who is throwing a stone at his idea of "All supes are bad" and butcher being the violent dude he is- showing people around him and annie that he too has goodness deep in his heart.

Idk if you remember, but at the end of S2- butcher basically gives the necklace (which was gifted to him by becca and he always wears it all the time) to Ryan as a way of accepting becca's death. There is also this scene where annie and hughie talk and hughie asks why she isn't wearing the necklace she used to have ( gifted by her mom, it had a cross- showing her faith in Christianity) whether she has been losing faith in God. She goddamn says that if a man like butcher could have goodness in his heart, I believe that higher power exists. I am not even kidding. They have so many parallels in their personality. Such a wasted dynamic honestly. I don't wanna see them fuck (If they did, I wouldn't mind lol) , I would have loved their relationship even if they do show it was completely platonic.

Some opinions of mine that I think you would agree on:

• The writers could have aged up Annie's character around like early 30s (since writers seem so afraid of age gap relationships) I thought she was too young to be joining into the group considering how other members are too old af to be working with her ( they could have shown that she was only selected cuz they needed somebody in the Seven who are not star graduates from Godulkin University-along with the reasons the show already has said) .

• I also think the writers easily could have made Annie/hughie fully platonic. I am not a big fan of their supposed romance, it just falls flat for me and they don't compliment very well. They could have been one of the best male/female friendships on TV but they had to make it romantic 😕.

I also wish butcher x annie could have the same popularity as homelander x starlight ( I ship that too btw). Like imagine the love triangle potential with this 😭✋.

Gosh sry for rambling too much. Genuinely thank you for opening my eyes towards this ship.

Omg, thank you for this, I live for long rants, especially about rare/unpopular ships full of potential!! And even more so about Butcher x Annie, they are so special to me.

"Annie being the person who is throwing a stone at his idea of "All supes are bad" and butcher being the violent dude he is- showing people around him and annie that he too has goodness deep in his heart." -> Absolutely, it's their whole dynamic. But also the opposite applies, because Annie has shown to be capable of violence and of making tough (one could even say, selfish) decisions when her loved ones were in danger. She is not just some naive do-gooder that is afraid of getting her hands dirty. Or at least, not anymore. She has also seen the worst of the world, and she is capable of understanding where Butcher comes from, even if she cannot agree with his methods. Idk, I feel like they are two sides of the same coin and at any moment they might flip. When you least expect, Butcher can be kind, and whenever is necessary, Annie can be ruthless.

(Kinda random, but there's a scene in Netflix's Daredevil S02 when Frank Castle tells Matt that "You're one bad day from being me." and, to me, that also applies to Butcher and Annie)

S2 NECKLACES OMG. HOW DID I MISS THAT PARALLEL? The scenes are even one after the other!!! I'm dying. I shall have to gif it later. It's kinda funny because we really only got one episode of Butcher and Annie interaction (2.06), and Becca is still around, but season two was so good to us with all the parallels. During s01, you could say it was just a crack ship, but s02 really showed how well they bounce off each other.

And...though you didn't mention, one of the reasons I hated s03. That was a wasteland. So many plots, and none of them being properly developed. And the Butcher x Maeve, which not only was random, but never went anywhere!!! That whole storyline should've been Annie's, it would fit so well with the previous season and I'll never stop complaining about it.

"Such a wasted dynamic honestly. I don't wanna see them fuck (If they did, I wouldn't mind lol) , I would have loved their relationship even if they do show it was completely platonic." I couldn't agree more. Imo The Boys a lot of unnecessary (and gross) sex scenes, so Butcher and Annie would be an immensely positive development, but it's not even about that. They have great chemistry, they work as enemies, frenemies, bffs, lovers, whatever dynamic you want. What's criminal is keeping them apart when their individual stories would benefit from each other so much.

"The writers could have aged up Annie's character around like early 30s (since writers seem so afraid of age gap relationships)" -> I, unlike the writers, don't mind the age gap (lol), but I'd have loved to have seen that! Not only for the higher ButcherxAnnie potential, but also because it would've given Annie such a different perspective if she had made to the 7 when she was older (kinda wanna read a fic about that now lol).

I completely agree that Hughie and Annie could've (and should've) been platonic. Besides the undeniable lack of chemistry, it would've benefited both their stories. A Hughie that is still in love with Robin but sees how Butcher's methods are extreme is a lot more interesting than one that immediately falls in love with another girl after his girlfriend died. And then, there's all the times they broke up and got back together two episodes later that were just frustrating. S03 especially, with Hughie's obsession with being stronger (ugh, can you tell how much I hate s03?). But even s04, i felt bad for him too, but how the fact he slept with someone else that pretended to be Annie was just brushed aside and implied she would forgive him? That annoyed me. And it's not even about Hughie being on the right or wrong, just that they create one drama per season for Hughie and Annie, and it's boring. I'd rather they be friends or have a "will they-won't they" relationship where they only get together on the last episode. That would've been better.

I don't ship starlight x homelander, but I agree that Butcher and Annie NEED to be more popular. This ship gives EVERYTHING and people are sleeping on it. It's criminal.

Again, thank you so much for the ask, I had fun talking about them <3

[katasstrophy]

It's okay!! I'm glad you liked it!! And Rin would be a fan of a true crime girlie <33 Tbh I think he'd like laughing lightly at someone who can't stand horror as much as he would like someone who can. Boy is a sadist after all who destroys beautifully~ sending you all my dream power btw!! Bc funniest thing about my bllk dreams with Rin is that I, and this may be a shock, don't like him romantically 😆 I'm too much of a Bachira stan and support him with you and itoshi-s too much <33 but Rin is a character I desperately want to be friends with!! I want to annoy him to DEATH, do yoga together, and watch horror together and drag Rin to meet the love of his life, cheer from the sidelines, and take pics 9f his awkward ass to send to the gc lmao along with my last rites when Rin inevitably murders me. Do you have any bulk characters, or others, you platonically ship yourself with?? ☺️☺️☺️

omg yes 100% rin is a little shit he’d def make fun of people who get – according to him, bastard 🙄 – overly freaked out over horror films. he’s do it in like a subtle way tho (bc he knows that’s even more irritating) raising an eyebrow when you shriek at a quote on quote ‘obvious’ jump scare that he sat through without flinching. “… that wasn’t even that bad” “literally- shut. the fuck up rin” (alsoshdbbdk he has ulterior motives tho. grumbles a bit but is secretly pleased when you try to hide your face in his shoulder, braving through the movie bc you want to spend time with him🥺)

LMAO i’m so glad you think rinnie bby would appreciate a true crime girlie bc i’m a psycho who falls asleep to that shit 🥺 (do y’all know that tiktok sound that’s like,, girls listening to true crime at 9am with an expressionless face like her leg was cut off. her arm was cut off. her ear was cut off pls that’s me) he’d be baffled honestly. doesn’t get why horror freaks you out while true crime doesn’t even make you blink LOL. (you make him listen to one (1) podcast and he’s scarred for life skssjdbbdjf and from then on you just stick to your.. preferred genre of scary shit there i go on a self-indulgent tangent again)

zari are you seeing this 🤭🫣 tumblr says rinari and rivrin is CANON as they should we’re in love 😌✨💅 but aw omg that’s so cute!! 🥺🥺 love a friendship where you just wanna murder each other (affectionately). we’re playing opposites here teehee bc i feel like bachira and i would be great friends – def the chaotic bastards dynamic LOL. i also feel like me and tsukki from haikyuu would get along great purely bc we two collectively hold more salt than the dead sea we’d roast each other – but mostly everyone else around us – to death mwehuahhehe mean girls mhm that’s us

[realist-shit-just-happened]

I've never been much of a BruThalia shipper, probably bc in my first introduction to Thalia she was a manipulative lover and Not A Good Mom. There was really only one dynamic I liked for them, and it wasn't romantic. It was the Amicable Exes.

In my mind, they met during some crisis, fell into a passionate, whirlwind romance, and when the dust settled and they transitioned into a more "domestic" relationship, they realized they just didn't work together. So they mutually broke up and went their separate ways.

When Thalia learned she was pregnant, she went straight to Bruce and discussed it with him. They agreed that even with a child involved, they still wouldn't work as a couple, and didn't want their child growing up seeing that. They came up with a plan to effectively and fairly co-parent, and when Damian arrived, everything went as peachy as it could considering the lives his parent led.

Over time, the romantic feelings Bruce and Thalia held for each other faded. They both still held a special place in each other's hearts, but that love was platonic, and their relationship was even better for it. They were best friends, raising a child together with love and trying not to let their jobs clash as much as before.

Conversely, I came upon a BruThalia romantic dynamic I really could get behind. I misread brutalia as brutality, and my mind went zoot. The darkest Bruce with the darkest Thalia.

After Jason's death but before Tim came along, a grief-stricken Bruce went to Thalia, looking to feel something other than loss. She did just that, in the only way Ra's taught her to. She marinated Bruce in anger, redirecting his pain. He latched onto it like a liferaft, his mind getting darker and darker, darker than Thalia thought it could. But instead of being scared of him, Thalia followed. They always did feed off each other, just a bit.

Murder is still a line Bruce won't cross, a boundary Thalia can respect. In many ways, the fucked up shit Bruce turned to was a fate worse than death, anyway. Bruce drops the Batman mantle and is referred to as simply The Bat. He leans into the fear aspect of his suit design, and the pair combine their skills, interests and resources to hunt down the most egregious of criminals. Human traffickers, eugenicists, unfettered and immoral capitalists, you name it. Thalia accepts that Bruce will never take over Ra's' position in the LOA, and instead the two start their own "branch" of the League. The Harbingers.

For the first couple months after Bruce goes AWOL, Dick scours the earth to find him. But when Gotham starts to feel the effects of Batman's absence, he returns to take on the cowl, no matter how much he doesn't want to. Noticing Batman's return, Tim makes himself known and becomes Robin. At this point, the entire JL is looking for Bruce. But they don't like what they find.

On the first anniversary of Jason’s death, Thalia gives Bruce a gift. Jason. At first, Jason is livid when he learns Joker still breathes, but after a visit to the basement, he anger is replaced by fear. Of Bruce. How could the same man who taught Jason to see the best in people do such horrible things to another person? But Jason’s fear is not outweighed by his love for Bruce. He knows that if he were to leave, Bruce would fall even further in his grief, and Jason doesn't want any more of his father's pain to be caused by him. So he stays, he trains, he comes to the same mindset, and he becomes a valued member of the Harbingers.

The entire Justice League is on the hunt for Bruce, Thalia, Jason and the Harbingers. Some just want to bring such maniacs to justice, but the founding members want to bring them home. Clark and Diana in particular. But eventually, Alfred and Dick come to terms with the fact that the man Alfred raised, who in turn raised Dick, was now their greatest foe. And Clark is now the only one who holds out hope that Bruce can be saved. But if he's really honest with himself, there is no saving The Bat.

[vampywriter]

A Writer's Introduction?

Hi! I'm the vampire behind this blog! I guess you can call me Vampy. Vamp. or Jack. That's generic enough. doesn't want to disclose their name

I turned 20 last year, and since then I've finished the very first draft of some stories, and achieved a NaNoWriMo. So uh my confidence as a writer has significantly grown fldksjflk

I like time travel, fucked up stuff, and found-family. Oh and Magic. Like. It doesn't necessarily play a Huge Role, but I usually put some magic in my stories just Because I Can. I like it. It helps with my Escapism I guess.

I've got more "WIP"s than I'm willing to count, but here are the... main important ones at the moment, aka those I want to work on in 2023:

Dreaming of You: "What if dreams were a window onto another reality? What if someone dreamt often enough of another reality to fall in love with their lover from that other reality? What if that person also existed in their reality?" In which Tobey is a non-binary literature student, and August is a transmasc astrophysics teacher :) There's also their best friends, Beth and June, who're just Cool. I love them.

That Magic World: (working title) Either a saga or a novel in 5 parts fldskjflkj I tried writing the first part during NaNoWriMo, and while I got a nice start (some 10K words), I did not get to touch the end. It's all set in semi-magical countries (as of now named Norick Land and Kwernland). The first part is about a war, and a prophecy, and people just trying to save their peoples, and unwilling Chosen Ones, child heroes figuring out who they are along the way. Then 5 years later we've got Part 2, Patchwork Family, which is about the older Chosen One, David, who's just trying to be a good Dad and have a Happy Family. Part 3 (in need of a title) is about the younger Chosen One, Rory, who... disappeared. And the grief that comes with it. And people moving on, with time. Part 4, Will and Charlie, is about the two 'unknown chosen ones' (they didn't realise they were part of the prophecy when they helped it be realised), William and Charlie. William's fucked up his potion, and now he's a child again, Charlie offers to look after him until an antidote is found, even though the two cannot stand each other. And then, when the antidote is found, William doesn't even want to be an adult again. Part 5, My Best Friend's Dad, is the one in which we discover Rory is not as dead as we thought :) And he's had a nice time with his best friend's mother in the past :)

Past Rewritten: Despite the age gap, A and B were a very happy couple, about to get married. That was until A travelled 40 years back in time and altered the timeline. When A got back to their present, they quickly realised it was not their present any longer, and B was not their soon to be husband, but their father. (I might put this story in the same universe as the previous wip just to recycle the world building, but it's not connected at all. for now)

Sweet dreams, sweetheart (sd sh): I don't exactly know where this story is going, because it's very much inspired from a real story but I don't want it to be... that story. For now, it's the diary of a person who is trying to make sense out of their relationship with their most recent new friend. It was love at first sight, they proposed to each other, they give each other pet names, but it's all absolutely platonic, and the proposal was a joke anyway. Unless.... Ahahah, just joking! Or...? (or: when your life sounds like a very good romcom but definitely isn't but damn it could be so you just write it) (this one hasn't got any magic at all!)

I'm not super active on Tumblr (and I reblog more than I post), but I'd like to be a bit more active, share more stuff, and participate more in events and all. I've been struggling to do a WIP's intro, or OCs intro, but I'd like to talk more about them in some way or another, still. :D

[superblysubpar]

LUNA LUNA LUUNNNAAAAAA I AM RUNNING AROUND MY HOUSE I AM MAKING MORE COCOA. I FEEL LIKE THE COMMERCIAL BREAK JUST CAME AND I NEED TO GET READY FOR MORE 💛

I love love love LOVE how much these idiots love each other already. I will be hunting down our father and shoving him down a hill for the way he made Steve feel. Garfield?! LUNA THE DRESS?! YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO GO THAT HARD BUT YOU DID THE LITTLE SLIP WE'RE WEARING?! THE SINGING FOREIGNER IN THE CAR?! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE 💛

You’re absolutely breathtaking, in a way that’s almost cruel, because after today you’ll officially be a wife. After today, he’ll have to accept that his feelings that are not at all platonic toward his best friend he still harbors all these years later can only ever just be that: feelings.

He grips your hand again, and you know you really don’t have to hold it, but it brings you comfort all the same.

He’s loosened the tie around his neck, his hair is a little unkempt now, the suit jacket long tossed into the backseat. Those bare forearms of his ripple with each turn of the wheel, your eyes dragging along hair-dusted skin. You’ve missed him; more than you ever could realize, his presence a comfort after being surrounded by people who don’t understand you — not really, at least — for so long.

...you watched your childhood home grow smaller and smaller in your parent’s rear view mirror, Steve along with it, waving from his parent’s driveway.

I'm fine. Everything is fine.

And once Clark had stepped in six months ago, your conversations were even less frequent, and always cut short — Clark never having understood why the two of you were so close.

Literally don't get me started on the events we witness before we ran away or that phone call with her parents and him. We hate Clark. Bye Clark. Get lost Clark.

Love had only been reserved for one man in your life, and he’d never loved you back.

Steve Harrington, your beautiful best friend with a big personality and even bigger heart. Steve Harrington, the one that you always wanted, but also the one that never was.

Your fingers tremble as you turn in front of him, exhaling deeply as you mutter out, “I can’t reach the buttons. Could you…please?”

There’s a sense of awareness that settles over you as he approaches from behind. Broad, battle-calloused hands rest at the nape of your neck, drifting lower where they settle on the endless row of buttons there. His breath prickles along your skin, those nimble fingers of his toying with that first button, his inhale shaky as he undoes another, and then another, and another. With each button, more flesh is revealed, the ghost of his touching a phantom along your spine, the dress starting to sag around your breasts, your hands coming up to cup the gown close to your chest.

Steve’s eyes meet yours in the mirror affixed to the wall in front of you — hazel, and sparkling in the ethereal moonlight that pours through the softly parted curtains, tinged with an emotion you can’t quite put a name to. A deep exhale falls from gently parted lips as his knuckles drag along your spine, a delicate line that stops once he reaches the base, freeing you from the last of the buttons. White tulle drops to the ground beneath you, toes kicking it out of the way, leaving you standing there in a cream nightgown, lace detailing around the edges hugging the sumptuous curves of your breasts.

Literally squealed into my pillow. I curled under my blanket and hid my grin. This is a scene in a movie on my TV as it snows Luna! Bless you 💛

NO STEVE NO DON'T LISTEN TO HIM STTTTTEEEEEEEVVVVEEEEE

*insert gif of Walter white screaming behind the window*

*I get in my car and start driving to a fictional town to yell at a fictional character that he is enough and he is loved and I love him and-*

I can't wait to see what more you do with this Luna 💛

right where you left me;

chapter one: ticket to anywhere

summary: steve harrington is unlucky when it comes to matters of the heart. for years he’s been in love with his best friend, but circumstances have made it impossible for him to make his feelings known. fate seems to have other plans, when you ask him to help you escape your wedding day, with nothing but his hand to hold and a car to drive off in. you suddenly find yourself headed back to hawkins, back to the place that feels so unfamiliar now — back to the place where you first fell in love.

warnings: 18+; smut in later chapters; alcohol mentions; class differences; financial insecurities; purposeful vignette-like/short scenes to cover a larger span of time in this mini-series (11k words).

steve harrington x f!reader || best friends to lovers, mutual pining, second chance romance with the town handyman who lives in a cabin in the woods. inspired by this edit from @somnambulic-thing.

masterlist | next chapter

——

October, 1990…

——

Everything is wrong.

It hits you, sitting there in front of the vanity mirror, voices swirling about the room full of your girl friends. Your gown, the colors of the bridesmaids dresses, the venue. It’s too lavish, too over the top. Not the small, intimate feel you imagined ever since you were a little girl, friends surrounding you, watching as you married the man of your dreams.

But then again, the groom isn’t who you imagined either. That’s the first of the many issues with this day that jump to your attention.

Clark is fair haired and light eyed. Handsome, in the way that you can tell he spends thousands of dollars on clothing to do so. More acquaintance than the man you always envisioned standing beside you on this day.

This same man, who you found only moments ago seemingly in a passionate argument with one of your bridesmaids. Both of them touching one another in a way that seemed too familiar, like they’d done this dance, had this same conversation at least once before. She begged for him to leave, to get away now, to back out of the marriage. Pleaded with him to consider love, instead of some business endeavor.

Had reached up and kissed him bruisingly, his hands fisted in her gown. The same wrinkled one that stares at you now as your fingers toy with your bouquet, her sad eyes plastered on your face.

You know you should feel something. Anger, betrayal, hurt, resentment — but instead you feel nothing at all. You’re not in love. Haven’t been. Now your mind only buzzes, someone calling your name bringing you to attention, head lifting slightly.

“Are you okay?” they ask, “can I get you anything?”

And it’s two words.

A name, really, that pops into your mind.

“Can you see if Steve Harrington is here yet?”

——

Steve’s not sure what to think when a bridesmaid he barely recognizes — likely because he’s only met them once or twice before — barrels toward him, an intensity in her eyes that has him worrying something has gone wrong.

Everything is wrong, though. Because he’s here, in this ridiculously huge wedding venue, standing in for those in Hawkins who couldn’t make the trip, about to watch as his best friend marries a man who isn’t Steve Harrington.

And as much as it pains him, loving you means doing anything to see you happy — even if it kills him in the end. It’s all he knows, all he has done for as long as you’ve been a friend to him, two wide-eyed eleven-year-olds sitting in some fancy ballroom as you watched your parents parade themselves around like the elite that they deemed themselves to be.

What he doesn’t expect, however, as he’s practically dragged into a room, is to find you standing there pacing back and forth, beautiful as ever and not at all happy for someone who is about to be married.

“Stacy, a moment?” you ask, lifting your head enough that he can see you fully.

You’re absolutely breathtaking, in a way that’s almost cruel, because after today you’ll officially be a wife. After today, he’ll have to accept that his feelings that are not at all platonic toward his best friend he still harbors all these years later can only ever just be that: feelings.

As the door shuts behind Stacy, you rush forward and slam into his chest, and he’s immediately there to wrap his arms around your waist. You’re a vision in a fluffy tulle skirt, the veil on your head brushing against his chin, and it’s then he feels the frantic flutter of your heart against his sternum. It’s then he can feel your fingers curl around the lapels of his suit — can see the flash of tears swimming in your eyes.

“I need to get out of here,” you whisper hoarsely.

Breathlessly.

“What do y —”

“Please…take me away from here. Anywhere, I don’t care. Please,” you beg, and though he has more questions than answers, he dips his head. Because again, he’ll do anything to make you happy.

Even if that includes helping you run from your own wedding.

With a long exhale, Steve steps back a bit, fingers carding through his hair. He moves to the door, head tossed over his shoulder to glance back your way.

“Give me a second,” he says, slipping from the room into the hallway.

There’s no one in the nearby vicinity, this room far enough away from the rest of the guests that escaping shouldn’t be a problem. His eyes catch on the glowing exit symbol in the distance, and he knows his car is a few blocks away, but it’s better than nothing and will have to do.

When he slips back into the room, you’re wiping your hands along your dress, clasping one around his as he extends a palm your way.

He can’t deny the ache in his chest as you take it, the electric jolt that courses through his body, but now isn’t the time. If you’re going to get out without anyone noticing, you’ll have to do so now — and quickly.

“Come on,” he urges, and you’re both off, rushing down the empty hallway unbeknownst to your waiting guests, the world bursting to life in color as the exit doors swing wide open.

——

“Remind me to never run in heels again,” you gasp out, hand tight in Steve’s as you dart through busy city streets, avoiding bodies along the way.

All around, people honk their cars, citizens whistle and congratulate you as you run on by. And you know it’s because you and Steve, for all intents and purposes, look as though you’ve just married. Him in his suit, and you in your poofy wedding gown, the edges now stained a murky soot color.

“And I want this stupid thing off my head right now.”

Steve pauses on the side street as you come to a halt, his chest bumping yours at the abruptness as your fingers reach up to unclasp your veil from your head. Balling it up in your hands, you toss it into the nearby garbage can. Pigeons scurry away in haste, a squirrel skittering away from its hard earned meal.

“How do I look?” you ask, hiking up the edges of your gown as someone nearly trips on it, making their way towards the crosswalk.

“Like a runaway bride.” He laughs, shaking his head. “My car is another block that way. Let’s go.”

He grips your hand again, and you know you really don’t have to hold it, but it brings you comfort all the same. The further you run away from the wedding venue, the more you realize what exactly you’ve done. You’ve run out on your intended husband, on friends, on your family who has spent the money to make it all happen — and everyone will have something to say about it. Word gets around quickly in your social circle.

But it’s a decision for yourself. The first in a long long time.

There’s something so liberating about it — about rushing after Steve as he loops you around other bodies, as he opens the passenger side door for you and helps push your frilly skirts inside, before dropping down into the driver’s seat and shoving his key in the ignition.

And as he turns the key, peeling away from the busy side street, and heads toward the nearest highway, you know it’s the right decision.

——

Neither of you speak for the first half hour driving. The roads are busy, traffic bumper-to-bumper in the city, Steve’s grip a white knuckled one around the steering wheel. There’s also the suddenness in which your reality comes crashing, dress still on your form, the edges sodden around your ankles, the ring on your finger glinting in the slowly setting sun. Every part of this day has done a complete one eighty.

“We’ll probably have to stop in a few hours,” Steve says, a little more to himself, the hum of the radio spilling into the quiet car, “where do we want to go anyway?”

“I still can’t believe you drove all the way here,” you tell him softly, head turning a bit to take him in.

He’s loosened the tie around his neck, his hair is a little unkempt now, the suit jacket long tossed into the backseat. Those bare forearms of his ripple with each turn of the wheel, your eyes dragging along hair-dusted skin. You’ve missed him; more than you ever could realize, his presence a comfort after being surrounded by people who don’t understand you — not really, at least — for so long.

“I wanted to be here,” he says, “I don’t mind driving, you know that.”

You did. You’d spent many nights circling the familiar streets of Hawkins over the span of a few years once you’d both been able to drive. Those same streets that are unfamiliar now, mere memories in your mind. It had been a few years since everything that happened with Vecna, and a few years since you watched your childhood home grow smaller and smaller in your parent’s rear view mirror, Steve along with it, waving from his parent’s driveway.

“And I wanted to see you,” he adds, glancing your way, those hazel eyes bright in the setting sun.

The idea dawns suddenly, lips moving to form the words before you can think otherwise, “Hawkins. Take me to Hawkins with you.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, a little hesitantly, weariness seeping into his tone. “It's about…a twelve hour drive. I think we can make it to Ohio before getting some sleep for the night. You’ll just need to direct me with the map.”

You answer with a smile, reaching into his glove compartment and pulling out the map, the weathered corners bent like they’d been the last time you’d gone on a road trip with him. After everything had gone to hell at Starcourt, you needed to get away, the two of you taking to the road, a finger swirling around until it landed upon a random state.

It feels like old times, sitting here in the car with him, the windows down, his hair blowing in the wind, and the crisp smell of fall air to greet you.

The drive is quiet for the most part, other than the small exchanges here and there of roads to take, giving him enough time to make sure he’s in the correct lanes and the like.

It dawns on you then how long it’s been since the two of you really talked. Your exchanges throughout the years have been sparse, at best. Always meaningful, but moving twelve hours away has put a strain on your relationship from the get go. Initially you’d aimed for one phone call a week, which had soon turned into once every two weeks, and then down to once a month.

And once Clark had stepped in six months ago, your conversations were even less frequent, and always cut short — Clark never having understood why the two of you were so close.

So you suppose you shouldn’t be too surprised when Steve suddenly asks, “What happened back there?”

“I didn’t want to marry him,” you admit in a whisper, training your gaze ahead at the streets, leaves golden and amber flashing by the passenger side window. “I couldn’t marry him. I didn’t love him — I never loved him.”

It had been an added blessing that it seemed Clark felt the same, his mouth preoccupied with your friend’s minutes before you made your escape out the back door.

“Then why agree to marry the guy?”

It’s an innocent question, but it has your stomach lurching all the same, your lips parting slightly, heart pounding in your throat. “Steve…your parents are like mine. You know why.”

Because it had been arranged that way, Clark’s path pushed in front of yours, the pressures of your parents and their business ventures breathing down your neck. That and Clark had his own goals, as did you, and marrying would help you achieve them.

It wasn’t like you’d ever love him, either.

Love had only been reserved for one man in your life, and he’d never loved you back.

“So you marry some uptight rich guy to make your parents happy? What about how you feel?” His fingers tighten around the steering wheel, voice rising in volume. “And you were going to just go along with it?”

“Stop judging me! It’s not that simple.” His eyes dart to yours, unused to you ever raising your voice at him. “You don’t get it. You gave up that life. I had no choice but to go with them when everything happened the way it did in Hawkins.”

“Yes, because I was tired of feeling like a failure of a son,” he grumbles, carding his fingers through his hair, “tired of being looked at like I was Jonah Harrington’s biggest mistake.”

“You’re not a mistake.” Your fingers reach over the center console, briefly hovering above his bicep before resting there gently, feeling the tension in his form dissolve. “I thought I was doing the right thing for my family. I was trying to buy time and get my inheritance so I could be done with it all eventually. It was stupid, I know. But I’m making this decision right now, running away with you, for myself.”

His hand slides down to grasp yours, bringing the back of your knuckles to his lips to press a kiss there. He’s done it thousands of times over the years, but it has your heart skipping like it does every time, chills dancing along your spine.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, dropping another gentle kiss to your knuckles, “I’m happy you’re here.”

“Me too, Steve.”

——

The moon comes out to play, and the two of you stop at a gas station just as Steve’s watch reads eight at night. The place is dilapidated at best. Neon glowing lights flickering along the top of the pump, the numbers worn away by weather, the inside of the building covered in inches of grime.

You’d intended to grab some snacks and water bottles, but the lack of sanitation efforts has you wanting to wait for the next convenience store instead. So as Steve pumps the gas, you lean onto the hood of the car, skirts spanning around your thighs, thanking someone as they pass and comment on how beautiful you look.

“You do look beautiful, you know?” Steve lifts his head, those corded muscles on his forearm drawing your attention once more. Head shaking, you tip your head up, eyes narrowing on his face curiously. “A shame you got all dressed up for that guy though.”

“Shut up,” you tease, sticking your tongue out at him, propping your map up on your thighs. “So if my guesses are right, we’ll be getting to Ohio in a little less than three hours. Hopefully the hotels in Powell aren’t full. I’m already pretty tired.”

“If worse comes to worse, we could always sleep in the car —”

“Steve.”

“What?” He raises a hand in surrender, smiling at the angry furrow of your brows. “Wouldn’t be the first time we camped out in the back seat of it.”

“I’d prefer a mattress after the day we both had,” you tell him, folding the map and tucking it beneath your thigh. “We also need to keep an eye out for a store. Pretty sure I saw a cockroach in the gas station, so I’m not trusting anything in there. Plus pork rinds and jerky didn’t exactly sound appealing to me.”

Steve grimaces in agreement, the gas pump clicking, signaling his full tank. He replaces the nozzle on the holder and pushes the flap back into place, snatching the map from your hand as he passes around the front of the vehicle to slide back into the front seat.

You follow suit, shoving your skirts about your thighs, finger toying at a hole in the hem that you must have made while running through the city streets. The realization of thousands of dollars, all for naught, with the lingering fear of your parent’s disappointment swirling in your gut has your stomach churning uncomfortably. But there’s little time to linger on those worries, as Steve slides a finger along your forearm to draw you back to reality, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Look at me,” he demands softly, hazel eyes glowing in the seedy gas station light that flickers above. Lips twitching, you meet his stare, chest warming under the burn of his affection, “there’s that smile I love. Everything is fine.”

There ends up being a small grocery store at the next exit, a little family owned thing, with very few shoppers lingering inside. You offer to go in alone, but Steve insists you’re in another state and he’s not about to leave you by your lonesome. So you end up standing beside him, him all tousled in his dark pants and wrinkled dress shirt, and you in your dress, drawing the attention of curious customers.

“We got lost on our way to the airport for our honeymoon,” Steve tells one person who wanders a little too close for his liking as you grab bags of chips off of a rack, tossing in a jar of salsa for good measure. “Going to stop at that hotel down on Verdant instead. Really want to go above and beyond and treat my wife, you know?”

The one that looked all seedy, like it was practically falling apart, windows broken and covered with wooden slats. The customer eyes the two of you wearily, offering well wishes, sounding a little uncertain as they slowly but surely back away, not wanting to talk any further.

Nothing quells your giggles at that, head pressing into the bag of marshmallows you found, eyes pinched shut to keep your tears at bay. “Steve, they probably think we’re crazy.”

“Speak for yourself, honey,” he chuckles, reaching over to snatch the bag from you, “why do we need these?”

You pluck it back, pouting. “If you must know, they’re for me. I don’t share with guys named Steve who have too many opinions.”

“If we’re getting marshmallows, we need graham crackers and chocolate too,” he points out, reaching over to grab the other two s’mores ingredients from the end cap you’re standing in front of, tossing them into your shopping cart. “For two adults, it looks like we’re buying for a bunch of kids about to enter into a sugar coma.”

“Look — we’ve had a stressful day,” you huff out, pushing the cart further down the aisle, “we’ve earned s’mores and snacks. Plus we need it for the rest of our trip. I saw a coffee shop next door too. I’ll buy it. I feel bad you drove all the way to the city, only to leave again.”

“If I have coffee now, I’ll never fall asleep,” he exhales, shoulder brushing yours as you meander through the aisle, snatching a package of water bottles for the car off a pallet. “I do think we should grab breakfast tomorrow morning. Maybe do a little touristy stop before heading back to Hawkins. What do you think?”

Time alone with Steve? Time you haven’t had in way too long, if you’re being honest with yourself. Even now, standing in the store with him, getting gas with him before that, you realize just how much you’ve missed your best friend. Things like this, so banal and generally uninteresting, have you smiling until your cheeks hurt, brimming to overflow with excitement.

It’s an easy choice, really. “Sounds perfect.”

——

One room. There’s only one room with a single bed left in the whole damn hotel. You suppose it shouldn’t come as a surprise, because nothing has really turned out how you anticipated today.

Still, you ask the woman at the front desk again, and she arches a brow in confusion — likely assuming you and Steve are already having marital issues merely hours after you tied the knot. There’s no use explaining it to any more people tonight. For now, you’re a newlywed, and Steve is your doting groom.

“Not like we’ve never shared a bed before.”

Steve’s voice is a low rumble near your ear as you stare at your distorted reflection in the silver wall of the elevator across from you. The thing is you have shared a bed with Steve numerous times over the years. As teenagers, when you often snuck over to Steve’s, after your parents left for business trip after business trip. He’d leave the window unlatched, a hand there to grab you as you scaled his trellis, blankets already pulled back on your side of the bed.

But for some reason this feels different. Hours ago you’d been engaged to another man — hours ago, after you’d caught said man in an affair, you’d only had one thought. And it had been this man standing before you; though then again, it had always been that way.

Steve Harrington, your beautiful best friend with a big personality and even bigger heart. Steve Harrington, the one that you always wanted, but also the one that never was.

With a steely sigh of resignation, you watch as Steve swipes the key card, flicking the light on in the doorway. It’s a simple room, not the upscale hotels you’re accustomed to. There are no lavish furnishings, no glittering chandeliers. Instead you’re met with a dresser and a dilapidated television. Against the back wall is a bed, the linens starchy beneath your fingertips, though you suppose they’ll have to do.

Steve whistles, glancing up at the popcorn ceilings. “Could be worse, right?” It’s an awkward chuckle, his hands reaching down to undo the buttons around his arms, hair on his chest visible a moment later as he unbuttons the top of his dress shirt. “Shit — just realized we don’t have any clothes. Should have stopped somewhere.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him, because he’s seen you in nearly every state of undress at this point.

In bathing suits over the summer, sitting atop his bathroom sink in your bra after Billy Hargrove had shoved you particularly hard at the Starcourt mall while under possession, your ribs scraped against the hard ground. And you’d seen him the same, beaten and bloodied after his altercation with Jonathan, after the Russians had taken him for questioning and beaten him to a bloody pulp, after the events with Vecna that had left his skin raw and battered.

Though you suppose this is a little different, as it’s the first time he’s going to be undressing you, despite being under different circumstances than those you dreamed of throughout the years. Fantasies you’ve long pushed aside in the catacombs of your mind, to be filed away as ‘things that’ll never happen since he’s your childhood best friend.’

Your fingers tremble as you turn in front of him, exhaling deeply as you mutter out, “I can’t reach the buttons. Could you…please?”

There’s a sense of awareness that settles over you as he approaches from behind. Broad, battle-calloused hands rest at the nape of your neck, drifting lower where they settle on the endless row of buttons there. His breath prickles along your skin, those nimble fingers of his toying with that first button, his inhale shaky as he undoes another, and then another, and another. With each button, more flesh is revealed, the ghost of his touching a phantom along your spine, the dress starting to sag around your breasts, your hands coming up to cup the gown close to your chest.

Steve’s eyes meet yours in the mirror affixed to the wall in front of you — hazel, and sparkling in the ethereal moonlight that pours through the softly parted curtains, tinged with an emotion you can’t quite put a name to. A deep exhale falls from gently parted lips as his knuckles drag along your spine, a delicate line that stops once he reaches the base, freeing you from the last of the buttons. White tulle drops to the ground beneath you, toes kicking it out of the way, leaving you standing there in a cream nightgown, lace detailing around the edges hugging the sumptuous curves of your breasts.

Steve’s throat bobs, clearly not wholly unaffected by all of this, as he peers at you. Your feet carry you backward toward the bed, legs curling beneath your form as Steve moves to unbutton his own shirt, tossing it haphazardly into the corner once it’s free from his torso. He’s the same and different than you remember. All broad chested, a dusting of hair along his upper body, a line from his naval down beneath the dark pants hugging a pair of toned thighs. Scars line his sides where the demobats had bitten into his flesh, his shredded back a tapestry of markings that catch your eye as he walks around the opposite side of the bed and slips in beside you. You avert your eyes, trying to not draw attention to the fact you’ve been ogling, ignoring that simmering ache low in your belly that forms.

If he notices you staring, he says nothing, only settling down on the mattress and shifting so his thighs brush your hips, his head resting on a pillow as he gazes at your profile.

Rolling onto your side, you reach over and trail your fingers along the forearm he tucks under his head, thumb running gentle stripes along the width of it. “Thanks for saving me today.”

“You know I’ll always be there for you,” he whispers back, reaching over your form to turn off the bedside lamp. “Always.”

——

Stones knock against the bedroom window. Rouse you from bed. Head poking up from your pillow, you wander over to the windowsill, hand covering your heart as Steve’s head appears in the opening, body practically thumping against the floor in his hastiness.

Broad palms settle on your biceps, the backs of your thighs pressing into your mattress as he leads you to sit down, hazel eyes meeting yours. Your fingers reach up to glide over his chest — to feel the rapid thump of his heart in his chest.

He’s real.

He’s here.

After worrying for days that something has gotten him too, he’s right here in the flesh.

Alive.

“I saw the news,” you gasp out, swallowing the harsh knot growing in the back of your throat, “Do they really think Eddie Munson did it? Do they really think he killed Chrissy? Fred? Steve, what’s going on? Is it the Upside Down? Let me help you.”

“It’s bad this time. Like — like really bad.” His fingers touch along your temples, poking and prodding, gauging your reaction. Your only reaction, however, is to grip at his wrists, fingers bracelets around his pulse points, head tilting to the side. “Are you in pain anywhere?”

“Steve, I’m fine,” you reassure him, pushing forward to loop your arms around his waist. To push him back against the bed so he can settle down a bit, his thighs against yours. “Your heart is racing. What’s wrong? I’m coming to help next time —”

“You’re not helping this time. Last time was a mistake.”

You’d been driving in the rain one evening back in July and saw Max and El walking on the streets, looking a little dejected, and ended up peering in the window at the Holloway’s when something had gone wrong and demanded the girls tell you what was going on — especially when you were El’s tutor and she usually told you everything. Once you’d found out Steve was missing too, all bets had been off the table for staying out of whatever was bump in the night.

He rolls over onto his side, hand coming up to cup your cheek, smothering your grimace under the softness of his touch. “I can’t…I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to you.”

“Steve.”

Your hand rests over his, eyes boring into his, noting the flush on his cheeks, the glittering lower line of his lashes. Whatever this is, whatever he’s dealing with…the weight is crushing him, and your heart breaks with the immensity it.

His fingers reach over to grasp at your Walkman laying on the bedside table beside your bed. He drops it down onto the mattress between the two of you, a pleading look in those hazel depths.

“Put your favorite song on loop. Keep batteries on you at all times, and keep the headphones nearby until I tell you it’s safe.” Your mouth opens to speak, but he continues, “Please, just trust me. It’s safer for you this way. People are dying.”

“Let me help, Ste —”

“Please,” he begs, dropping his forehead against yours, “just trust me, okay?”

You nod, and in the morning, as you start to feel your body coming to wake, his fingers trace your temple. Like he’s trying to memorize every detail, the calluses on his fingers from years of baseball soothing your soul.

“I love you,” he whispers, like he always does.

I love you, in the way he loves Dustin and Robin or any of the other kids.

I love you, in the way he’s loved you since you were eleven.

I love you, in the way you always tell one another you do.

I love you, in the way he always has, but not in the way you always wished he would.

“I love you,” he says once more, and you slip back into sleep.

——

Went to try and find us some clothes. You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you. Be back soon. - Love, Steve.

With a yawn, you roll over in bed, clutching the note to your chest. It smells like your best friend — that warm vanilla scent with something minty beneath. Comforting and completely him. The space beside you is still warm, the imprint of his body a reminder that he’d even been there at all. Popcorn ceilings meet your field of vision as you flip onto your back, holding aloft your left hand, light coming through the window catching on the glittering diamond there.

“Never thought you were one for a rock that needs an insurance policy,” Steve teases, appearing in the doorway with bags of clothes and other products in hand. “Then again, never thought you’d marry a guy named Clark. What is he, Spider-Man?”

“You mean Superman?”

He shoots a mocking glare your way and settles down beside you on the bed, pulling out various articles of clothing.

“It’s not designer, I hope that’s fine.” You shove at him lightly. He’s gone with a pair of black leggings and a chestnut colored sweater for you, along with a pair of boots that’ll be nice for the fall weather outside. “I eyed the shoe size. Hope they fit.” The shoes are a size too big, but they’ll work, and you laugh as he pulls out a bra and a pair of underwear. His eyes narrow a bit your way, “Just wanted to make sure I covered all the bases. I already got judged enough at the store by the cashier, so do not even go there right now.”

You snicker, tucking the clothes against your chest gratefully. Honestly, nothing sounds better than a new pair of comfortable clothes, ready to be rid of the flimsy dress dancing along your thighs.

“This is perfect,” you tell him honestly. Steve himself went for something similar — a pair of dark blue jeans, a black sweater, and a pair of simple shoes. “I’ll pay you back.”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it,” he says, stopping you from reaching for your wallet. “You couldn’t exactly walk around in your dirty wedding dress for another day.”

“Yeah, but you’ve already done too much for me —”

“You’re my best friend. Stop acting like you’re inconveniencing me. I asked for this. Plus we haven’t hung out much in…oh, I don’t know, two or three years? That’s a lot of lost time to make up for.” As your features soften at his words, he adds, “Now hurry up and get dressed. There’s a diner around the block that looks nice enough and I’m starving.”

——

Fifteen.

You’re fifteen and it’s a dare.

Tommy and Carol think it’s funny.

Seven minutes in heaven with Steve Harrington.

The room is silent, all eyes on you. And maybe it’s the cheap liquor stolen from Steve’s parent’s expensive cabinet running through your system, but when Carol points at you and laughs that you won’t do it, you grip Steve by the collar of his shirt and stomp off to the nearby coat closet.

Steve’s breathless behind you, body thumping yours as you both stumble inside and the door is shut. Without hesitation, you tug on the rope chain connected to a single lightbulb and squint as your eyes adjust to the orange glow radiating off Steve’s golden skin, flushed by the summer sun.

“Time is ticking and we don’t hear kissing!” Tommy cackles, though it’s muffled through the wooden door separating you from the rest of Steve’s guests.

The rest of the room dissolves into fits of giggles, drowned out by the harsh thump of your heart pounding in your ears. The light flickers up above, and part of you wonders if it’s the only imperfection in the Harrington home. Something so trivial, and yet it distracts you from this nerve wracking moment, in this closet, with this boy.

“I’ve — I never…” you babble, feeling your chest heat, embarrassment choking off the rest of your words. “So, like, if we…do this…I don’t really know what I’m doing. And I think if I’m going to get it out of the way, I’d want it to be with someone I trust, and there’s no one I trust more than you. So, like, why not, right?”

Steve’s grinning. A goofy little thing that grows as he steps a little closer, one of his palms curling around your hips, toying with the belt loop on your jean shorts. “You want me to kiss you, hmm?”

Steve’s different now. He’s grown in the four years you’ve known him. He’s handsome, not that he hasn’t always been. But there’s more of him now. His chest is broader, his hair is longer, he’s popular now. By default, you are too. None of that has ever mattered; as long as you have him, you’re happy. But it’s at fifteen that you really understand the love you feel for him isn’t wholly platonic. In fact, the older you get, the more time you spend with him…it only solidifies in your heart that whatever his soul is made up of sings to your own.

It’s equal parts surreal and terrifying.

“Hey…hey,” Steve whispers, voice a coo that he only reserves for you, “what’s the pout for?”

“You’re teasing me,” you tell him, tipping your head up a bit, the fire in your eyes clashing with the worry in his, “and I already told you I’m nervous. You only have one first kiss and I —”

“I’m sorry, you’re right. I'm being an asshole. Let me start over again, yeah?”

You nod, swallowing thickly as he lifts a hand and cups your cheek. The pad of his thumb runs over your bottom lip, parts you for him gently. Shaky breath skitters along your bottom lip, heart thrashing wildly behind your sternum as he takes another step closer and tilts his head down a bit, the warmth of him permeating your thin tank top when his chest brushes yours.

“It’s just me,” he breathes out, noting your trembling, taking another step closer.

His hips bump yours and linger, all the butterflies in your stomach fluttering wildly. A steady beat of ‘kiss me, kiss me, kiss me’ in time with their wings throbs in your blood.

Steve’s thumb strokes back and forth against your lip, drags it down further as your breath mingles in the middle, as you lean up onto your toes and meet him there, humming into his flesh.

The space between you shrinks and he’s there, warm and gentle against your flesh. You barely have time to register the fact he’s kissing you, because a knock sounds from the other side of the door, signaling your time is up. Both of you jolt apart, a little breathless, your hand coming up to rest against your mouth. He swallows thickly and opens the door, the closet awash in bright light, and though he seems mostly unaffected, a solid realization drops into your gut.

You’ve never loved anyone before, and maybe people will say you’re ‘too young’ to know anything about it, but you know with absolute certainty you love Steve Harrington.

——

Steve’s beaming because you’re glowing. Practically bouncing on the balls of your feet as you wander through the park you’d stumbled upon shortly after breakfast, shoes crinkling against fallen leaves as you kick them into the air, glee personified. He wishes he had a camera, if only to capture the way you look right now. You, with your head tipped up to the sky, arms out at your sides, catching the small droplets of rain that began falling only minutes ago on your upturned palms.

He’s already suggested heading back to the car and getting on the road for the remainder of the trip to Hawkins, but the more it rains the happier you seem. As though you’re shedding your old life, a little lighter than you had been hours ago.

He hates that Clark’s ring is still on your finger, especially when he feels the way he does simply looking at you in this moment, but he can only imagine the enormity of the emotions welling in your system. You walked out on your family and your marriage; he knows your family, and knows what consequences might come from your actions.

Maybe you need a moment before popping the bubble and accepting fate? And who is he to hinder your joy? He’d spend every day trying to get you to smile like you are right now, having done so all the years of your friendship, only now it twists his gut tight. A harsh coil, curling around his esophagus, robbing him of his voice and air.

“I love how free and open everything feels here,” you tell him, practically skipping over to his side, shoulder brushing his. “I’ve been in the city so long I forgot what it’s like.”

He knows exactly what you mean. It’s quiet here. Peaceful. For a moment he can pretend you two are the only people in the world. “And soon you’ll be back in Hawkins,” he says, curling an arm around your shoulders, tucking you in close. “Are you excited?”

“A little nervous to see everyone,” you admit, resting your head against his shoulder. “It’s been…”

“Almost three years since you visited.”

He’d come to visit you in the city, on weekends where he could get away and book a plane ticket. But even then, he’d only see you for a weekend at a time. Nothing like before, when you’d spend nearly every day with him, and then once Robin joined the picture, she’d become the third part of your trio.

He can’t wait to have the both of you back together in the same state again.

There is so much he already imagines doing, places he wants to show you, things he wants to share with you.

“Everyone misses you, though,” he reassures you, hating the way your features drop when you whirl around to face him, the amber leaves wrinkling around the edges of your shoes. “They’re going to be so excited. Swear.”

“Pinky promise?” You hold out the sad little pinky, eyes leveling with his.

“We haven’t done one of these since we were seventeen when you asked me to teach you how to parallel park and promised to write my science paper if I helped you pass —”

“Yeah, because I failed the road test and was the only one in our class to not pass on the first try. It was embarrassing.” And you’d been miserable about it. Made it everyone’s problem. He’d thought it cute, the way you’d ripped Tommy H to shreds when he said it was okay you failed because Steve could always chauffeur you around, and you’d flipped the guy off with your favorite finger to throw his way.

Still, he curls his finger around yours and grins, “How do you feel about getting on the road? If we leave now, we should be in Hawkins by dinner time. Maybe we can bother Eddie for a free drink. You know he owns the Hideout now? Expanded it, so it’s a restaurant too now. The owner had passed and trusted Eddie would take care of it. Everyone’s really proud of him.”

You don’t. He’s never told you. It happened the past year, and with Clark entering your life, communication had dwindled a bit. He tried to hide his upset with those first few phone calls. Tried to pretend he never noticed how you’d spoken quicker, as though you were trying to speed up your catch up sessions, as though someone were looking over your shoulder.

It hurt to have the little bits he got to keep of you — the parts he liked to think were for himself — cut even shorter.

Things are different now, he reminds himself. You’re here, with him, heading back to Hawkins.

But for how long…that weary part in the back of his soul whispers. Just as quickly as he has you back, he knows he can lose you now. The thought alone stirs dread within him.

“Do you mind if we stop at a phone booth first? I want to call my family. Make sure they at least know I’m okay.” You’re already gesturing to the booths he can see in the nearby distance, hidden under a halo of golden and flame colored leaves dancing on tree branches.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” He knows them. He knows it’ll be anything but civil conversation.

He watches a grimace flutter across your features. “I think I owe at least that to them.”

——

Calling is a mistake. A huge, unfathomable mistake. The phone booth rests on the outskirts of the park, leaves falling to the ground around you, the fall chill in the air adding to the drop in temperature once you step beneath the awning and dial the number you know by heart.

Steve remains behind you, a comforting hand on your shoulder you accept by lacing your own fingers atop his. There’s a quick greeting, a simple ‘hi’ that spills out from you in a nervous rush, and then the phone blares to life. What feels like dozens of voices burst on the other end. You can hear your father shouting in the distance when your mother says who is calling.

Clark’s voice also appears in the background, and you wonder why he’s with them. It’s not like you ever spent much time with him outside of family obligations.

The relationship had been a ruse, a predisposed desire foisted upon you both by affluent families in want of furthering their ‘prestigious bloodlines,’ a result of societal pressures becoming too much. Many had insisted many married for less, that these arrangements were more common than you were led to believe, that love wasn’t afforded to people ‘like you.’ You hated it — hated all that it stood for.

Your relationship with Clark had never been deeply emotional or physical. A kiss on the brow or a peck on the lips for appearances sake, but you never allowed him near your heart. He was a friend, sure; someone you could talk to, could vent to — but that was all it ever had been.

You were merely upholding the optics your families expected of you both. The plan all along had been to eventually separate after Clark received his promotion within your father’s practice, and you obtained your inheritance before finally deciding what you wanted to do with your own life. Figured it was the least owed after throwing away everything you once knew to play a role you detested as a ‘perfect daughter’ to one of the largest plastic surgeons in the country.

“Where are you?” your father demands, voice a gruff bark, “You must have some grand explanation for walking out and throwing the thousands of dollars I threw into your wedding away.”

“I’m safe,” you tell them, smiling softly to yourself as Steve’s fingers squeeze tight around your shoulder.

“Don’t think we didn’t see you run out with Harrington's son. I had the venue pull the security footage —”

“With Steven?” your mother gasps. “You didn’t tell me that, dear.”

“If this is some affair, you and Clark will deal with it in couple’s counseling. I expect you back here this instant, young lady. I did not raise you the way I did just for you to run back to that hell in a handbasket town —”

“I need time away,” you say, a little bite to your tone you don’t expect, heart hammering away, “I don’t know how long. But I need this, okay?”

“Sweetheart.” Clark’s voice pours through the receiver. It’s fake, you know it’s fake. All appearances because he knows his promotion is in jeopardy. He can’t be sole heir of your father’s practice without the wife needed to secure the deal. “Let’s think rationally here. Come back home, I miss you. Please, my love.”

Steve stiffens behind you, his ear having lowered down to the earpiece. You shake your head and he softens when you tug him nearer by his sweater, relishing in the warmth of his body to block out the cold.

“I only wanted to call to tell you all that I'm okay. And I’m okay. I promise.” Voices start to rise in volume, but the phone slams against the holder and the line grows dead, ready for the next caller. Fingers rise to pinch at the bridge of your nose. Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill out. Steve opens his mouth to speak, but you offer a stiff shake of the head, murmuring, “Can we just…go? I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Y-yeah,” he stutters, sliding a hand down to take yours in his, pulling you from the phone booth. You follow listlessly behind, free hand toying with the edge of your sweater. For someone who always takes up a room with her personality, you seem so small now. Deflated. He hates it. Hates that they hold this power over you, knowing he escaped the same thing years ago now and never looked back. “I love how they still think I’m some shitstain on my family legacy even after all these years. Kind of funny, right, seeing how those people are so miserable, and yet for the first time in my life I’m actually happy.”

You laugh at the blasé nature of his words. He always knows what to say to make you laugh, always has. “I’m glad one of us is.”

He stops, whirling around to cup both your shoulders. “You’ll figure it out too. This will all blow over. It’ll be okay. Do you want me to take you back home?”

The word sinks deep in the pit of your stomach. Home. Is it home, though?

“No,” you mumble, sounding a little forlorn, “no, I want to stay with you.”

“Okay, well…I have one rule when we get back into the car.” His hair dances along his brow as a stray wind picks up. There’s a shadow of stubble along his jaw, and the urge to run your fingers along that new part of him rises up within you. Head tilting to the side curiously at his words, he continues, “Your life back in the city? Doesn’t exist right now, okay? All of that — leave it right here on this walkway. Think you can do that for me?”

You nod, the city laid there to rest on that sidewalk in the middle of Powell, Ohio.

——

Steve visits the first winter after you leave Hawkins. Feels a little out of place as he appears at your parent’s doorway, holding out a bottle of wine he grabbed from a supermarket, in a suit that he knows is ill fitted on his body because he borrowed it from Eddie Munson. Your home is huge; towering white walls, marble floors, a sprawling staircase. But it’s cold and it’s empty and feels empty, without memories to fill it.

Not like your home back in Hawkins, where he spent his days laying on your bed as you studied, or on the couch watching movies, legs tangled in blankets, chairs set around to make silly forts. He misses baking in the kitchen — or rather you baking, while he prattles on about anything that comes to mind as you tossed ingredients together with love and care.

His heart swells as you rush forward, practically leaping into his arms, perfect as you’ve always been. All beaming smiles, melodious laughter, and that incomparable beauty that radiates from within you.

You feel like home — like his; and yet, you’ve always felt that way.

But you’re here and he’s in Hawkins and you’re miles apart now.

And the way your father pulls him to the side after dinner for a not-so-innocent glass of whiskey outside reminds him exactly of that.

“This childhood crush you have — I always thought the two of you would grow out of it. But it’s clear that is not the case.” It’s a dark sound, a sound that has Steve swallowing thickly, fingers tightening around his glass. “We allowed it for as long as we did because it was good for the two of you. Having friends in that town. These are the people my daughter needs to be around. Her peers, her friends, people that she can grow with.”

Steve swallows again. It’s not unlike the conversations he’s had with his own father before his parents left Hawkins. ‘You’re not good enough for her, you’re not good enough in general, you should have scored that hoop, should have won that baseball game, should have gotten better grades, should have joined the family business.’

Should have, should have, should have.

“I love your daughter, sir.”

He’s always dreamed of telling you first. But the moment was never right, sometimes you’d be dating someone, or he would be. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if your feelings were the same. If he learned anything from the knock on his head thanks to Nancy Wheeler, it was that life only passed you by if you waited.

The older man leans back on his chair and sips his drink, the air bitingly frigid, and yet Steve feels hot beneath his clothing. Can feel every wrinkle of fabric against his slick skin. “You know I can’t allow that.”

“Not to be disrespectful, sir, but she’s her own person —”

“That may be true. She has her free will, and both of us are well aware how stubborn she can be, but sometimes that clouds her judgment —” Steve’s mouth opens, but he’s cut off, “What will you be able to provide her? Where are you working these days? That movie shop?”

“I’m — ah —”

“If you were to marry her, how would you provide for your home? For your children, should you have any?”

Steve flounders on the spot. He has his job, and maybe it doesn’t pay what he would like, but he’s also taken up working side jobs with a local contractor. Has started learning how to build, how to fix, has started remodeling Hopper’s old home that he bought off of him when he married Joyce. It’s a fixer upper, but it’s one of the few things he has that he can fully say are his and his alone.

Maybe he doesn’t have everything now, but in a few years…

“Imagine in a few years. You might make her happy now, but what if she wakes up one day and realizes love isn’t enough? When the bills come in and finances are tight — it creates a strain on a relationship, a stress that I don’t think your childhood whims can even sustain. Not forever, at least. She’s used to this.” He waves his hands to the lavish home you live in. “All she knows is this.”

And he cannot measure up. He can’t provide this. Will never be able to reach this unimaginable wealth. Can’t take you to fancy five-star restaurants, still drives the car he’s had for years now, lives in a home that doesn’t have fully functional windows. A home where when it rains he lays out buckets to catch the water droplets that dribble inside through the roof that still needs a ton of love. He has no pension, no fancy 401k, and the barest of savings to his name.

Not enough, he’s not enough, not good enough.

It’s the words that are unsaid that speak the loudest.

He understands immediately what the older man means.

He’s not enough for you.

He’d never been enough for his own family, so why did he assume this would be any different?

“I know I cannot tell you what to do,” the man across from Steve says, a smug grin across his lips that has his blood running cold, “but I would like to make it very clear you will not have my blessing in the matter. Is that understood?”

Steve says nothing, because the door slides open and you’re there in your sparkly dinner dress that likely costs more than what he makes in a week. The differences in your classes have never been so firmly drawn in the sand. You take his hand and urge him inside, smiling at him like he hung the moon, and your father presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Steve, remember what we talked about, son.”

And he’s gone, but his words remain. Swirling, swirling, swirling around inside Steve’s mind. Like little crystalline shards, little daggers, that sink into his skin and twist. Barbs, tangling within him, leaving him reeling and aching.

“Hey,” you whisper softly, brows furrowing, hands cupping his cheeks. “Hey, are you okay?”

You’re warm, stroking his skin so comfortingly, and he smiles down at you, forces it onto his face for your sake. “I’m okay,” he lies, but though you frown a bit at his reply, you smile weakly when he adds, “Missed you, that’s all.”

“There’s a movie playing tonight that I think you’d like. Come with? For old times sake?” Hopeful. You sound so hopeful.

“Sure,” he says hollowly, the mantra of ‘not good enough’ echoing impossibly loud as you walk him down the hall.

——

The rain falls harder now. Thicker droplets that drop against the windshield, little tracks like tears falling down the glass, pushed away a moment later by wipers.

You tug your thighs up closer to your chest, head nodding along to the song playing on the radio. Steve seems far away — lost in thoughts that form a haze over his eyes. Moments ago you’d run your fingers over the backs of his knuckles and he’d offered you a smile, but that wouldn’t do.

“This mountain I must climb,” you sing out, filling the car with your off-key notes, “feels like a world upon my shoulders.”

“What are you doing?” Steve chuckles, head turning your way. There’s a nervousness about him that feels unfamiliar. A conscientiousness that’s usually not there when it comes to him.

Trying to break him out of whatever spell he’s in, your hand splays out, clutching at the sleeve of his sweater dramatically, waving his arm in the air.

“Through the clouds I see love shine —” Another grand swirl of your free hand, and a laugh bursts from him. “It keeps me warm as life grows colder. Come on, Steve!”

“In my life, there’s been heartache and pain,” he mumbles beside you, thumb tap-tapping against the steering wheel. From where you’re sitting, you can see the twitch of his lips, the corners climbing upward. “I don't know if I can face it again.”

You both break into a fit of giggles as the next lines come through the speakers. And then, with your hand against your heart and his waving out in a flourish that teasingly thumps your chest you both cry out in equally as horrendous voices, “I wanna know what love iiiiis. I want you to show meee.”

You turn to face him, staring intently in his eyes, both of you wailing from deep within your bellies, “I wanna feel what love is. I know you can show meee.”

Your head falls against his shoulder, both your shoulders shaking as the song continues around you, eyes following the tracks of the raindrops spilling onto the glass. Comforting, it’s comforting and feels like home.

The chorus blares again and you catch Steve mouthing the words to the song, his eyes a little misty, your heart splintering down the middle.

Trying to break the quiet tension in the car, you tease, “Is that a tear in your eye I see, Steve Harrington?”

He shoves you lightly, though he makes no effort to move you from his shoulder, sniffling noisily. “Shut up.”

“It’s an emotional song. I don’t blame you,” you giggle airily, looping an arm around his waist, the gearshift digging into your middle. You’re about to ask him what has him in his thoughts just as a rectangular object flashes by your side of the car. “Oh! Was that the —”

“Welcome to Hawkins,” he says softly, your head whipping behind you to catch the back of the sign declaring your entrance to your childhood town.

“I’m back?” You breathe out, nose nearly pressing up against the windshield, despite Steve trying to pull you into your seat by the back of your sweater. “Steve?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles breathily, “you’re home.”

“Home.” Endless rows of lush trees fly by, the rumble of distant thunder drowning out the Foreigner song blaring through Steve’s stereo system. “It’s been so long. Still kinda smells.”

“Definitely still smells over here,” he admits, finally managing to get you to rest back against your seat. “Calm down, you dork.”

Wrinkling your nose at him, you suddenly jump, clapping his forearm rapidly with your excited palm. “Oh my gosh — I get to finally see your place!”

“You get to stay at my place too,” he muses, smirking in a way that has your toes curling a bit in your shoes.

You watch as familiar buildings come into view. Different than they were before the town had been devastated by Vecna, but they're all the same. He winds down roads with names you can still remember, weaving along streets until making his way down the path toward where you knew Hopper’s old cabin to be. Only as you pull up, glancing out the window up at the beautiful trees above, it’s much different than you remember. Gorgeous, nestled away as it is in the middle of one of the most peaceful places in all of Hawkins. Larger and triangular on top, with wide windows and a wrap around deck. Beneath a wooden awning are two wooden chairs, facing your direction. A porch light glows with a yellow light, illuminating the deck and the car just feet away from where Steve parked.

“Were you expecting company?” You push the clasp of your seatbelt free, grabbing your things and pushing the passenger side door open. Leaves crinkle and crunch beneath your feet as you step out, rain droplets falling onto your head.

“Looks like Eddie is still here. That’s his fiancée’s car.”

“Eddie’s here.” He nods at your query, stepping in closer, arm there to loop around your shoulders. “Your home…it’s so much different than it was. It’s — it’s amazing, Steve.”

“Figured it needed some remodeling, seeing as monsters had ripped through it.” He grins to himself at your compliment, though, pride radiating off of his form. “It does look pretty great, doesn’t it? I’m proud of it. Mr. Lafferty gets all the credit. He taught me everything I know.”

“Mr. Lafferty…” The name sounds familiar. He’d been one of the few carpenters in town.

“He passed away a few months ago.” Steve grimaces. “But he helped a ton. We expanded the place, added some rooms, and updated it. It’s…well, it’s home.”

“Show me?”

He nods, pulling you along the makeshift walkway beside him. Rocks shift and move as you follow him, shoes tapping against the wooden steps leading to the front door. Steve pushes it open and you’re greeted with high ceilings, wooden beams along the walls, a fireplace set in the far right corner, two gray couches nearby with a wooden table in the middle of the space. There’s a television in the corner, and set back against the far wall is the open kitchen area.

“You are…not at a wedding,” Eddie murmurs, appearing from within the refrigerator, open beer can in hand. “Thought you were getting hitched.”

“Decided marriage wasn’t for me,” you laugh, rushing forward to slam into the man, sighing happily into his chest as arms loop low around your waist. “But Steve tells me you’re getting married.”

“Yeah, somehow tricked a girl into saying yes,” he chuckles, taking a step back to look at you. “You look great.”

“You do too!” His scars look faded by time now, his hair longer than you remember, earring twinkling behind those dark curls of his. “And who is this?”

There, on a little mat in the corner of the kitchen, is a little orange kitten. It peers up at you with honey colored eyes, a little nervous as it pads closer to Eddie. The metalhead scoops the kitten in hand, little kitten limbs spilling over his forearm.

“This is my nephew, Garfield,” Eddie says, rubbing at a tiny furry ear. “Steve found him behind the Hideout. I managed to convince him to keep it. Poor guy is out here living all on his own, it was only a matter of time before he started talking to the trees. As his best friend, I needed to look out for him, you know? So I figured talking to a cat would be more acceptable.”

“Very funny, asshole.” Steve plucks the kitten from his friend, holding it between the two of you. Your eager fingers reach out to pet it, the little head tilting upward to maximize chin scratches, a rumbly purr vibrating against your fingertips. “You fed him?”

“Fed him, cleaned up after him. By the time you have human babies, I’ll be a pro.” Eddie clapped his best friend on the back, giving you another hug. “I should get back. Promised Abi I would grab pizza on the way home. I’ll see you both around. Enjoy your night, kids.”

His ringed fingers waggle and your cheeks burn. “Oh, it’s not like —”

He offers a parting bow and slips out the door, his boots thundering on the front steps, leaving you alone in Steve’s home. Alone again, you take another glance about the space, noting the staircase against the opposite wall.

Raising a finger in the air, you ask, “Your cabin has a second floor?”

“Yeah.” He nods, jerking his head in the direction of the stairs. “Come on.”

Following him, you walk the few stairs leading to his bedroom, taking in the large king bed set against more windows that bleed moonlight into the otherwise dark space, the tan and cream pillows piled high against a dark comforter, his closet in the corner. There’s a woven basket in one corner, various plaid and knitted blankets poking out. To your left is what he tells you is the bathroom, door closed for now.

Even without the fire presently burning in the fireplace, the home feels warm. Like something Steve has put his heart and soul into to make it exactly what he envisioned. Proud doesn’t even start to touch the emotions welling up within you for the man.

All of this. He’s done all of this in the years since you’ve been gone.

“So, uh, you can use the bed? I have a ton of blankets, so I can always sleep on the couch. For however long you want to stay.”

“Steve, no.” He arches a brow. “This is your home. You didn’t plan on hosting. You take the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Or…” Steve places Garfield down on the edge of the bed, the kitten curling up into a content ball, paws kneading into the comforter below. “we just…share? Again, nothing we’ve never done before. Just like the thousands of other times we’ve done it.”

“I mean. Hell, we did that last night too.” You shrug, because he’s not wrong to suggest simply sharing again.

“Exactly.” Steve watches as you walk around his bedroom, taking in the sights. “I got you pajamas. They’re in the car, so I’ll just have to run out and grab them quickly. We can go shopping for more stuff in the morning. If you’re…planning on staying for a bit.”

“Yeah…I mean, I haven’t thought about for how long, and I don’t want to put you out for longer than I —”

“You can stay however long you need to. Or want to. Not a problem.” Steve clears his throat, hand coming up to run along the back of his neck.

“Okay.” You nod.

“Okay,” he echoes.

That’s that.

And later, as you both curl up beneath the blankets, Garfield lying comfortably near Steve’s feet, you whisper into the darkness.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

You can feel him in the bed behind you. There’s enough distance between you that it feels like a chasm, though.

“I’m cold.”

He exhales a yawn. “Do you want me to throw more logs on the fire?”

“No…” You shift backward a little, your frigid feet touching his warmer ones. “Can you, uh…get closer? Like when we were younger.”

Bandaged knees. Summer slick skin. The smell of sunblock in the air. Bodies huddled together, legs tangled and arms wound right. Nights where you fell asleep against him on the couch during winter, his heartbeat a lullaby. Laying under the stars at Lover’s Lake, losing track of time, and having to rush back home as the sun set to get ready for school, his hair a wreck. Images flicker in your mind, memories of times long ago.

It feels different now. Changed, as his body sidles in closer, a muscular arm coming to curl low around your waist. A hum pours from you as he tugs you against his chest, the feeling of his breath at the back of your neck a comfort that has your head nuzzling further into a fluffy pillow.

“Is this good?” he asks, resting his forehead against the back of your head, the rumble of his chest vibrating along your spine.

“Perfect.”

And as his breathing slows and he starts to drift off to sleep, you can’t help but to think about how warm he feels. About how easy it would be to lose yourself in this fantasy — of staying here, in this home, with the person you love.

Therein lies your problem.

——

please please interact if you like. it means the world to content creators. and as always, i am so happy to share a new story with you all. 🩷

[cinghialefedele]

SHIPPING INFO. answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog.

What’s your OTP for your Muse(s)?

I love NnoiTes, but that's in like... all it's forms. I want to explore all the canon/non-canon, any type of AU I can, etc etc

They're really just so fascinating to me, especially with how Kubo presents them in canon.

I also love GrimmTes, and exploring ships with OCs and crossover ships.

What are you willing to RP when it comes to shipping?

Pretty much anything, I love exploring Tesla's dynamics with all sorts of characters. He's kind of fucked up beneath his stoic/polite/sweet demeanor, so of course there's room for both domestic and darker themes. Tesla can be manipulative, obsessive/posessive and even unempathetic and selfish, so each ship is different, and I love figuring out what different characters bring out in him!

How large does the age gap have to be to make it uncomfortable?

In character? No, Tesla is over 100 yrs old in most canon-compliant timelines that I write, and also not being human, idc abt age gaps, as long as the other muse is over 18.

Are you selective when shipping?

Yes, and no? I'm not selective in that I'll only ship w certain people/muses, but I am selective in that our muses have to click to ship. If our muses like each other, then hell yeah, lets ship. Tesla does currently have (what I assume is) one-sided feelings towards certain muses, which is also fine and fun to explore! Chemistry is more important than anything.

How far do steamy moments have to go before they’re considered NSFW?

Anything below the belt or highly detailed physical intimacy. Otherwise it's just tagged as suggestive.

Who are other muses you ship your muse with?

Here? He has no comfirmed ships, he's just sleeping with like. Two or three muses. On twitter, he's shipped with quite a few independent OCs, some bleach OCs, Grimmjow, Nnoitra, Nelliel, Harribel, Ggio... I'm more active there, though, so those ships have developed more, over long periods of time and hiatuses.

Does one have to ask to ship with you?

No, I mean if you wanna try to ship with Tesla, you're free to! Again, it all comes down to if our muses are compatible through writing together or not. I'm multiship and open to anything!

How often do you like to ship?

A lot! I love ships, romantic and platonic, because they're a perfect opportunity to explore muses interpersonally and emotionally. Even ships that are doomed from the start to break up (even though if I fall in love w the ship, I get super invested and hope they get back together) are fun to brainstorm together. I don't enjoy forcing a ship, though, even if I personally ship it. If our writing/muses don't get along, then that's how it is! Every writing pair is different.

Are you multiship?

Yes! Each ship is its own timeline, and if we end up shipping, I'll create a tag specifically for your blog/muse to keep things nice and separate!

Are you ship obsessed or ship more-or-less?

I'm not ship obsessed, but I do get obsessed with certain ships when the chemistry turns out *chef's kiss* so good.

What is your favorite ship in your current fandom?

NnoiTes, GrimmTes, GgioTes, [secret fourth and fifth things].

Finally, how does one ship with you?

Let me know and we can brainstorm and set our muses up on a meet cute or blind date! If it works out or not is up to our muses!

Tagged by: nobody, I stole this!! >:)

Tagging: no one, steal this, too!

[lovelytsunoda]

you’re on your own, kid // mercedes

summary: to quote her mentor, it’s been a shit fucking day at the office. she doesn’t want to go home alone, and needs a few shoulders to cry on.

pairing: platonic!mercedes amg f1 team x female reader

warnings: *existential crisis intensifies*. talk of loneliness and romantic problems, anxiety. y/n is very emotional and sensitive. I do a lot of projecting because I just want to be comforted. we jokingly bully paul aron a little bit.

author's note: the only explanation i have for this is sad girl fall

"mr. bonnington?" she shouted, dashing across the factory floor to catch up to the race engineer, a stack of papers in her hands.

peter bonnington smiled at the young intern, taking the sheaf of papers patenting the new suspension system being used in the silver arrows for next season. "mr. bonnington was my father. please, y/n, call me bonno. everybody else does. you're one of us now."

"am i? i just work in legal. i don't even get to travel." she said it jokingly, but it was another reminder that she didn't truly fit in with the team, that nothing she did would make her good enough.

"yeah, and you don't get the stress and jet lag that goes along with it." bonno looked at her knowingly. "you're going to do great things here. just you wait and see."

but y/n didn't fully believe him. she wasn't even a proper lawyer, just the clerk. the glorified errand-girl.

she carried that bad feeling in her stomach all day. while she was sitting at her desk typing reports, watching through the windows as the engineers laughed with each other. while she sorted contracts and blueprints and watched the drivers talking with each other on their way to the simulator room. the junior drivers, kimi antonelli and paul aron, one a year younger than she was, the other two full calendar years and three months. just kids, already more successful and well known than y/n would ever be.

and she realized that she never truly felt like she fit in, and then she was going to go home and sit alone with her feelings over a frozen dinner.

as soon as the clock hit five, she grabbed her backpack and her coat and she was out of the office in a flash, headphones in as she bit back tears.

she made it to the edge of the parking lot before she started crying, sitting down on the edge of one of the decorative rocks. the tears ran down her face and she knew she looked like a fool sitting in the parking lot and bawling her eyes out, but her mother always told her that emotions were better out than in.

she didn't know how long she had been there when something brought her back to the present moment. the press of a paw on her leg, a deep bark that cut through the music she was listening to. the gentle pressure of a hand on her shoulder.

she looked down, taking out one of her earbuds as she reached down to scratch roscoe hamilton behind the ears, turning her head to see the bulldog's owner, the one and only lewis hamilton, standing next to the rock where she was sitting.

"are you alright, y/n? you look upset."

she shook her head, wiping her eyes and trying to regain composure. "you know who i am?"

"of course. we met when your lawyer did that tour of the factory floor."

"i didn't think the higher ups would remember somebody like me."

lewis smiled, taking a seat next to her on the rock, lifting roscoe up so she could hold the bulldog in her arms. "do you want to talk about it?"

"it's been a day, lewis. it's been a day. i'm struggling to fit in here, even though this field placement is literally the dream to me. i've loved this team since before i could walk, and i feel like an outsider every time that i walk through the factory doors."

lewis comfortingly put his hand on her arm. "what can we do to help?"

"i don't know. i think that i'm the problem, lewis. i don't know how to talk to people, and i always think they're judging me behind my back. i'm not a people person, and i think it's just as simple as that."

roscoe whined in her lap, nudging his head into her stomach. she laughed scratching the bulldog behind the ears.

"roscoe seems to like you. and if roscoe likes you, you can't be that bad."

"i'm just lonely, lewis. it's my first year away from home, and i've never been alone for this long before."

lewis was about to say something when another voice cut through the air.

"oi, lewis, mate, what are you doing out here in the cold?"

they both turned around. lewis waved the other man over, and soon enough, george russell was sitting on her other side, a concerned look on his face.

"are you alright, love? you look like you've been crying."

"thanks for the reminder." she sniffled, wiping at her eyes with the cuff of her sweater. "i'm y/n, i work in legal."

"nice to meet you, y/n. i'm george, but you know that already, i bet."

lewis patted her gently on the shoulder. "y/n was just saying that she doesn't feel like she fits in here."

george's eyes widened. "that can't be true. come on now, we aren't that bad company, are we?"

y/n laughed, shaking her head. "i've just always struggled with the social aspect. and now i get to go home and be lonely over a good book and a frozen dinner from sainsburys."

lewis raised his eyebrows. "really? a pretty, bright young thing like you must have someone to come home to."

"you know how it is. you grow older and you lose touch with friends, they move away destined for better things and you're still stuck in the same place that you were before because your anxiety is so bad that you can't bear to move away from home and leave behind everything you thought you knew. this is my first time living on my own. i moved out of my parent's house and into a small little flat that i can barely afford."

she stopped and took a deep breath.

i will not cry in front of the most important members of this fucking team.

"with every day that goes by where i don't meet that person, that person who's going to love me unconditionally, that person who's going to tell me i'm gorgeous and kiss me softly and want to spend the rest of their life with me, i get scared that it's never going to happen for me. i'm scared of being alone."

"woah, is there a party out here that i wasn't invited to?" nyck de vries was bundled up from head to toe against the british fall, the wind ruffling his hair as he shrunk his already small body back into the down jacket that swamped his body. "room for one more?"

"if you can fit on the rock, you're welcome to join us." y/n smiled, grateful for the company as she shifted to create room for the reserve driver.

"nyck'll fit, he's tiny anyways." george laughed as the dutch driver joined the trio.

"fuck off, russell. we can't all be tall. being short is awesome anyways, i don't know what you're talking about. so, what are we talking about? boys? inter-office gossip?"

"how about the ever present fear of dying alone having never experienced being in love." y/n said shortly, pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her knuckles. "yeah, it's a heavy one."

"i'm sorry, how old are you?"

"almost twenty."

"that's way too young to be having an existential crisis like this, mate. you have your whole life ahead of you."

"it will happen when it's meant to. the world has a funny way of working in the ways you least expect it." lewis said gently, taking her small hand in his larger one. "and in the mean time, you have the three of us."

"i can set you up with some of the f2 guys." nyck suggested. "i mean, it's been a while since i was a part of that world, but there's got to be a few of them left around that could help out."

"absolutely not. i'm not sicking an f2 driver on the poor girl." lewis laughed. "you of all people should know how wild they are."

"would you rather i set her up with a formula e driver? i'd say that they're worse."

"what about clement?" george suggested. "i think you'd love novalak, he's a riot."

"he's friends with lando." lewis reminded his teammate.

"right, maybe he's not the best fit for someone so sweet and quiet. paul, maybe?"

"paul is eighteen years old, george." y/n reminded through a laugh. "i'm not dating a literal child."

"what's this about dating?"

at the sound of the team principal's voice, all conversation ceased as the drivers turned to look at their boss. "hey toto." they chorused in almost terrifying unison.

"your drivers are trying to find me a boyfriend."

toto raised his eyebrows. "and they suggested paul? i wouldn't wish that boy on anybody. his brother might be a good fit though. a nice boy with a respectable job on the pit wall."

"leave the poor girl alone, toto." susie laughed, smacking her husband on the arm. "me and angela are the only people allowed to send her on dates, you hear me?"

"yes, susie." the three drivers said in unison, laughing among themselves.

y/n already felt better.

"hey, y/n," george offered. "we were all about to go for a night out, lewis was taking us bowling, we were probably also going to get some pizza or something. did you want to come with us? i'd hate for you to go home sad."

y/n smiled. "actually, yeah. i'd like that a lot."

"come on, then!" susie smiled, helping y/n up from the rock and putting her arm around the younger girl. "you look like you need some girl time."

"oi, susie!" nyck shouted with a laugh. "don't go stealing her from us now!"

and suddenly, even if it was just for a night, she felt like things were going to be okay again.

maybe she wasn't as lonely as she thought she was.

maybe she wasn't on her own after all.

[princesscolumbia]

Okay, I unironically love this, but it's been nagging at me since yesterday; where the hell did Gideon get a cradle beast in Canaan House? My "could write a short story but nooooo, gotta do 4.5k words of worldbuilding" mind has been whirring away at this to somehow make it canon compliant and I've come up with this:

So John "I never met a molehill I couldn't make into a mountain" Gaius is chilling with Alecto on the corpse of her previous self as the whole damn planet kinda just sits there dead, not even able to properly process all the corpses 'cause even the fucking bacteria are dead ('cause Jod is a greedy motherfucker) and they come across this dead cat. And Alecto has the knowledge of what this is from a, "I spawned this life" perspective what a cat is, but has no real concept of what a cat means to humans, and Jod, well-intentioned-road-worker-busy-working-on-that-highway-to-hell that he is, tries to explain what cats mean to human and realizes that this is a good chance to try experimenting with bringing something back to life and boom, one resurrected cat.

And naturally, he never bothers to name the cat, jawing on at his captive and only audience of one (1) anthropomorphized planet about how the person who owns the cat must choose a name that matches the personality and the cat is Alecto's now and fuck if she has the first foggy clue what to do with a cat, so the cat goes un-named.

Alecto, angry barbie doll that she is, doesn't realize that John screwed up monumentally when the cat doesn't eat, doesn't use anything resembling a litter box, and doesn't die because it's John's first real attempt it's an overpowered little shit and just kinda starts shadowing the only two living people left.

John promptly forgets about keeping an eye on the cat, and Alecto just lets the cat wander around, doing nothing to give it any attention and not even thinking of giving it any other aspect of "things living creatures need" because she's Earth and she just makes and consumes life, she doesn't manage it.

So 10,000 years later this cat is still kicking around, and along comes The Ninth for the new Lyctor trials and Griddle decides to absolutely fucking NOT be anywhere near Harrow if she can help it and winds up inadvertently stealing the cat's favorite napping spot for the last millennium and the cat, now being the Platonic Ideal of Cat, promptly does a "fuck you" and just lays on Gideon while she's asleep, and Gideon, Goth Jock Lesbian Himbo that she is, falls in love with this little night creature with disturbingly(affectionate) familiar behavior patterns.

The cat, experiencing actual human affection for the first time in 10k years, practically glues herself to Gideon's side. Harrow is, at first, absolutely, 100% against this little creature, but just like every cat-hating-dad on the Internet "secretly" falls in love and would kill everyone in the Empire and herself if anything bad happened to ickle Marrow and her beans.

Jod never sees Marrow 'cause she knows when to hide from Johny Abomination And The Lyctor 7 6 5 4 3, having learned to avoid being spotted during the first Lyctor Trials and having 10,000 years to perfect the craft, then when the Edenites airlift the non-Lyctor survivors out of there, they have acquired one (1) cradle beast that refuses to leave Gideon's body.

We don't actually see the cat again until Nona the Ninth. By this time little Marrow has bonded with Camilla/Palemedese (somehow knowing who's in charge of Cam's body at any given time and behaving differently for each) and the necromancer/cavalier don't really seem to notice that the cat doesn't need nearly as much Life™️ things as an animal normally would because they don't have the consistency of presence to notice. Nona somehow just knows that Marrow is a cat, but since she's got an innate understanding of cradle beasts she doesn't cotton to Marrow being at all unusual until after The Angel discovers Nona's drawing of a different cradle beast, and of course by then it's basically a running firefight/stealth-op/violent-revolution, and it isn't until Paul...instantiates and their memory merges that they finally start putting two and two together to get 48.

Marrow's just happy to finally be able to sit in Gideon/Kyriona's lap again, even if it's, at best, room temperature.

okie so griddlehark prompt: them adopting a little black cat?🥺 i love your art btw !!

sillies 🥺

[chaotic-enby-selfships]

Chaotic La squadra Headcanons because I can

So, I know im not as active on here as I used to be but that's just cause I kinda just. have moments where I forget this site exists hfvgkjsdfgvjksdfgkvsd. Anyways I know I dont really post about JoJo that much but take these chaotic LS headcanons because LS is the main reason I love golden wind so much.

Prosciutto is a fucking plant dad. His room has shelves that are just full of old-ass books and plants. He even has names for them.

Melone, Illuso, Risotto and Formaggio all have an Onlyfans. Formaggio has it ironically while Risotto just has it for the money. If the gang has a flight to somewhere, Prosciutto will be the one to wake everyone up at 5AM even if they have to leave at 1PM. this has resulted in Formaggio and Ghiaccio beating his ass. Illuso says shit like "Yass queen", "Slay", and "material gworl" unironically. he also uses "babe" and "sweetie" as platonic nicknames. also he dresses in drag. His drag queen name is Refa Lection yk how I said Pros is a plant dad? well Formaggio is absolutely a cat dad and yes this HAS resulted in fights since Formaggios cats often knock over Prosciutto's plants. P: "IF YOU DON'T GET THOSE BASTARDS UNDER CONTROL I WILL!!" F: "YOU WON'T LAY A *HAND* ON MY SWEET BABIES!!!! AND HOW DARE YOU CALL THEM BASTARDS!!" Three days grace, Fall out Boy and MCR can almost always be heard from Risottos room. even in the dead of night. Everyone either just puts up with it, listens along, or drowns it out with their own music. Out of all of them, Risotto has the highest spice tolerance. Ghiacco always insists that he can handle the spicy food that Riz eats. He cannot. Both Formaggio and Melone like to metaphorically fuck with everyone in la squadra whenever they're bored, with the exception of Risotto because 1, he doesn't give a shit, and 2, Melone is too intimidated by him. His favorite member to piss off is Ghiaccio. Make no mistake though, they fuck with each other all the time too. They are NOT partners in crime. Formaggio will often dare Ghia to do stupid shit and then film it. He has a whole chest filled with tapes of Ghiaccio failing or suffering during his dares. Melone is a HUGE fucking astrology and tarot card bitch. He legit knows everyone's birth chart by heart and is always offering readings. He also cleanses with incense and Ghiaccio finds it insufferable. Melone also just somehow knows everyones secrets no matter what and no one knows how. The rest of the members all sorta fear him to a certain extent because of this. Yes Melone has used his uncanny ability to his advantage.

Pesci likes to paint his nails. it's usually really messy whenever he does it though, so he'll sometimes get Prosciutto to do it for him. He doesn't really do anything fancy with them; usually just paints them a bright green like his hair or blue to represent the ocean. :) He also watches shit like troom troom and 5 minute crafts and genuinely believes practically every word that they say. He has tried more than once to recreate some craft he saw on one of those channels, and gets really sad when it doesn't work. Pros usually has to console him out of it. Ghiaccio "secretly" listens to BTS and knows all the words to the songs. Formaggio once caught him singing Fake Love at the top of his lungs. Yes Forms has this recorded. The reason Ghia attempts to keep his love for the band a secret (even though everyone knows about it) is cause he thinks that people will make fun of him for listening to it, which Formaggio does do, but mainly just because of Ghia being so insistent on denying it. He really couldn't care less. Both Riz and Melone each have a secret stash of Monster energy in their rooms and both have accidentally stayed up all night more than once. Risotto because he is overworked as shit (poor boi) and Melone because he gets sucked into internet rabbit holes. Between the two of them Risotto is WAY worse though. This man has stayed up for DAYS on end. His record is two weeks without sleep. Sometimes other members of la squadra will deadass find risotto passed the fuck out at his desk. Whenever this happens, it's just a mutual agreement to leave him there (unless it's super important) and Prosciutto will take charge until he wakes up.

[love-strawberry]

another sunset down

summary : local dumbasses knew what they were getting themselves into but did it anyways.

parings : peter parker x reader, avengers x platonic! reader.

warnings : language.

author's note : heyyy!! this is my first fic and i'm so excited for this ahdjakas. ok, so the reader already a part of the avengers and this story is going to be focused on both her past and herself along with the avengers. this story DOES NOT at all follow the timeline. the characters which have died in the mcu are alive here. and the events which take place in the movies may or may not be used for refrence in this. thank u for readings this!! i love and appreciate each one of you <33333.

masterlist

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sometimes, forgetting the past is better than remembering why you wanted to forget the past in the first place.

just pretending that you don't have a past, is honestly the only option left when your mentor turned out to be a psychopath, your sister dead and your parents... well, non-existent.

you'd think that having such a life must be miserable. well, not really. y/n y/l/n never had problems with the way her life turned out to be. okay, she had a few problems, but we're not focusing on those right now.

y/n was, lightly putting it, dangerous. to herself and the others. having superpowers was not an everyday thing and living with people with superpowers was an entirely different thing but equally chaotic if not more.

at the age of 12, when she was told that she'd be living with earth's mightiest heroes, she was excited to say the least. she always thought that it'd be fun, like they'd have chefs making exotic dishes from around the world, have a whole floor dedicated to games, and many things that a normal pre-teen dreamt of.

one of the most important thing that she imagined the avengers would have was a family... feeling, she thought. like, making her feel welcomed, comfortable and making her feel like she belonged. she always wanted that and this time, the girl who dreamt dreams brighter than the stars, thought she'd get it. a team.

a family.

however, that excitement quickly died down when she met them. to her surprise, they were just grown babies who couldn't take care of themselves and were given a hard task that they procrastinated long enough but somehow, managed to do it. they were... just a normal team in her eyes. with powers, of course.

a super dysfunctional team, with superpowers and different forms of trauma with different levels.

having the power of umbrakinesis or shadow manipulation was no easy feat but she trained. she had been training for the last 6 years and she was sure that her powers were in control.

but, the team was reluctant. reluctant in accepting her. in accepting her powers. she had been sitting in one of the living rooms and she heard the raised voices and silent disagreements.

she could see it on everyone's face that that were not accepting her. and even if nick fury managed to make her stay, which he did, y/n would be the outcast.

the one left at the compound whenever the team went on missions and was claimed a 'liability' by the people who were supposed to have her back.

she spent a whole miserable year like this. and by the time she turned 13, she knew that never will the team accept her. and she was done with it.

no missions? fine.

so, instead of going out, she focused on her lowers and she focused on making tony stark broke.

this all changed when peter fucking parker came into the picture.

now, the team suddenly needed a babysitter for the onesie guy and who was better than the girl they hated and give her the job she hated.

and remember the beginning? the deep shit about forgetting the past? now was the time that the pieces started to fall in together in our story.

y/n y/l/n, now 15 and fully in control of her power babysitting peter parker, also 15 and not in fully control of his power.

putting these two together should've resulted in somewhat positive result. like y/n being included in the team and peter being more in control of his powers but what happened?

a fucking train wreck, that's what happened.

and you know what they say? put together some misfits, sometimes you get a family but sometimes, you get a bunch of assholes.

this whole situation is the latter of the above said statement.

have fun reading this dysfunctional as fuck, one hell of a ride with a girl who has many flaws which include not giving a single fuck, ignoring people's existence and having a bitch face on default, a boy who likes to scrapbook dogs and cry over paper cuts and a bunch of assholes who need to go therapy.

thank you.

*narrator drops mic and awkwardly steps down from the stage but trips*

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[tsunonotarou]

HEARTSLABYUL | SAVANACLAW | OCTAVINELLE | SCARABIA | POMEFIORE | IGNIHYDE | DIASOMNIA

— finding out their S/O’s lockscreen/background is them

Part one | Part two | Part four

This part will contain Pomefiore and Ignihyde

notes: Ortho's part is going to be platonic!

: gender-neutral reader!

Vil Schoenheit

Says you have good taste

You know that smirk he has on whenever he's pleased? Yea that. He'll do that when he saw your lockscreen/background

Doesn't mind if it's a public picture of him (from magazines, shows, movies etc where everyone gets access to) or a picture of him sleeping, he doesn't mind

But! he does prefer you putting a picture where not everyone gets access to, a picture only a select few friends know or a picture only the two of you know because he likes the intimacy

Why should you use pictures his fans would use when you have so many other private ones, accessible to only you?

Of course, it has to be beautiful and approved by him

After a while if he sees the same picture on your lockscreen/background he'd advice you to change another one. Surely no one would get bored of the Vil Schoenheit but isn't it nice to start fresh sometimes?

When you innocently say you could stare at the same picture all day everyday, always finding new discovers in that picture or simply got lost in his cute smile, he swore an arrow shot through his heart, in a good way. Rook get out of here

"Do what you want." He replied nonchalantly, turning away to hide his blush from you

You asked him if he could put your picture on his lockscreen and he said no

After your pleadings and whines, telling him to put it on for just a moment, just for you to see how it'd look like, he finally did

And honestly, Vil does not want to change it

He'd quickly click his phone off and brush you away, telling you he has business to do all because he wanted to admire it in private

Even though he said he put it on because you asked him to and that he'll change it immediately after, a few days later, you still see yourself appearing on his screen whenever he clicks open his phone

Rook Hunt

Rook's heart would react in a way where it would be seen as keyboard smashing.

Like ARARDRBGJDIDGETIWIFHWOFHDKSLDGWBSKSBFLSFJSBFLALFNSKFPKSF

Of course! He doesn't react in such an unsightly way but his heart flipped so many fucking times and he swear he couldn't take this immense happiness he feels right now

It might not seem much but the act is so sweet! Setting him as your lockscreen and background? To see him everytime you click open your phone? Reminding yourself that he is yours? Absolutely romantic.

Rook loves taking pictures. He loves taking pictures of you. He has thousands and thousands of your photo both in his phone and in his journal. Oh there are some hanging in his room, too! Oh, he has a photo album consisting of only you, too! Oh, there are a few framed ones sitting on his bedside tables too! And-

But to think that you secretly take pictures of him, too?

Rook has really good eyesight, he's also very sharp so he knows whenever you want to take a picture of him. What he does not know that you didn't want him to notice you taking a pictures of him

You thought he looked peaceful reading a book and wanted to secretly take a picture of him like that? He immediately noticed and flashed you a smile. He's so charming! Holding the bow and arrow in the most professional way and his eyes stay focused on the front. You wanted to freeze that moment with your camera? He immediately lowered down the weapon and waved

Well, you took those pictures anyway. But still, you wanted one where he isn't looking at the camera and minding his own business but you never got one

Desperate, you went for Azul's help

The deal was only to work in Mostro Lounge for a month...easy, right?

Well then, you'd do anything for a picture of Rook being unaware of the photographer's presence

It was hard for Jade and Azul to find excuses and cover up when Rook spotted them trying to take a picture of him, and also muffling Floyd when the eel almost blew the plan up, complaining something along the line of "Shrimpy wanted to—"

And also staying hidden because once Rook finds them, he will not stop following and asking questions regarding their real form

(If you think about it the scene would be funny I wish I could draw 🙂)

ANYWAYS so one time Jade finally, finally snapped a photo of Rook

Because the blond was too busy admiring you

Rook's cheeks were slightly pink, eyes in beautiful cresent shapes with a hand supporting his chin, the hunter was lovestruck

Now that you explained how you got this precious photo, his heart bursted even more in happiness

You went through so much just for a picture of him? Technically the octatrio suffered most but we don't talk about that

"I am not embarrassed being caught red-handed staring at my love. Why would I?"

This man never fails to make you fall in love with him all over again

After that he'll (have a hard time) choose one photo of you to set on his lockscreen, having another internal crisis when choosing another photo for his background, because he loves each and every one of the pictures of you!

Epel Felmier

Cries so hard this boy is so embarrassed

It was a picture of him struggling during the daily dance practice with Vil

Composure: gone

You took it when Vil surprisingly lets you stay in Pomefiore's ballroom and stay until Epel's practice is over since apparently the boy does better when you're there

Prefers you taking a "manlier" photo of him as your lockscreen but when you told him he looks cute like this and you like it, a small pink tinted his cheeks

Whatever makes you happy

(IM SO FUCKING SORRY I DID NOT DO EPEL JUSTICE I DONT KNOW HOW TO WRITE HIM 🙇‍♀️ feel free to send hate)

Idia Shroud

W-What's this? He's seen a lot of shows that couples put their partner's photo as their lockscreen, but people in real life actually do that?

Before he met you, he definitely thought it was a little cringe at first, because why would you want to show the whole world who you're with!? Don't they know that some people don't have a significant other and are lonely!?

But it's just so cute when you does it

Someone is actually willing to see his face whenever? Even putting it as your lockscreen!

He's a blushing mess, it's not even exaggerated to say he fainted after stuttering nonsense

Oh...it's a picture of him sleeping while he was cuddled into you

Idia.exe stopped working

Ortho Shroud

(Platonic! Ortho's reaction to his best friend having their picture together as their lockscreen 🥰)

Is so surprised! It was a picture the two of you took on Halloween Week in NRC, doing the 'gao' pose

Does Ortho has a phone? He could do every research he needs on himself so...

But if he does, he'll definitely whip it out and show you that he has your photo together as his lockscreen too!

WHOLESOME FUCKING WHOLESOME JSFHAUSGWGU

After that the two of you will definitely take more pictures together

[avungerthatgotaway]

The Soldier of the Night

heyyyy guys!! this is my first ever request fic and im so excited to do iiiit. please tell me what you think of it in the comments🥰

it's made for this request

summary: y/n finally takes matters into her own hands and escapes hydra. but it won't be as easy as she tought...

warnings: mentions of blood and child neglect

pairings: avengers x teen!reader (platonic)

genre: angst-ish, fluff at the end

Sorry for grammar mistakes.

If you have request feel free to ask🥰

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Y/N Y/LN, but no one calls you by that name. To the world you are known as The Soldier of the Night, the merciless murderer. Mothers all over the world use you to teach their kids about most dreadful dangers. People gather around campfire in woods and share scary stories of your cold heart and homicides you don't feel guilty about. You are the biggest fear of each and every government there is in world.

And you always wonder what all those people would say if they knew how old you were. Or that you never kill willingly. Or that you silently pray every night for the victims you harmed or killed in your brainwashed state.

Or that hydra has no control over you anymore. You are currently running, without exact destination, just to get as far from hydra as you can. They are probably alerted of your absence by this point, but you are already in New York, so you can maybe find a hiding spot before they find you.

-

-Avengers pov

-

Nick Fury hurried to the avengers tower, where he called a sudden meeting this morning.

When he came in Steve and Sam were sweaty, probably just came from their morning jog. Bucky was still fighting sleep in his pyjamas, hair sticking out in different directions. Wanda was starring daggers at him for waking her up so early. Tony and Bruce were in lab coats, probably didn't sleep at all. All other avengers were at their respective missions.

"I called this meeting because my resources told me infamous Soldier of the Night is out of hydra HQ. We don't know why, but it's probably another killing mission for hydra. He is currently laying low, somewhere around south entrance to the city. Your mission is to stop him from harming anyone and bring him here. Alive if possible, it would benefit us to know what are hydra's plans at the moment." he finished.

"Alright." said Steve dutifully. "Any information we can get on him before we go?"

"Not much. Only that he is dangerous, and doesn't spare anyone. He is a ghost story. We don't even know if it's a he, that's just a guess."

"Very well. Everyone suit up, I expect you in front of tower in 10." Steve said and left, other avengers following behind.

-

They came back that evening, exhausted of their unsuccessful search. There was no trace of the soldier. But they had to keep looking as long as there's hope to get rid of the monster.

-

-2nd person pov

-

Your heart was racing a hundred miles. You were well aware of the possibility of hydra finding you. But you didn't expect it to be this soon. You were in hiding for only 2 months and they already tracked you down.

Windows broke on your left side and hydra agents started piling in. At the same time on your right side the door broke down revealing whole avengers team, with few additions. You faintly remember one of them as The Winter Soldier, but what was he doing with avengers? Your toughts were cut short by a punch in your face delivered by one of hydra agents.

That's when it snapped: you had to fight for your life. And you probably had to fight both sides.

You started fighting hydra agents, harming them as much as you can without killing.

The avengers stand at the doorstep, and you faintly hear one of them saying "What the actual fuck?". They seemed belivered.

But they soon join the fight knocking out hydra agents. A fist connected with the back of your head, knocking you out into pool of darkness.

-

Light clacking of bottles was the first thing you hear when you wake up. You squint your eyes open, panic finnaly kicking in to where you are. Your first tought was that you were back in hydra HQ, but the room was way too light for that, and hydra wanted you dead.

You started panicking and franatically got out of the bed, trying to escape. Whoever this is, they nean no good. Even avengers want to kill you. But as soon as you got up, black dots invaded your vision, causing you to fall. But before you hit the groung a pair of arms caught you, leading you to sit back in bed.

"Hey, hey sweetie calm down. No one will harm you here. Don't make any sudden movements, your head is still not completely healed." a man told you.

You just layed back and watched him bandage your wrist.

"I am Bruce Banner, by the way. What is your name?" he asked kindly.

"Y/N Y/LN" you whispered, almost inaudibly but he heard it.

"Alright, Y/N. I think I bandaged all your bruises. Rest of the team is waiting out, do you maybe want to meet them?"

By 'team' he probably meant rest of the avengers. You saw a big 'A' painted on the wasll, so that had to be it, right? You immediately shook your head no, eyes widening in fear. You still weren't sure they won't harm you, and meeting them seemed overwhelming in your current state.

"It's okay, calm down. You can meet them later. I will stay with you a little. We could talk if you want?"

You just shrugged your shoulders, not particularly fond of talking with anyone, but not wanting to seem rude because he did help you.

"Okay. How old are you Y/N?" he asked slowly.

"(your age)" you quietly said.

"Dear lord, you really are just a kid. I'm so sorry for everything you've gone through."

You just zoned out, thinking about everything that happened, when something poped up in your mind.

"Mr. Banner?" you asked shyly.

"Call me Bruce kiddo. What is it?"

"I tought I saw The Winter Soldier at the door when you guys came to get me?"

"Oh yes. Bucky. He was also in hydra, as you probably know. He was brainwashed. I suppose you were too?"

"I was, every time I killed somebody. Sometimes I went to missions with other agents and they didn't brainwash me, but I never killed anyone when I was in my senses." You started thinking about your victims as teers pooled in your eyes.

"We supposed so. Do you want me to bring Bucky in a little? Maybe he can help you feel better, because he knows what you're going through."

You slowly nodded, not wanting to reject meeting avengers the second time.

"Alright, he'll be here in a minute." Bruce gave you a gentle smile and patted your shoulder.

A minute after he exited, in came Bucky. He looked better than when you saw him last, but you doubted he's seen you. You were sneaking out, tryna find some food, when you heard and saw agents torturing him. That's about only memory you have of him, along with stories you've heard from other people.

"Hello there doll. How are you? Bruce told me you remember me." he said gently, sitting at the edge of your bed.

"I-I am alright, i guess. Th-thanks. And yes, I do. A little. I was passing by door, when I saw them torturing y-yo-you." you started sobbing a little, the memory bringing back others. Memories of them torturing you. And you torturing other people in your brainwashed state.

"Hey don't cry. It's okay, shhh. Come here." he opened his arms, and you hesitantly scooted closer, not exactly sure what he wanted. He circled his arms around you, and you flinched, thinking he's gonna attack you. But he just gently kept his arms wrapped around you, soothingly rubbing you back. after some time you wraoed your arms around his middle, still not sure what's going on.

But it was a nice feeling. You never felt something like it before. You felt so safe, like nothing could harm you as long as you two stay like that. You wanted to know what was all this about.

"Wha-at are you do-oing?" you asked after you stopped sobbing, but still hiccuping a little.

"Oh, I'm hugging you. Are you uncomfortable? I will stop if you are. Sorry." he said starting to draw back.

"No!" you quickly said, clutching onto him like koala. You were afraid the sense of comfort will leave you as soon as he withdraws from you.

"Shhh, doll. I won't let go. Never. Nothing will ever harm you here kiddo. We will take care of you. You can live normal life, like all other kids. Maybe go to school after you adapt to your surroundings. Here is a kid Peter he is about your age. You can make friends your age. And of course we will be your friends. For as long as you want it."

"Wait, I can live here? I'm not a burden?"

"No, of course not. Don't ever think that, please."

"B-Bu-Bru" you struggled to remember what Bruce told you his name was.

"Bucky. Or James, whichever you prefer kid."

"Oh okay. What are hugs Bucky?"

"Well I'm hugging you right now. You hug people ti show your emotions. Like comfort, thankfulness, happiness, love. It's what friends do."

"Wait wait wait. You never had a hug before?? Like ever????" a new voice boomed. It sounded genuine but way too loud. You flinched instinctively and hid your face in Bucky's shoulder. He tightened his hold on you for comfort.

"Can you be any louder Thor? And no she was practically raised in hydra, they don't exactly hug around." Bucky said.

"I am sorry, lady Y/N. For frightening you, and for my inappropriate question. I am Thor Odinson." he said coming closer to you.

"It's okay Mr. Thor. I'm Y/N Y/LN, nice to meet you." you said shyly.

"Oh it's lovely meeting you too. I came here because brother Stark asked me to ask you if our presence is wished upon now."

"Huh, what do you think, doll? Ready to meet 'em now? No pressure." Bucky quietly asked, only for you to hear.

You tought about it for a second, but if everyone is nice as three you already met, you'd like to meet them all. And with quiet "okay", Bucky nodded to Thor and he left to call the others in.

-

That night you layed in your bed, thinking of that day's events. You met everyone, since no one had missions assigned. They were all really nice to you. Even Loki, which surprised every avenger. You were not sure why tho, Loki was nice, and his voice was comforting. The Maximoff twins were really funny, and Tony already started making you your own room! Everyone else you've met was aweosme: Natasha, Clint, Steve, Sam and Rhodey. Peter was shy but nice, he promised to show you some good movies and he was belivered when you said you don't know what those are.

Bucky was still you favorite. He stayed the longest, promising to come and visit you first thing in the morning. You hoped he'll hug you again, you were quite fond of hugs now.

-

Few months passed since avengers saved you. Life couldn't be better at this point. You were home schooling, or rather preparing to go to real school next year. Peter already introduced you to his friends from school you are going to attend. You were training to become an avenger, and it was so exciting.

You were currently having breakfast tho, sitting in between Sam and Bucky who were bickering about one thing or other. Tony was dancing funnily while making pancakes, while Nat was trying to throw as many blueberries as possible at him. You heard Clint somewhere in wents above you, probably setting up a prank. You smiled to yourself. Even though you never knew love, or had a family until two months prior, avengers accepted you. They were slowly becoming your family, and you couldn't imagine your life without them. ;)