#To clarify she was not has not and will not watch Stranger Things she was interjecting on a conversation she was not a part of

[eddiemunsonsmum]

5yo: Wait... Does Eddie die?

Me: Yeah he passes away.

5yo: Was he still young?

Me: Yeah, he was only twenty.

5yo: Well that's why you have to be careful. 🤷‍♀️

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Ten

Steve will just have to tell his parents he’s visiting Robin, they already think she’s his girlfriend, so that tracks. Or maybe he’ll just tell them that his shifts are longer than they actually are; but only if they actually show an interest. It’s just as likely they won’t ask. Won’t be interested really, in where it is Steve’s disappearing off too. That’s the most likely outcome, knowing his parents.

Eddie sits upright in the passenger seat, fascinated by everything he’s seeing. It’s cold out, but the sun is shining; Eddie has on his yellow sweater and his shades, his tail wrapped in a blanket, watching avidly as the houses slide past. They’re well out of Loch Nora now, heading towards Hopper's cabin, when Eddie sits up straighter, making an inquiring noise.

Eddie points.

“What is it Buddy?” Steve slows; there’s no one else on the road.

“Upside Down?” Eddie queries, head cocked.

“No. No Buddy. No upside down,” but he turns down the street Eddie’s indicated, curious.

“Upside Down,” Eddie nods, “Upside Down Eddidie tent,” Eddie says, pointing to a house.

“You...you stayed in that house? In the Upside Down?”

Eddie nods, tapping the glass, “safe,” Eddie seems to rethink that, tilting his head, “safe good bad.”

“So...sometimes safe.”

Eddie nods.

“Huh.”

Hopper and El are both sitting on the stoop when they get there, squished side by side on top of the narrow set of three steps up to the cabin.

Steve sighs, “okay Buddy, lets do this.”

Steve goes to get out of the car, but Eddie grabs his wrist, tugging him back, “Stee.”

It’s all he says, but it speaks volumes. He’s frightened. He doesn’t want Steve to leave him here. Steve can’t see his eyes behind the shades, but he knows they’re big and sad.

“It’s not for long Buddy,” Steve turns his hand so he can grip Eddie’s fingers; Eddie holds tight too, “not for long, okay, I promise. And then you can come home.”

Steve can see enough to see that Eddie’s eyebrows are drawn together in a concerned frown, his mouth opens and closes a couple of times, he wants to tell Steve something, he just...doesn’t have the words yet, Steve figures.

“Stee perfect,” he finally settles on, before turning away and carefully opening the car door.

He must have figured out how to do that on his own.

Eddie moves cautiously around the inside of Hoppers cabin. He’s not quite brave enough to touch, but he inspects everything closely.

“He’ll be fine, he’s got his things,” Eddie’s books and walkie are already on the coffee table, his toothbrush and toothpaste in the bathroom. Steve doesn’t know if he’s speaking to reassure everyone else or himself, but it doesn’t seem to be working.

“Stee?” Eddie asks quietly from the kitchen; it’s open plan, but Steve can’t see Eddie where he’s behind the counter.

“Yeah buddy?”

“Idge food?”

“Yeah Buddy, just like at home, it’s in the bottom drawer.”

Steve sees the fridge door open and, after the sound of a brief rummage, it closes again. Eddie doesn’t appear to take anything though.

“And you sure you’ll be fine on the couch?” Hopper asks.

Eddie cocks his head, “sleep on couch,” Steve clarifies.

“Yes. Eddidie sleep couch. Sleep dark.”

“You got it buddy...look, I’ve got to go, I need to sort the pool but...you be good for Hopper and El, okay?”

Eddie nods, and Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen him more dejected, “Eddidie good.”

The following evening, Steve checks on Eddie straight after his shift. He knows it’s late, nearly nine by the time he gets there, but Eddie was so sad...Steve doesn't want to leave him with strangers for too long.

When Steve gets there, Eddie answers the door and then practically launches himself at Steve.

“Hey buddy,” Steve laughs, dropping into a half crouch so Eddie can give him a big hug, “you okay?”

“Eddidie good. Stee good? Work good? Home good?”

“Yeah Buddy, everything is fine,” Steve doesn’t have it in him to explain to Eddie that right now all of those things are actually objectively shit.

“I think he recognized the sound of your car,” Hopper says from the couch, “he said you were coming before we could hear you.”

“I knew it was you,” El says matter of factly from the table.

“Yeah, well, some of us don’t have super powers,” Hopper grouches back.

Steve laughs, sitting on the other couch, Eddie gets a book off the table opposite El and brings it to Steve, “Eddidie col-or-ing,” he says carefully.

Steve flips through the book, “this is pretty good buddy,” most of it’s pretty spot on too, he even stays in the lines at least half the time. There’s a dog though, that’s inexplicably purple, and Steve is suddenly faced with the reality that Eddie’s never seen a dog before. It’s a bit criminal if they’ve left dogs out of the encyclopedia, Steve thinks vaguely.

“We’ve been practicing,” El brings her own book over, showing Steve the picture of a Christmas tree and gifts, complete with fireplace and stockings.

“Good stuff,” Steve smiles at them both, “good job.”

Eddie preens, “El Eddidie Hopper had lunch,” he volunteers, speaking in that careful way he does when he’s navigating new words.

“What did you have?”

“Eddidie celery, grape, pear. El eggos. Hopper cig-a-rette.”

Steve bursts out laughing, and Eddie grins so big in response, obviously pleased with himself.

Eddie has on a cheap plastic watch, it’s pink and has some sort of princess or something on it, a little kids watch. He shows it to Steve very proudly almost the moment Steve is through the door.

“We’ve been learning to tell the time,” El informs Steve, very formally. Steve is fucking elated. He knows it’s stupid, but since that one bad dream, the thought of trying to teach Eddie to tell the time makes him feel all fucking itchy.

“Hows it going?” Steve sits in his usual spot on the couch; Hops not here, but Steve figured as much, since his car isn’t here right now.

“Eddie, what time is it?” El asks.

Eddie makes a performance of pulling his sleeve out of the way, the tip of his tongue poking out and frowning as he inspects his watch carefully, “two and half soon.”

“Eddie...Eddie that’s amazing. So so good! Well done Buddy!”

Eddie absolutely beams at him, “Stee time to-morrow?”

“You learned tomorrow?”

Eddie nods, “sleep dark, tomorrow,” he makes a movement with his hand, like passing over a bump into tomorrow.

“You got it buddy, and...about four ish tomorrow?”

“Ish? Called ish?”

“Oh it’s...near to four. So,” Steve tilts his hand back and forth, “maybe three and a half, maybe four, maybe four and a half. Around then.”

“Around then,” Eddie repeats, nodding. Being around other people, especially El, is clearly doing Eddie some real good; something inside Steve unclenches as some of the worry leaves him.

It’s cold in the woods around Hopper’s cabin; Steve figures El wasn’t too far off with her Christmas coloring. Eddie wanted to come out here though, and Steve only has an hour before work, so he agreed easily.

It’s not exactly wild, the path Eddie takes him down, it is through the trees, but it’s clear. Like it’s been walked often. After a couple of minutes, Steve sees why; there’s a bench sat next to a tiny little trickle of a stream. It really is a tiny amount of water, no more than if three or four faucets were left running, but it still makes a nice burbling tinkle noise as they sit on the bench together.

Eddie leans over, producing something from half under the bench; it was easy to miss, since it’s all pretty much the same color as the ground. It’s long, thick woven grasses and thin twiggy bits. Winter type flowers and a couple of holly leaves, all woven carefully together. Eddie lays it carefully across Steve’s thigh, both ends hanging down.

“Did you make this?”

Eddie nods.

“Wow Buddy, that’s really cool. Well done.”

Eddie frowns at him, pointing, “Stee.”

“Oh. Oh it’s for me? Like a gift?”

“Gift. Yes. El- Ell tell Eddidie…”

“What Buddy? What did El tell you?”

Eddie seems to struggle for a moment, “gift thank you.”

“Oh. Oh, thank you for what?”

“Safe. Eddidie Safe. Food. Stee. Hawkins Indiana. Pool. Couch. TV. Tent. Book. Touch-”

“Right. Right I get it Buddy, thank you for everything.”

“Every-thing,” Eddie repeats carefully.

Eddie leans over, nudging Steve’s thigh, getting him to lift up, trying to tie the ends together over Steve's jeans, “ohhh...wait no,” Steve stops Eddie, “I guess I’m supposed to wear it, but it’s going to get ruined the second I walk, hang on,” Steve carefully ties the ends together into a hoop, then lifts the whole thing gently, settling the whole thing on his head. It’s very light really, his hair should hold it in place, mostly, “how do I look?”

Eddie looks absolutely delighted, “perfect.”

“You’re being pretty liberal with that word, you know.”

Part Twelve

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

interaction with mama or papa leech (or both) please!

yuu was walking down the hallway along with jade and floyd, exchanging stories of recent happenings before it was interrupted by the sound of someone calling out to them.

"jade! floyd!"

by the looks of the twins' excited expressions and the occasion of family day, they connected the dots that it must be their parents and swiftly hid behind one of the brothers before the person came into view, trying to remove their own presence. although jade had clarified that they had a normal family business, they can't help but get nervous and perhaps a bit frightened, especially with how the leech's definition of "normal" is quite... questionable. maybe if they're lucky, they can make a run for it before they start to take notice...

(i hope i did this right!)

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

“Mother and father.”

“Mom!! Pops!!”

You hesitantly peered out from behind the twins. Two lanky figures towered over you, as imposing as skyscrapers.

Mr. Leech was stone-faced, skin slightly grooved like a rock carved by the crashing waves, teal hair streaked with black slicked back with gel. His eyes were like beacons of light searching in the night--sharp, discerning. He wore a smart pinstriped suit, polished shoes, and gloves, reminding you of an older Jade.

Mrs. Leech's lithe form was wrapped in an off-the-shoulder sun dress, the slit of it riding halfway up her thigh, skirt spilling into a waterfall of gathered tulle. A string of creamy pearls--simple, understated--drapes across her collar. Her wide brim hat shaded her face, but you could still admire how she had expertly painted her lips and eyes, how her hair fell in a loose wave over one shoulder. She was like Floyd, mixing an impeccable fashion sense with a slight hint of danger.

When Mrs. Leech spotted her sons, she charged at them at a speed that was shocking for a woman in high heels. She threw her arms around Jade and Floyd, pulling them in for a tight hug.

"My babies!! I've missed you so much, darlings," she gushed. "How are classes? How are clubs? You must tell me everything...!"

“It’s wonderful to see you as well. We have much to catch up on.”

“Ehehehe~ Mom? you’re squeezin’ me so hard! Watch out, cuz I’ll get’cha back!!”

Mr. Leech cleared his throat. "Pardon the interruption, but..." His eyes cut to you—no longer concealed by the twins—and you froze, pinned in place by his stern gaze. “It seems we have a stranger in our midst. Jade and Floyd's... friendly acquaintance, I presume."

Mrs. Leech released her children. “Just a moment, dear!!”

The giantess appeared before you, her shadow larger than life. You managed a single shaky step backwards before her claw-like nails dug into you.

“Ah, mom went right to work,” Floyd said in a singsong.

“Do stay still,” Jade advised you. “It will make the process go by much more quickly.”

J-Just what is going to happen to me?!

Mrs. Leech’s hands ran the length of your body and its crevices. She never lingered in one spot. Pat, pat, pat, then onto the next area.

A full body pat-down?!

“All clear,” Mrs. Leech called to her husband.

“Excellent. That is a relief." Mr. Leech adjusted his tie and offered a wane smile. "Excuse us. We're in the habit of running through a series of safety protocols before receiving guests. Unfortunately, it's terribly inefficient to carry out in a public setting." He paused. "... How do you feel about signing nondisclosure agreements?"

"N-Nondisclosure agreements?!"

"Honey, you're going to terrify the poor thing," Mrs. Leech tutted--but she was giggling faintly as though she had just heard a witty joke. "Don't worry. My husband can be a very gentle man."

D-Don't that imply he also has the capacity to be very ungentle?!

"E-Erm..." You worriedly glanced at the twins, who were smirking (but, you had noticed, not actually intervening).

"What does your family do, anyway?" you once asked Jade.

He had taped a finger to his lips and mysteriously answered, "They simply run an independent business that dabbles in a bit of everything. Nothing out of the ordinary, I assure you."

"Some help here, guys?" you whimpered.

"Sorry, not much we can do," Floyd responded with a (very unhelpful) shrug. "Dad's got his stuffy processes. No one can get in the way of those."

"I-I'm not going to be roped into making as blood pact, am I?!"

"Blood pact? My, what an active imagination you have." Jade chuckled. "I believe I have informed you before that our family business is nothing out of the ordinary."

"Frankly, I'm not sure I believe you anymore!"

"Oh my~ Did you hear that, dear?" Mrs. Leech grabbed her husband by the arm. "It sounds as though Jade and Floyd's friend doesn't trust us."

"Indeed." He was smiling, but it did not fully reach his eyes. "It would be a shame if we allowed them to walk away with the wrong impression of our happy little family."

"Fufufu... We'll have to correct that, won't we?"

[yooglefics]

The casual type: 01 . The blind date

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader  Wordcount: 2,888 words Genre ( for the whole series ): AU. College!verse. Strangers to friends with benefits to ?????. Eventual smut. Hurt / comfort at times. And fuff for cute friends. Summary: Hobi and his girlfriend set you up with a friend of hers to help with whatever happened months back. However no one really expected things to end the way they did.

Warnings ( for this chapter ): Setting things up for plot purposes. Gridding? Mentions of a boner. Making out.  Author's note: So, I wanted to write some friends with benefits thing, plus a bunch of art kids… and this came out ┐( • ֊ • )┌ . I should note here I took the creative liberty to play around with their ages so everyone is in college at the same time, and if you haven't, you can check the presentation post and learn a little bit more about them. Now let's start, hope you like it! If you do you can reblog, like, comment, send an ask, follow and what not. Thank you for reading <3

The place is quieter than the last time you were here, you realize, is earlier in the day and the semester just started after all, meaning students are still moving in from their home cities. And although you want to be mad at him, you can't really blame Hoseok's choice of place for a date, instead, you're already thinking of ways to be able to escape the awkwardness of it all.

Of course, he and Mai don't have to worry about that. Is not their first date and considering they're both dance students it actually makes sense for them to be in a club on a friday night. Is their element, unlike yours, who hasn't left their room for the last couple of weeks if it's not to go art-supply shopping and will spend even weekends far away from a place like this.

But you couldn't say no. Not to Hobi. Not after he held you tight that night and didn't pray for an explanation.

He had come up with his own conclusions, though, and that's how you ended here. On a double date with Mai and her friend who you don't even know, so... Yay! Blind date added to the mix of reasons why you already want the night to end.

"You made it!" Mai greats when the both of you get closer to the bar, standing up to hug you first and then her boyfriend. "We ordered something while waiting."

Your friend nods at the explanation, "What do you want?" He asks in your direction and you settle for a fruity cocktail to not look too out of place with everyone else drinking. Mai insists on going with Hobi and he insists you stay, so, a bit awkwardly, you take the stool besides your date.

"Yoongi, by the way." The guy simply introduces himself before taking a sip of his drink.

"Y/n" short, overthinking if bowing is too formal until you decide is too long of a pause and it would only make it more awkward. In the end, a soft smile is your decision.

"They look cute together," you say looking at your friends, trying to break the silence that has fallen between.

"Listen," Yoongi begins, and your head turns to him, "I'm only here because she asked, so if you're expecting something like that, let's just leave."

"Like that?" Brows slightly closer, "a cute relationship?"

"A relationship in general. I don't do those."

"Oh..."

And before you can say anything else, Hobi is placing a glass in front of you, smiling reassuringly. "You'd be okay if I go dance now?"

A pause and then a nod is the answer. Not having any intentions of spoiling their night.

"Don't worry. Yoongi," Mai turns to him, a serious expression on her soft features, "you better take care of her, alright?"

He salutes, earning a smile from the couple and they walk to the dance floor hand in hand. You watch them make some silly moves at first and giggle, but it doesn't take long before they start to follow the beat and match it with their movements.

"I don't want a relationship either," you clarify, tone assertive, still looking at the couple with a smile.

He laughs, "I'm sorry, but that's hard to believe."

"Why?"

"Look at me and tell me you didn't just imagine yourself with someone on that dance floor."

You turn to him, brown eyes inspecting yours, "Well, yes. But that doesn't mean I want it to happen with someone I'm in a relationship with."

Again, he laughs. Clearly not believing you.

"What? People do casual things all the time," you defend, straightening your back and looking away.

"You do 'casual things'?" His eyebrows raise, "all the time?"

"Shut up, you don't know me."

"That's a no," no need to look at him to know there's a smirk playing on his lips.

"Who are you? Some kind of hook up police or something?" You want to take it back as soon as it leaves your mouth, cringing.

"Are you gonna show me your license?" but he is faster.

"Okay, that was more lame than what I said," you laugh. Maybe he is not as grumpy as he seems. And maybe, just maybe, you would be able to enjoy the night after all. 

If he doesn't want a relationship either, then you don't have to deal with rejecting him or being forced to accept a second date just because you're too kind to say no. That's good.

"Yoongi, hey!" A guy calls out and for a split second your date's expression changes to a surprise one before a polite smile takes place on his face. "Oh, hi. Sorry for interrupting, haven't seen him in months."

"Is alright," you play along even when not understanding.

"I guess he has been busy with yo—"

"Jay," Yoongi's tone is serious, like the one he used to say he doesn't do relationships. However, before he can continue or you are able to clarify that you two just meet, Jay is calling someone over.

"Look who I found, love. Yoongi!"

A redhead girl repeats Yoongi's early expression and you wonder two things about Jay. One: if he always has that effect on people. And two: if he is even more clueless than you in this whole situation, since his smile never falls.

"Hi," the redhead says and Yoongi greets back just as plain.

Are you really imagining the awkwardness? Perhaps you were wrong and in the end you should put one of your plans to avoid it into place?

A few seconds of thinking go by, no one says anything and you could swear the tension is filling the air around your new  group.

"Oh, that's the song!" Fake excitement in your voice tricks everyone into looking at you. "I promise, remember? If it comes on, we'll dance."

Yoongi looks confused for a second, but it doesn't take him long to finally understand, "right, the song. Sorry guys, been waiting all night."

Jay dismisses him smiling with a pat on the back, saying something about not breaking promises and Yoongi takes your hand.

Looking around, you try to find your friends, hoping to copy Mai's moves and keep up with the plan even when you're a self proclaimed not dancer. But they aren't in sight and even if you can't really prove it since your back is facing them, you feel like Jay's and the girl's eyes are on you.

Ugh. Why did you use this plan?

Why was this something you even thought about?

When Yoongi stops and positions himself in front of you, you get closer, sliding an arm on top of his shoulders pretending you're positioning yourself to dance, copying the random couple beside you.

"I don't know what I'm doing," you confess in a whisper.

"What do you mean?” He looks for your eyes, hair strain coming out of place when his head lowers a little, "you want to go back and sit down?"

"No, then they would know I lied," you're still trying to figure out why in the first place and don't need the embarrassment too, "but I don't know how to dance."

He chuckles, "here, I'll help." And holds your hips softly, moving them to the beat of the song, matching your movements with his own. "Relax. Don't think too much about it."

"If I don't, how do I know how to move?" It doesn't make sense and is a bit frustrating, honestly.

"Is not a dance competition, or the grant ball, princess. Just do what feels right."

He catches you looking at your feet and brings you closer, eliminating the gap between your bodies completely. "Don't do that," one of his hands travels to the small of your back, keeping you in place.

"Sorry," you say against his neck. Not intentionally, but because of your height difference, there's no other option. In an effort to not be so dependent on him, both your arms move around his neck and you try to move your hips in a way that in the end doesn't match his movements completely, causing you to bum into his front. He makes a sound that you assume is a complaint at your skills and another apology rolls through your lips.

"Turn around," Yoongi commands, applying pressure to one side of your hip.

You comply, confused even when you feel his hands on your waist. "Well, I'm going to assume you been fucked before, miss casual all the time," with his chest against your back, you can feel his laugh. "Open your legs a little," one of his feets kicks gently between yours, fixing your stand. "You want to lead or should I?"

"...You." Is the safest, you decide. Your turn to assume he surpasses your experience at that too.

“Some describe dancing like a good fuck," he explains, hands softly making their way a bit lower to your hips, "because you have to learn your partner. Find a rhythm together." His movements start slow, moving your body with his from side to side, with small circles of the hips.

Your hands fall on top of his, not knowing what else to do with them. They're soft, which for some reason is unexpected.

"I have dancer friends and they never described it like that..."

"Not to you, probably," he laughs and when you stop the movements to throw an angry look his way — because you're pretty sure that's some kind of insult,— he chuckles, before continuing the swaying of your hips. "Calm down, princess. I meant, they probably just weren't teaching you this kind of dance."

And that makes sense. You can't imagine dancing with your friends like this. You can barely believe you're doing it with a stranger.

Your shyness must have shown, because his next question is why did you even choose this song.

"I was trying to help and get you away from whatever that was," you lift your head, eyes away from your feet and the color lights projecting on the floor, and sure enough, behind red bangs, the girl is looking in your direction.

Your hips halt.

Yoongi catches up a bit too late, bumping his pelvis into you.

"What ar—"

"She is looking." Cutting him off, you want to hide as if you were the one caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. So, you try to turn around on his arms but his hold is firm.

A new song starts, the rhythm not much different.

"Help me with another song?"

You try again, this time using your hands on top of his to soften the grip. He gives in. And after a look at his face, you nod.

You can decide if it's sadness or anger that you see, not knowing him well enough to tell — or at all, to be honest — but either way, there's a part of you that can relate. One for each emotion.

Throwing your hair back, letting all black strands fall over your back, your arms go back over his shoulders, this time your chest flush against him a little more than last.

Yoongi says thanks and you kiss his cheek as his hands hold you again. His movements are more determined and even his fingers form dents over the fabric of your dress.

Assuming his demeanor changed only for the specific viewer doesn't sound too crazy, and you want to confirm the theory by looking at his face, see if he is looking behind you at her. Your eyes travel against the direction the few sweat drops over his skin go, and when they reach Yoongi's, he is looking back at you.

Your body stops.

"Fuck" he whispers when the front of his pelvis bumps yours. "You really need to stop doing that."

"Sorry. Told you I can't dance."

He chuckles.

Your bottom lip forms a small pout. "Don't be mean. I'm trying to help you, remember?" And you initiate the movements again, starting to get the hang of it. Kind of.

"You're not much help right now if you keep making me dry hump into you," this time he is the one stopping, making it so you bump into his front and you can feel the outline of his growing erection.

"Yoo—"

"Exactly," he says so matter of fact, "you're the mean one."

Lowering your head, you try to not think too much about it. It doesn't make you want to run away or kick him, but you also don't want to make him feel like kicking you away. You keep repeating to yourself that is normal with this type of dance, that there's probably more than one hard on at the club right now and how you're probably not the only one who is getting we—

Damn it. Just stop thinking about it.

Yoongi stops your body from moving, and when you realize he has been calling your name, you're even more embarrassed by your thoughts.

"I'm sorry. That was too much, I shouldn't have. We can go sit now." His eyes are looking straight at you, letting you know he's being sincere.

"I need some air."

Without even bothering to wait for a confirmation that he is following or not, you make your way to the side door of the club. The autumn breeze hits your skin as soon as you step into the alley, instantly calming your hormones down.

Hands cover your face in shame after reclining on the wall. Can you stop acting like it was the first time you felt a penies? Because even if it hasn't happened in a while, it doesn't mean the score goes back to zero.

"Should I bring Hoseok?" Yoongi asks a few steps in front of you and you jump a little, shaking your head after.

"I'm good. You can go back in."

"I'm not leaving you alone here. Do you want him or Mai to kill me?"

A small chuckle leaves your throat and one from him follows it.

"And you think he wouldn't kill you for—" stop. You can't think about it.

"For dancing like that with you? Probably. But he also set this date up, so..." Out of the corner of your eye you can see him shrug, "can't complain unless you hate me now."

"I don't hate you."

"Is okay if you do."

"It… it just surprised me."

"In a bad or good way?"

"A good one." You answer directly in a strain of honesty.

"So you're not really the casual type, uh?" He teases after a couple seconds of silence.

"Maybe I just don't like doing casual in the middle of the club," you defend.

"I don't know, you were the one that kept humping into me."

Your mouth opens and closes, finally looking at him and his stupid lips pull up in a smirk. You want to erase it so bad.

"Shut up."

"Make me."

And you do.

Skipping forward, right hand flying to the back of his neck to pull him in and you're able to touch his lips with yours.

He is quick to react. Kissing you back, his hands on either side of your waist pulling your body into his. But you're trying to prove a point, to defend yourself. So, you pull away slightly, making sure your lips are just about to touch.

He pulls in.

Allowing just a peck, you move.

You kind of regret not using your cherry lip gloss, because you know for sure that knowing you're so close for him to smell it but not taste it, would be the biggest tease.

You let him lean in again, not moving this time and he sighs. You smile against his lips just before his tongue asks for permission to enter your mouth. Again, you regret your simple choice of a simple red lip tint, but remind yourself that this date wasn't supposed to go like this. That Yoongi doesn't seem like the guy he was supposed to be, not what he was advertised by your friends.

Fighting back control, your left arm joins the other around his neck, moving your lips expertly and feeling his chest rise and fall quickly against yours. Is pretty much the position you were in on the dance floor minus the grinding.

Casual in the middle of the club is not your thing. Casual in general is actually not something you have experience with. But kissing? You've mastered it thanks to your past relationships and the avoidance of jumping into someone's bed right from the start.

A moan vibrates through your lips against Yoongi's, and even if it's part of the routine, you must admit is pretty real. A soft groan is his answer and the cue for your heels to touch the floor again. His hold tightens in reaction, making your dress rise up and covering a couple inches less of your thighs. Suddenly you're aware of the wind again as a breeze runs up your legs, towards the center of your panties.

Your breath caughts on your throat and Yoongi swallows any sounds before pulling away.

"Fuck," he breaths heavily, "we've to stop."

"Why? Are you not really the casual type?" You tease, stealing his line.

The left corner of his mouth lifts, before falling again in a millisecond. "Not with you."

Should I’ve added “cliffhanger” to the warnings? haha i swear is gonna be okayyyy ♡ Tag list: @n33mesis , @mggv97 , @wobblewobble822 , @bbou-doir , @m00njinnie , @nariee02 , @sexytholland . hope you guys like this one <3

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[1d1195]

Ding - Round 3

Read Ding here | ~6.5k words

Warnings: scummy man appearance, angst involving the frustration/grief/sadness of the last part regarding her shitty experience with said scummy man, fluff

Summary: Harry wants to know what happened to Cupcake. She really isn't sure she wants to tell him. Until she has to.

From me: NEW DIVIDER BY @babegoals THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR CREATIVITY AND SUPPORT AND JUST EXISTING 💕

Harry was mad.

Fuming. He had thought about nothing else but seeing her for the last two months and now that he had seen her, he was pissed to see her at his self-defense class. He asked her the same question about ten times throughout the instruction. He was furious and irritated that everyone else needed his help (even though it was literally what he was being paid for) when all he wanted was to talk to her.

He was all for helping women feel empowered. But he was mad she needed it. He knew she was feisty. The fact that she was there said a lot in its own right. The way she bantered with him until three in the morning texting him the other night made him smile more than he could describe. It was flirty and sweet. But always had him guessing if she would suddenly stop messaging for one reason or another.

Someone like her needed someone—maybe even someone like Harry—to make sure nothing bad ever happened to her. And he knew. He knew why women went to self-defense classes. He had been teaching these classes since before he owned his own gym.

He knew.

"Why are y’here, Cupcake?" He asked gruffly. The other women nearby were all but forgotten. One was mid-sentence, asking to clarify something Louis had said. Harry was practically rude to just ignore her question in favor of his own.

“Umm... for self-defense,” she muttered trying to focus on Louis’ answer.

Harry didn’t want her banter right now. (As cute as it was to him, despite his irritation.) “Right. But usually everyone has a story that... convinces themselves t’sign up. So what’s your story?” He repeated.

He watched the way her cheeks warmed at his assessment, and she folded her arms protectively in front of her. Guarding herself. “That’s kind of personal, Harry.”

Once Harry’s anger took hold, it was hard to backtrack. “Listen,” he shook his head. The annoyance that clouded his eyes and covered his face was so obvious, she felt the slightest bit bad about interrupting his lesson with her own issues. “M’not good at this kind of thing, Cupcake. Being subtle. I punch people for a minimal living and work the rest of m’time here, teaching people how t’punch.”

Part of her wanted to break down and tell him. Because as much as she was willing to do this on her own, she was so scared. That nervousness made her feel even weaker, and she wanted to tell Harry, she realized. She wanted someone to know and to help her because this wasn’t something she wanted to deal with on her own—it was too much.

But she couldn’t do it right in the middle of a self-defense lesson, surrounded by strangers. “I’m here to learn how to punch,” her voice was even and final.

His nostrils flared and he stalked back to the front of the room, a trail of anger coming off him as he did. He wasn’t going to get anywhere with her.

The remainder of the lesson went by without incident on Harry’s part. He watched her the entire time. The way she flinched when they practiced moves made him nauseous. But he couldn’t help but notice how good her stances were. Almost natural. “Hey, love,” Louis smiled at her kindly as he geared up to practice more tactile moves. “You liked his match so much you wanted to try on your own?” He asked.

She smiled, but it didn’t fully reach her eyes. “Something like that.”

“It’s good skills to have,” he assured her gently, because even though Harry’s infatuation annoyed him at the time, he knew Harry liked her. A lot. Knew just as well as Harry did why women signed up for a self-defense class. “You have a very natural stance,” he noted. “We should get you in the ring,” he winked at her.

She laughed lightly. “I don’t even know how to make a fist,” she snorted.

Louis chuckled giving her a gentle shoulder squeeze and moved onto the next person.

Harry moved in front of her next and he looked at her footing. Aligned near perfectly and practiced as if she had been doing it her whole life. He was still steaming with anger. It rolled off him and demanded to be felt—and she felt every bit of it. “S’like you’ve done this before,” he muttered.

“I haven’t,” she answered. “I’m just good at following directions. Like a recipe, you know?”

He was staring at her feet and trailed up to her hand where he carefully took hold of her delicate fingers. Instantly, it felt like her whole arm was made of jelly. Her heart took off about the speed of an airplane and she was lucky she could hear anything over the sound of it. Harry touching her skin made her feel faint. Carefully, he bent her fingers and tucked her thumb below the flat of her knuckles. It felt so intimate it seemed wrong to be doing this in a class put on for the public. Holding her wrist, he brought her fist to his cheek and tapped it against his skin a few times. “Like that,” he murmured.

She wanted to be cute and smile. Say something like, I’ll keep that in mind for strangers in dark parking lots when I ding their car. But instead, she was overcome with gratitude for the knowledge and a bit of awe. She was speechless without meaning to be. He released her wrist, and she wanted nothing more than to grab his hand again and never let go. “Thank you,” she whispered. He nodded sullenly.

Harry felt defeated—something he didn’t enjoy at all. Rarely did he feel it, but he wished he felt defeated after a match more so than he did right then. All he could do was walk away from her and finish the lesson without chatting with her again.

*

In hindsight, confronting her in the middle of a self-defense lesson wasn’t his wisest choice. The following morning, he had a renewed spirit and was once more determined to chat with her and figure out what made her join a self-defense class.

What he hadn’t anticipated was how stubborn she could be. He should have known but he was willing to dig his heels in as long as she was. Harry went to the bakery morning, noon, and night—literally—trying to figure out her schedule. “Again?” The girl behind the counter asked suspiciously when they returned at four in the afternoon on the third day of waiting. She had been there all day and hadn’t said anything up until their third arrival.

Niall shook his head and sighed. “Sorry, darling. He’s being super creepy, yeah?” Niall elbowed him with irritation. They sat at a table as they had the last few days. They didn’t stay long, only fifteen minutes to half an hour. (And they only stayed half an hour once because Niall had to get one of the cronuts that he had been pining for since he saw them.)

Harry was looking at their text message thread. The last message was from him. Are you working now? C’mon, Cupcake, you’re killing me here :(

It went unanswered since yesterday afternoon.

“He’s trying to talk to Miss Cupcake,” Niall rolled his eyes. He missed the back and forth between the girl behind the counter. “But I think he’s being a bit ridiculous.”

“Oh, were you her bad date?” She frowned.

Harry was still looking at his phone, checking his schedules, and making sure he didn’t miss anything in his email or messages from his mum or sister. But the moment the girl behind the counter spoke, his head snapped up to meet her gaze.

“What bad date?” He asked, his voice low, menacing.

The girl behind the counter blanched. Feeling bad she revealed something she obviously wasn’t supposed to and quite honestly, if he was her bad date, that was a horrible thing to announce. It was a reflex. “I don’t know, actually,” she tried to backtrack. “I don’t know why I said that out loud.”

“We won’t tell, darling,” Niall assured her. “Do you know when Miss Cupcake works, it would save Harry—and you—a lot of trouble.”

“OH!” She shook her head and went around to the front of the counter. Her eyes widened. “You’re Harry. Context clues, I didn’t recognize you without gloves,” she smiled excitedly. “Thank goodness, I almost closed this place down.”

Harry turned to the girl again feeling a warmth pass over him at the idea that she talked about him to her friend. “Oh brother, so she does like Harry?” Niall grumbled.

“I’m Maeve,” she announced.

“Maeve,” Harry stood up and held his hand out to her. “Nice to meet you.”

“You have a very cute niece.”

Now Harry really couldn’t help but smile because that little girl was practically his own pride and joy. And she was very cute. Plus, it meant she really was talking about Harry to her friend and that had to mean something. “Thank you, she’s perfect,” he agreed. But then he refocused on why he was haunting the bakery. “Does she not work during the day?”

“She pops in,” Maeve shrugged and fiddled with the cupcake display. He noted there was a raspberry filled one on the top tier. He recognized that cake and frosting pair anywhere. “But she’s been mostly coming in after close,” she admitted. “She’s been a little...stingy with details about everything. She gets like this sometimes. Compartmentalizes things so she can deal with it when she needs to,” Maeve bit her lip. “She’s visiting her dad right now.”

Harry realized there was very little he really knew about her. Most of their chatting had surrounded the bakery, boxing, and Harry’s niece. There was a little bit of information about their education and some books and hobbies they liked. But there wasn’t a huge depth of knowledge of her family.

“Oh,” Harry felt defeated again. “Uh... I guess we’ll go then,” he mumbled. “Try later.”

Maeve sighed. “She really likes you, Harry. Really,” she promised with a sad smile. “She’s just...a little stubborn and careful with her heart.”

Harry nodded. “Got it,” he could handle that.

*

She parked as close as she could to the bakery in the parking lot. Thinking about all the steps and stances that Louis and Harry had told her during her class. She took a deep breath and opened her car door. As she went to the back of her car to grab supplies from her trunk, she noticed a plethora of other cars parked in the lot—most people were probably at the restaurant near the waterfront. But there was no way she could miss the car she had accidentally dinged with her door just a few spaces down and across the row from her.

Once more, her gaze met the intense green gaze in the driver’s seat. She sighed knowing there was no escaping this talk anymore. Harry put a bookmark in the novel he was reading while waiting and set it on the passenger seat beside him. He locked his car and hurried to her side, taking the heavy bags of flour and sugar she bought to tide her over until the delivery came to the bakery in the morning. He didn’t speak to her as they walked to the storefront. She was overwhelmingly aware, once more, how safe she felt with Harry beside her in the nearly deserted parking lot. She unlocked the front and held the door open for Harry to enter. “Were you waiting long?” She asked.

He shrugged, putting the supplies on his now regular table while she fiddled with the display case and cupcake display once more. The raspberry one was missing from the top and she went behind the counter to get another. Harry closed the door and locked it, so she was safe inside. It was dark, the only light was a low soft glow coming from the case of treats. It had the glow of a candle, and he wondered if there was a way to keep it that way during the day because it was so warm it made him want one of everything that was in the display. “Yes,” he nodded. “S’okay.”

That felt worse. If he was willing to admit it, it meant he was there a while.

“I’m sorry,” her cheeks felt warm. “I should have just told you when I was working,” she was willing to admit when she was wrong. Harry watched in fascination as she placed the raspberry filled cupcake on top. He wondered if it had always been the one she put on top. He would have imagined the chocolate ganache one was a fan favorite, or the vanilla sprinkles one with the little toothpick and label of A Pinch of Sprinkles on it.

He shrugged again, nearly indifferent. “S’okay,” he repeated. “Read most of my book.”

“Is it a good read?” She asked and grabbed the bag of flour Harry had settled on the table and started for the back. He grabbed the bag of sugar and followed behind her.

He nodded. “Yeah...it’s,” he sighed. “S’a little darker than I expected,” he shrugged. “Was hoping for something lighter.”

“I only read rom-coms in book form,” she smiled. “It’s very light reading, but probably not what you want.”

“Rom-coms?” He repeated. She nodded. “Y’don’t strike me as a rom-com kind of girl.”

“No?”

“Y’seem more like a film noir or suspense.”

“I’ve had enough suspense for a while,” she muttered and turned to her ovens to preheat. Harry placed the sugar beside the flour bag and sat in the same chair he sat in when he fell asleep a couple months prior. He watched her in the same way he had before as she flittered around the kitchen, humming to herself as she worked. “How’s the baby?” She asked.

They were ignoring the elephant in the room, it seemed. But it was the first time he’d seen her since the self-defense lesson. In between his visits to the bakery (his stalking grounds, as Niall was calling it) he had been splitting his time between training, teaching, and ensuring Driven, his gym, was working as expected. He had to call an electrician because the lights in the men’s bathroom kept going out despite the fact, he had already replaced the circuit and lightbulbs a handful of times. But he had gone to see Gemma and his niece two days prior to get his fix of the sweet little girl who made him feel so much better about all the frustration he felt about his favorite Cupcake.

He couldn’t help but smile. “Perfect.”

She grinned back and nodded. “Good, and your sister?”

“Good, thanks for asking,” he thought that was polite of her—he always noticed when people asked about his sister. It wasn’t often. Once the baby was there, it was like they forgot about the mum.

“Does your mom live nearby?” She asked.

“Yeah, especially with the baby. Mum sold her house the moment she found out Gem was pregnant.”

She laughed. “That’s sweet. You’re all close?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Mum’s m’hero,” his voice was filled with admiration so thick it made her feel wobbly on her feet. She wished she had that kind of admiration for her mother. “How ‘bout you? Maeve said y’were visiting your dad? He lives nearby?”

She nodded, guarded. “I feel the way about my dad, the way you feel about your mom,” she explained. There was a pause in conversation that seemed to stretch farther than it needed to. Maybe he was trying to get her to break first. Perhaps she did. “You talked to Maeve?”

He looked at her, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. “Didn’t leave me many options, Cupcake,” he reminded her.

She swallowed thickly, nodded. “That’s fair,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Can you please tell me?”

She shook her head. Harry felt so agitated, so defeated. “Not yet,” the bit of hope creeped back in. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she admitted, her voice cracking slightly. She swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat and turned away from him. “Sorry,” she sniffled. His heart broke. Quickly, he realized it wasn’t her wanting to hide it from him. It was painful to watch that frustration fall on her face.

“Oh, kitten,” he frowned. He stood quickly and made it to her side. He put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly not wanting to touch more than she wanted or needed in that moment. His imagination could only guess what went wrong on her date and it was painful to think about for him. He wanted to comfort her, but it had to be at her pace.

At once she melted into his touch. She turned quickly, almost reflexively into his embrace. Her face pressed against his shoulder, her arms wrapped up around his back, and she inhaled shakily. It felt awful to see her sad, feel the anxiety coming off her in waves. But Harry was grateful to hold her so close to him. “M’here, Cupcake,” he promised. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, nodded against him.

Harry could live with ‘not yet.’ For now.

*

Over the next week, they went back to texting throughout the day and chatting well beyond bedtime on the nights she wasn’t at the bakery. Additionally, Harry walked beside her from her car to the bakery when she arrived and back through the dark parking lot. Not once did he ask her what went wrong with her date even though it was killing him. She wasn’t budging. She knew Harry was waiting for more details, but she couldn’t. It hurt and she didn’t want to think about it—even if she actually did want to tell him. It was overwhelmingly kind that Harry appeared beside her car—especially at night.

“I’m still really sorry about Clay,” she frowned. Harry didn’t park far away from her like he did the other night. But she was very mindful of her opening the door and not bumping into his car.

“S’okay,” he smiled and rubbed his fingers on the little indent. “Reminds me of you,” he winked at her.

Her heart fluttered and she looked away briefly before smiling back at him. “Like you need more reminders of me,” she murmured.

“Can never have enough, Cupcake,” he assured her. “Can I kiss y’goodnight?” He asked on the third night he walked her though the dark parking lot. Her heart literally skipped a beat. Speechless. He tapped his cheek. “Jus’ the cheek, kitten. Need a proper date before I really kiss you,” he acknowledged and smiled shyly at her. That boyish grin that made her weak in the knees. Breathlessly she nodded. His lips swept across her cheek. It was brief and soft. Like a piece of her hair had brushed over her face and tickled her skin. “Thank you,” he grinned. “Been dying t’do that,” he admitted and once more tucked her safely in her car.

Harry mentioned it only twice more. He never pressed or demanded she reveal the facts of her bad date. It was more of—what he hoped was—a gentle reminder. He was waiting for more information. All he wanted was to assuage her worries and fears. She attended the second class for her self-defense lessons (dropping off a box of blueberry scones at the front desk had everyone in the class asking if they could go after the lesson to pick out their own sweet treats). Harry continued to boil with anger just thinking about her using the moves he and Louis taught her. But it was obvious he was much less angry than the previous week. More so, his anger didn’t extend to her. He was mad, but he understood her choice to keep it to herself.

Louis was going over demonstrations using Harry as the attacker. Everyone watched with rapt attention. “Your goal is to get away,” it was repeated about a hundred times and Harry had the hardest time watching her every time it was repeated. Each time it was said, she flinched. He wasn’t sure she knew it or not—it was a reflex. But she did get away. It terrified her still.

Harry couldn’t help but notice she wasn’t pushing him away. Every night, she thanked him profusely for coming to the bakery and walking her to and from the car. She could see his anger growing beneath the surface. He wanted to know. She was trying so hard to brush it off. It wasn’t a big deal. Now she had two classes under her belt, and she promised herself she would never be in such a vulnerable position again.

“Can I watch you at work?” She asked randomly. It was a morning shift this time. She was covered in flour, and she had frosting streaked in her hair leftover from when she put it up after icing four dozen cupcakes. Harry didn’t think she could look cuter if she tried.

“Watch me?” He repeated.

“Not this again,” she smirked.

He chuckled. “Y’want to watch me train?” He repeated anyway.

She shrugged. “You always watch me bake and stuff.”

“You’ve attended the class, Cupcake. S’pretty much the same thing,” he reminded her.

He noted her cheeks turned pink. “Um...if you don’t want me to hang around then—”

Harry nearly gasped. “Oh, no. No way, kitten. I want y’around. I promise,” he assured her. “Jus’ don’t want you t’be bored.”

“I won’t be,” she shook her head.

That was how she ended up sitting beside the ring, Louis padded and guarded while Harry punched and punched and punched for over an hour. His breath was heaving, and his body was slick with sweat. She watched intently examining his form and his moves like she would one day repeat them.

When he came for water at the end of his training session, he was heavy breathing and smiling at her. He struggled to get the towel he had from his bag beside her with his gloves on. “Bored?” He asked.

“Not even a little,” she assured him, grabbing the little towel and swiping it across his forehead. It felt intimate and made Harry feel warm all throughout his body. “Can I try?” She asked with an impish smile.

He chuckled and nodded. “Come on,” he held the ropes open for her to enter the ring. She wasn’t wearing the right shoes or equipment. Louis rolled his eyes discreetly at Harry and held the pads out for her to hit. “Make the fist I showed you,” she did for both hands. “S’all the balance in your legs,” he promised. “No balance, no punch, no follow-through. Punch through the pad,” he explained and guided her hand to the pad slowly so she could see how it would look and feel to go through it.

“Pretend it’s Harry,” Louis suggested. “That’s what I do.”

She giggled. “I don’t think I could throw a punch if I thought it was Harry,” she admitted and gave her best attempt. It was honestly exhausting. She only threw a dozen or so punches and was breathless as she answered Louis.

“You’ll get there,” he assured her.

Harry scowled at him. “Take the pads off.”

“No, you lunatic.”

“Coward.”

She giggled, thanked Louis, and twisted herself out of the ring again. “That was fun,” she told him. “I can see why you like it. Plus, you’re really good at it.”

Harry was staring at her, the way that sent all the butterflies in the world directly to her stomach and began to flutter as if they were trying to escape. His gaze was firm but gentle, his eyes almost glowing somehow as he looked her over. “Please tell me, Cupcake. I want t’help,” his voice was quiet, begging ever so gently.

She looked at the floor, their shoes were nearly toe-to-toe. “I can’t,” she whispered back.

He nodded, defeat did not come easy to him, and she knew that. “I have t’shower, do some office stuff. Get ready for some lessons and classes,” he told her, his voice the slightest bit disappointed.

“Want me to watch you in the shower too?” She asked hoping to alleviate the mood. It worked, his smile returned to his pretty lips, and he chuckled.

“Hell yes, Cupcake,” he shook his head at her cuteness. “Maybe next time. Not here,” he winked.

Even though it was her that was forward it still made her blush. Plus, joke or not, she agreed here was not a good idea. “I have to do some errands anyway,” she admitted.

“I’ll walk you t’your car,” but she knew he would. It was like a safety blanket being wrapped around her.

She really liked it.

*

After her third self-defense lesson she was feeling more confident. She even showed Maeve some of her moves in the back kitchen. Shadowboxing the same way that she saw Harry do to Louis the night she met him. “I don’t know who thought it was a good idea to give the Queen of Sugar boxing lessons,” Maeve rolled her eyes.

Honestly, she was feeling better. More confident. Plus, she was enjoying her not-so-date-dates with Harry. There was one night when Harry wasn’t around, and she realized she missed him so much. Not only because the dark parking lot seemed more foreboding but because his presence made her happy. Happier than she had been in a really long time. It felt undeserving to be so happy but it wasn’t something she thought about when he was actually there. I missed you.

Oh? 😍

Sorry, I know that’s...

A lot...

I miss you all the time, Cupcake. Think about you all day.

The message made her warm and she wished she could explain how simple it seemed to just have Harry fit in her life. They were busy people, but he always managed to come by and see her. She enjoyed watching him train or sitting with Sarah at the front desk and chatting while he taught classes and lessons. Maeve teased her every time he arrived and she wasn’t there. Can’t you just give him your schedule? The poor guy is going to have to train twice as hard to get rid of the extra cupcake weight.

I like to keep him guessing a little 😉

Today, she was up front on her own—one of her employees called out sick and she didn’t mind in the slightest. Working up front was one of her favorite tasks. Interacting with customers and sharing her gift was something she enjoyed thoroughly. Her other coworker was out back, working on inventory and prepping the bagels for her monthly bagel sale.

Ding.

The bell attached to the front door signaled whenever customers arrived or departed. It was a busy morning. So busy that it took her a minute to realize Harry was sitting with Niall at one of the tables. Niall gave her a wave as she finally got caught in his gaze. She waved back, smiling brightly and paused the customers that were at the counter while she ran to the back and then to the table as quickly as she could. She pecked Harry on the cheek without thinking and deposited a raspberry filled cupcake and a personal sized loaf of Irish soda bread.

Harry felt as gooey as the filling on the inside of his cupcake. Her soft little kiss made him crazier for her. Watching her made him happy. Being around her made him happy. Happier than the little kid that was bullied could have dreamed.

Niall was making noises that would have embarrassed the porn industry while eating his bread. Harry snorted at him, tried to steal a piece, only for Niall to slap his hand away. “Eat your cupcake,” he nearly snarled.

“She could make more, m’sure.”

Niall shook his head stuffing his face of the treat made specially for him.

Harry liked watching her. He wondered if it was the same way she felt when she watched him. People obviously fell in love with her the moment they spoke to her. Unironically, she was so sweet. Of course she was. It was like she was a sprinkles-fairy. This ethereal being that passed out sweet treats to everyone.

Ding.

With her back turned to get another bag, she didn’t notice the influx of new customers. When she turned back, her heart leapt to her throat. She was lucky she didn’t drop the dozen cookies she was packaging.

“Shit,” she whispered mostly to herself. He hadn’t seen her yet. Fortunately, it was crowded enough to hide behind her wall of customers. All the progress she had made, the classes thus far, all seemed for naught at that moment. Her gaze darted to Harry and Niall. They were unaware of the turmoil she was facing while she packaged treats for the next customer. Her stomach churned uneasily.

If Harry just looked at her, she knew he would know. “Hey Lexi!” She called toward the back room. But Harry was chatting with Niall. Niall was focused on his soda bread. Neither of them noticed the anxiety that swept over her. Lexi doesn’t answer at first. Making her more anxious and scared. It shouldn’t be that way. He shouldn’t ruin the one place she loved most.

Niall now had crumbs on his cheeks, but his head tilted curiously in the direction of her main display. “Harry, something’s wrong,” Niall’s voice was quiet.

Harry’s gaze snapped up defensively. Sure enough, her whole demeanor had changed. Harry could see it. Her smile was tight, and her eyes darted toward the door and the customer in front of her more times in ten seconds than Harry could ever begin to count. Harry wanted to kick himself. How long had she looked like that?

After an eternity, Lexi finally appeared. She mumbled something to her employee and headed to the back kitchen. Not even a glance in Harry’s direction. Without fanfare, without permission, Harry marched his way into the back almost as soon as she left his view.

“Excuse me,” Lexi said. “Hey, that’s employee—”

“He’s fine, Lexi,” she answered quietly.

Harry found her in the kitchen, hand clutching the front collar of her shirt, her eyes lit with anxiety while she paced back and forth. “Is he here?” He asked lowly, while she moved quickly across the kitchen.

She tried to remember the last time she felt safe. It was her dad, right? Her dad before...before everything. Before she moved her shop here. Before she uprooted her life.

But there were those brief moments where she was overcome with how safe she felt in Harry’s presence. Walking to his fight for the first time. Each time he walked her to her car. How his hand felt when he pressed her fingers into a fist.

She nodded, her eyes watering.

He spun almost immediately to do who knows what. He didn’t know and she certainly didn’t know.

“No, don’t leave me!” She practically shouted before he could hardly take a step further. She started to follow him but he stopped at the sound of despair in her voice.

Harry groaned lowly; it came out nearly as a growl. He turned back to her immediately as if it pained him. “M’never leaving you,” his eyes were so dark and desperate—her whole body felt heavy at the seriousness of his words. Breathless again. “Please don’t ask me that,” his eyes darted back toward the front of the bakery.

“Harry, please,” she whispered.

His hands were already balled into fists. He shook his head. “Cupcake,” he grumbled. It was such an oxymoron in itself. Harry was calling her one of the sweetest things in the world and it sounded downright terrifying.

“Please, Harry,” she begged, grabbing one of his closed fists. “I need you,” she whispered.

Groaning again, he rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “Fine,” he snapped.

She felt bad making him stay. She knew she was forcing his hand, but she was scared. To soften the blow, she threw herself at him. Arms around his neck, face buried in his shirt. She sighed with relief with the feel of him: solid, warm, protective against her body. Harry was safe. He proved that already and she still hardly knew him. It wasn’t hard. It shouldn’t have been hard for her date to make her feel safe.

Harry was momentarily shocked before he returned the hug, one arm looped around her back, the other cupping the back of her head. It was like the antidote to an disease she didn’t know she had. Another loud sigh escaped her. Like the feeling of Harry was cause for another wave of relief.

“What did he do?” He mumbled into her hair. She ignored him and scrunched her eyes shut. “Please, Cupcake,” he begged. She realized she wanted to tell Harry.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she whispered. “I don’t even know why I went out with him...I had met you and—”

“Doesn’t matter, kitten,” he shook his head. “He doesn’t get t’make y’feel unsafe,” he reminded her.

“It was such bad judgment.”

He shook his head again. “No, Cupcake. He doesn’t get t’make y’feel that way. S’not you. S’not asking a lot t’feel safe on a date. S’not even the bare minimum. Y’don’t have poor judgment. Your judgment got y’out of there that night. S’why y’signed up for classes and—”

It poured out of her at that moment. She told him everything. In the middle of the story, she tried to downplay it sensing the way his body tightened around her with every word. Explained why she signed up for the self-defense class. Every detail and emotion she felt for the last few weeks. How scared she was that very night. Why she requested Harry and chatted with him until three in the morning. How he made her feel better when she didn’t think she could. How safe she felt around him in general.

At the end, Harry pulled away from her.

Her heart felt heavy. Now he wouldn’t like her. She was broken and hurt. Harry didn’t want to be a bodyguard, nor should he have to be. “I need t’go to the gym,” he started toward the front, and she thought that was it. It was the last she would see of him. He was too overwhelmed with how stupid she was. This wasn’t what he wanted. Someone who couldn’t defend herself or be smart enough to see the signs earlier.

“Harry, I’m sorry—” She managed to croak with tears thick in her voice and vision. Right as he reached the threshold back to the front of the bakery. He was shaking. Every inch of him. She wondered how he wasn’t a blur from how much he shook. In the moment it took for the apology to form in her mouth, he was back in front of her.

He grabbed her firmly but still softly by the chin, held her sweet face between his palms. Gazed into her eyes and shook his head slowly. His eye contact was overwhelming but still felt so good. “You are to never. Ever. Apologize.” Her eyes welled with more tears. She couldn’t do anything but nod at him. Her heart felt so heavy and broken. But Harry was looking at her. Taking in every inch of her face and he sighed. “M’sorry, Cupcake; m'angry. But s'not something you need t'apologize for. Y'didn't do anything wrong. M'jus' mad I wasn't there for you,” he whispered and brought her back in to hold her against him once more. Her body felt relieved it was ridiculous for him to feel bad--he didn't even know she was going on a date. She didn't want him to feel bad.

"It's not your fault either," she whispered. Harry sighed with relief and he kissed the top of her hair.

She lost track of how long they stood there. It could have been two minutes or two hours. All she felt was Harry’s warm body against hers and reveled in how good it felt. “Call me a half hour before you’re ready to leave here. I’ll come walk you t’your car.”

She smiled softly, hoping to alleviate the tension now that a significant portion of time had passed. “Even if it’s in the middle of the night and—”

He didn’t think her joke was funny at all. “If y’call,” he repeated, interrupting her, his eyes were hard and serious. No room for joking at all. “I’ll be here.”

He was rapidly making her fall in love with him.

*

“Hey Dad,” she smiled softly sitting across from him at the dinner table. He grinned at her.

“Hey sweetie. How was your day?”

“Good! Did you see the game?” She asked. He nodded.

“Your guy did well, don’t you think?”

She laughed, shaking her head and blushed a bit. “Max Kepler is not my guy, Dad.”

“I didn’t say his name, honey,” he reminded her with a chuckle.

She rolled her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek. “I think I met a guy, actually,” she rushed out quickly.

“Oh?” He looked at her curiously, tilted his head ever so slightly and smiled. “That’s nice, sweetie. You haven’t had a boyfriend in a while. You need someone to...chat with, depend on,” he said knowingly. “I want to know you’re taken care of.”

“Dad, that is so 1950s of you. I don’t need a guy to take care of me.”

“Oh honey, I know you don’t. But I want you to have someone,” his voice was gentle.

For a moment she just looked at him. Thought long about all the things that had happened since she met Harry almost three months prior. It was a big deal to tell her dad about Harry. She wanted to make sure it was the right move especially after she was feeling poorly about her gut feeling. But she thought of Harry, the reassurance he gave her that it wasn’t her poor judgment that caused her bad date.

“His name is Harry. He’s a boxer,” she shrugged. “The raspberry filled cupcakes are his favorite.”

“Well, then he’s perfect. Right?”

She laughed, nodded, then bit her lip. “I mean...he’s...” she sighed forgoing all the details about how she was insane to let him steer her to his boxing match. How he helped her with self-defense classes. And why she was taking self-defense classes. No. She would tell him how they met another day. When Harry and she defined more of what their relationship was... if there was a relationship to be had. “I like him,” she admitted. “Then that’s all that really matters, honey,” he assured her. It felt like a blessing.

She couldn't wait to see Harry.

--

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[psychotic-nonsense]

NOW WITH A PART 2 AND PART 3 !!!!

Not sure if this is anything, and feel free to critique or add on or clarify and all that, but...

A few weeks post-Starcourt Steve, absolutely wrecked by the Russians and Billy. He's healing, little by little, but he knows he needs to put his pain aside to help out The Party. Especially Robin, who has not been coping with the trauma well. She's taken to spending the night at Steve's most of the time, and they help each other manage. She's not the best with physical comfort, nor is Steve with verbal comfort, but they're managing.

Yet despite the constant offers of help, Steve always refuses to "ask for too much" and often downplays his pain, forcing a smile to keep anyone from worrying. He's bottling up everything - probably handling it worse than Robin, even though he insists he's used to it and knows how to fix himself. Every day he gets a little worse, and every night he brushes off help.

It's during one of these late nights that disaster finds them again. It's Steve and Robin in his living room, and they're just about falling asleep on the couch when the ground begins rumbling, hard. An earthquake, shaking Hawkins and getting the entire Party in a frenzy. The radios are blaring with the kids' voices and Steve's trying to get Robin to stop screaming into the walkie, when suddenly there's a hole opening up in Steve's living room, and the earthquake stops. Steve and Robin go quiet, and the kids are urging for a response as they all rush to meet up at Steve's.

But he and Robin can't speak, too busy staring at the hole. One that looks way too similar to the Gates... but it glows blue instead of the usual red. Steve, ever the protector, is carefully stepping around the hole to grab a fire poker for defense. The second he does, the Party bursts in, just in time to watch the hole suddenly crack open further, sucking Steve in and closing itself behind him-

As Steve Harrington lands in the bedroom of Post-ST3-release 2019 Eddie Munson.

Eddie's living rough, bunking in his childhood friend Ronnie's basement. An orphan, can't hold a job, in his second senior year of high school purely because he knows he has nothing else to do after it. His only source of comfort so far has been DnD - either the DM hosting he does at the local library for the other poor lost suckers, or the one Netflix show with its elements that has captured his heart.

Eddie's a pretty big Stranger Things fan - it has its faults but is otherwise a really fun and interesting show - but ever since ST2, he's especially been a Steve Harrington fan. He feels like he goes mad just thinking about the implications of what that man has gone through, what all those kids have been through, and how Steve has put aside himself to focus on the kids. How much Steve has changed, and how under appreciated he is.

Since binging all of ST3 the day it released, Eddie's had a field day on breaking down this newest reformation of Steve. He adores Robin - clocked her as a lesbian from episode 1 - and loves that Dustin and Erica have been bringing out his bitchy side, while still keeping him in check. The Russian torture and strange parallels with Billy have made him cry on more than one occasion, and Steve's half-high speech in the bathroom legitimately felt like Steve finally acknowledging his change, even if for but a moment.

Ronnie's teased Eddie way too much about his "obvious crush on Joe Keery" but this feels way too personal for him to just be crushing on an actor. This is Eddie falling for the Fallen King of Hawkins himself, and it's much more embarrassing. Steve Harrington becomes his muse in every form of art; drawing, writing, character inspiration and improvisation. The Duffer brothers aren't the greatest at the rest of the show, but they've damn well got this guy down.

Hell, Eddie was halfway to crossing the last personal barrier to outright obsession (x Reader fanfiction) when the earthquake hit. In hindsight it wasn't the worst thing in the world, but Eddie had never experienced one before. He immediately dove right under his bed, covering his ears and curling up in a ball like a coward ("Nancy Wheeler would be ashamed," his weird ass brain supplies). He hears rumbling, things falling over, wood splintering and the world seemingly cracking apart all around him-

When a body suddenly lands hard on his bed with a loud scream of fear, cutting off as the whatever it is rolls straight off to the floor, and the world gives one final strain before going completely silent.

Terrified, Eddie's eyes are shut tight, cowering as the body on the floor just a foot away from him groans and gasps for air. It takes a sudden hiss of pain for Eddie to finally, carefully, crack one eye open.

Only to come eye to eye, through the gaps of his bedsheets, with the very muse he'd just been thinking of. Steve Harrington.

There's an immediate scramble of panic; Eddie bashing his skull into his bed frame trying to get out and away from the obvious hallucination, while Steve wobbles on his feet to defend himself against this strange humanoid Upside Down monster.

"What are you?! Where am I?!"

"What am- Are- You- No, you're not real- JESUS H. CHRIST MAN, GET THAT AWAY FROM ME!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, but you're gonna see how real this is if you don't tell me what's going on!"

"You think I know?! You fell into my room!!"

"Yeah, from your Gate!!"

"WHAT FUCKING GATE- WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?"

"I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!!"

That gets them both to shut up, just staring at each other. Eddie pressed up against the wall in fear with his hands up and out wide, Steve with the fire poker pointed straight at his neck and his hand held up cautiously. Eddie sees it, smells blood in the air, and ignoring everything, reaches out for it. Steve jabs at the air with the poker, but it's halfhearted, his energy clearly draining, too exhausted with the whole situation to try much further. Finally his arm drops, but Eddie doesn't move, watching Steve's face crumple in a way that aches everything inside his heart.

"Where am I...?" Steve pleas, tone just as desperate as the one from the Russian bunker, even when lacking its power.

Eddie fumbles for the words, but eventually just sighs. "Somewhere you wouldn't believe, my friend."

High and complacent on adrenaline and shock, Steve and Eddie just move in silence. Eddie grabs a wet cloth to clean the blood, Steve cutting off a bit of his sweatpants to use as gauze. It's just a gash from falling with the fire poker, nothing drastic, but the two stare at the cut in Steve's palm, easier to see than the one who's hand is on theirs.

Introductions are exchanged when they can finally stop shaking, and Eddie somehow drops the bomb on where and when Steve is, and what his entire existence is to this reality. Steve has a very brief existential panic attack about it, but is strangely comforted by Eddie's confidence about it all - "Even without El's powers, those kids are smart as hell. They'll figure out a way to make their own Gate and get you back home."

Then Steve just spends the next week or two in a reality almost 40 years in the future, where he and his entire existence is a sci-fi TV show. Some funny exchanges I've been thinking of:

Steve: Wait, so we're characters in a show, right? That means we have actors.

Eddie: Oh, uh, yeah, you do...

Steve: ...Think I could see them?

Eddie: Uh- Sure, I guess? Not sure what you're expecting, it's a live action thing, they look just like you.

Steve: Never getting used to your future phone... Huh, Joe Keery? Looks like a cool guy- woah, is that what my hair looks like short??

Eddie: Yup, again, literally just you.

Steve: Funny how we both have the most basic names too. Steve and Joe? Like, look at Dustin's actor, what kind of name is Gaten?

Eddie: Rude, the guy plays your little brother.

Steve: Quit bringing your fake show theories into my actual life.

Eddie: It's true though.

Steve: ...Yeah.

----------------

(Steve goes crazy after a few days of being locked in, and begs Eddie to take him out to "see the future." While they're walking around town, a group of girls suddenly freak out and rush them)

"It's Joe Keery! Guys, look it's Steve Harrington, from Stranger Things!!"

(Eddie's halfway to panicking, but Steve immediately handles the situation)

Steve: Sorry to disappoint, ladies, not him. Don't worry though, I've been getting that a lot since the show came out.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry! Hope we didn't make you uncomfortable, mister..."

Steve: Mark, and not at all! I get asked this a lot too, but do you girls want a picture? For bragging rights, getting to meet "The Steve Harrington?"

(They agree, Eddie takes it for them, the girls go on their way)

Eddie whispering: That's gonna be everywhere in 5 seconds, I hope you know.

Steve whispering: Eh, it's a crowd my actor didn't have to deal with. Besides, felt pretty good.

Eddie: Familiar experience?

Steve: For a better reason.

-------------

Steve, showing Eddie's laptop screen open to the FunkoPop website and the Scoops Duo, halfway to tears: They make figurines of me and Robin?

Eddie: Yeah, of all you guys. I've got a little Dustin on my desk.

Steve, beginning to cry from how adorable he finds it: YOU DO?

---------------

(Ronnie comes back from work early while Steve and Eddie are talking in the living room. Eddie freezes as Steve makes eye contact, and Ronnie just stares)

Ronnie: Um, hi?

Steve: Oh, hey! You must be Eddie's roommate, nice to finally meet you! I'm Mark.

(That allows a breath to finally enter and escape Eddie's throat in a bit of a laugh. Steve's really leaning into this Mark persona)

Ronnie: Ronnie, and likewise... Sorry if I'm acting weird, you're just a really good cosplayer. Thought you were actually Steve for a second.

Steve hesitantly: Nah, just a doppleganger.

Ronnie, shrugging and walking away: Well okay then, I'm way too tired to talk much more. Eds, just keep your nerd shit out of the sink-

Eddie: And stay quiet, yeah yeah, go rest, breadwinner.

(Ronnie goes upstairs, out of earshot)

Steve whispering: What's a cosplayer?

Eddie, suddenly also very tired: Tell you later.

I'm thinking that Eddie had sketchbooks, notebooks, and Word Docs absolutely stuffed full of ST character evaluation, which he immediately hid upon Steve's arrival. Maybe Steve gets bored when Eddie's out for whatever reason, and snoops around. That's when he finds it all crammed at the back of Eddie's closet. The kids, Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, Joyce, Hopper, hell Billy and Murray are in the pile. Drawings of them in their adventures, active and mundane alike. Pages upon pages of character description, Eddie's handwriting gushing about the parts of the show and characters he loves, hates, wishes was fixed, all of it.

But the part that gets Steve is one specific sketchbook and notebook, both dubbed the Steven Soliloquy. It's the same type of information as before, but only about him, and it's filled to the brim. Eddie talking about his development, his change of heart, the complete shift that Nancy and the Upside Down and the kids allowed him to have. The affects of his trauma, and how much he stuffed it down in favor of everyone else. Talked about his relationships, ones he cherishes, loathes, never thought of or never got the chance to make. Talked about "AUs," alternative realities where he got everything he ever wanted. Eddie's words, his sketches, devolve into adoration-fueled envy, wishing he could be near such an amazing man, that he was strong enough to be such an amazing man. How much his heart aches for Steve.

And if this were a normal situation, Steve would be uncomfortable, creeped out. But knowing the context of it all, Steve can't help but be enamored. That his family's journey, his entire story of survival - even when fictional to Eddie - is so valued makes it all feel a little more worth it. That there was someone out there during all of their terror, rooting for their victory, crying with their pain, screaming with their fears, understanding them because he lived through it all right beside them.

Eddie finds Steve in his room later that day, surrounded by those books. Staring at what Eddie considers his WIP magnum opus; a half-finished colored pencil recreation of the Last Supper with the entire Party, including all of the people they lost, happy and healthy. Eddie's two seconds from apologizing for how creepy it all must be - seeing how many of those books are open - but then he sees the tears in Steve's eyes. Gratitude and adoration and care, all bundled up and very suddenly staring right at him with the widest smile he's seen.

They talk about it. Eddie finally admits his minor obsession with the show, and how much they've helped him come to terms with being a self-dubbed loser. He honestly gushes way too much about what he owes to them about his life, but Steve listens to it all with complete adoration. At the end of it, Steve asks Eddie about the possibility that they've been adamantly ignoring for Steve's entire stay: actually watching Stranger Things.

And that's how they spend their last week. Starting from season 1, they sit in the living room and binge the entire thing. Steve learns an entirely new perspective about his family's adventures, not only from the show's canon, but from Eddie's theories and rants in between monumental moments. Eddie holds his hand during the scenes that focus on his worst nightmares; the Demogorgan in the Byler home, the breakup, his fight with Billy, the Russians. Steve provides his perspective on how he felt during it all, finally admitting to the pain he's gone through instead of just focusing on the others hoping it'll all go away.

Not sure where exactly it goes from here. Maybe some codependency grows between them. Maybe Steve falls a little in love. Maybe they just stay friends, the only ones who understand each other aside from their Platonic Soulmates.

Maybe, when another earthquake finally hits, opening up a Gate in Ronnie's backyard, Steve and Eddie finally must go their separate ways. Eddie promising to keep watching over them from across the realm, Steve promising to make a happy ending for their story.

Or maybe, Steve can't help but see what little Eddie has, how special Eddie actually is, and offer to bring him along. Into the very show he loves so much. Maybe Eddie convinces Ronnie that he'll be okay, swearing to be entertaining should he join the show in an important way, and making her swear that if he doesn't survive to bring him back in as much fanfiction as she can write. Maybe Eddie enters Hawkins, Indiana, and becomes a bit self aware about being in a TV show. It takes a while for everyone to warm up to the future man - and for Eddie to get used to Midwestern US in the 80s - but he becomes a close member of the Party quite easily. Maybe his involvement in season 4, his death, is avoided, and maybe it's not.

But his adoration for Steve Harrington never goes away. Not in canon, or in fiction.

[wileys-russo]

I NEEEED a bf leah fic about going to NY with her because she has been pulling some ultimate looks. Maybe being at the basketball game with her and her trying to explain everything to you as well as being super touchy because she can feel people looking at what’s hers

jorts II l.williamson

"leah for the love of god please tell me i'm seeing things and you are not wearing prada loafers with nike tube socks right now." you shook your head in disbelief as you finished doing your hair and returned from the bathroom.

"you know how it is, prada or nada baby." the blonde grinned smugly from where she was sat on the edge of your hotel bed, putting down her phone as she drunk you in.

"come here." the taller girl purred, quickly standing to her feet and reaching out for you, taking your hands and whistling as she spun you in a circle.

"hello sexy." the defenders hands fell possessively to your hips as her eyes hungrily roamed your exposed cleavage spilling out of the lacey black bralette which just peeked out of the chocolate brown oversized button up you were wearing in place of a dress.

her pupils dilated at the black leather knee high boots which completed the look, jaw clenching as her tongue licked slowly at her lips making you smile smugly, adoring the obvious effect you had on her.

"oh god leah...jorts?" you groaned ruining the moment as your gaze flickered down to the washed denim which hung to her knees, pushing her away with a roll of your eyes.

"jorts are in at the moment love." the blonde retorted with her usual cocky smile, slipping on a few rings as you swapped over your earrings. "right to go?" leah offered you her hand, grabbing her phone off the bed as you slid your room key into your clutch.

"i hate that you can make anything look good."

~

"so we want the blue team to win right?" you clarified quietly, tapping at leahs hand which was placed on your thigh. "for once yes." leah chuckled, slender fingers tracing lines on your warm skin as she banged on about the rules, you only half listening as you simply hummed.

"at least try to pretend like you care darling." leah chuckled quietly offering you a sip of her drink as you tried to take the cup, giving her a look as she moved it back.

her eyes boring into yours expectantly you knew what she wanted, so with a roll of your eyes you lent forward allowing her to put the cup to your lips, not missing the quiet warning not to roll your eyes at her again which followed.

you took a swig before your girlfriend moved the cup back, ring clad thumb wiping a few loose droplets from your bottom lip, your stomach fluttering at the simple gesture as the blonde turned back to the game, squeezing your thigh gently.

everything was fine until the buzzer sounded for halftime, leah leaving you with jason as she disapeared to get the two of you another drink, placing a loving kiss to the side of your head as she stood.

however when she returned to see her seat was filled by another body her good mood was instantly diminished. the blonde was easily fifty metres away but already saw on your face that you weren't comfortable, much as you tried covering it up with a fake smile.

"sorry mate, seems you're in my seat." you let out a silent sigh of relief as your girlfriend appeared in front of you, glancing down to you wordlessly checking in as you gave her a small nod of assurance.

"we're just talking, there's a seat there." the man nodded behind him to jasons vacant seat as the movie star had been briefly whisked away by a few of his peers for a photo, the stranger not even sparing leah a look as you glanced up at her with pleading eyes.

the blondes jaw clenched as she watched the american place his hand on your shoulder and you went rigid, hands fidgeting with the bottom of your dress shirt as his eyes shamelessly wandered your body.

"yeah there is. and i'm sure you've got one elsewhere, so why don't you run along and go sit back down in it." leah warned, voice now octaves deeper as her eyes glared into the side of his head. "look doll-" the mans gaze finally lifted from you and his face slackened seeing the english captains bright blue orbs piercing down on him angrily.

"oh shit you're leah williamson." the man realised, eyes widening as he shot to his feet and took a step away, allowing your girlfriend to sit back down, placing the drinks by her feet and stretching her arm protectively over the back of your chair.

"nah not me, sorry mate." and with that the blondes hand which sat on your shoulder grabbed your chin, the defender leaning in and rewarding you with a searingly passionate kiss, your breath hitching as she wasted no time slipping her tongue in your mouth.

by the time she pulled away with a slight pop, leaving your lips somewhat bruised and a little swollen the man had scurried off back to wherever he'd come from.

leahs own lips curled into a cocky smile as yours tingled from the feverish kiss, brought back down to earth as leah turned your head to meet her eyeline, hand still gripping your jaw only now a lot more tenderly.

"did he do anything to you?" the blonde asked seriously, perfectly plucked eyebrows furrowing with concern as her eyes roamed your face for any sign of discomfort. "no he was only sat there for a minute or two before you came back, I told him i was here with someone but he wouldn't take the hint."

"i should have poured my fucking drink on his head, smug prick." leah muttered angrily, letting go of your chin and pressing a much softer kiss to your forehead. "hey calm down. i'm okay, don't let him spoil our evening." you grabbed her hand and squeezed as leah nodded, downing her drink in one and exhaling, rolling her neck a few times as her arm stayed wrapped around your shoulder.

"besides, once we get back to the hotel later baby i'm yours and only yours." you whispered to your blonde lover as the game recommenced, causing her cocky smile to only grow wider.

"in that case then i'll make sure the entire hotel are reminded who you belong to as well." leah murmered in your ear as she kissed at your rapidly blushed cheek.

"all mine. my most pretty girl."

[kotonoba]

50/50 Everything (Jushiro/F!Reader)

Based on this

-------------------------------------------------------

You didn’t get into this whole TikTok thing, not even when your co-workers tried to show you some videos while you were on break. You didn’t get into it until your kids and husband decided to scroll through one night for family movie night. Defeated, you sat on the couch, watching your husband display his screen onto the projector. Sure, there’s a lot to watch, but it didn’t interest you until Jushiro stopped on a video and nudged you to watch with him.

The video showed two people talking. The man said he wanted 50/50 on everything, splitting the bill when they eat out, splitting the bill for trips, and even splitting the bill for phones. That earned you a chuckle. Jushiro paused the video, “What is it, love?” 

“I just thought it was funny. Splitting the bill as if you two were friends, he seems like he wants to just stay as friends with this woman. She could do better,” you smiled at him. He hummed, kissing you on the lips. 

“You two never split the bill when you first went out, mom?” You turned your attention to your son and a curious onlooker, your daughter. 

“Your father never let me pay. He said it was ‘not very gentlemen’ of him,” you laughed, you recall your first date with him. It was Christmas Eve; you had your first break in a long time. You didn’t think a stranger you happened to meet and talk to at the local library would be down to hang out. But he agreed. 

The two of you went ice skating. He was a little clumsy but could skate around freely with your assistance. Afterward, he treated you to dinner in a cozy diner near a snow field; couples laughing, families singing Christmas carols, and a group of kids in the fresh snow building snowmen resonated into the restaurant. It was rather romantic with how warm and dimly lit the yellow hues of the restaurant were displayed. The two of you chatted about what a stable future would be like in five years. You two had a lot in common. As the date drew to a close and the bill came to about $76, you pulled out your wallet, but you were met with him already handing his credit card to the waiter.

“Oh, let me pay you back,” you dug through your bag; you just got paid that day too. 

But your dinner date stopped you. " That wouldn’t be very gentlemen of me if I made the lady of the hour pay,” he had muttered something under his breath. You thought you were hallucinating and didn’t bother asking him to clarify. You only laughed at what he said. After pushing back and forth, you caved and allowed him to pay. 

“I still don’t let your mother pay,” he responded, snapping you back to reality. You shrugged at that; it’s a habit to let him pay now; he either pays ahead of time or in front of you, but he’s always on edge about it, worried you’d poach that opportunity from him. 

As the video continued, your husband nodded approvingly to the Russian lady's explanation about 50/50, which means 50% of his pay and 50% of everything he owns. You leaned back against his embrace, which he tightened more; you’ve noticed he’s grown more possessive over you as you two married and then had kids. But you didn’t take it to heart—rather like that possessiveness. Your co-workers always said they love you and think you’re important. You wouldn’t believe otherwise. 

“I completely agree. She doesn’t need his protection or humor. With that type of thinking, she could do better. " You and your kids laughed. It’s rare that Jushiro gets so worked up over a video, but he has his moments, and those moments were endearing. "Do you agree?"

“Yeah, kids, what did we learn from this video today?” You questioned your twins as Jushiro rested his chin on your shoulder. 

“I can do better than finding a man with that type of thinking,” your daughter proudly announced. Your husband nodded. 

“I should be paying as a sign of courtesy–” 

“No, you should be paying because that’s common sense,” Jushiro corrected your son. 

As your husband lectured your son, you can’t help but wonder who in Jushiro’s family told him that since he didn’t talk about them that much. Or did he get it from a friend? You shook your head and laughed as your husband went off on a tangent about what he expects from his son.

-------------------------------------------------------

The Mundane Life of a Shinigami

Aries' AO3

[howlingday]

nother crack idea for jaune's exes: artoria pendragon has come to beacon to bring back her love to the safety of their little village! she knows jaune's dream is to be a hero but between his father giving him no training and him not getting into a combat school she worries about him, the only solution is to bring him back home for her to train in safety until he's ready! NO THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH HER WANTING TO EAT HIS COOKING! SHE'S DOING THIS FOR NOBLE REASONS!

"I SEEK THE HAND OF JAUNE ARC!"

The classroom had gone hush with the sudden announcement of the young, blonde woman in armor. The target of this stranger had a mixture of reactions, including the reddening of his cheeks and the swiftness of his hand to his face. The woman made her way down the steps to where Jaune was sitting.

"Jaune, I command you to return home at once!"

"Please, no..." Jaune groaned.

"Excuse me, young lady, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait until class is over to-"

"BE SEATED!" Professor Port responded to this decree by immediately sitting at his desk. "It is rude to interrupt the royal business of a king."

"Aren't you a girl, though?" Cardin asked, brow raised at the intruder.

"BE STILL!" A roar proclamation erupted, forcing Cardin to fall backwards, mouth held shut. "Jaune, I command-"

"I refuse." Jaune said, knocking the woman off-guard. "Also, I'm attending Beacon."

"Jaune, who is this?" Pyrrha asked, confused by the casual way Jaune spoke to the stranger after watching her emasculate both Professor Port and Cardin Winchester. As annoying as it was, both were two of the most masculine people in the room, yet the woman shut them both down, only thrown off her high horse by the response of her team leader. "Do you know her?"

"Yeah." Jaune nodded. "She's my ex." Gasps resounded throughout the classroom. "Why is everyone so surprised?"

"Because it's you?" Weiss answered.

"Because she's so scary!" Ruby replied, putting up her hands in and waving them in defense when the woman glared at her. "Uh, not scary in a bad way!"

"What other way is scary supposed to be taken?" Blake asked.

"Er, when- when you say ex, do you mean ex-friend, or ex-lab partner, or ex-"

"Girlfriend." The woman answered. "And I refuse your claim."

"You said you were fine when we broke up." Jaune clarified. "You even said that you were thinking about travelling around a bit, too."

"Yes, and I did travel around as we discussed." She held an armored hand to her heart. "I've seen many things on my journey, but all of them paled when compared to you." This brought about a coo from the classroom, taken in by the romantic statement. It seemed she genuinely cared about him.

"You got hungry for my cooking again, didn't you?" The classroom nearly fell on their face.

"N-No! Of course not!"

"Then why did you suddenly decide to come find me here at Beacon?" Jaune held up a finger. "A good king doesn't lie to their people."

"Ghk!" The woman flinched. "I... You are correct. I did feel hungry for your cooking again."

"Uh-huh, I thought so."

"But regardless of my reasoning, I still intend to complete my mission!"

"If you're hungry, then just wait until class is over. It's almost lunchtime."

"No, that's not why I'm here." She dropped to one knee. "Jaune Arc, will you do me the honor of becoming Mr. Artoria Pendragon?"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" The class was in shock. Partially from the proposal by Artoria, but also from the refusal of this act by not Jaune Arc, but his partner, Pyrrha Nikos. All eyes fell on her and felt the urge to shrink back from them, but when her green eyes fell to those of the woman holding Jaune's hand, such urges dispersed. "Jaune Arc is a student of Beacon Academy and the leader of Team JNPR. I refuse to allow you to strip him of him of both titles and responsibilities just so you can eat."

"And who are you to challenge the King of Knights?" Artoria asked, standing tall against her foe.

"My name is Pyrrha Nikos, the partner of Jaune Arc." Though the word held different meanings, in this instance Pyrrha's words held them in their most simplest form. Even if Pyrrha wished they meant something deeper. "And I refuse to allow you to take him away from me."

[rita-repulsa-ke]

A Sudden Proposal

"How about it, little lady?"

Rio looked down from where she was sitting on a tree branch, barefoot, swinging her legs in time with the breeze, waiting for Agatha to finish acquiring supplies so they could move on to wherever they were headed this time. Destinations were Agatha's business. Rio was here for the journey.

Now she looked down to see a man standing there, broad, wearing a hat of some kind, clothed, most likely to die of a heart attack, but not any time soon, making him blatantly uninteresting. "Yes?" she asked.

"Wondering if you wanted to come down from there and have a drink with me," the stranger asked.

She slid backwards, dangled upside down. She preferred masculine traveling clothes for the road, cinched green shirts and trousers, easier than Agatha's dresses, and less liable to blind her when she was upside down, which happened more often to her than it seemed to happen to most people. "I'm waiting for someone."

"Your husband?"

She grinned. "If only." She'd get Agatha that way eventually, though. She could picture the expression on her lover's face at the suggestion that they do something as romantic as speaking sentimental vows to each other and it was delicious.

Ugh, Agatha would say. Sappy, Agatha would say.

But she'd do it. She always did the things Rio wanted most, though it took some prodding.

"Well, then I don't see how he has any claim on you," the hatted man below her continued

"Who doesn't have any claim on you?" Agatha, hiking up toward her with supplies, sweating, complaining, perfect. "You could have come and help me carry things."

"You complain I do things in town. Talk to people. Exist too loudly," Rio said, sitting up and jumping down in a single motion. "Hi, Ags. This gentleman was inquiring after my husband."

"Haven't seen him," Agatha said, glancing at the man and coming to the same conclusion as Rio. Since the man was neither a witch she could kill for power or an ancient tome, he had nothing to interest Agatha Harkness. "I have never complained that you 'exist too loudly'."

Rio giggled, high and sharp. "You might someday, though. It's the general category of thing you would complain about."

"You can't just make up complaints. I complain about enough real things, just use one of those," Agatha complained.

The stranger cleared his throat. "If neither of you are married, I have a brother..."

Agatha's eyes slid over to him, then skidded off with disinterest. "I don't really see what your sibling has to do with our marital status."

"I think he wants you to marry his brother, Ags."

"...Yes, Rio, I did actually understand that," Agatha said and Rio had to admit that Agatha looking at her like that, all narrowed eyes and compressed lips, was very pretty. "But thank you so much for clarifying."

And now it was time for the stranger to go away, so Rio could turn her attention to kissing her pretty, easily annoyed lover. She gave Agatha a slightly plaintive look, signalling with her eyes, 'make him go away, Ags'. She could do it herself, of course, she always had a knife somewhere, but it was more fun to watch Agatha.

Agatha gave her a showy, wicked smile, and turned her attention to the stranger. "Do you and your brother own land?" she asked the man.

"We do, as a matter of fact," the man said, sounding grateful to be included in the conversation. "Got a decent parcel out to the left of town, been looking for some wives to go with it."

"Hmm," Agatha pursed her lips, considering and Rio spun her fingers to make the wind pick up faster around both of them, a subtle spur to keep Agatha from dragging this out longer than it needed to be. She couldn't tell if the other woman noticed. "Any horses?"

"Two."

"Sheep?"

"No, we were thinking of getting some."

"What do you grow on your land?"

"Sorghum, mostly. Some corn." The stranger sounded flummoxed, but he kept gamely answering Agatha's questions.

"Agatha," Rio drawled. "We've got somewhere important to be, don't we?" She assumed they did. Agatha always had somewhere important to be.

Agatha glanced at her with wide eyes. "Come on, Rio, we're being considered for marriage. Offers like these don't come often for women like us."

Rio slumped, now it was her turn to be annoyed. Agatha was having too much fun, playing with her food or possibly playing with Rio.

"Women like you?" the man asked.

"Oh, you know. Harridans. Spinsters," Agatha said. "I assume we would be expected to bear you children?"

"Uh. Well. It's preferable?"

Agatha nodded thoughtfully. "Two apiece, say?"

"Agatha..." Rio growled and Agatha finally cracked, burst into snorting laughter. She pivoted and grabbed Rio, pulled her into a rough kiss that Rio returned with even more force, teeth scraping Agatha's lip, making Agatha's hand tighten on the back of her neck with what Rio knew to be excitement.

When they broke, the man was staring at both of them. "Uh."

Agatha shrugged, and locked her fingers through Rio's. "I'm afraid we're both already taken. Good luck with your hunt. Maybe try better avenues than propositioning random women in trees."

They both walked away together and got a fair ways down the road before Agatha burst into laughter again. "That was barely even mean," Rio said.

"Oh shucks, sorry, did you want me to be meaner?" Agatha said, still snickering. "We can go back and find him and I can make another attempt, I promise I can be very mean."

"Nooo," Rio said, sliding her arms around Agatha's waist, tugging her closer. "I wanted you to kiss me. And now I want you to kiss me again."

"You think I should have asked how many acres? I mean, with sheep and sorghum, we could have turned a tidy profit..."

Rio stared at Agatha. "Sometimes I barely understand you," she muttered.

"Good," Agatha said, her smile so bright it eclipsed the sun. "I need some mystery. You might get bored of me otherwise."

Rio opened her mouth to point out that she would never, ever get bored of Agatha, but then Agatha was kissing her and that took precedence, Agatha's mouth against hers, warm and sweet in the sun on a road that stretched ever onward, to the next town and the next adventure, a journey that would never end.

Want some more witch adventures? Try the wedding for Rio almost getting Agatha to the altar or the many husbands of Agatha Harkness for Agatha playing with her food once more.

Or check out the Ritual of the Rose on AO3, the fic I should be writing instead of endless drabbles.

[ddejavvu]

haven’t even watched stranger things but i’m so in love with steve bc of ur writing god damn

if i may request bf!steve being all needy and down bad during a study session just absolutely failing to keep his horny levels down

technically that is a scene in the show but if you're looking for romance and not weird vibes i wouldn't watch it LMFAO 😭

this post is 18+, minors dni.

"Will all-" Your Shakespearean drawl is muffled when Steve presses a kiss to the corner of your lips, "-great Neptune's ocean wash this-" Another, this time dotted against your upper lip, "-blood clean from my ha- Steve!"

Can't help it," He signs, his weight heavy on your left side where you're lounging back against your headboard, "You're really sexy when you read."

"That's.." You frown, unsure of whether to take the compliment or berate him for his absurd levels of lust, then deciding to double-task, "That's awful. Thank you."

"Awful," He scoffs, rolling further over you and slotting his knee between your thighs, "That's not awful, I called you sexy."

"For reading," You urge, eyes now directed upwards as he hovers above you, "You're depraved. A pervert."

"A pervert!" He repeats, incredulous. He dips his face into your neck, mumbling with hot breath against your flushed skin, "All I'm trying to do is give my girlfriend a good time, and she says I'm a pervert."

"I'm not trying to have a good time," You whine, overzealous and huffy, "I'm trying to study!"

"Well that's," Steve presses a kiss to the spot on your neck that's already marked with a fading bruise, his lips stinging the skin just like they had days ago, "Boring."

"You're boring," You reach for his ass, pinching it through the faded jeans that mold to his hips. He yelps, head shooting up from your neck and knocking into your chin. You hiss, and Steve offers a kiss to the sore spot before he remembers that he's supposed to be offended.

"I'm boring?" He clarifies, knee pushed further between your thighs so that the rough material of his jeans is grating against your panties beneath your skirt, "Are you sure? You don't look very bored."

Your eyes are widened slightly, and you know your cheeks are burning hot. He puts more pressure against your core, experimentally, and your hips shimmy in response.

"Oh, okay," Steve croons, smirking at your reaction, "Fine, babe. You win, read your book. But don't let me distract you," Steve murmurs, leaning in so that his knee presses so hard against your core that your slick soaks through your panties and his lips brush just below your ear in a sticky kiss, "I'd just be boring you."

[writers-in-moominvalley]

Sometimes I think about Mrs. Fillyjonk's character and my mind always wanders back to these series of panels and I always go a little insane over them.

What does it MEAN for her character, exactly?

Moomin Winter is a story about a family and some strangers coming together for the winter and having a small child stick his nose up everybody's business until the beans are spilled and everyone realizes just how silly their secrets actually are. At least 2 of the new strangers, Miss Fluffins and Mr. Gromf (who are not related to eachother in any way, I think I should clarify), have secrets they don't want getting out because it breaks their facade of gender performativity.

Fluffins has a facade of a demure and overly polite vaguely old woman who wears frills and "totally would" help Moominmamma, but she doesn't want to get in the way of her business. Fluffins' secret is that she loves playing war with tin toy soldiers, and loves smoking cigars and drinking hard whiskey.

Gromf holds himself as a very picky and strong-willed man, when in actuality he's just very sensitive and his secret is that he loves making doilies.

These two secrets are very much based on subversion of gendered expectations, even if it isn't gawked at outright because of their genders.

Miss Fluffins pretends she doesn't want to intrude on Moominmamma's housework, when in actuality she literally doesn't know how to do housework, which is a very unwomanly thing for her to do. And Mr. Gromf masks his nature as a very picky eater by having a gruff attitude about it.

In Moominmamma's search for someone to take care of the very inconvenient Nibling in her stead, she first visits Mrs. Fillyjonk because of her status as a proper mother — but before we get to that, we must fully contextualize this encounter by talking about the second encounter; that of the Inspector.

Moominmamma's second choice for a caretaker for the Nibling is the Inspector, who she probably thinks is a fine choice because he has prison cells for Nibling to sleep in and he probably has experience watching over people in prison, I guess...? The problem here however is that the Inspector highly dislikes children, or atleast taking care of children because they might ruin his roses. Inspector's secret that Nibling sniffs out here is that he keeps candy in his pocket and hides holes in his socks by doing the old "coloring the feet where the holes are" trick.

What's interesting about this is that this scene gets paralleled shortly after Moominmamma comes back home by having the Nibling pickpocket Gromf in a similar way and Gromf denying his ownership of the doily in his pocket just like Inspector does with the candy.

Plus, Inspector returns later in the story by playing poker with Moominpappa and being part of the crowd who gets their beans spilled and everyone is wondering why they were hiding those secrets in the first place, because they seem silly to hide in retrospect. You know who isn't part of that crowd despite having a similar screentime to Inspector? Mrs. Fillyjonk.

She doesn't come back to have her secret revealed.

Now, why is that? Well, we must further contextualize this contextualization of the scene by looking at Inspector's character compared to Mrs. Fillyjonk.

Despite his rough and nearly unrecognizable start in Moomin and the Martians, once he obtains his scarf in Club Life in Moomin Valley we see glimpses of what will evolve into the policeman with effeminate sensibilities that Lars apparently really really liked, which I explained in more detail in this post. The short of it is that Inspector is a more candidly queer character, a subversion of gender norms and the idea of a bumbling police character in general.

But in spite of his general honesty (and something I didn't really touch upon in my post), he still doesn't like people knowing that he likes eating candy for whatever reason, like in Moomin Christmas where Snorkmaiden admires his big box of chocolates but he dismisses it as a doctor's prescription for his blood pressure. I suppose his obsession with flora is fine for people to know and offering candy to his prisoners is great but he draws the line at people knowing he likes eating it himself, I guess. There's some ordinary embarrassment to be had in his mind about it.

So with all that outside context, let's bring the conversation back to Mrs. Fillyjonk, and add context to her character to see why this feels significant to me.

Mrs. Fillyjonk was first introduced in Moominmamma's Maid as the mother equivalent to that new jock neighbor who moved into town and is making your dad feel bad about his own withering masculinity. Mrs. Fillyjonk is the proper Woman's Woman, the trad mom without a husband, she is quite canonically one of those mothers who post pictures of their overly tidy and neutral grey-colored children's room on Instagram and Pinterest. She isn't necessarily a feminist but she is heavily involved in organizations involving women, like the Women's Committee, or the sewing circle, or the Moomin Valley S.P.C.A. (Society to Prevent Cruelty to Animals) which is "coincidentally" only made up of women. She also organizes social events like bazaars and parties for painters, and takes invitations to games of bridge very seriously because, quote, "In society, invitations are sacred".

And yet, despite her credentials as a Woman among Women, she apparently doesn't know how women work (according to her maid, Mabel, in Mymble's Diamond), nor do any of her friendships have any sense of sincerity outside of amicable business-like rapport with her fellow women in gathering events like tea parties, and she could barely keep any of her painter guests happy in the party she threw just for them. She is a sad imitation of a socialite, caught up in the glamor of being a perfect housewife in spite of her husband's absence (according to an alleged response by Tove to a fan letter he was an explorer who went missing in Borneo) and yet totally incapable of bearing any actual charisma. The only thread of sincerity for her is with her own maid and ironically the Moomins, who invite her to things like colonizing an island or bridge despite Moominmamma's general distaste for Mrs. Fillyjonk.

I can't even say much about her relationship with her kids because their characterization amounts to Huey, Dewey and Louie pre-2017 reboot if they didn't have names, color coding, or that boyish rebellious streak. They're just vaguely well-educated, ambiguously gendered and boring children who follow their mom around and call to her when something happens and have a pretty okay relationship with her. Any expression of boredom or sense of rebellion and interactions with the main kids in a playful environment the adaptations gave them are just additions to their characters that give them even the vaguest hint of interest.

Mrs. Fillyjonk... Is a really big weirdo who hates weirdos. And the fact that she owns a pair of pants that she's embarrassed of is a revelation about her character that I believe is just too glossed over, but also the fact that it's glossed over speaks to the emotional tragedy of her character.

The funny-looking trousers bring up many questions; Did those belong to her husband? Why are they stuffed away in a drawer in what seems to be a living room? Is she embarrassed because they look weird/ugly or because she doesn't want people knowing she owns pants at all? Does she wear them? Why do her kids seem angry at Nibling to finding them? Do they know? Do they know that their mom is a cross-dresser who likes dancing in her little trousers while nobody is looking because she feels desperate in the confines of her gender expression?

Okay, maybe that last one is a stretch, but it's not a farfetched conclusion because we know so little about her. She apparently owns a rifle and atleast 12 different ashtrays and a smoking jacket, why does she have those? Why so many ashtrays in particular? Does she smoke? We never see her smoke even under the influence of Spring Fever where she loses all her inhibitions, what gives? Did any of that belong to her husband or does she just have those lying around for enigmatic reasons?

The fact that the pants were revealed after she makes a comment on Snorkmaiden being too fat "for a girl" is also very telling. It's like a response to her, it's the narrative saying "If you're really so concerned about what's proper for a girl, then why do you have this?", she's so shocked from Nibling finding them she drops her cup and goes up to stuff it back in the drawer where it belongs, and she's never seen in the comic again despite her words reaching Snorkmaiden through Nibling and influencing her facet of the plot. Moominmamma just excuses herself after such a breach in privacy and it's never acknowledged again, even indirectly.

What is this? It's so... It makes me feel so confused about her character but at the same time it makes her social awkwardness feel more complete. She's so superficial in her social circle not just because she's a superficial person herself but also because she doesn't want anyone to know some things about her, she's so ashamed of herself and stubborn about that shame that the narrative doesn't give her a chance to redeem herself in the end of the story like the Inspector. There's something so compelling about the idea that her relationship with gender or even just men is so thoroughly tangled that it's hard to make out for even herself.

Are the pants a representation of the grief for her husband she stuffs down under the surface or are they a representation of that shameful side of her gender expression she doesn't want anyone to find out because it ruins her image as a Proper Woman? It feels so.... I can't even conceive of this as something to be taken at face value because her entire character is in opposition to Moominmamma's impropriety, yet here we are! She's ashamed of having pants! What does this mean, Tove and/or Lars!!!

And don't get me started on her and her children's fear of loud fireworks because that's another rabbit hole I-

[bloody-bee-tea]

June of (minimal) Doom 2024 Day 3 - Well, well, well...

Satoru impatiently taps his foot as he watches how the girl currently talking to Suguru hands him a piece of paper. It makes something twist in Satoru’s chest, something ugly and painful, and he turns away with a huff.

He wishes Suguru would snap at her, would tell her to get lost, that he’s actually busy and does not have the time to talk to her, but Satoru knows that Suguru is too polite for that. Suguru would never do that, would never tell off a complete stranger like that, Satoru knows that very well, but it doesn’t stop him from day-dreaming.

“Can we go?” Suguru eventually calls out to Satoru and Satoru heaves out a sigh.

The girl must have left, then, and he wonders what happened to the piece of paper that no doubt held her phone number. 

“I’m not the one keeping us,” Satoru grumbles out as he makes his way over to Suguru who frowns at him.

“You okay?” he wants to know and Satoru glares after the girl.

She’s turning back just as Satoru finds her in the crowd and the look on his face must truly be frightening because she visibly jumps and then hurries off.

“You gonna keep it?” Satoru asks, sliding his eyes over to Suguru only to find him still frowning at Satoru.

“Keep what?” 

“Her number?” Satoru clarifies and great, now he’s mad at Suguru too because he made him say it.

“Why does it matter?” Suguru wants to know, stuffing his hands into his pockets and Satoru imagines he can hear how the paper crinkles as Suguru clenches his hand around it.

“It doesn’t,” Satoru mutters under his breath because it shouldn’t. It shouldn’t matter at all, and yet it does. He’s not sure he can explain that to Suguru, though, so of course the next thing that comes out of his mouth is something so incredibly stupid that Satoru wants to knock himself unconscious. “You should call her.”

He wants to pluck the words right back out of the air and stuff them back in his mouth but of course something like that isn’t possible so Satoru can do nothing but watch how Suguru narrows his eyes at him.

“Are you being serious right now?” he demands to know and Satoru shrugs awkwardly.

“I mean–she was kinda pretty?” In a very bland kind of way, not that Satoru looked at her for long enough to really figure this out.

Besides. He doesn’t even know what Suguru’s type is, anyway.

Suguru only continues to stare at him and by now it’s unusual enough that Satoru squirms under that gaze.

“What?” Satoru defensively says because he doesn’t know what’s going on anymore and it doesn’t help when Suguru simply huffs and turns away from him.

“Maybe I will. Call her,” Suguru eventually mutters and Satoru is glad that he’s no longer looking at him, because Satoru is certain that his face just did a very not normal thing at hearing that.

His stomach certainly dropped down to the floor.

“Great,” he mutters and picks up the pace, hoping to leave Suguru behind him, if only for a little bit, just long enough for him to get himself back under control.

“Satoru,” Suguru calls after him and he sounds strange in a way Satoru can’t place and that alone is enough for him to slow down.

“I’m just hungry,” Satoru quietly says once Suguru catches up to him. “Can we go eat now?”

“Sure,” Suguru agrees and they don’t speak about the incident again after that.

It still takes Satoru most of the evening to banish it from his thoughts though.

~* ~* ~*

Satoru fights the acute urge to strangle someone with his bare hands. The guy Suguru is currently talking to is leaning in real close and Satoru can see his hand brush up against Suguru’s waist as if it has any right to be there.

And yet Suguru is not punching him in the face and telling him to get lost.

Satoru doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with that.

Satoru snaps when the guy smiles such a flirtatious smile at Suguru that a shudder runs down Satoru’s back and he even leans in close as if he wants to make sure that Suguru doesn’t notice anyone but him.

And that’s totally a no go.

“Hey, Suguru,” Satoru calls out and he absolutely does not bask in the way Suguru’s eyes snap to him without hesitation, the guy right in front of him clearly forgotten for the moment. “We were supposed to meet Shoko, remember?” Satoru asks out with a pointed look at the watch he’s not wearing.

“Right, sorry, I’m ready, we can go,” Suguru immediately says, leaving the guy where he is and Satoru allows himself a triumphant smile at the confused annoyance he spots on his face.

Serves him right, thinking he could take Suguru’s attention away from him.

“What did he want?” Satoru asks once they are a good way away from the guy and Suguru shrugs.

“He was asking me for a date,” he gives back as if that doesn’t mean anything and Satoru goes strangely hot at hearing that.

“And is that something you’d want?” he wants to know, praying to every deity he knows that his voice sounds normal and not as desperate as he feels.

Suguru gives him a side-glance. 

“You–do know I’m gay, right?” Suguru carefully asks, clearly knowing just what Satoru is asking about and Satoru blinks in surprise.

“I did not know that,” he replies, voice faint and decides not to care too much about why his heart suddenly feels as if it’s going to beat right out of his chest. “Do you want him, then?”

He doesn’t know why he keeps asking, doesn’t know why he always keeps pushing when things like that happen, but he can never help himself. He has to know, has to know just how close Suguru is to slipping straight through his fingers.

“I–don’t want to go on a date with him, if that’s what you’re asking,” Suguru tells him, no longer meeting Satoru’s eyes and again, it almost feels as if something possesses Satoru because he simply can’t shut up.

“Maybe you should,” he hears himself say and immediately wants to punch himself in the face. Instead he keeps talking. “He seemed nice.”

“You–want me to go on a date with him,” Suguru repeats sounding just as surprised as Satoru feels and he wishes he could simply teleport out of here right this instance, but they are supposed to meet Shoko and both Suguru and her would skin him alive should he ditch them now.

“I mean,” Satoru trails off with a shrug, not really explaining what exactly it is he means.

It’s not as if he knows it himself.

“Right,” Suguru mutters, something bitter flashing over his face and Satoru hates this; hates himself for always prying, hates people for hitting on Suguru and he even hates Suguru a little bit, for not seeing him as a potential dating partner. 

“You never turn anyone down,” Satoru eventually says, with a bitter twist to his lips and Suguru huffs out a laugh.

“It’s also not as if I ever call anyone back or agree to go out with them. It’s called being polite, you know. But of course you wouldn’t know because you haven’t been polite a day in your life,” Suguru tells him and gently bumps their shoulders together.

And just like that, Satoru already feels much more like himself again.

“I wouldn’t know because you’re never polite to me,” he pouts and that, at least, makes Suguru laugh.

“Because I know you and you don’t deserve it,” Suguru shoots back, grinning brightly at him and even though Satoru easily falls into this banter with him, he can’t help the wistful stab to his heart.

If he didn’t know Suguru, if he were just a stranger on the street, then maybe he’d have a chance.

Satoru hates that thought.

~* ~* ~*

Suguru is out, on a date, and Satoru wants to claw his face off.

He hasn’t felt like himself ever since Suguru told him that he’d be busy this evening and even though it’s only been half an hour since he left, Satoru already feels like dying. He has been pacing the entire time, his hands tugging on his hair and he doesn’t know how he’s going to survive the next few hours.

Oh gods, what if Suguru doesn’t come back at all tonight?

Satoru cannot be on his own with those thoughts in his head, so he makes his way over to Shoko’s room, barging in without knocking out of pure desperation and very predictably it earns him a lighter flung straight at his head.

He takes it like a champ, because he knows he deserves it and also because like that he can pretend that his head throbs because of that.

“What do you want?” Shoko asks him, not getting up from her bed but she glowers at him and Satoru simply sits down in the middle of the room.

“Suguru is out on a date,” he desperately says and there’s a beat of silence before Shoko laughs.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequences of your actions,” she then says and Satoru hates that he can’t even deny that. “I told you it’s stupid to always tell him to accept whatever advances he gets and this is truly deserved, you know.”

“Shut up,” Satoru grumbles out, because it’s not fair. Why could Suguru not go on a date with him? “It’s not–I wasn’t urging him to go. I was just–asking.”

“And subtly letting him know that it would be alright with you if he went on a date, Gojo, come on, you’re not normally this stupid. What did you think would happen if you always pushed him in that direction?”

“Not this,” Satoru whines out. “This wasn’t what I wanted at all.”

“But it is what’s happening now,” Shoko mercilessly says.

“Why couldn’t it be me?” Satoru whispers and Shoko snorts.

“Because maybe you didn’t make it clear that a date with you was on the table? Because you kept pushing him to accept these strangers instead of being the possessive bastard you wanted to be and now he thinks you want him to go on dates with these strangers.”

Shoko isn’t even looking at him anymore, too busy with her phone to give the situation the attention it deserves and Satoru glares at her.

“I’m having a crisis here, could you maybe at least pretend to care?”

“I didn’t throw you out yet, did I?” Shoko drawls out as her eyes slide back over to him. “That’s as far as I’ll go, seeing as this is a problem of your own making. You could have just confessed and asked him on a date yourself.”

“But–” Satoru starts but he’s not really sure how to finish that sentence.

Yes, he could have done those things. He also could have ruined the best friendship in his life like that.

“What if he hated me afterwards?” he asks, voice quiet and Shoko sighs.

“Not possible, and you know it. Gojo, you know he would have said yes, if you asked, right?”

“Is that why he’s out on a date with someone else right now?” Satoru shoots back and Shoko rolls her eyes.

“Goddamnit, do you maybe think that he’s out on a date because you kept pushing him to do that and he thinks he has no chance with you? Did that ever occur to you?”

In all honesty, it hasn’t, but he’s not about to tell Shoko that.

“You know what, get out,” she suddenly says, and Satoru knows her well enough to know that an argument right now would be futile. 

The best and only thing he can do right now is leave, before she starts to threaten him with bodily harm, so he gets up from the floor.

“Fine, I’ll go. Thanks for nothing, I guess,” he mumbles and Shoko gives him a viscous grin.

“Oh, you’ll thank me, alright,” she cryptically says and then expectantly looks towards the door.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Satoru rushes out and practically flies out of the door in his haste to get away from her.

Normally he would go hang out with Suguru now, but Suguru isn’t here, so there’s nothing left for Satoru to do but return to his own room, where he flops down on the bed, burying his face in his pillow.

Maybe wallowing in his misery is the way to go after all. He should have known better than to expect sympathy from Shoko, of all people. He should have gone there to get drunk, that would have yielded more results, he’s certain of that.

Satoru groans in his pillow, hating the thoughts Shoko put into his mind, the hope that comes with it. It’s all futile now anyway. Suguru is already out on a date; what reason would he have to agree to go on one with Satoru now as well?

Suguru might be out there, meeting the love of his life and there is nothing Satoru can do about that.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his voice muffled by the pillow and he wonders if he can suffocate himself like this. 

Might be easier than having to watch Suguru be lovey-dovey with someone else.

“Satoru!” Suguru’s voice suddenly calls out, followed by his door flying open and Satoru turns his head around in confusion.

Seeing Suguru stand in his doorway, panting as if he ran all the way here is not helping with that.

“What are you doing here?” Satoru asks when Suguru doesn’t say anything else, too busy catching his breath, it seems.

“What happened?” Suguru asks him, a hint of panic lacing his voive and Satoru frowns as he sits up.

“Huh?”

“Shoko said there’s an emergency.”

Satoru’s mouth drops open as he remembers how she’s been on the phone during their talk. She must have messaged Suguru at that time and Satoru doesn’t know if he’s grateful for it or not.

“There isn’t. I’m sorry you rushed here all the way.”

“You didn’t answer your phone,” Suguru accuses him, finally stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “You always answer me.”

“I didn’t hear it,” Satoru says with a shrug, and in all honesty, he doesn’t even know where his phone is at the moment.

“Satoru, you–” Suguru steps closer to the bed, his gaze fixed on Satoru. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Satoru glibly says and forces himself to give Suguru his best smile.

It must fall flat, because Suguru’s frown deepens.

“You don’t seem okay,” is the answer he gets, and that clears up exactly nothing for Satoru.

“It’s nothing.” Satoru has never been good at lying to Suguru, so he makes sure to not meet his eyes as he says it. Suguru is too good at reading him as it is, he doesn’t have to make it even easier for him. “I’m sorry you had to cut your date off short for nothing.”

“I’m not,” Suguru immediately replies and now that makes Satoru raise his gaze at him.

“What?”

“I’d rather check on you than talk to someone I don’t really know yet.”

“But–you were there to get to know them,” Satoru argues and he doesn’t even know why.

He should just take this; Suguru just said he cares more about Satoru than the person he went out with and Satoru should be happy about that, should take it and bask in that feeling and instead his mouth keeps running off again.

“You can still call them, right? Tell them the emergency wasn’t one and then you can go back, continue your date.”

“You really want me to go on this stupid date, huh?” Suguru asks, and he sounds so bitter that Satoru immediately drops his head. “Fuck, I knew Shoko was spouting nonsense.”

“What does she have to do with anything?” Satoru mumbles and Suguru scoffs.

“Nothing. It’s nothing. I’ll just–not be here, seeing as you’d rather see me go on a date than spend time with you,” Suguru snaps out and his tone is finally enough to get Satoru to move.

His hand snaps out, latching on to Suguru’s sleeve.

“Don’t go,” he breathes out but then the words leave him and he frustratedly works his jaw.

“Why not? Give me one good reason, Satoru, please,” Suguru pleads with him and Satoru thinks back to what Shoko said, to what Suguru said and he thinks that maybe he might have a chance.

He just has to be brave.

“Because I want you to go on a date with me,” Satoru rushes out, speaking so fast that the words are all smashed together and he can feel how Suguru freezes.

“Don’t even–” Suguru’s voice breaks and Satoru’s heart breaks clean in two at that.

Being brave is stupid, Shoko is stupid and now he’ll lose the one person he loves.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Suguru finally finishes and turns around to look at Satoru.

There’s a faint blush on his face, but that could be anger, for all Satoru knows and he’s about to drop his hand when Suguru takes it in his, tangling their fingers together.

“You don’t get to joke about this, Satoru,” he says, his voice serious. “You better mean it.”

“I do,” Satoru breathes out, feeling faint with relief. “I do mean it. Suguru, go on a date with me.”

“Why?” Suguru demands to know and Satoru would accuse him of being dense, of being mean, but he thinks this might just be fair. 

He has been pushing Suguru on dates after all and maybe it’s time to finally confess like he should have done a long time ago.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

“Why push me on other people then?” Suguru whispers out, though he squeezes Satoru’s hand.

“You know I’m stupid,” Satoru says with a shrug. “I just–I just had to say something and all this garbage came out of my mouth. I just–” he takes a deep breath “—I think I just wanted you to tell me that you wouldn’t go out with anyone else.”

His voice shakes the slightest bit as he admits that and Suguru huffs out a laugh.

“Gods, Satoru, you are so stupid. I thought you weren’t interested in me.”

Suguru steps closer, until Satoru has to part his legs to make space for Suguru and when he finally looks up at him, Satoru’s heart threatens to beat right out of his chest.

Satoru has never seen Suguru smile so softly before.

“I am so interested,” Satoru blurts out and Suguru laughs.

If it were possible, Satoru would fall even more in love.

“Then let’s go on a date,” Suguru says and leans down, brushing his lips against Satoru’s forehead. “Because I am so interested in you, too.”

Satoru pouts up at him, unsatisfied with where Suguru’s lips have just been and he seems to catch on rather quickly because he moves in for a real kiss. Satoru hums happily when they part and Suguru cups his face in his hand.

“I’m in love with you,” he says as if Satoru could doubt that anymore, but it’s still nice to hear and he thanks Suguru with another kiss for it.

“Where do you want to go?” Satoru asks then and in answer Suguru topples them over on the bed.

“I think we stay right here. Get some take-out later because I didn’t get to eat yet and maybe watch a movie?”

“But that’s what we always do,” Satoru complaints and then has a little aha moment when Suguru nods. “We truly are stupid.”

“Speak for yourself,” Suguru immediately shoots back and Satoru pokes him in the side.

“Don’t even pretend, it’s not as if you were any smarter than me,” Satoru says and relishes in the way it makes Suguru laugh again.

“Fair point,” he agrees and pulls Satoru close, tucks him right into his chest. “We really should have known.”

“Better late than never,” Satoru mumbles and buries his face in Suguru’s throat.

“Indeed,” Suguru softly gives back and then they stay like that for a long time, right until Suguru’s stomach reminds them that they should be doing other things as well.

[xjulixred45x]

Hi if it's okay could I please ask for a romantic yandere Gojo with kianna

Like say he meets her because she's known as a sorcerer killer like she uses a curse shotgun and

she's killed so many Sorcerers it ended up with a

bounty on her head but knowing the amount of

body she's dropped no one has tried to kill her and he meets her because she worked with him on a job

And the Sorceress that don't want to try to kill her or want to use her blood she works with

By the way if you need any info about her it's on my patreon Tumblr

Pretty cool! I'll do My Best

Yandere! Satoru Gojo x Sorcerer Killer! Reader

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: female(ft. Kianna from @nunezs-stuff )

Warnings: YANDERE(kind of soft, but still yandere), UNHEALTY MINDSET, OBSESIVE BEHAVIOR, MANIPULATION, intimidation, Reader is kind of a Assasin, Minor violence, Shady things in general.

You get in the business thanks to your...father. at a very Young age.

He was a sorcerer hunter, but he was much more interested in his job than in taking care of you, so you learned to do it on your own.

You were interested in the business at first because you wanted to be close to him, but you quickly realized that you would never have a REAL trust with him, a bond.

less when he apparently had your sister, his apparently favorite daughter and the only person you really loved, killed.

It was the straw that broke the camel's back and you developed a severe trust problem.

So you mainly locked yourself into your assassin capabilities to deal with it, you practiced, you trained, you stayed as far away from people (and your father) as possible, etc.

You had your favorite mistresses, but you were a very capable assassin whatever you used.

You were proud of yourself. so you started having your own targets instead of low level sorcerers.

That's how Gojo knew about you at first.

And honestly? You give him REALLY Bad flashbacks about Toji. SPECIALLY when he saw videos of you using your shotgun.

and at first Gojo wanted to say that he absolutely hated you, how could he not? You are like a reflection of one of his biggest traumas after all, no one blamed him.

But the more evidence the higher-ups brought about you and the more he had to know about you, the stranger he felt about you.

Satoru could sense that you were weak, so how the hell did you manage to kill so many sorcerers on your own? You were truly an anomaly.

Gojo began to have the need to want to know more about you. Why had you chosen this life? Why not another? What was your life like before that? He could do whatever he wanted, so it wasn't difficult for him to find practically your entire life story.

and in some ways he is intrigued.

To clarify, a Gojo Yandere has difficulty seeing you as an individual, so seeing that you have your own reasons, motives, LIFE, is what regenerates interest.

but that interest becomes increasingly morbid.

You're one of the most uninteresting things he's had for years, something he spends time researching and learning more about, like a test subject, is as bad as it sounds.

You are something new and interesting even if you are weak.

You're entertaining enough to amuse him watching you do your "antics" (kill people) but you're nowhere near as strong as him.

but when the higher ups give the order to put a target on your head, it changes. Sure, it's something that can't be avoided, but it's not like I'm going to let anyone other than HIM go kill you and/or capture you.

so he decides that he will do it himself.

and honestly? It doesn't take him long, with the contacts he has + the 6 eyes, finding you was a walk in the park for him.

But he wanted to see if you would be as interesting as you looked on paper and in videos.

and MY GOD, you reminded him of his meeting with Toji, what happened at Jujustu Tech, so many flashbacks came to his head and he felt for the first time in a long time OVERWHELMED with emotions.

he loved it.

and he knew that he couldn't miss the luxury of having you, he couldn't kill you. let alone let someone else kill you.

Honestly, you were scared, you already knew you had no chance with SATORU GOJO, so you tried to run away rather than fight, but obviously it was of no use. Even when you decided to fight it was useless. you expected Gojo to just attack you and kill you.

...but he wasn't doing any of that and it was starting to scare you, you didn't know what he was going to do.

Being in that state of total alert and fear (even if you hid it as best as you could, it was impossible for Gojo not to see right through you) imagine your surprise when you lost consciousness and when you regained it you were in a completely different place.

to begin with, with seals on your body that did not allow you to use cursed energy, and to top it off, without being able to leave said place (a Japanese house? where the Gojo clan lives).

If we go into more advanced terms of """""relationship"""" Gojo is very annoying as a Yandere, everyone knows it. But in this case especially some aspects are maximized and others are more lenient.

for example, with Gojo you can go out! but only to places where there is open space and just to be able to fight again, she seems to take some pleasure in beating you over and over again, or even giving you the chance to escape only to crush her at the last moment.

He's a sadistic son of a bitch in the emotional sense.

(You could say that since you remind him so much of Touji, it's like he's taking """loving" revenge" for everything he put him through in his youth, while also keeping you in line to that you understand "your place" so to speak).

He is VERY clingy, he cares little or nothing if you don't want cuddles. In fact, it only encourages him more to do it. Poor thing, you probably didn't receive any kind of affection from the shitty father you had, let him pamper you to make up for it~ CREEPY ASF.

About that, it's scary how much he knows about you, now that you're "dead" to the higher ups, he has a lot more information about you and he uses it against you (either to weaken you mentally or to make you develop Stockholm syndrome faster) .

He is PAINFULLY condescending, but at least he does not reach the point of infantilization or other extremes such as wanting to make you completely useless, it helps him that you are useful, NOT SO USEFUL AS TO FLEE, but enough to entertain him.

He is also a master at giving mixed signals.

I mean, yes, he kidnaps you ONLY because you entertain him and you are fun for him like a toy....but he also takes care of your wounds when you return inside his house, he makes food for both of you, he acts as a therapist so that you can talk to him on your own. about your horrible childhood and your bad relationship with your father, etc.

Obviously this is intentional, although over time he becomes more "genuine" and you could tell that he really cares about you in his own way.

and like any good yandere, he gets rid of anyone he feels is an obstacle to his goal. Even if he doesn't have any rivals, Gojo will definitely kill anyone he sees as potentially treating you in the future.

He has definitely killed your father for quite some time and you will be very lucky if he doesn't come to show you his decapitated head like a fucking hunting trophy :)

He is like a child without knowledge of suffering.

He simply has such NO knowledge of empathy that he doesn't know what he should do with all these new feelings and sensations that you generate in him.

He's not overprotective as such (he knows that if anything he should protect people FROM YOU) BUT he's definitely too possessive. As I said, he doesn't see you as an object as such, but he just doesn't know how he should refer to you. so it is very prone to using possessive adjectives.

escape attempts are received as jokes, literally, he cannot take them seriously. although in a way it is a double-edged sword, on the one hand you do not receive any punishment as such apart from a particularly sticky Gojo (isn't that a punishment in itself?) but on the other hand, again, so close and so far...

If you behave "badly" in the sense that you don't cooperate, you are rude to him, you try to escape too many times, etc. Gojo seriously thought about a severe punishment, but I don't think he'll do anything to break you... intentionally.

I think how much in this case it would scare you to death as a warning for you to start "behaving" but nothing more severe.

If you develop Stockholm syndrome, he's over the moon! His clingyness level would increase to 300% and even your life you can recover several basic rights, such as going out ON THE STREET with him and being able to have more autonomy. Even of course, Satoru dictates everything, your clothes, your food, your room, etc....

Be that as it may, for a Yandere Satoru, you are great entertainment, something worthy of his time, a wild cat that he is willing to tame, but an equal? not closely...although he is willing to try to find out what this feeling is that you have awakened in him, so you are not leaving him anytime soon.

or better yet. NEVER.

(just to clarify, TOJI IS NOT READERS DAD, ITS JUST A COMPARATION I MAKE ON MY OWN)

I hope You like it!!

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[sgiandubh]

I actually am a shipper so I wasn’t trying to make the rounds to stir shit. I haven’t been around for too long only about 2 years or less. I just got upset when I saw the Getty pictures of Sam’s hand on Eleanor’s hip and hand on her back and then the fan pictures and video too of his hand on her back and giving her hug made me start to question everything since he does that with Cait too. I’m sorry for giving the wrong impression.

But I took a little time to reflect and remembered videos and images we got of Sam and Cait from Outlander promo this year. Between the moments at 92Y where Sam gave Cait a kiss on her temple and rubbed her back as well as the end when posing with Sophie in Rik. To the looks and knowing glances he gave her during interviews and even giving her a pat on the leg I believe in one interview. I overreacted initially and now that I put things into perspective, I can see the difference. There’s an intimacy and connection between Sam and Cait that comes across in promo that isn’t there with Eleanor.

Sorry again for coming across the wrong way. I truly was just looking for some reassurance initially

Dear (returning) Weary and Distraught Anon,

That would be very strange, because it really (REALLY) looks very similar to an Anon @bat-cat-reader showed me perhaps ten minutes before you chimed in.

However, since this is a plausible deniability situation, please accept my apologies, even if I still am not 100% sure about you.

I was just writing a post about body language at tonight's BAFTA preview of TCND, but since you've made reasonable amends, I am including it here for you, Anon:

S&C at OL's S7 Premiere in New York, June 9, 2023:

S & Tomlinson tonight:

Please note the following:

Tomlinson is completely disengaged, watches confidently the press people in front of her. She does not smile. Translation: I am a woman who just showed the press, the PR people and potential employers my latest project. I am a pro. I am very married and I know this hunk belongs to someone else. I am only playing PR games in *urv's mind.

S does the same. He uses his left hand as a completely non-committal blocking shield. Colgate smile is somewhat too calibrated to be spontaneous, the result is pleasant (which is to say 'decent bordering on meh'). Translation: we are all buddies and I (S) hope you liked our wee series. I really, seriously enjoyed working with these people and I am relieved we were allowed to promote this series in the middle of the strike turmoil. My well-rehearsed Optimistic Gaze Nr. 4 hides very well my real thoughts, that even @sgiandubh can't telegraph to her readers. And these thoughts have nothing to do with being here (note to readers: above thoughts probably involve a living-room near GLA).

Alfred Enoch: he is the only relaxed person in this picture and the only one whose smile perfectly aligns with his eyes (both sincere, open and enthusiastic). His arms' position is completely natural. Translation: I am over the moon to be here, I managed to work during a really rough patch and I really hope someone has noticed me tonight. Maybe I'll get another gig soon. These people are my friends, but tonight, it's all about myself: it is me I am showing off, selling and promoting here. Hire me: I am the funny one.

Bonus (dotted arrow shows where S's gaze is directed):

I think that needs no further comments. I rest my case, Anon.

Thank you for clarifying, I think you were brave to come back. Don't be a stranger, if I managed to not scare the bejesus out of you, yet.

PS: who knew my Business Intelligence uni credits would come in so handy, in the most unlikely of situations?

[thenatashamaximoff]

Piece Of Mind

Summary: Running into strangers while on a shopping trip with your girlfriend seems to leave you with a lot of questions. But, don’t worry... Wanda has a way to answer all of them at once.

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

Warnings: mind manipulation

Words: 3,323

✎ | ？

┌─────────────ᗢ─────────────┐ @diaryoflife​ @women-am-i-right​​ @creatively-analytical​​ @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @beforeoursecrets​​ @iliketozoneout​​ @olsensnpm​​ @hoefnagel521 @jsonebraincell​​  └─────────────ᗢ─────────────┘ ┌─────────────∞─────────────┐ @myfavoriteficss​ @pinkytoecrust​ @cyncity32​ @romanoffomixam​ @peachbear88​ @magicallymaximoff​ @therealmeari @peggycarter-steverogers​ @ba-romanoff​ @natashabelovas​ @morbid-gaymer​ @reminiscingtonight​ @when-wolves-howl​ @idontknownemore​ @natashasilverfox​ @sayah13 @fuxk182​ @scarletwitchofthewilds​ @natashamaximoff69 @wuwu96  └─────────────∞─────────────┘

It was that time of year again. The time when farmers' markets open up to let your beloved girlfriend splurge for fresher herbs and spices. You enjoyed watching her snoop around, the concentration etched on her face was beauty in your eyes. You could look at her all day, every second, every heartbeat. And when she found a perfectly plump apple or a ridiculously deformed sweet potato, holding it up to show it to you with the biggest, brightest smile… you'd only fall deeper in love with her.

You rested a hand around her waist and pulled her into your side as she asked the vendor questions, not paying any attention to the conversation as you stared at her, a small little smirk resting on your lips as your eyes soaked her up. She rubbed your back absentmindedly, chills racing up your spine underneath her touch. But the conversation soon bled through your trance, the vendor's voice cutting into your daydream.

"I actually sold my last batch of paprika," the vendor claimed sadly. "There's another booth a few yards that way that sells it. It's a bit pricier but just as good."

Wanda looked at you with a little pout and you were already stepping away from her, the slight smirk growing into a wide grin on your face. "Don't worry, darling, I'll go get it. You finish up here." Anything to get rid of that frown, no matter how small it was.

"Four ounces," she clarified as you planted a kiss on her cheek, "and don't get anything else, Y/N. Just paprika!" You gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, taking the small wad of cash out of her other hand and shoving it into your jacket pocket.

You sent her a sloppy salute as you walked away from her, your eyes scanning the area for the booth the vendor suggested. The market was crowded today, and you normally weren't the type to do large crowds like this, but you'd do anything to see that smile on Wanda's face. The way her nose scrunches, the way she squints her eyes, the crinkle in her cheeks. There was no word worthy enough to describe the feeling you get whenever you look at her.

You caught sight of a sign sitting in front of a booth, listing off some spices they were selling and you were already making a beeline toward it when you saw the exact thing Wanda required. "Paprika?" You sighed with relief when the vendor nodded his head, handing you a small glass bottle of paprika. 

"Last one," he stated. "Paprika, very popular spice."

"Trust me, I'm aware," you promised with a soft smile, reaching into your pocket to pull out the money due.

He cleared his throat. "It's buy two, get one half off," he claimed as you looked up from the money in your hand. You sighed at his offer, knowing he was only handing out the deal after he spotted the amount of cash you had pulled out. "Nutmeg is popular, too. And cinnamon."

"I'm sorry, but I only need paprika," you expressed. "How much-"

"Please," he begged. "Buy two, get one free. Please, ma'am, business is not good. My family…" He trailed off, his eyes glossing over with unshed tears and the man suddenly looked so exhausted. His hands shook as he rubbed them together, nervous that you were going to deny his offer once more, and you couldn't help but feel bad for this man. "I can't…" He shook his head, his chin falling to his chest in shame. You saw the look in his eye, the look of desperation. This man was anguished, willing to do anything to help his family, just like how you’d do anything to make Wanda smile.

You glanced over your shoulder towards Wanda, but the thick crowd of people blocked you from being able to spot her. If she truly didn’t want you to spend the money, she wouldn’t have given you so much. You looked back at the man and cleared your throat. "I'll take that offer."

He picked his head back up, a smile brightening his features as a single tear slid down his cheek. His shaky hands held onto the cinnamon and nutmeg as he dropped them into your opened palm and, in exchange, you gave him the whole wad of cash in your possession. His eyes widened with shock and gratefulness, moving away from him before he could try to give some of it back. “Very kind!” he claimed and you laughed softly, waving him off.

"Have a good day, sir," you said before turning your back to him.

You looked down at the spices in your hands, already trying to form a story as to why you bought more than necessary, and why you no longer had all the cash she had given you. You absentmindedly took a step forward, so lost in your thoughts that you were completely ignorant of the figure running towards you despite the commotion he was causing. He bumped into your shoulder when he tried to avoid hitting you in general, but the sudden impact caused the bottles in your hands to fall. You flinched when the sound of glass shattering reached your ears, your chin slowly falling to your chest to stare down at the mess at your feet. The only one you needed was the only one that didn’t survive the descent. 

You knelt to pick up the two spices that survived the fall, sliding them into your jacket before you carefully started picking up the broken glass off the ground, not wanting someone to get hurt. Now you have to start thinking about a story to tell her about why you no longer have any paprika to give her, standing up with your hand cupped gently around the glass. You turned, planning on making your way back to Wanda, but were immediately cut off by yet another person smashing right into you.

Your hand instinctively clenched tightly around the glass shards, hissing at the sting it brought as the pieces fell out of your hand when you shook it as if shaking the pain away. You stared at your hand, no obvious signs of injury could be seen on your skin, but it didn’t make your hand sting any less. You weren’t aware that the person who had bumped into you was still present until they spoke.

"Y/N?" You looked up on instinct at your name, furrowing your eyebrows when you saw a redheaded woman look at you with hopeful eyes, a sad smile on her face. She looked ecstatic to see you, yet she seemed tired, short of breath from seemingly chasing the running man that had passed you earlier. "I can't believe it." Her grin was wide despite it seeming to be troubled, her shoulders relaxing as she maintained eye contact with you. She released a long, steady breath as if breathing for the first time in a long time.

You tilted your head in confusion. This woman treated you like a friend, someone she considers close. Yet, you don’t think you’ve ever seen her in your life. Surely you would’ve remembered someone like her, there was no denying her beauty even if your heart does belong to Wanda. She wasn’t a face you’d forget, not for a long while. But she knew your name, that wasn’t a coincidence. And she didn’t give you any major stalker vibes, feeling a sense of solace and security in her presence. You weren’t… scared. You felt… fine. 

The woman shook her head, disbelief was written on her face. “You just… disappeared, Y/N. Ever since the whole thing with-”

"I lost him." A man jogged up next to her, his eyes scanning the area to see if he could find his target, his face pinched into frustrated anger… until he looked at you. "Y/N?" His face softened, his eyes filled with worry and happiness, mirroring the redhead standing next to him. He, too, reacted to you like a close friend.

"We've been looking everywhere for you," the redhead said. Looking at the two side by side, they had a familiarity with them. A feeling of friendship and… comfort. Their names were on the tip of your tongue, you could feel it. You knew these two, but there was something in your brain that was forbidding you to connect them to your memories. As if that piece of your mind was missing, preventing you from remembering. And though your face was contorted into pure confusion, it seemingly evaporated once you mentally snapped yourself out of your own thoughts.

"I… don't know you," you said, laughing a little bit as you continued to coddle your stinging hand. "I'm sorry, but… you might be confusing me with someone else." They got your name spot on. There were more than enough different names in the world and they had somehow managed to get yours exactly right? 

Surely you'd remember these two.

"Y/N, it's… it's us," the man stated, pressing his hands to his chest as you slowly shook your head. "It's-"

"Clint. Natasha." They turned to look towards Wanda's voice coming from behind them, her arms crossed over her chest with a bag dangling from her wrist. The look on the witch’s face would send any sane person running for the hills, the way her jaw locked prominently, the way her pupils narrowed to the size of a crumb, and the tilt of her head. Yet, her glare didn’t send these two away with their tails between their legs. No, the strangers stood their ground against your peeved girlfriend. But when Wanda noticed the way you were holding your hand, all anger had evaded her face. She marched forward, moving to stand next to you protectively. "What happened, baby?" She took your hand away from you gently, glancing towards Clint and Natasha before inspecting the minor injury as she decided to blatantly ignore the two people in front of you. She was careful with you, double-checking to see if you were seriously injured, and you let her examine your hand for the invisible wound.

"I'm fine," you assured, shrugging nonchalantly as you looked down at the pieces of glass at your feet, the small pile of red dust. Hopefully, she didn’t see the waste of paprika on the ground. You always hated a sad Wanda. "Just a little incident. Nothing to be worried about, sweetheart." You shot her a cheeky grin when she looked up at you, not being able to hold back a smile of her own when she saw the unwavering brightness on your face. The stinging in your hand was immediately forgotten.

"Wanda." The way Natasha said her name made her look away from you and to the redhead, her eyes darkening with anger once more and the smile wiping off her face instantaneously. "What did you do?" Natasha, as you had learned, gripped her hips, eyebrows pinched together with fury as she stared Wanda down. You could sense the tension between the two women. The same tension was radiating off of Clint, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, but he was quieter about it. You seemed to be the only one confused about what was going on.

"I bought some fruit and vegetables," she answered casually, though there was a hint of hostility in her voice that you detected just as easily as the other two did. Her face still showed the annoyed anger, her jaw clenching whenever she wasn’t using it to speak. "As nice as it was seeing you two again, we should go get her hand fixed."

"Wait-" Clint stepped forward, grabbing onto your wrist that she wasn't holding, his grip strong and secure. It felt as if he was trying to keep you away from her, feeling him begin to tug you towards him, but Wanda was quick. She placed a hand against his chest and pushed him away from you, a puff of crimson smoke evaporating at the contact as her eyes glowed a dark red to match. A sign that she wasn't going to be so gentle the next time either of them tried to lay a hand on you.

"Leave us alone," Wanda warned through clenched teeth, "and stop looking for us. We’re fine." With her hand still firm around the wrist of your injured hand, she pulled you back in perfect sync with the moving crowd, Natasha and Clint almost losing the two of you immediately.

"I'm sorry," you stated as she continued to drag you, the crowd not hesitating to part, forming a perfect path for her as if they knew just how much of a threat she could be when she was enraged. You knew she was heading to the parking lot, trying desperately to get away from Natasha and Clint.

"It's not your fault," she said softly. "It's-" You pulled yourself free from her grip, making her stop. She turned to take a step toward you, her head tilted slightly with confusion. Her hands twitched by her side, wondering if you were about to make a scene right now, in the middle of a crowd. The only thing on her mind at the moment, though, was getting you out of here.

"No, I'm sorry I lost the paprika," you told her, reaching into your pocket with your good hand to bring out the cinnamon and nutmeg. "But, according to the vendor, these are pretty good." You sent her a smile, clearly unfazed by what had just gone down between her and the other two. "And I also gave him all the money you gave me."

"Y/N-"

"We can stop at the store on the way home!" you expressed, hearing the disappointment in her voice. "I know it's not as good as it would be from a farmers market, but it's better than nothing, right? I mean, he needed the money, Wanda, and-"

She stepped forward, bringing your face into a gentle hold, and the bag around her wrist softly tapped against your shoulder. Her smile was soft and genuinely happy. No sign of disappointment advertised on her features, no sign of the anger she had displayed earlier, her thumbs running circles on your cheeks. You felt yourself calm down under her green eyes, a crooked smile tugging her lips. “I couldn’t care less about the paprika, Y/N, as long as you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” Your reply was automatic. You couldn’t even hear your own voice, too lost in the hypnotic trance her eyes locked you in. Your knees were weak, your heart was pounding, and when she slowly pushed her lips against yours in a deep kiss, warmth spread through you as red colored your cheeks. You didn’t want her to break away from you, feeling as if her lips were the reason why your heart was beating, but she eventually did pull away from you and a soft whine came from the back of your throat.

Her hands left your face, plucking the two bottles out of your hands to drop them into the bag. “Come on, darling, there’s a first aid kit at home.” She intertwined her hand through your good one, pulling you close to her as the two of you walked side by side to the parking lot. 

“It doesn’t really hurt anymore,” you assured her absentmindedly, looking at your palm. 

But you couldn’t stop your thoughts from wandering back to Natasha and Clint, as Wanda had referred to them. There was something in the deep depths of your mind that told you you knew them. They clearly knew you. And what did Natasha mean when she said that they’ve been looking for you? You weren’t missing. You were with Wanda.

You climbed into the passenger seat of the car as the engine roared to life, Wanda glancing at you before pulling out of the parking lot. She didn’t bother with the radio, enjoying the muffled music instead as she drove down the streets, but it wasn’t much longer after that she was intercepting the silence with her words, “What’s on your mind?”

You slowly turned your head to look at her, eyebrows knitted together. “I knew them,” you said, unaware of her grip tightening around the steering wheel. “They… seemed familiar. Clint and Natasha. They knew me. I… can’t remember them. Why can’t I remember them?”

You watched as her lips pursed together, her eyes intent on the road in front of her. She knew them, and you thought that you know everybody she does. That's apparently not the case. Is she… lying to you?

"Wanda," you expressed, clearing your throat. She didn't look at you, her eyes straight ahead as if she was avoiding confrontation. "Who were they?"

"Old colleagues," she answered, finally glancing at you to send you a soft grin. "I told you I used to work with the government."

"You did," you confirmed, nodding slowly. "They worked with you?"

"Yes."

“But they know me.”

“I bragged about you all the time to them, Y/N,” Wanda expressed casually, shrugging as a smile tugged her lips. “It’s not hard to deduce what an angel looks like.” She laughed gently as you pursed your lips together for a moment, turning to look away from her.

You released a soft breath. "You should invite them over," you offered, suddenly perky. "I think it's healthy to rekindle old friendships." You smiled widely at her, earning a subtle shake of her head and a small laugh. "It'll put the stuff you bought from the farmers market to good use." And, maybe, whatever had happened between the three of them to cause such tension could be resolved.

She chuckled but shook her head subtly once more. "They're very busy, Y/N," she explained. 

You rolled your eyes, resting your head against the headrest behind you as you looked at her, taking a moment to soak in her beauty as the sun reflected her features in a brilliant light. You hummed softly along with the quiet music rolling off the radio for a second before saying, "We don't have to invite them over today. That's a bit last minute, Wands."

"Sweetheart-"

"Oh, c'mon, baby," you pleaded. She kept her eyes forward, her jaw clenching tightly at your request, knowing you were sending her a pout that would make her fold. "The house gets so empty. We never have anybody over. Not even our own neighbors!"

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened, her knuckles bone white as her stare remained front and center. But then she released a heavy breath, nodding her head as she said, “Alright. I’ll call them when we get home and we can plan dinner for this week.” She couldn’t help but chuckle at your giddiness as she slowed the car upon reaching a red light, taking the moment to look at you.

She could see how quickly your thoughts were racing, already laying out all the details for the dinner in that brain of yours. She sighed softly through her nose, sending you a wide grin as she reached over to rest her palm against your cheek. She felt her heart skip a beat when you leaned into her touch on instinct, a hum emitting from the back of your throat. But the excitement didn’t last long because, as Wanda pulled her hand away from you, swirls of red vapor escaped her fingers and disappeared into your skin.

You blinked, looking at Wanda for a moment before you broke out into a sheepish smirk. “I dozed off again, didn’t I?” You sighed in disappointment as she sent you a faint smile letting you grab her free hand to give it a squeeze as she continued driving. 

As much as she hated taking pieces of your mind, she can’t have you finding out the truth.