#anyway I’m gonna go trick or treat now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoshifighting · 3 months ago

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jeon wonwoo as ghostface

— self-explanatory title.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, fingering, penetrative sex, public-sex, halloween/trick-or-treat setting, mentions of body fluids (cum), mentions of alcohol (beer)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

it’s halloween night, and you barely get off the couch before the obnoxious ringing of the doorbell has you grumbling under your breath. “fuck’s sake, it’s way too late for this,” you mutter, swinging open the door to give some half-assed apology to whoever’s outside. except, what you see makes you pause, lips twitching in disbelief.

“really?” your eyes sweep over the trio standing there. wonwoo in a full ghostface costume—at least, you assume it’s wonwoo—tilts his head in that lazy way of his, towering in that black robe, seungcheol grinning like an idiot in his chucky outfit, and then there’s chan… dressed as pikachu.

you cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow. “aren’t you guys a little too old for trick-or-treating?”

wonwoo tilts his head to the side, that creepy ghostface mask just staring back at you while seungcheol laughs, giving chan a light shove forward. “we know you’ve got something for us,” seungcheol says, his voice casual, teasing.

“and i’m not giving you candy.”

“oh, we know,” wonwoo finally speaks up, his voice muffled through the mask. something about that deep tone hits different tonight, and you swallow, trying to play it off. it’s not the time. definitely not the time.

“beer work?” you roll your eyes, already stepping back to let them in.

“now we’re talking,” seungcheol grins as he brushes past you, chan giving you a quick thumbs up before following suit. wonwoo lingers, his tall frame blocking the doorway for a second longer than necessary, and you can feel his eyes on you through that mask. it’s unsettling… in a good way.

“you coming in, or are you gonna stand there all night?” you challenge, keeping your tone casual as you move into the kitchen.

he doesn’t say anything, just steps inside, closing the door softly behind him.

“didn’t know ghostface was such a creep,” you mutter, grabbing a few beers from the fridge and cracking one open for yourself. you hand the others to seungcheol and chan, who are already making themselves at home on your couch, flipping through your tv channels like they own the place.

wonwoo’s still standing there, leaning against the counter now, that damn mask still on. he doesn’t take the beer when you offer it, just watches.

“you not drinking?” you raise an eyebrow.

“might later,” he says, low and quiet, like there’s a double meaning behind his words. your stomach tightens. you blame the beer.

seungcheol’s already yelling at chan for hogging the remote, the two of them bickering like kids. it’s easy to ignore, but wonwoo? not so much.

“what’s with the mask, anyway? trying to freak me out?”

he cocks his head again, slow and deliberate. “you scared?”

you scoff, taking a long sip from your bottle. “you wish.”

wonwoo pushes off the counter, stepping closer, and your heart picks up. he doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of you, the space between you almost nonexistent. you can feel the heat radiating off him, even through that damn costume.

“maybe i do.”

your breath catches in your throat. for a second, you wonder if you’re imagining things, but the way he’s staring down at you—you know something’s different tonight.

you’ve known these guys for a while. they’re neighborhood friends, yeah, but you’ve never seen wonwoo act like this. there’s always been a tension, sure, some light flirting here and there, but this?... hmm you had this feeling in your gut.

“what, you got some kind of halloween kink or something?” you joke, trying to ease the tension, but it falls flat when he doesn’t laugh.

instead, he reaches up, slowly pulling the mask off, and your breath hitches. his dark eyes lock on yours, and you realize there’s no going back from this.

“maybe,” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly, “or maybe i’ve just been waiting for an excuse.”

an excuse? to what? you almost laugh at how ridiculous it sounds, but the way he’s looking at you, the way his gaze drops to your lips—it’s like he’s been waiting for this moment all night.

you bite your lip, meeting his gaze with a defiant look. “and what makes you think i’m gonna let you?”

his lips curl into the smallest of smirks, and before you can say anything else, he closes the distance between you, one hand gripping your waist, pulling you against him. the other comes up to tilt your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“because i know you want me to.”

the arrogance in his voice would usually piss you off, but tonight? tonight, goes straight to your pussy. fuck, maybe he’s right.

“cocky bastard,” you mutter, but you don’t pull away. in fact, you lean into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his costume.

“you have no idea,” he breathes, before his lips crash into yours.

it’s rough, frantic, and fuck if it doesn’t feel good. his hands grip your waist harder, pulling you against him like he can’t get enough.

his hands move down to your ass, squeezing the meat through the soft fabric of your shorts, making you gasp against his lips. “shit, wonwoo,” you breathe, feeling the warmth of his touch sear through the thin material. you’re already on edge, nerves buzzing under your skin, and he knows exactly what he’s doing—taking his time, working you up until you’re practically shaking.

“these shorts… they’re killing me,” he mutters, voice low in your ear as he grips you harder. “you didn’t think i’d notice?” his fingers tug at the hem of your shorts, just enough to tease you, before slipping down, grazing your thigh.

“didn’t think i’d be giving you a show tonight,” you say, but it comes out breathier than you intended, the words barely a whisper as his hand slips under the leg of your shorts, fingers brushing dangerously close to your bare skin. no panties. fuck. it’s like he knew, like he’s been planning this all night.

a groan escapes his throat when he realizes, pulling back just enough to look at you, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “no panties?”

“got a problem with that?” you challenge, but your voice wavers when his fingers brush between your legs, just barely skimming your clit. your body reacts on instinct, hips jerking forward, seeking more of his touch.

“not at all,” he says. “just makes it easier for me.”

he doesn’t wait for a response, doesn’t give you a chance to say anything smart before he’s pushing your shorts to the side, his fingers finding your wetness with ease. the first touch is light, teasing, barely there, but it’s enough to make you bite down on your lip, stifling a moan.

his fingers press against your slit, dragging up to your clit, making you squirm in his grip. you’re hyper-aware of how close the others are, the sound of seungcheol and chan still bickering in the background, the tv blaring—any minute, they could turn around, see what’s happening, but the risk only makes it hotter.

“you’re soaked,” wonwoo murmurs, his breath hot against your neck as his fingers circle your clit in lazy strokes. “you like knowing they could see us, don’t you?”

you shiver at his words, legs trembling as he works you open with those skilled fingers, teasing you until you’re desperate—more desperate. “shut up,” you manage to hiss, but the way your body arches into his touch betrays you.

he chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck before sliding one finger inside you. your walls clench around him, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from making any noise. but fuck, it’s hard—especially when he’s moving like that, slow, deep, curling his finger just right.

“fuck, wonwoo,” you breathe, hips grinding down against his hand, chasing the friction.

he adds another finger, stretching you, his pace picking up as he fucks you with his hand. it’s messy, the wet sound of his fingers slipping in and out of you filling the space between you, and you’re doing everything you can to keep quiet, but it’s fucking impossible.

his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing circles while his fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot that has your vision going blurred. “feel good?”

“yes!” you gasp, hips moving on their own, grinding against his hand. you’re so close already, the tension building fast and hard in your core.

“think you can stay quiet?” he asks, his tone teasing, though there’s an edge to it. he wants you to be loud, to give yourself away—but he also knows the thrill of keeping it a secret, the tension of holding back.

you’re about to answer when he pulls his fingers out of you, making you whimper at the loss. “wonwoo, please—”

he doesn’t give you time to beg, spinning you around and pressing you against the counter, his chest flush against your back. you can hear the soft clink of his belt being undone, feel the hard press of him against your ass, and your pulse skyrockets in anticipation.

“you’re gonna have to stay quiet for me,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he pulls your shorts to the side, lining himself up at your entrance. “think you can do that?”

“y-yes—” you barely get the word out before he’s pushing into you, filling you completely. your mouth falls open, but no sound comes out—just a sharp inhale as your hands grip the counter, knuckles white with how hard you’re holding on.

“so fucking wet baby,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips as he bottoms out inside you. “god, you feel so good.”

you’re struggling to breathe, your body trembling. it’s too much, too good, and you’re doing everything you can to keep from making any noise, but it’s so fucking hard when he’s moving like this, slow and deep, each thrust making your knees buckle harder.

“wonwoo—” you gasp, but he cuts you off with a hand over your mouth, silencing you.

“shh, can’t have them hearing you,” he whispers, his voice rough in your ear as he starts to move, each thrust harder and faster than the last. “unless you want them to see how needy you are for me.”

your walls go clenching around him as he fucks you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin barely masked by the noise from the tv. you’re so close, the tension in your belly coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust.

“fuck, that pussy was made for me,” he grits out, his grip on your hips bruising as he slams into you. “gonna come for me?”

you nod, your body trembling as you teeter on the edge, his hand still pressed over your mouth, muffling the desperate moans you can’t hold back anymore.

“good girl,” he groans, his pace relentless as he fucks you through it, his hips slamming against yours with enough force to make the counter shake.

the orgasm crashes over you suddenly, your body tensing as the pleasure rips through you, and you’re so close to crying out, the sound muffled by his hand as you come undone around him. your walls pulse and clench, and you can feel him losing control, his thrusts becoming erratic, sloppy.

he curses under his breath, his hands gripping you harder as he buries himself deep inside you, his own release following quickly after. you can feel him pulsing inside you, filling you with the slick cum, and it takes everything in you not to collapse right then and there.

he pulls out slowly, letting out a breathy groan as he steps back, leaving you panting against the counter, your legs shaking.

“we should… probably get back to the others,” you manage to say, voice hoarse.

“yeah,” wonwoo says, but there’s a teasing lilt to his voice as he leans down to press a kiss to your shoulder. “but i think they already know.”

you whip around to glare at him, but he just smirks, pulling his ghostface mask back on before heading back into the living room.

as you follow, trying to fix your clothes and compose yourself, you catch chan’s knowing smirk and seungcheol’s raised eyebrow.

“didn’t know it was that kind of halloween party,” seungcheol teases, making you roll your eyes.

“shut up,” you mutter, grabbing another beer from the fridge and sinking down onto the couch, heart still racing.

“whatever you say,” chan sings, winking at you before turning back to the tv.

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 3 months ago

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Trick or Treat | Bucky Barnes x Reader

This is my second Halloween fic this year because I have no self control!

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: anxiety

Sam’s Halloween bash launched into full swing, and seemed as though it would last till sunrise. Music pulsed through a set of massive speakers. Alcohol flowed. And throngs of people danced the night away.

Just as Sam instructed, everyone arrived decked out in costume. And as you scanned the crowd, you found Ghost Face doing shots with Barbie. Michael Myers grinding on Freddy Kreuger. Pennywise flirting with Beetlejuice. It was a picture perfect Halloween party- save for one thing.

Bucky hadn’t arrived yet.

All of the partygoers formed a large, pulsating mass as they danced and celebrated, but you remained off to the side. In an empty, isolated corner, you checked and rechecked your texts. You’d already shot Bucky a few messages asking when he’d show. Asking if he was alright. And he swore he was fine. He said he’d be there soon, but that was as specific as he’d get.

“I’m sure he’ll be here any minute!” Wanda yelled over the music. She swayed to the beat, swishing the skirt of her dress back and forth. Every few seconds, she stole a glance at the dance floor with want in her eyes. “Come on, let’s go dance!”

“I’m with Mary,” Nat downed the last of her drink and draped her arm over Wanda’s shoulders. “The Sanderson Sisters are the life of the party, we have a reputation to uphold!”

When the three of you decided to coordinate your costumes, Hocus Pocus had been the obvious choice. In the weeks leading up to Sam’s party, you helped one another piece together flawless renditions of each Sanderson Sister. Wanda decided on Mary, and Nat dressed up as Sarah, leaving you to adopt Winifred’s famous ensemble.

And you had to admit, the three of you looked amazing.

But you couldn’t run to the dance floor and party with abandon- not yet, anyway. Bucky said he’d be there. He swore to you that he’d make an appearance. And while a loud, overcrowded party wasn’t his favorite way to spend an evening, he knew he had to challenge himself. To expand his comfort zone.

He wanted so badly to be “normal”. To function like a “regular” person. But he struggled. He had flashbacks. Panic attacks. Long depression spirals. And his anxiety always had the reigns.

But he’d fought tooth and nail to vanquish his demons, and now that he was making progress and healing bit by bit, he wanted to join the ranks of "ordinary" society.

And Sam’s party was the perfect opportunity. It was a safe, controlled environment where Bucky could stretch his comfort zone. Sure, it was loud and packed with people, but that was the whole point. If he was going to be “normal”, he had to be okay with noise and crowds; Sam’s party had both. But there was nothing for him to worry about, nothing to fear. He would perfectly and totally safe here. At least half of the attendees were fellow special agents, and you and Sam promised to stick with him all night.

But the party started over an hour ago, and he still hadn’t shown. Worry creased your brow; it wasn’t like him to be late.

“I think I’m just gonna hang out here for now,” you leaned against the wall and brandished your phone at them, “So I can make sure I don’t miss a call or anything.”

“You do you, sister,” Nat brushed a kiss against your cheek, “Mary and I are gonna command the dance floor.”

The two of them ran off, arm in arm, in the direction of the crowd.

“Is he on his way?” Sam came around the corner, two drinks in hand. He extended one in your direction and sipped on the other. “I haven’t heard back.”

“I don’t know.” You took a long pull of your drink, “I asked if he was coming and he said yes, but he didn’t give me a specific ETA, or anything.”

Sam shrugged, “I think he might flake.”

That same sneaking suspicion had crossed your mind a few times over the last hour, but you refused to accept it. Surely, Bucky just needed a little extra time to prepare himself. To get in the right headspace.

“I’m gonna- would you take this for a sec?” You handed your drink back to Sam, who swore to keep a watchful eye on it while you stepped outside to call Bucky.

The phone rang and rang. And you feared it might go to voicemail. But at the last possible second, Bucky picked up.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Something was off. He sounded almost nervous, like he’d been caught red-handed.

“Hey, Buck.” You kept your tone light. “Are you gonna be here soon?”

A long silence permeated the line.

“Um, yes. Yeah, I’m on my way right now,” he assured you. “Shouldn’t be much longer. I’ll see you in a bit. Okay?”

“Great." You didn't buy it for a second. "See you soon.”

For an ex-assassin with decades of stealth training and countless kills on his hands, Bucky was a terrible liar. But only when it came to you. He just couldn’t deceive his best friend, couldn’t pull the wool over your eyes. He simply didn’t have it in him; his brain and body rejected even the concept of swindling you.

You knew for a fact that he was still at his apartment. Knew that his anxiety had won. You could practically see him sitting at home all alone, hating himself for flaking on yet another get-together. And while his closest friends danced the night away, he’d spend the entire evening berating himself. Chastising himself.

But you wouldn’t allow it. With a determined huff, you ditched the party, and set off in the direction of Bucky's apartment.

Bucky stared at the costume you’d carefully helped him assemble. It sat neatly folded on his kitchen table, all he had to do was put it on and head out the door. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. And it infuriated him.

He spent weeks mentally preparing himself for this. He meditated, journaled, and even sought out extra therapy sessions. But none of it worked. He was still a slave to his anxiety, bending to every whim of the monsters in his head.

The whole thing was so stupid- it was just a party. He knew, logically, that there was nothing to fear. But part of his brain, the part that hated him, told him it would be too much. That he’d immediately get overwhelmed by the noise and the people and the lights. That it was a panic attack waiting to happen.

He feared what onlookers might think, what they might say, if he broke down in the middle of the festivities. And he didn’t want to chance ruining Sam’s party.

And so, he’d lied to you. He wasn’t proud of it, but it was for the best. He just wanted you to have a good time. Wanted you to spend the night dancing with Nat and Wanda instead of worrying about him. It was better this way.

A sharp knock jolted him from his seat on the couch. He crossed to the front door and pulled it open, expecting to see a group of candy-obsessed kids in costumes. But he found something else, entirely.

“Trick or treat!” You held a bottle of whiskey and a bag of candy proudly in the air, “Happy Halloween, Buck.”

Bucky took on a deer in the headlights kind of look. He was shocked, completely frozen. And as the surprise melted away, he found himself awash in strange mix of anxiety and guilt. You’d caught him in his lie; you’d found him out. And with you standing on his doorstep, he had nowhere to run.

“Sweetheart, hey. Hi. Um, Happy- Yeah, Happy Halloween.” He tripped over himself again and again, his heart racing. “I was just about to call you and-”

“It’s okay, Buck. You’re not in trouble,” you shot him a wink. “I know parties aren’t really your thing.”

He gestured for you to come in and you happily accepted, sweeping past him in your elaborate costume. But he was so bewildered, so overwhelmed, that he left the door wide open.

“What are you doing here?” Quickly, he clarified, “Not that I don’t want you here. I just mean- why aren’t you at the party?”

“Cause I came to hang out with you!” You shrugged, “Plus, there’s no point in me going if you’re not there.”

Bucky appreciated your loyalty, your dedication to him. But he couldn’t let you sit on the sidelines with him.

“That’s sweet of you, and I’m more than happy to have you here, but I know you’ve been looking forward to the party and your costume and everything. And I don’t want to ruin your Halloween.” He leaned against his open door, “So, it won’t hurt my feelings if you-”

“My Halloween will only be ruined if we don’t hang out. So, come on,” once again, you held up the candy and alcohol, “trick or treat, Buck.”

With a stubborn smile, Bucky shut the door. He watched you struggle with the bag of candy and laughed as you used your teeth to tear through the plastic.

“You know, I think you’re doing the whole ‘trick or treat’ thing backwards,” he said as he fished a Twix out of the bag. “Cause you brought candy instead of taking some from me.”

“Or maybe I’m a Halloween pioneer, and I’m inventing new traditions,” you offered. “Now, let’s crack this open.”

Bucky gladly took the bottle of whiskey from you and led you to the kitchen. He crafted old fashioneds for the both of you and clinked his glass with yours. His night had taken a very sharp, very sudden upswing, and he was more than grateful.

“I saw some kiddos trick or treating down the hall, and at least four of them were dressed up like Sam,” you laughed. “Have they been here yet?”

You eyed the large bowl of candy sitting by the front door. It was still full, nearly overflowing with sugary treats. And you realized: it was completely untouched. No greedy little hands had dug through it yet. No mischievous kids had snatched a handful or two. It just sat there, waiting.

It was sweet of Bucky to be prepared, to buy treats for the kids in the area. He was trying so hard to connect with people. To be a member of society. He wanted so badly to be seen as a person. But the world only saw him for his past.

“Um, no, I haven’t had any trick or treaters,” Bucky said, “Well, except for you.”

You shot him a wink a took a drag of your drink.

“But I’ve heard them- they’ve been running up and down my hall all night. I just don’t think…” He clinked his metal fingers against his glass, “I don’t think any of the parents in my building want their kids knocking on my door.”

His shoulders slumped forward ever so slightly, and his head fell an inch or two. Saying it out loud was humiliating. He’d thought- he’d hoped- that the city would embrace him. That they’d celebrate his return. But the only welcome he’d received was dirty looks and people spitting at him on the subway.

Bucky’s words knocked the air from your chest. A combination of heartbreak and unbridled rage swirled inside of you; it was all so unfair. Bucky didn’t deserve to be treated like a pariah or a threat. He was least intimidating, most approachable person you’d ever met. Sure, he was a little shy. But he was so warm. So kind. He genuinely cared about people. He wanted to help his community and make people feel safe. But they refused to give him a chance.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you took his hand in yours, “More candy for us.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and pulled you in for a long, much needed hug. He would never be able to express how much he appreciated your undying support. Your unconditional friendship. He knew without a doubt that he could always count on you. And after living in an unpredictable, erratic state of limbo for so many years, he cherished your consistency.

Bucky dug through the candy you brought, searching for a Snickers. “I know it’s selfish, but I’m really glad you came over.” He abandoned his candy hunt and brought his gaze up to yours, “Seriously. Thanks for being here.”

“Anytime, Buck. You know that.” You tucked the bag of candy under your arm and snatched your glass from the counter, “Come on, let’s watch a scary movie.”

Bucky followed your lead, only straying from the path for a moment or two. And when he returned, he brandished his overflowing bowl of candy in your direction. “I mean, if the kids aren’t gonna eat it…”

He sank into the couch next to you and took a swig of his drink as he watched you dig through the massive bowl of candy. A bit of guilt gnawed at him; he’d been so surprised to see you at his door that he hadn’t taken the time to appreciate all the hard work you’d put into your costume. And as you picked through his candy stash, he drank in the details of your ensemble: the perfectly crafted make up, the ornate dress, the complicated hairstyle. It was impressive, to say the least.

“Your costume is fucking incredible, by the way. You did an amazing job.”

“Oh, thanks!” A proud smile stretched across your face, “If it wasn’t so ridiculously uncomfortable, I’d probably wear it every day. But this corset is…” You pinched and pulled at the tight garment, “Definitely not intended for daily wear.”

“Then let me get you something to more comfortable.” Bucky was up in the blink of an eye, and before you could protest, he was gone.

In the time it took you to locate and unwrap a Kit Kat, he’d arrived in the living room with a change of clothes for you. It was just a pair of sweatpants and a faded t-shirt with BROOKLYN emblazoned on the front, but after spending hours in an uncomfortable corset, you swore he was offering you a slice of heaven.

With greedy hands, you accepted the clothes, “You’re a life saver!”

You sped off down the hall, promising to be back in a flash.

Bucky scrolled through the scary movies Netflix had to offer, but didn’t pay much attention. He couldn’t believe his luck. He’d planned on spending the night all by himself. He figured he’d oscillate between sulking and self-flagellation until he finally fell asleep. But you’d saved him, as you so often did.

“Seriously, I can’t thank you enough for the clothes. Now, I can actually breathe.” You plopped down on the couch next to Bucky, “Okay, what do you wanna watch?”

Bucky scrolled through a few more movies, “I don’t know, I haven’t heard of most of these. I thought I’d defer to you.”

You motioned for him to continue scrolling and gave him a little synopsis each time one of your favorites popped up on the screen.

He listened closely and took your summaries into careful consideration. And after hemming and hawing over his options, he found himself torn. “This is tough, but I’m thinking we go with It Follows or Evil Dead.”

“Both excellent choices!” You clinked your glass against his, “Let’s do It Follows first, and then if we want to watch another, we can follow up with Evil Dead.”

“Deal.”

Bucky scrolled back a page or two and selected It Follows. The movie’s opening scene began, showcasing a quiet, suburban street. You tucked yourself closer into Bucky’s side and tore into a package of M&Ms, preparing to be scared.

But after only a minute or so, Bucky paused the movie.

He turned to you, “Hey, I’m sorry about the party.”

“Buck, we talked about this. I’d rather hang out with you than-”

“No, I mean, I’m sorry I bailed.” He pulled his gaze from your face and placed it on the ice melting in his drink. “My anxiety kind got the best of me. And I-” He locked eyes with you, “I swear I tried. I wanted to go. But I just… I couldn’t do it.” His sudden eye roll caught you off guard, “The whole thing is so ridiculous, it was just a party, but even thinking about going made my hands shake.”

“It’s not ridiculous. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re still trying to wade through all the shit Hydra saddled you with.” You gave his hand a squeeze, “Healing takes time. And it’s not a linear process. You’re gonna have ups and downs- that’s perfectly normal.”

All he could manage was a sigh.

“Like you said, it was just a party. Nothing major. So, who cares if you bailed? All that matters is that you made the right choice for you.”

“I guess.” He carded a hand through his hair, “I just want to be done with it all, you know? I want to be able to do things that normal people do.”

“I know. But, you have to give yourself some grace, okay?” You brushed a gentle hand over his cheek, “And you need to be patient. Cause there’s no skipping to the end with this stuff.”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

“So, cut yourself some slack, okay?” You nudged his shoulder with yours, “No one is more deserving of slack than you.”

“I don’t know about that-”

“If the roles were reversed,” you posited, “And I’d been through all of the trauma and abuse that you went through, would you be upset with me if I couldn’t do certain things because of my anxiety ?”

“No,” he gave a fervent shake of his head. “Never.”

“And would you want me to be kind to myself?”

Without pause, an “of course” fell from his lips.

“Okay, then you need to extend that same kindness and understanding to yourself.”

“But I just want to be able to do stuff with you,” he huffed. “I want to go to parties with you. And concerts. And-”

“Hey, all that will come with time, okay? There’s no rush.” Once again, you gave his hand a squeeze, “You’re my best friend, and I just wanna hang out with you. So, it doesn’t matter what we do. As long as you’re comfortable, I’m happy.”

Bucky eyed you for a second, “You mean that?”

You nodded, “I swear on my life.”

An awkward smile crossed his face, “Then I guess I should tell you that I’m not- I really don’t want to watch a scary movie.”

“Oh, shit. My bad, Buck. We can watch anything you want,” you said, “You pick.”

With a few taps of the remote, Bucky opened an entirely different streaming service and selected a safe movie free of actual scares.

“It’s still on theme with Halloween,” he promised, “But at least it’s not gonna give me more nightmares.”

“Yeah, whatever you want, I don’t-” The opening lines of Hocus Pocus filled the room, and you delivered a playful punch to Bucky’s arm.

He let out a loud laugh, “I had to, sweetheart. You’ve still got the make up on and everything.”

You pelted him with a few M&Ms before settling close to him. He draped an arm across your shoulders and pulled you tight, relishing in your warmth. He was so lucky to have you as his friend, so lucky to know you. He couldn’t believe you’d ditched the party you’d looked forward to for weeks- all for him. Couldn’t believe that you were spending your favorite holiday unceremoniously watching movies on his couch.

But he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. After everything he’d gone through, he was just grateful that he’d befriended someone with such a kind heart. And as he settled in to experience Hocus Pocus for the first time, he started plotting how he’d make things up to you next Halloween.

———————————————

@beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @lonewolf471 @purpleshallot @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @juvellian @samanthacookieone @frombkjar @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat @anything-more-than-human

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stevie-petey · 1 year ago

Text

episode two: trick or treat, freak

“Why do you only ever care about me when I’m some kicked fucking puppy?” Steve’s words are vicious, and you flinch at his tone. “You know that’s not true,” “It’s not?” He scoffs at you. “Then explain what happened this summer.” “I…” You can’t. Steve sees your reluctance to say anything and lets out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, whatever. Some real fucking friend you were.”

Summary: you and nancy have a bonding session in the library (kinda hot tbh), billy gives jonathan and steve a common cause to unite on: Protect Y/N, you're a chauffeur to a very sad steve harrington, and dustin uses will's trauma to his advantage.

Rating: general, slight cursing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, slight sexual harassment (billy corners reader and is gross), cursing, alcohol

Words: 7.9k

Before you swing in: hello ! new chapter, we've arrived at halloween !! i finally get to have a fun authors note comment: i crashed my car lol. i'm fine tho and i hope yall enjoy and like what ive done and changed a bit with this episode. i had fun coming up with costume ideas for the reader, i think the character fits her well :) and before i go: i start school next week, so updates will def be coming a bit slower after this. anyways, happy reading !

The Henderson house is pure chaos morning of Halloween.

Dustin is running around the house, screaming about how his costume has to be absolutely perfect and that if you don’t hurry up with the jack-o-lantern pancakes then he’s going to just leave without eating breakfast. Meanwhile your mother is running after him, straightening his suit and tidying his hair.

“The pancakes are almost done, my god.” You flip the last pancake, but in your rush the jack-o-lantern’s smile turns into more of a grimace, but hey, food is food. You quickly set Dustin’s plate down on the table and practically shove him into the seat.

“Eat.”

“But my proton blaster–”

“Is on the steps, I’ll grab it. Eat, I want pictures with you.” You kiss the top of your brother’s head and then run over to grab his costume’s prop.

“I’m thirteen now, I don’t need my sister doting on me–” Dustin complains, but then his eyes land on the mini Reese’s Pieces you’ve decorated his pancakes with and quickly changes his tone. “Oh! Candies! Yummy!”

You laugh at him and bring his backpack over. The Ghostbusters matching costume idea that boys have planned for today makes you want to just sweep them all into your arms and kiss their tiny little faces. They may be getting older with crushes and angsty feelings, but they’re still the same nerdy little boys you met when you were twelve.

Dustin wolfs down his pancakes and your mom prepares her camera. You woke up earlier than usual this morning specifically so that you could make Dustin’s annual Halloween pancakes and then take pictures of him with his costume on. As soon as he’s done eating, you and your mom whisk him towards the fireplace for pictures.

“Oh, I want to see those pearls!” Your mother squeals as she takes a million pictures of Dustin. When he smiles, she loses her mind. “Yeah! Lovely, I love it!”

You’re just as ecstatic as your mom. “Who you gonna call Dustin?”

“Ghostbusters!” He sings along, holding up his proton blaster with an even wider smile on his face.

It’s a happy morning.

Dustin puts on a show as he poses for your mom, and you even join in for some. Sure, you aren’t in costume, but who knows how many more mornings like these you have left? Dustin is getting older, all the boys are, so you plan on cherishing these mornings for as long as possible.

You and Dustin are giggling as you now stand back to back, him holding his blaster and you holding up finger guns, and your mom is taking multiple final pictures when Jonathan arrives. He knocks on the door before letting himself in. When he sees you and Dustin posing, he starts loudly belting the Ghostbusters song.

“God, bee. At least let my coffee kick in before you subject me to your horrible singing.” You playfully groan, grabbing your own backpack and pancakes to eat on the road.

Jonathan ignores your teasing and ruffles Dustin’s hair. “Nice costume, bud.”

Dustin, seemingly still holding a grudge against the guy after your conversation from last night, slaps his hand away and glares at him. “Don’t mess up the hair.”

Your brother proceeds to stare Jonathan down, gives him an “I’m watching you” gesture, and then walks out the front door without any further words. You, Jonathan, and your mom all stand in the living room in varying states of emotions. You’re trying not to laugh at your brother’s antics, your mom is happily looking at the photos she took, and Jonathan is standing there in complete confusion.

“What was that about?” He asks you, slightly hurt by Dustin’s rebuff.

“Shhh,” you hand him a plate of pancakes and then walk towards the front door. “Let’s get to school, bee.”

–

At school, the mullet guy from yesterday finds you at your locker as soon as Jonathan has walked away. The two of you had been running behind schedule, so you’d told Jonathan to head to first period so at least he’d be on time while you tried to find your history textbook.

As you’re digging through your locker, the mullet guy stalks up behind you.

“I never got your name,” he says with a breathy voice, standing way too close behind you.

You straighten your back, but don’t turn around. You know that if you do, the guy will only get a kick out of having your face close to his. “You never asked.”

“So there’s some sass to you underneath all that sweetness.” His breath hits the back of your neck and you shiver, but in a way that makes you feel dirty and unclean.

“What do you want?” You ask the guy, your fingers wrapping around the textbook that you’ve finally found. If needed, you’re sure it’ll make a handy weapon. It’s only you and the guy in the hallway. Everyone else has holed up in class and you’re now regretting sending Jonathan away. You feel trapped, vulnerable, and you hate it.

Mullet man chuckles deeply, his voice reverberating against your back. “Nothing yet. Just thought I’d introduce myself to such a pretty face.”

You don’t say anything, your fingers only tighten around your textbook. If he gets any closer, you’ll swing.

Though you can’t see him, you can feel his eyes flicker to your textbook and he lets out another cruel laugh. “Loosen up, sweetheart, I won’t hurt ya.” You don’t move, and he seems to get another kick out of this. “My name is Billy. Remember that for me, alright?”

Finally Billy steps away from you and you slowly release all the tension that’s built up within you. You still don’t turn around, he hasn’t left yet, but your hands are shaking a bit and you feel unsteady.

“Would you do me a favor, Billy?” Your voice is steady, there’s no trace of the fear within you.

“I’m listening,” Billy is practically purring and you want to gag at how much his cockiness oozes around you.

You turn, now finally facing him, and slam your textbook against Billy’s chest. “Learn some fucking personal space.”

Billy’s only reaction is a smile, which only makes you more uncomfortable, but you refuse to show him this. Instead, you square your shoulders and walk towards your first class. You’ve dealt with assholes in the past; you’ve known Steve Harrington since you were twelve. But Billy is different.

You’re not sure if you want to find out just how different he is from Steve.

–

Another small highlight of your school year so far has been your study sessions in the library with Nancy resuming. The two of you had drifted apart this summer, you just rarely ever saw the girl in between your hectic work schedule and her dates with Steve, but from the first day of junior she’s helped you with your math equations and you’ve helped her with her English essays.

It’s a good trade off and you’ve enjoyed spending time with the girl. Unlike last year, Jonathan doesn’t join anymore. He can’t be too close with her now that she’s back with Steve. So, it’s just you and her for an hour every day during study hall. It’s nice, if you’re being honest.

Today though there’s something off with Nancy.

She’s been tapping her pencil on the table for the last few minutes. Right before you can politely ask her to stop, the tip of the pencil snaps in half. She sighs. “Shit,”

“There’s a sharpener over by the window,” you point towards the general direction. “Sharpen your pencil before these equations officially end my life.”

Nancy laughs, excusing herself and walks over to the sharpener.

You focus back on your homework, the equations swimming around in your brain. It’s not that you’re necessarily bad at math, but you’re no whiz at it either. You get lost in the practice problems, erasing and re-erasing frequently, and you don’t realize just how long Nancy has been gone until she returns. She sits down, and you’re about to make a horrible joke about how stupid it is to find x, when you notice how shaken Nancy looks.

“Woah, hey.” You set your pencil down and turn your attention to Nancy. “Are you okay? You look upset.”

Nancy looks towards one of the library’s private study rooms and you see Steve’s retreating figure. You gather that something’s happened between them, but it confuses you because they’ve been nothing but lovey dovey ever since they got back together. What could possibly cause strife between them?

“C’mon, you can talk to me. I’m known for my fantastic advice.” You probe again, and this time Nancy lets out a soft chuckle.

“It’s… complicated.”

“Take all the time you need. I’ve been stuck on question five for like, twenty minutes now. Any distractions are welcomed.”

Now Nancy lets out a genuine laugh and you find yourself laughing as well. The storminess behind her eyes from earlier has lessened, she looks more relaxed now. Once she’s done laughing, she takes a deep breath and starts from the beginning. “Steve and I have been having dinner with Barb’s parents.”

When Barb’s name leaves Nancy’s lips, you feel your stomach twist with guilt. Had you known this would be about Barb, you wouldn’t have pestered Nancy so much into speaking. You know how much she misses her best friend still, no one blames her.

“Well that sounds nice,” you try to comfort. “I’m sure they appreciate your company.”

Nancy bites her lip and looks away from you. “They wouldn’t if they knew Steve and I killed Barb.”

Shock washes over you. “Can I ask for some context?”

“Steve and I… When I forced Barb to come to his stupid party with me, we–we left her alone that night. By the pool…” Nancy’s voice cracks, and you grab her hand to encourage her to keep going. “We went upstairs to have sex, and Barb–she didn’t want me to leave her alone but I–I did and–”

You remember the photos Jonathan took last year, specifically the one where Barb had been sitting all by herself along the pool’s edge. Behind her had been a shadowy figure, a monster you soon would learn was from an alternate dimension with an intent to kill.

“You think Barb died because you left her alone to go have sex with Steve.” You finish for Nancy, her tears rendering her unable to say more.

She nods, looking away again as more tears stream down her face. You feel horrible for her, knowing first hand just how cruelly guilt can eat away at someone. Jonathan doesn’t know this, but you still think you’re the reason Will disappeared last year. You were the one who left him alone that night. If you had been there, if you had dropped him off at the Byers’ doorstep, you’re sure that he would’ve never ended up facing the horrors that he did.

As for Nancy, you understand everything she’s feeling and more. It isn’t fair how one simple choice, one moment of selfishness, can lead to such tragedy and pain.

Cautiously, you ask Nancy a question. “Does Steve know about the guilt you feel?”

“He knows, but he doesn’t understand.” Nancy’s voice laces with grief and bitterness. “He found me by the pencil sharpener. There was this girl, she looked so much like Barb and I just… I zoned out. I was stuck there, thinking about her, when he found me.”

“Did he notice you were upset?”

“Of course he noticed. He’s Steve, I could shed a single tear and he’d be all over me like I’m some baby.” Nancy scoffs, which makes you frown. You’re not sure what’s so wrong with that, having someone so attuned to your emotions because they love you that deeply.

You push aside your thoughts, however. “What happened, then?”

“We went into a study room and I snapped.” Nancy’s close to tears again. “I just… I want to tell Barb’s parents what really happened. They’re selling their house, Y/N. They’re selling their own home to afford this private detective who promised them he’d find out what happened to her. What–what kind of person would I be if I let my best friend’s parents go bankrupt for being worried about their only child?”

“Nancy…”

“And Steve, he just… He told me it was a bad idea, that–that our families could get hurt and all that bullshit, but what am I supposed to do? I’m trying to figure something out, to fix this, and Steve just wants to go to some stupid party and pretend everything is okay?” Nancy is almost shouting now, and you nervously look around to make sure you're not disturbing anyone. It’s still a library, after all.

Nancy takes a few seconds to collect herself, to steady her breathing and control her anger. You let her take all the time she needs, and when she seems calm enough, you speak. “I understand where you’re coming from and why you’re upset. What happened to Barb is despicable, but… Well, I also agree with Steve.”

“Y/N–”

“No, okay. Listen for a second,” you pause, trying to figure out exactly how to say what you’re thinking. “I think Steve means well, he doesn’t have a malicious bone in that silly body. The Halloween party can be a good thing for you if you let it, a way to destress. You have to move on, you have to allow yourself to move on.”

Nancy tries to argue some more but you continue. “I understand your guilt better than anyone else, I was the one who lost Will that night. But we all signed those contracts, Nancy. If we told anyone what really happened to Barb… It wouldn’t be fair to everyone who gets hurt, all our family members, because we broke a legal oath. You understand that, right?”

“I understand, but it’s not fucking fair.” Nancy’s eyes have a determination in them that startles you. You’ve always known that she was fierce, but seeing the edge in her eyes almost scares you. She’s angry, more than you’ve ever seen her before.

You sigh. “I know, I wish I could do more, but…”

Nancy nods, understanding that there’s not much else you guys can do. You hate to let her down like this, you know she needs to hear something else, to feel supported, but you don’t know what else to tell her.

Steve’s right in his own way, and so is Nancy.

“Can you at least come to the party tonight?” Nancy softly pleads. “It’s just, I’ll feel more comfortable with you there, like I’m less crazy… I mean, that is if you even want to come and–”

“Of course I’ll come, Nance.” You don’t even hesitate to promise her this, nor do you realize that you’ve just called her “Nance”. It slipped from your tongue naturally, as if solidifying your friendship with the girl. You hate parties and loud crowds, but if Nancy needs you there by her side, to hold her hand and remind her of how brave she is, then you’ll happily do so.

Nancy sinks into her seat, relieved. “Thank you, I owe you one.”

“I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

Nancy throws a piece of paper at you and you dodge it, throwing your pencil at her in retaliation. The two of you break out into a fit of giggles until the librarian eventually snaps at you guys and reminds you to be quiet.

You reluctantly get back to work, and as you’re writing down more complex equations, you notice that there’s still a far off look in Nancy’s eyes. You know that she’s still thinking about Barb, the guilt eating away at her, and you know that the topic is far from settled.

–

Halloween has arrived when Jonathan drops you off at home from school. There’s already kids milling around up and down your block in an assortment of costumes, all squealing with joy as they collect their candy.

“Meet you in two hours?” You ask Jonathan as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Yeah, but remember that I’m not wearing a costume.”

“C’mon, bee! It’s Halloween, where’s your holiday spirit?”

Jonathan groans. “Nag at me all you want, I’m not dressing up. I will, however, offer to be your arm candy.”

“That’s the spirit!” You kiss Jonathan’s cheek and run out of the car and straight into your house. You have two hours to wrap up goodie bags for the neighborhood kids and then get dressed in your costume. It’ll be a tight schedule, but luckily you’re off of work tonight.

It takes you about an hour to assort all your gift bags, separating the boys’ bags from the local kids’ bags, and before you know it you’ve successfully hand packaged goodie bags for an entire army. Once you’re done, you run to your room and throw on your costume. The dress slips over your head and settles gently over you.

You stand in front of your mirror and smile.

It’s perfect.

You’re going as Princess Buttercup tonight for Halloween. You read the Princess Bride around the end of summer and quickly fell in love with Buttercup. You’re not sure if you fell in love with the character because you read the book right after pushing Steve away, or because you saw yourself in Buttercup, but you came to adore her.

Buttercup may have been a bit ditzy, but she loved with everything within her, and with such a passion, that you couldn’t help but admire her. It was her love for others that ultimately drove the story further, and you think there’s something beautiful about that.

The red dress fits perfectly around you and you grab the gold chain that will serve as your belt. Once you’ve secured it around yourself, you place Buttercup’s golden circlet around your head. The costume had been pricier than you would’ve preferred, but as you stand in front of the mirror, you truly do feel like a princess.

Your bee necklace, a wonderful gift from Jonathan, catches light from your window and you smile, bringing your fingers up to the pendant. It’s the only jewelry you need.

“Y/N! Are you almost done? Will radioed that they’d be here soon.” Dustin pounds on your door.

You fling the door open. “I’m done, I just need to put on some makeup.”

Your brother makes a face as he walks into your room and plops himself down onto the beanbag. “You own makeup?”

“Yes, dear brother. I’d wear it more often if I had the time, but between herding you around and my school assignments, I can’t.” You dig through your makeup bag, opting for just mascara and a shimmery pearl eyeshadow. You’ll put on your lipstick in the car to save some time.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Jonathan, does it?”

You roll your eyes at Dustin. “No, believe it or not I can choose to do things without the influence of others.”

“Hmm, alright. Hurry up though, Mike had this awesome plan to hit up every house with the big candy bars and–”

“Dustin!” You throw a pillow at the boy, shutting him up. “Shush so I can focus.”

He grumbles but remains silent, now watching as you put your makeup on. It’s been a while since you’ve last worn any, so you’re slower than usual. Just as you’re finishing up your mascara, a car honks outside.

Dustin runs out the room and you quickly grab your lipstick and follow after him. You’re wearing your mother’s mary janes again and they pinch your feet as you run, but whatever. You feel pretty tonight, you’re somebody else for now, a princess free from any burdens and stress.

Jonathan is standing outside his car, waiting for you, and when you see him you practically fling yourself in his arms. “You dressed as Westley!”

He spins you around a bit, his plastic sword hitting against his leg. “You wanted me to wear a costume, right?”

You nod, inspecting his costume with glee. He looks amazing, dressed in Westley’s iconic all black attire, his sword by his side, and a mask tied loosely around his neck. To anyone else, Jonathan would look like a regular guy with an affinity for black, but to you, he was dressed as your knight in shining armor.

He’s the Westley to your Princess Buttercup.

Jonathan kisses your knuckles. “Well then, as you wish.”

His words are smooth velvet against your skin, they warm you as the late October air encases you. As you wish, words that became their own I love you within the book. A promise, similar to the one Jonathan made you last year in the passenger seat of his car, pinkies intertwined.

Something stirs within you, seeing Jonathan’s proud smirk on his face because he’s once again managed to surprise you, and the feeling is sickly sweet like syrup. It runs through you slowly, covering every inch of you, and you bask in it.

For now, he’s still yours.

“Can we go now? You guys are gross.” Dustin calls from the car, annoyed.

You and Jonathan spring apart in embarrassment. He laughs, rubs the back of his neck, and tells you, “You look beautiful, Y/N.”

“Why thank you,” you curtsy. “You look rather dashing yourself, good sir.”

“I wasn’t kidding. You look… you’re beautiful.” The sincerity in Jonathan’s voice cuts through you, it cuts through everything between you, and you can only smile.

“Thanks, bee.” You try to keep your voice playful, light and airy as always. “Now, open my door like the brave hero you’re dressed as.”

Jonathan opens your door with a bow, causing you to laugh. You’re sitting in the backseat with Dustin, Will is in the passenger seat, and once you’ve buckled up, Will spins around in his seat to talk to you as Jonathan starts the car.

“Do you think it’s lame that you and Jonathan trick-or-treat with us?

You blink. “What did I miss?”

“I think it’s kinda lame,” Dustin voices next to you, but he lets out a pained squeak after you’ve elbowed his ribs.

Jonathan turns onto the main road and scoffs at the boys. “You think we’re lame?”

“No, but…” Will sinks into his seat, and you watch as he begins to fiddle with the strap of his bag. He’s nervous. “It’s not like Nancy’s coming to watch over Mike, you know?”

Jonathan’s silent, and you catch his eye in the rear view mirror. You know what he’s thinking: Will has been having even more problems in school, he’s sick of being babied, and yet here you guys are, babying him.

You sigh. “Look, Will. We like trick-or-treating with you guys, we don’t go are your babysitters. We go because it’s fun and I get to enjoy free candy as a sixteen year old.”

Will looks out the window and doesn’t acknowledge what you’ve said. You sigh again, knowing that nothing will appease him. He’s only allowed you to see a small portion of how much he’s struggled this year, but you can see his foundations crumbling.

How is he expected to adapt if you and everyone around him refuse to let him do so?

You catch Jonathan’s eye again in the rear view mirror and he seems to be thinking the same thing.

Mike and Lucas run out the Wheeler’s house as soon as you guys park in the driveway. Dustin immediately bolts out the door to greet them, obviously uncomfortable with all the tension, leaving you and Jonathan with Will.

Jonathan looks at you one last time and you nod your head in encouragement. He has to do this, he has to let Will grow on his own.

“Hey, listen.” Jonathan says, stopping Will from leaving. “If I let you go on your own, you promise to stay in the neighborhood?”

Will’s face lights up. “Yeah! Yeah, totally.”

“And be back at Mike’s by 9:00.”

“9:30?”

You reach over and pat Will’s back. “Now you’re pushin’ it, buddy.”

“What Y/N said. Be back by 9:00.” Jonathan instructs, but there’s a fond smile on his face. “Deal?”

“Deal!”

The brothers shake on it and you watch them with a smile. Jonathan hands Will one of Bob’s cameras and makes a poor Dracula joke and you love these boys so much. You wave goodbye to Will as he quickly gets out of the car and runs over to his friends. There’s a new skip in his step, he’s happier than you’ve seen him in a while.

“Alright,” you crawl over the passenger seat and plop yourself in rather ungracefully. “I’d say that went well.”

“We made the right choice, right?”

“I hope so.”

Jonathan sighs and watches the kids, who have now started hitting each other with their candy bags. You flip down the windscreen and use the small mirror in it to apply your lipstick. When Jonathan sees what you’re doing, he does a double take.

“Wait, are you putting on lipstick?”

“Mhm,” you knit your brows together, focused. “We’re going to a party.”

“We are?”

“Nancy begged me to come, and we just left the boys to go trick-or-treating on their own, so what else are we supposed to do tonight?”

“Nancy begged you to come–”

You finish your lipstick and flick Jonathan’s nose to shut him up. “Stop asking so many questions and just start the car, doofus.”

–

The Halloween party is in full swing by the time you and Jonathan arrive. There’s a bunch of drunk teens in an array of costumes, ranging from classic heroes to dumb movie references, and the music is so loud you could hear it while you were still five blocks away.

Jonathan parks the car and looks around wearily. “Are we really doing this?”

“Unfortunately I hate disappointing people, so yeah. We are.”

“One day your people pleasing needs will get you in trouble.”

“I will stab you with your plastic sword.”

“So sweet to me,” Jonathan quips, which you roll your eyes at.

As you’re walking to the front door, you hear a crowd chanting Billy’s name. You freeze, knowing it could only be that awful mullet guy from earlier, and quickly shove Jonathan inside the house.

“Who’s Billy?” He asks, confused.

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it, let’s try to find Nancy–”

“Nice costume.” A girl dressed in goth attire interrupts you, her eyes only on Jonathan.

Oh great. Another girl interested in Jonathan.

Jonathan looks between you and the girl. “Huh?”

“Nice costume. Going as a goth with a sword?”

“Actually,” you step in front of Jonathan now, forcing the girl to acknowledge your presence. “We’re matching. He’s Westley, I’m Princess Buttercup. Do you like it?”

The goth girl rolls her eyes. “Yeah, totally.” She steps past you and faces Jonathan again. “I’m Samantha.”

Jonathan is again looking between you and the girl, this time with even more fear and confusion on his face, and you almost want to laugh at him in pity. He’s never had a girl so blatantly hit on him, it’s almost hilarious if you ignore the fact that you’re in love with him.

You leave Jonathan to handle the situation himself, scanning the room for Nancy. When you finally spot her, your heart sinks. She’s dancing with Steve, who looks fucking criminally good in his costume. You’re not sure who he’s dressed as, but he puts his Raybans in his mouth and smirks at Nancy and suddenly you understand why so many girls whisper in the halls about his lips.

Nancy looks even better, her white blouse accentuating her beauty even more. She’s dancing with her arms around Steve and now you suddenly really want a drink. Seems like they’ve made up, then.

Right as you’re about to pull Jonathan away from that Samantha girl and call it quits for the night, defeated and pride wounded, you see Steve and Nancy begin to argue over by the punchbowl.

Shit.

You head towards them, shoving past hoards of people who seem to refuse to move. Nancy sees you approaching and only seems to become more upset. Her movement is unsteady, her eyes droopy and glossed over, and even before you walk up to her you know she’s heavily drunk. She’s in a tug of war with Steve and a cup. It’s clear he’s trying to cut off her alcohol intake.

“Hey, Nancy is everything okay–” Your words are cut off as punch splashes all over her white blouse.

Everyone around the couple gasps, and you wince at all the attention. Everyone stares between you, Steve, and Nancy. You quickly find some napkins and begin blotting at her blouse, trying to get as much of the punch out of it, but she drunkenly bats you away.

“Don’t need help,” she slurs, but you shush her.

“I got it, why don’t we go get some water?”

Steve steps in front of you now, aware of the fact that everyone is still staring, and says his first words to you in months. “She’s my girlfriend, I’ll take care of her. Just… just go, Y/N.”

He dismisses you with a wave and you feel hurt wash over you. He hadn’t even spared you a single glance, he just treated you like some annoying fly in his way. You watch, defeated, as Steve guides Nancy to a room and you’re left alone at a party you hadn’t even wanted to go to in the first place.

How fun.

You crumble up one of the napkins in your hand and will away your anger. You don’t deserve to feel angry at Steve’s actions, you’re the one who was so dismissive of him in the first place. He’s just following along, doing what you’ve forced him to do.

As you’re lost in thought, Billy corners you in the kitchen.

“We meet again, sweetheart.” His breath reeks of alcohol and you cringe, the smell burning your nose.

“Didn’t I tell you to learn some goddamn personal space?”

Billy laughs dryly, stepping forward every time you take a step back. Too late, you realize what he’s doing. Before you can stop it, he has your back pressed against a nearby wall. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

You look around, but everyone who had been in the kitchen earlier seems to have left or are far too drunk to realize what’s happening. Billy is peering over you and every part of you wants to run away, to cower. You’ve never been able to handle aggressive men well, no matter how much of a front you put on around Lonnie, you always trembled when he was near.

Billy is no different, and he sees your unease. “Aw, is the princess nervous?”

“I’m surprised Max taught you what a princess looks like.”

At the mention of Max’s name, Billy’s cocky grin slips. Confusion masks his face now, making him appear more human than obnoxiously handsome. “So you know my little sister?”

You try to shove past him, but Billy plants his feet down and places both arms against the wall, trapping you. He’s surrounded you, he wants a reaction out of you. Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to steady your heartbeat and appear indifferent.

“I have my ways,” you shrug, but your heartbeat still pounds rapidly.

Billy raises an eyebrow. “Pretty and intelligent. Why, look at you. I’m impressed, and yet I still don’t know your name.”

You try again to move, but Billy leans his head down and brings his lips to your ear to whisper, “I’ll beg for it, if you want me to.”

“Get off–” He’s too close. He’s too fucking close and his lips against your ear makes you want to throw up, you don’t like this and you feel so fucking pathetic being cornered by such an egotistical asshole.

“Tell me your name, and I’ll go.” There’s a smile in Billy’s voice, you can hear it without even having to look, and it enrages you. You fucking hate men like him.

“Just get the fuck off of me–” You’ve closed your eyes now as you shove harshly against his chest.

Suddenly there’s a thud, a loud “oomph”, and a collective gasp from onlookers at the party. Your hands meet the air, there’s now no one there to push against. Slowly, open your eyes. There, standing in front of you, is Steve holding a very angry Jonathan back while Billy is on the ground.

Jonathan yanks his arm free from Steve and stands over Billy, who is laying on the ground with yet another unnerving smile on his face. Your friend shakes his fist out, which you now see is red, Billy’s face showcases a matching mark. “She told you to get off of her.”

A silence falls over the crowd.

Billy slowly stands up, wipes himself off, and then takes a bow. “Not bad, loner boy.”

Jonathan tries to step closer to him, but Steve grabs his shirt and shakes his head. “He’s not worth it, man.”

“And what do you know about worth, Harrington?” Billy chuckles, now practically in Steve’s face. “Where’s that little girlfriend of yours? You should go ask her what she thinks you’re worth.”

Steve’s face hardens, but you can see dried tears in his eyes. Seeing him about to crumble, you step between the boys. “Enough.”

They look at you, but you ignore them and then wave to the crowd of people still watching. “Show’s over! Go back to drinking away your sorry fucking lives.”

Jonathan pulls you close to him. “Bug, are you okay? Did he hurt you? We need to go home, I’ll bake you brownies and we can just–”

Jonathan’s concerned rambling is enough to make you smile, albeit faintly. “I’m fine, bee.”

Billy observes the interaction, he notices how Steve’s eyes flicker between your interlocked hands with Jonathan and the way your hair frames your pretty face. He sees it all, and he understands exactly what’s happening here.

“Oh, Harrington.” Billy can’t wait to see what happens next. “You’re fucked.”

Steve watches as Billy leaves, confused by his words but too tired to think much of them. He’s had the worst fucking night of his life. His girlfriend just told him she doesn’t love him, then he came outside to see Billy pressing himself against you like some fucking creep. He hadn’t even gotten to help you, Jonathan had beaten him to it. All Steve could do was hold the guy back afterwards.

Now Jonathan is holding your hands and whispering comforting words to you and you’re dressed in Steve’s favorite color, your lips an even prettier red, you’re wearing a goddamn tiara on your head like the princess you truly are, and Steve’s had just about enough of tonight.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N.” Steve tells you tiredly. He then turns to Jonathan. “Uh, Nance and I sorta… Can you just, give her a ride home? She doesn’t…”

Steve’s words catch in his throat and you grab his hand before you can stop yourself. “He’ll take her, won’t you, Jonathan?”

Jonathan stumbles over his words. “Sure, uh. Yeah, I can do that… What about you, though?”

You think about your conversation with Nancy earlier, how she seemed so upset with Steve, and how not even ten minutes ago they’d been fighting over by the punchbowl. There’s a hurt between them, one you think may be too big to patch up with just one conversation, but Jonathan doesn’t know all of this.

“I’ll drive Steve home.”

Both boys stare at you like you’re insane, and honestly? You can’t blame them.

You haven’t spoken to Steve in months, and Jonathan knows this better than anyone.

“Y/N,” Steve lowers his voice. “I haven’t had anything to drink, there’s no need–”

“Too bad. I’m taking you home. Jonathan, go find Nancy and make sure she gets back okay.”

Jonathan and Steve try to argue, but you yank Steve’s hand and make him come with you. It’s long past time the two of you had a talk, anyways.

–

When you exit the house, the weight of everything that’s just happened catches up to you. Your skin still feels raw, Billy’s presence lingering on you. Steve’s hand is warm in yours, but he isn’t holding on the way you secretly hoped he would. Jonathan’s confused and concerned eyes remain in the back of your mind, the image of him standing alone in the party makes you feel guilty.

But you have to do this. You’re tired of being a coward.

Steve is silent as he guides you to his car. He’s parked pretty far, which you hadn’t been expecting. “What, do you not get a special parking spot as King Steve?”

He ignores your attempt at a joke and instead drops your hand.

Okay. You deserved that.

When you get to his car, Steve throws you the keys and silently gets into the passenger seat. You inhale, willing this to end well, and get in the driver’s seat. You start the car and the engine warms your fingertips.

You start to drive.

Steve is looking out the window, and you’ve never seen him appear so small. He’s closed into himself, his shoulders are hunched and his carefree smile from earlier is gone.

“Not to make this awkward, but I kinda don’t know where you live.” You break the silence.

“Make a left up here.”

“Do you want to talk about what happened tonight–”

“Why do you only ever care about me when I’m some kicked fucking puppy?”

Steve’s words are vicious, and you flinch at his tone. “You know that’s not true,”

“It’s not?” He scoffs at you. “Then explain what happened this summer.”

“I…” You can’t.

Steve sees your reluctance to say anything and lets out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, whatever. Some real fucking friend you were.”

You take a shaky breath. You knew this would be hard, but it still hurts more than you thought it would’ve. While you can’t tell Steve everything, you can offer him a half truth. It’s all you can afford, and it isn’t nearly half of what he deserves, but it’s all you can do. “I got scared.”

Your confession causes Steve to turn to you. “Scared?”

“Yeah, scared.”

“Gee, Y/N. That really explains a ton.”

You’re losing him again, so you offer him more. “I’m sorry, Steve. I really am. It’s just… I got scared, I’ve never been good at letting people in. I know it doesn’t excuse my actions, and you didn’t deserve any of it, but you just… You scared me.”

Steve is silent again, only mumbling a quiet, “Turn right after this light.”

“Look,” you push down your fear, you need him to hear you. “You came crashing into my life in such a violent way, and it became the best goddamn thing that happened to me. There you were, spending every day at my job just to talk to me. You asked me questions about myself and noticed things no one else had before and I just… I couldn’t do it.”

You look over at Steve and soften your voice, putting every ounce of your guilt and sincerity into your words. “I missed you.”

“Missed?” There’s something in Steve’s voice that you can’t quite decipher, it’s almost too delicate to examine.

“Miss. I miss you,” you correct, and it takes everything within you not to confess more. To tell him you miss how his eyes turn a warm toffee in the late afternoon light, that you miss his obsession with his mom’s banana bread and that you have a recipe at home that you never got to make for him. You almost tell him that even though you pulled yourself away, you can’t seem to separate him from you. He’s everywhere.

But what you can’t tell Steve, what would break you if he ever found out, is that you’ve come to love how he’s everywhere.

Steve is silent, and you swallow down your tears. It wasn’t enough, but at least you tried.

As you turn into his driveway, Steve finally speaks. “All my life, all I’ve ever wanted was for people to like me.”

“Steve…”

“And every time I think someone finally likes me, I’m wrong. They leave me. I mean, you left me without a fucking word, Nancy lied about loving me, and my bullshit friends at school have replaced me with Billy.”

Nancy lied about loving him?

Steve looks down at his hands, his eyelashes are wet with fresh tears. “I don’t know what I keep doing wrong.”

You throw yourself across the car’s console and wrap yourself around the boy. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Steve places one arm around you, then slowly he places his other, and for the first time in months you’re finally back in his arms. He’s surrounded in you again, and he never, ever wants to let you go.

“You won’t leave me again?”

Steve asks this so softly, as if too scared to bring the words into the light and risk them scaring you away. You tighten your arms around him and bury your nose into his neck, his cologne making your brain dizzy. “Never.

And it’s enough for now.

The pieces settle between you and Steve. Something clicks into place and you know that he feels it, too. He tightens his own arms around you, draws small circles against your back, and you stay like that for what feels like hours.

Eventually the two of you break apart and head into his house. He offers you something warm to drink, but you decline. It’s late, you should be heading home soon. You ask Steve where his phone is and then call Jonathan, telling him to come get you from Steve’s.

Jonathan doesn’t ask any questions, his own voice sounding off on the phone. You know that tomorrow you’ll have to explain to him what happened with Steve, and he’ll have to explain what’s happened with Nancy. But tonight, you both settle on ignoring the topic for now.

Steve waits with you downstairs for Jonathan.

“If we’re going to be friends again, then I demand my nickname.”

You look up at the boy and laugh. “What if I told you I still haven’t figured it out yet?”

“Can you at least give me a hint?” Steve bats his eyelashes at you and you shove him away with another laugh.

“Hm,” you think for a moment, reveling in the simplicity between you two again. “It’s lovely. That’s all I can say.”

Steve makes a face. “Lovely? That’s all I get?”

“Mhm.” You poke his face. “For now, please just trust that I’ll stay.”

Steve looks away for a moment, and you admire his lovely side profile, before he finally seems to settle on his thoughts. “Fine, but I expect some type of baked good every day from here on out.”

“Deal.” You raise your pinky and offer it to Steve, who smiles and shakes his head, but wraps his own pinky around yours.

Steve’s eyes are still red, from exhaustion and heartbreak, and yours are probably no better. You know there’s so much the two of you have to face tomorrow morning, to talk about and deal with. Nancy, Jonathan, Billy. But for now, Steve’s pinky is around yours and you couldn’t ask for a better end to your night.

It’s a start.

It’s all you could’ve asked for.

Jonathan arrives later and waits in the car, seeming to sense that you want some privacy as you say goodbye to Steve.

“That’s my ride.” You nudge him. “Oh, don’t think I forgot about the Nancy thing. We’ll talk about that tomorrow.”

“What–”

“We’re friends again and I nag all my friends about their emotions. You were spared last year, but this year? Buckle up, buddy.”

Steve lets out a tired laugh. “Do I have to sign another contract?”

“Nah, you just have to trust me.”

“I do.” He says, no ounce of hesitation.

You squeeze his hand. “Then that’s all I need. Goodnight, Steve. Get some rest.”

Steve nods and watches as you walk towards Jonathan’s car. He stays outside for a while, long after the car has faded in the distance. The cold air makes him shiver, but after everything that’s happened tonight, he welcomes it. His mind is spinning, he’s not sure if he feels more heartbreak or relief, but he decides he doesn’t care.

For now, he’s content.

Now that he has you in his life again, no matter what happens between him and Nancy, he knows he’ll get through it with you holding his hand.

–

The drive home is quiet. Both you and Jonathan seem to be lost in your own thoughts. When you get to your house, you simply tell your friend, “Tomorrow. We’ll talk about it all tomorrow,”

Jonathan nods, his eyes as tired as yours. “Tomorrow.”

You walk inside your house and notice all the lights off. You’re home later than you originally planned, your mom must be asleep already. You kick off your shoes and sigh tiredly. Tonight has exhausted you.

However, you feel bad about skipping out on the boys, so you walk towards Dustin’s room and quietly knock on the door to apologize. After a few knocks, Dustin cracks his door open. “Yes?”

“Hey, just wanted to ask how tonight…” You notice Dustin’s stance, how he seems to almost be trying to block your view of something. “Is everything alright?”

Your brother quickly repositions himself. “Fine! Nothin’ to see here!”

He’s definitely acting suspicious.

“Open the door, show me what’s inside.”

You go to shove your way in, but Dustin scrambles and ends up shouting, “Will had another episode tonight!

“What?” You freeze.

Dustin lets out a breath of relief. He knew using Will’s episode would be a good distraction from what he has in his room. “Will, he had another episode. He’s fine, though… Just thought you should know.”

“Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Actually,” Dustin lets out a yawn. “I’m kinda tired. Ya know, trick-or-treating is hard work. Can we just call it a night and talk about it tomorrow?”

“I mean, I guess?” Your list of things you need to talk about tomorrow keeps growing.

“Sweet! Goodnight, Y/N!” And with that, Dustin slams his door in your face. He presses his back pressed against his door as he steadies his heartbeat. That was close, too close. After a couple seconds, he walks over to his turtle’s tank and greets Dart again. “Sorry buddy, had to get Y/N away. She’d freak if she found out about you.”

Dart lets out a small screech in response.

“Wonder how long I can keep this from her.”

Meanwhile, you stand in the hall for a moment, completely bewildered as to what’s just happened. It feels like you missed a few important details. There’s something happening, but you have no idea what.

You go to your room and make a plan. Tomorrow, you’ll order a code blue with Dustin and demand information. For now, all you can do is get ready for bed and hope that whatever he’s hiding, it isn’t as monumental as El had been.

Tonight, you go to bed thinking of Nancy and Steve, worried about them both.

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if youd like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

⌑ thank you for reading ! feel free to like, comment, reblog, or send in an ask so we can chat <3

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wtlws #m's writing #halloween ep ur forever iconic #and steves fit >>>#he was HOT

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chelseeebe · 2 months ago

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trick or treat

18+. mdni. no smut but my blog is 18+.

day six of spooky week and reader bravely offers to take the party trick or treating, finding an unlikely guest along the way

a/n: six days of consistent posting has actually made me lose brain cells.. i don’t like this as much as i wanted to but i’m sticking to my guns and posting anyway. i’m not sure if tomorrow’s will make it up in time but i’m going to try my absolute hardest <3

☾⋆⁺₊🎃´₊⁺~

knuckles wrap against the grand wooden door, hoping to god it was dustin that answered and not steve.

you can hear a barrage of footsteps on the other side, rushing down the hall to get to you first. the door swings open, dustin and his makeshift skeleton costume sit on the other side, a harsh scowl when he realises it’s you and not his friends.

“what’re you doing here?” crossing his arms over his chest.

“i’m coming with you, joyce ask-“

“-you don’t need to babysit us,” throwing a temper tantrum at the mere suggestion of you joining them on their journey around hawkins.

“well, joyce says otherwise,” crossing your arms over your chest, you meant business. “jonathan’s busy and she wants someone to watch out for will so you’re just gonna have to deal with it,” sticking your tongue out for good measure.

dustin huffs, nostrils glaring as he stomps back into steve’s living room.

the older boy was helping him get ready, terribly painting a skull onto his grinning face. a faint argument rises from behind the door, scuffed footsteps fighting to reach the door before you had the opportunity to look in.

“-we don’t need a babysitter at all! let alone two!” dustin screeches, throwing his pillowcase on the ground as he reaches the door, steve appearing behind.

“two?” you question, looking down at the abandoned treat bag and then back up to a sheepish looking steve.

“well.. i mean, you can’t take them all around hawkins on your own, i was just.. offering to join you,” his hand rubbing the back of his neck, ignoring dustin’s scowl to focus on your face.

“oh,” attempting to hide your blush, passing it off as if it were just the chilly october air, “yeah.. sure, i could use some help,” stuffing your hands into your pockets, concealing your squeal of excitement.

“great! great.. yeah, let me get my jacket and we can go,” rushing off inside while dustin sulks like a petulant child.

“you two are gross,” he remarks snidely, turning up his nose at the two of you.

it's a chilly evening in hawkins, your coat not doing enough against the wild wind. much colder than usual for this time of year which makes you a tad unsettled. after everything that had happened last year, a sudden drop in temperature didn’t seem like something you should ignore.

steve walks beside you, humming to some pop tune as his eyes stay trained on the boys and which houses they were at.

“so you’re going? to new york?" he starts, keeping two strides behind the boys at all times, dustin would surely suffer a mental breakdown if you dared got any closer.

“yeah,” you nod, stuffing your hands into your pockets, “there’s a really good opportunity for me up there,” a twinge of something in your chest, unwilling to come off as braggy at all.

“that’s cool..” steve whistles, looking anywhere but at you, “i’ll miss you- i mean, we’ll all miss you,” clearing his throat in a pitiful attempt to hide what he really meant.

“i’ll miss you too steve,” smiling softly over at his flushing cheeks, “you can come visit i’m sure,” shrugging indiscriminately.

your all-consuming crush on steve was no secret to those around you, you’d been longing after him since freshmen year. hanging on his every word even during the multitude of girlfriends and hookups, desperate for his attention to one day fall unto you.

though now you’re actually friends, like, real friends, you find yourself hoping that he doesn’t look at you, praying he doesn’t notice your sorry eyes or your longing smile. afraid that he’d find you utterly pathetic and tell you harshly that you and him would just never ever come to be.

“but hawkins won’t be the same without you,” his feet crushing the dried auburn leaves, “who’s gonna help me take care of these guys?” chuckling softly, the cold air billowing from his lips.

“you’re just gonna have to find a new babysitting partner,” shrugging softly though your heart sinks a little.

steve’s mouth opens to reply but is abruptly interrupted by the gaggle of kids storming up the sidewalk to you. in a cleverly thought out formation, dustin at the front, mike all the way in the back.

“we were thinking,” dustin starts, a tooth-achingly sweet grin plastered on his face, “and we think that you two shouldn’t have to spend your entire evening following us around, so,” looking around at his friends, “we’re happy to offer you half of all of our candy if you just leave us alone,” grinning as if he had offered the deal of the century.

steve looks perplexed, sharing a questioning glance with you before turning his attention back to the eager boys in front, “what makes you think we want your shitty candy?”

dustin’s smile drops, nose scrunching with such visceral anger, “look steve, we know you’d rather be off making out with each other or whatever, so why don’t we just cut the shit? you guys go home, we can take care of ourselves.”

he puts his hand up to make a point, sputtering noises that don’t exactly make a coherent sentence, “that’s not- what the hell, dustin? mrs. byers asked us to watch you it’s not-“

“we’ll be okay! my mom just worries,” a bright-eyed will steps forward, offering his two cents.

steve exhales, looking to you once more before shrugging. you were the one she’d asked anyway, not him.

“what if something bad happens? like.. like last year?” you query, looking solely at will now.

“it won’t,” solemnly shaking his head, “i’m better now, i promise.”

your lips pout, contemplating whether the little shits could be trusted. joyce would never be mad at you, wise to her son and his friends tricks.

“okay..” nodding slowly, “but i’m taking you up on that candy offer, and i want the good stuff.. not smarties or mints or whatever shit you think you can trick me with,” a harsh glare to the clan of boys.

mike goes to protest until lucas’ elbow meets his ribs, a chorus of thankyou’s echo out before they sprint away, tripping over themselves to get as far away from you as possible.

“i didn’t think you’d say yes,” steve remarks, a humorous tone to his voice.

“what can i say? they drive a hard bargain,” suddenly regretting letting them run amok around the hawkins streets, “do you think i should’ve said no?”

“oh no, definitely not,” falling into laughter, “i don’t think they would’ve let you say no anyway.”

you scoff, looking around at the busy street, “you’re right.. i’m gonna uh.. head home then, since we’re not needed anymore,” attempting to hide your disappointment at not getting to walk around with him all night.

“you wouldn’t wanna.. watch a movie or something, would you?” steve interjects before you can walk away, “my parents are out of town so my house is empty and i’ve got popcorn,” sweetening up his deal.

your heart thuds a little too hard, unsure of whether you’d still be alive after a movie alone with steve, on his couch. but you nod anyway, continuing back in the direction you’d came from.

his house is sterile, it honestly reminds you of something from a showroom, not meant to be lived in but just admired. kind of like steve, when you think about too much.

you weren’t going to be together, he was a prize, someone you’d lust after but never truly get.

the opening sequence to friday the 13th pulls you from your sour thoughts, sitting just inches away from him and his meticulously styled hair, the consolation of freckles and moles you’d connected a thousand times in your head.

he doesn’t look real, a figment of your imagination except his chest is rising and falling in time with yours and he keeps shifting in his seat.

“so when do you leave?” startling you from your haze, pulling your attention to him.

“uh.. june, i’m going up early to get settled.”

“oh, cool,” inhaling sharply, a long, drawn-out exhale immediately after, “i still got a few months left with you then,” offering a grimacing smile as his words register in his brain, “obviously i mean that we all do.”

“i knew what you meant,” convincing yourself that he had just misspoke and that the obvious undertones to everything he had said this evening weren’t actually there.

“actually i don’t think you do,” steve sighs, no longer the suave sweet talker he once was, now just some old guy that drive kids to and from their dnd meetings.

“oh?” you remark, sitting back in shock.

he leans forward, over the overflowing bowl of popcorn, “i’m trying to hit on you, i’ve been trying all night,” allowing a glimpse of his former playboy interior to resurface, his eyes trailing from yours to your lips.

you stare back with what only you can assume is a puzzled expression as steve moves back once again, “sorry- i’m not very good at this anymore, i-i thought you were interested but obviously- shit,” slapping his palm to his face, hiding in sheer despair.

“no! nonono steve i am,” sputtering rather quickly, “i’m sorry, i’m just.. shocked. i didn’t know you felt like that too, y’know?” amazed that both of you could single handedly fumble this.

“‘course i do,” shrinking into a bashful shadow of himself, “thought that was pretty obvious,” fiddling with his fingers, too shy for someone who had just admitted to having feelings for you.

“not to me,” slightly offended that you had apparently been the last to know.

he exhales, a sigh of relief, “fuck, i thought i’d read that totally wrong then.”

you stop, furrowing your brow, “what? you knew i liked you?”

“i mean, kinda yeah.”

“did dustin tell you?”

“he-,” steve sighs, doing a terrible job of hiding his smile, “i might have told him how sad i was that you were leaving and he just told me that you might feel the same way too,” holding his hands up with all intentions of owning up, “he just wanted to help me out, i think,” a quiet sadness in his voice.

any other time you’d strangle the little blabber mouth but only this time you can’t be too mad, without him, the two of you would’ve never had the guts to just say it.

“now i’ve been dyin’ to kiss you for too long now so if you’ll forgive me,” leaning in once more, carefully cupping your chin in his palm and so gently kissing your lips that it almost feels like air.

your eyes fluttering shut as the sparks fizzle behind your eyelids, the butterflies in your stomach flap so hard you’re almost nauseous.

years and years of hopeless pining had lead to this, a syrupy sweet kiss on his couch as the guttural screams of alice hardy play on the background.

it’s all you’ve ever dreamed of and more, steve suddenly so real and malleable in your grasp.

#steve harrington #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #chelseeebespookyweek

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tryingtofindava · 2 months ago

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── 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

: ̗̀➛Back to Source

INCLUDES: Toby, Nat, Jane, Sally, Kate.

A/n: so oops this is 3 days late my bad, enjoy these late headcanons (ᵕ—ᴗ—) These can be read as romantic or platonic BUT SALLY IS STRICTLY PLATONIC!! Fem! Reader

╰┈➤ 𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢 𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐲

Trick or treating with you makes him feel like a kid again.

Reminds him of the times where everything was a little less shitty… He could just dress up with Lyra and scavenge the neighbourhood for the best sweeties.

HE’D LOVE DOING A MATCHING HALLOWEEN COSTUME TOO WHILE YOU GUYS ARE TRICK OR TREATING!!

Speaking of costumes, I feel like he’d point out Halloween costumes of people/characters he recognises, or finds cool. What a cutie.

He will sorta feel silly still knocking on doors at his age, I mean, he’s at least handing out sweets age now.

“Fuh-fuck yeah!! I-I got a Nuh-Nuh-Nougat!!”

“Ew, they’re so gross, dude…”

Will trade the sweets he doesn’t like with you, and he’ll either not like said sweets from the flavour or the texture since he’s funny like that. (I’m self projecting…)

╰┈➤ 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤

She’s not gonna knock on doors with you sadly, claiming that ‘She’s too old for that, and Halloween for her now is about getting totally shit faced’.

But, she’s more than happy to walk around with you and admire the Halloween decorations. Oh, and the chicks who dress up.

Without a doubt like Toby will point out costumes too!! Just…for another reason.

“Woah, when did Tinker Bell become an only fans model?” Nat will nudge you, nodding towards a group of girls dressed up at the pixie hollow fairies. A smug grin etched upon her scarred face.

“Shh!! There’s kids…” You quiet her down.

╰┈➤ 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Wouldn’t go out trick or treating with you sadly, she’d be way more interested in staying in your guys’ shared suburban home handing out the sweets to trick or treaters.

The night before she’d drag you along to the shops with her, and choose the best sweets the trick or treaters would love.

She’s also dress up, I can see her going as Lydia or Morticia since they match her gothic vibe she’s got.

She’d also make you match with her by going as the female versions of Beetlejuice or Gomez. She’d think it would be cute to match, and it was!!

╰┈➤ 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲

SHE LOVES HALLOWEEN SM!!

Adores everything about it, the decorations, the dressing up, and especially the sweeties!!!

She also loves the fact that the blood permanently leaking from her head wounds are okay to freely walk about with during this special night.

The eight year old will drag you around to every house knocking of the door with a grin, waiting to get her little hands of the best treats.

She’ll make you take pictures of her and every Halloween prop she sees.

Anyways it’s just the cutest bonding moment between the two of you, she views you as her cool older sister that takes her to get a sugar rush.

“SWEETS NOW, PLEASE!!”

“Sal, you’re supposed to say trick or treat…”

╰┈➤ 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫

Like Toby, it also reminds her of simpler times… Before all the madness and chaos the Operator brought into it her life.

Being out and walking around with you reminds her of when she was younger going out with Lauren and CR to get all the best sweets.

While she won’t dress up anymore, or knock on doors to get treats, she will reminisce about her childhood and teenage years.

And she will hold onto this time with you probably for the rest of her life.

Kate watched you as you walked slightly ahead of her, navigating through the groups of kids and parents. Looking over your shoulder at her, a grin on your face. “You good, Kate?”

She snaps out of her trance for a moment, shaking her head as she nods at you. “Yeah, just remembered something.” She spoke quietly. You remind her of what she’s lost, so, so much.

Guys I wanna write an angst one shot of Kate so bad dhjdkdudjsnjcksjdjdjdidujfjdj. So uhm anyways this wraps up my HALLOWEEN SPECTACULAR for this year!! Yip yip!!

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iknowher · 2 months ago

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⠀⠀⠀⠀🍬ㅤ۫ ⠀𝓣rick or 𝓣reat 𝓓ick ࣪ ᚐ ִ

art by @ baobei_bu on tmblr.

🎃ㅤ♰ ㅤ˙ㅤsum. ㅤbored before a halloween party, you summon a demon for fun. to your surprise, incubus!gojo appears, offering you a tempting choice: "trick or dick?" 👻ㅤ♰ ㅤ˙ㅤcw.ㅤsmut (18+), squirting, semen.. reader is described female, mentions about demonic rituals 😈ㅤ♰ ㅤ˙ㅤwc.ㅤ1,1k 𓉸 𓈒ㅤmy* note: the person who drew the art is so goated fr

you looked at the clock.. still a couple hours to go till the halloween party officially began. you decided the best way to endorse your time was to do a dare, of course! you went on google: how to summon demons… you figured out that it was probably fake, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. first step was to kill a stranger?? yeah no. you still had a couple of red crayons from kindergarten, and you drew a baphomet symbol. safe to say it didn’t even look remotely to what you were supposed to draw. now you just need 4 candles! good thing you hoarded bath&body candles like no tomorrow. wow, you were finally done— and the aroma spread through the whole house! time for the actual incantation… te invoco a profundus inferni… no response.. wait— is there seriously an earthquake? the whole vicinity shook around you, you were sure the earth was gonna collapse at how hard it was shaking. good thing it only lasted a few seconds. it was a strange occurrence, sure, but something else was in front of you. did it actually work?! but it was no ordinary demon now that’d be boring. you noticed a man in front of you with a sly smirk. he had white, frosty hair and blue eyes. not to mention the slutty outfit he had on. a latex bodysuit with a heart cut-out, there were no sleeves— so you could see the absolutely toned arms. his horns were a gradient of purple to black and the tip of his tail was heart-shaped. actually, you both were kind of matching— you had the same outfit, but with fake horns and tail of course. you guys were giving couple goals! anywho, his eyes dropped from your boobs heart cut-out back to your face. ‘’what? you decided to dress up as me for halloween?’’ he teased you, ‘’i’m quite endeared.’’ you furrow your eyebrows, you just found the costume at a walmart. ‘’no? i didn’t even know you existed.’’ you couldn’t help but admit he was certainly attractive, and the bulge in his probably-too-tight bodysuit was a bit too noticeable… ‘’well, human, since you summoned me and awakened me from my eternal slumber..’’ he thought for a moment, placing one finger on his chin. ‘’trick or dick?’’ you were confused, what type of question was that? normally it was trick or treat. however.. you couldn’t help but consider that he didn’t look like an ordinary demon, he had a purple and pink color scheme— instead of the normal black and red. ‘’what are you?’’ you asked blatantly. ‘’oh.. mortals nowadays… i’m an incubus.’’ what did he just say? in-cum-us? you clenched your thighs together, rubbing against your core. ‘’omg.. are you stupid or stupid. i’m a sex demon, silly.’’ he slowly stepped up to you, ‘’so, answer me.. trick or dick?’’ you gulped, looking around.. it wouldn’t hurt to do it once, and you’d have to wait for that party anyways.. so, ‘’dick.’’

now, somehow, you’re here on the couch with him on top of you. you were stripped of all your clothes, besides your horns, since he said that it was ‘’cute’’. surprisingly enough, for a sex demon, he took things gentle in the beginning. but it wasn’t long before you pleaded him to go faster. ‘’faster.. ‘s too slow.’’ he rolled his eyes, ‘’foolish.. okay.’’ he picked up the pace by quite a lot, his thick and long shaft reached every area, as if your pussy was practically molded for him. he couldn’t help but also pay attention to your tits, fondling them. you couldn’t keep in your moans, your neighbors probably heard.. whatever, you whimpered.. ‘’i’m close..’’ his smirk turned into a grin. as he started rubbing your clit, it didn’t take long till you cummed. cum x1. oh.. how did we get here? you were on your knees, begging him to let you suck him off. he agreed hesitantly, but that’s ‘cause he didn’t wanna moan more than you. your tongue licked the sides, and he already let out the most sluttiest mewl ever. you finally began sucking him off, his hand coming on top of your head to pull on your hair. sure, it did hurt, but you kinda liked it..! the tip of his cock kept hitting the back of your throat, and let’s just say your gag reflex is absolutely ass. soon enough, he let out a mewl, putting his hand on the back of your head to make you go faster. he cummed in your mouth.. he offered you a tissue to spit it on, thank god because you didn’t wanna swallow up his seed.

cum x2.. and now he was sitting between your thighs, your legs spread out and all. he wondered how many fingers you could take. he put his index finger in your hole, quickly clenching around it. your pussy reacting to him, i mean— he was much better than you masturbating to cringe hentai, you got shivers remembering. he pulled out his finger to replace with his tongue, and it felt extraordinary, you weren’t good at having intercourse at all, he already figured it out. he swirled his tongue around your sensitive nub, it sending electric currents throughout your whole body. you kept letting out groaning, till the point he had to tell you to quiet down ‘’a little bit’’. the moment he put two fingers in and hitting your g-spot.. you knew you were doomed. he was bringing you immense pleasure, till the point that you.. cummed.. well, it felt a lot different.. it felt wetter. the wetness came onto most of his face, and he was shocked, for a moment. ‘’did you.. squirt?’’ before you could apologize, he let out a chuckle.

cum x3...?

well, the story goes like this… when an incubus makes a girl cum 3 times.. he can collect your soul, in old demon fashion. you didn’t even have time to react, you sold your soul for some good ol’ sex, and now god knows what happened to you. a few hours after the halloween party began, your friends knocked on your door, i mean, you had planned to meet up with them. knock.. knock.. knock. but alas, no answer— your body was an empty husk now. all for a little dare!

TRICK OR TREAT DICK?

♡ㅤ˒ㅤ666ㅤwork by @ iknowher ,, do not plagiarize! ..ᵗʰⁱˢ ʷᵃˢ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ˢᵘᵏᵘⁿᵃ

#jujutsu #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #smut #jjk smut #kinktober #oneshot #fem reader #iknowher #art by baobei-bu

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gardenofhope · 2 months ago

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trick or treat!!!! jk actually just treat. give them all of your chocolates and sour candy now.

[art w/o the text and extra doodles under the cut]

also this is the part where I get to admit I took inspo from ingo and emmet when I made these two. I had a submas phase for a while before I got VERY into kirby, made these fucks, and then it all went downhill from there [I’m joking I cherish these two, as cheesy as that sounds]

anyways happy halloween!!! I’m gonna go eat all the candy I bought bye

#my secret to you all is that I actually finished this over a week ago 🤫#almost 2!!!! i never finish art so early idk how I did that #also coming up with pkmn teams for them was FUNNN #their yanmas are shiny. of course #kirby #kirby oc #oc luca #oc lula #sunny’s art #submas #pokemon #SURE BYE

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fictionalcharactersaremypassion · 2 months ago

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The Sweetest Treat

It was late on Halloween night. Trick or treating was coming to an end, porch lights were turned off, bowls were empty of candy and people trotted off home. As for Ian, he’d gone straight to the dugouts after accompanying Carl and Debbie to trick or treat, having gotten himself a pretty good haul of candy.

“You really wore that fucking thing, Gallagher?” Mickey came out of the shadows, sauntering over with a beer in his hand.

“Yeah, I did,” Ian wore his ROTC uniform. It made the most sense, he didn’t have to pay any money to buy a costume nor did he have to steal one. “I’d ask where yours is but I see you’re reusing your brooding asshole costume from last year.”

Mickey flipped him off as he approached. “Fuck off,” he said, plopping down on the bench. He brought out a cigarette to light it, setting the can of beer beside him.

“You should’ve came with us,” Ian said, who remained standing, watching him.

“To where?”

“Trick or treating, Mick,” Ian said like it was obvious. Mickey snorted.

“Fuck that.”

“You’re against free candy?” Ian plucked the cigarette from his mouth to put it into his own. Mickey glared, but it was half hearted.

“When I gotta put on a stupid ass costume and go fucking beg for it, yes.”

“It’s not begging,” Ian rolled his eyes. “It’s fun .”

“We really got different ideas of what’s fun,” Mickey scoffed.

Ian crossed his legs at the ankles, folding his arms. “So you don’t want the snickers I saved for you?” He clarified, concealing his smirk when his boyfriend perked up the slightest bit. “Fine. I’ll give them to Carl. He likes them too.”

“You got me Snickers?” Mickey said, not bothering to hide his surprise.

A grin spread across Ian’s face and he took out a small baggie from his jacket pocket. He held it up for him to see. “Right here, Milkovch.”

Mandy had admitted to him once that Terry would steal their Halloween candy so they just stopped going out, knowing they wouldn’t get to keep it anyway. And well, Ian’s heart went out to her and Mickey. He put together small bags of the siblings’ favorite candies so they could have a little something . As for Mandy, he’d wait to give hers when they walked to school together.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Mickey said quietly. “Could’ve gotten some myself.”

Meaning he could have stolen some from the Kash and Grab. “I wanted to,” Ian said simply.

“Fuckin’ Gallagher.”

Ian just smiled some more, taking one of the chocolate bars out of the bag, unwrapping it and giving it to him. “Take a bite.”

“The fuck for?”

He wiggled his arm. “Just do it.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, shoving the fun-size bar into his mouth. He swallowed, looking at Ian with a you fucking happy now expression.

And Ian was; he stepped forward, capturing Mickey’s lips into a kiss, one hand on the back of his head.

In the dim lighting, he could see Mickey’s cheeks flush, this softer than normal gleam in his eyes.

“Can I ask you something, Mick?”

“Yeah, whatever,” his boyfriend said, pulling off this act of nonchalance even though Ian was pretty sure he’d practically melted under the affection he was just given.

“What tastes sweeter, the chocolate or the kiss?”

And just like that, the spell was broken. Mickey shoved him, muttering about him being an "Fucking idiot," while Ian’s loud laughter rang out.

“I’m sorry- Oh, God. I’ve been waiting all day to do that!”

Mickey shot him a dirty look.

“Do that again and I’m gonna rip your skull out of your head.”

#shameless #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ian and mickey #ian x mickey #shameless fanfiction

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neonlight2 · 2 years ago

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Jaehaera Targaryen (oc)

Masterlist

Warnings: smut mentions, sexism, touch of homophobia, and mentions of incest (and step-cest)

Again— it’s the Targaryens, what do you expect.

(Only the older parts of the family cause… the younger ones don’t know the difference)

What we’re their relationships like as she got older?

Viserys

First off— Absolute pushover.

Shouldn’t be a surprise with how he treats Rhaenyra. Man will literally break all tradition, with the justification of “I am king”.

Jaehaera wants to wear pants instead of dresses. Done, without a second to waste. And if she did want to wear a dress, you best believe it was the best money could buy.

His darling daughter wants to study with high scholars— only the best teachers of course. Anything she wished to know or learn she’d be taught. Books would be imported from the farthest edges of Westeros. Oh— and best believe he built her a private library. He knows how she loves her privacy, how she detested the public and fuss of events. He’d catered to her every need as she grew.

Even when he didn’t necessarily agree— like with swordsmanship. Viserys would be so freaking worried at the beginning, not wanting his little girl to get hurt. But he lets her anyway.

And even though it’s “against the rules”, Jaehaera could compete in tournaments whenever she damn well please, and he was always there to watch with pride.

There was not a price in gold that would hinder her requests. If the girl has asked him for a fucking castle bigger than king’s landing, it would have been made— and he’d put every man he could to work in order for it to be done quickly. Amazons quick delivery service would have NOTHING on this man’s will.

However, she was never extreme in that fashion. The kingdom was honestly lucky that she was far more rational and conservative with money, or else they may be in poverty.

So as she got older, matured, and got around to marrying age— all suitors of all ages came in like filthy vultures. And of course, no one was ever good enough.

He thought the same for both his daughters, the only reason why he made Rhaenyra marry was in order to secure he claim to the throne— heirs. Jaehaera on the other hand…

Jaehaera at 14/15: Father I don’t wish to marry—

Viserys: GREAT ITS SETTLED THEN

Of course if she did fall in love or wish to marry, he wouldn’t be able to say no. It’s damn near impossible. I swear to god this man would actually rather die than say no to her.

Jaehaera would DEFINITELY become more of an adviser to Viserys as she got older. She was already like his own little personal spy, so as she got older, made more connections, and was actually able to stir the pot without being harmed (because now she’d love for a bitch to try—), that relationship only grew stronger.

Most people when they watch the two together could get mental whiplash I’m not even gonna lie. One moment Jaehaera is kneeling before Viserys calling him “my king” or “your majesty”— basically going through ALL the damn formalities even though viserys has told her a thousand times she doesn’t need to— just to act like a child the next minute. Sure, if she has something political or otherwise important to tell him, Jaehaera stays more calm, professional even. But the moment the formality is over and done she like, “Hi dad! Wanna watch me dual? Oh! I learned a new trick on Shkros!”

She’d also just tell him the most random shit and facts she learns, probably rant about stories or things she’s gotten insanely fixated on. Viserys would EAT THAT SHIT UP. He could listen for hours and smile or laugh at the girl.

Oh, and Viserys literally became deaf at some point to all slander toward her, even if it came from Otto. Man would not hear of any of it.

In his mind Jaehaera did no wrong. So when anyone questioned her innocence or reputation—

“All of these are mere, petty rumors from jealousy for my daughter’s brilliance.”

“I will not hear of it, next person to say such a thing will lose their tongue.”

“Jaehaera would never, and even if she had you have no proof.”

“Who are you to question the princess? My daughter?”

To the day until she inevitably starts leaving more frequently, they would meet almost every night in the kitchens, sharing bread and milk like the day they first met.

Sadly, around the time his sickness gets really bad, she would be gone even longer. He knew why.

She had spent months before trying to heal him, and she did a better job then the scholars and maesters could ever dream. But they both knew that it was only slowly his demise. There was no cure for time, as it was fast on viserys heels.

A lot of people thought they had a falling out during this time because of her absence, but the truth of it was that they had an agreement. Jaehaera had made a promise to secure and protect their family. Not just Rhaenyra’s claim to the throne, but the state of it all.

She went to every kingdom to make alliances, or to strengthen old ones. She made deals to compact no army could penetrate them. And she would be damned if she failed.

Jaehaera had barely the idea of what love felt like before she became Viserys’ daughter. So with all her being she’d protect her home, her life, his legacy, her family.

Daemon

Two words— Teddy Bear.

He’s an absolute simp.

Would and does worship the ground she walks on.

If you thought he was insufferable when she was younger, following her around, constantly seeking her attention, giving her anything she stares at too long, and talk about protective— times that by a million.

The moment he came back and saw how she had…matured. Daemon went feral. I’m talking glaring at every person who so much as glances Jaehaera’s way that wasn’t family. He even had a small bit of beef with Sir Harwin because of how close he had become to her. It was only until she told him to back the fuck off that he calmed down.

He’d also use every excuse he could muster to be close to her. And Daemon likes to be sly, or try at least, so it would start innocent.

*walking literally anywhere, even around the castle, and he hold her hand* “Don’t want you to get lost my little wanderer.”

*Leans against her: arm around shoulders, or wrapped around her waist to rest his head in the crook of her neck.* “I’m tired.” Or if your at an event, “You soothe the throbbing in my head, love.”

Then this bitch would push his luck.

He’d slowly slip his fingers up her shirt or any bare skin he could get his hands on— and being that she didn’t normally like to wear much, he had so many places to choose from.

“My hands are cold!” *it’s literally like 100 degrees out*

He also has a weird obsession with her hair. Like he’d dimly admire it at first, wondering what it feels like. Was it was soft as feathers? Or smooth as silk?

Well one day he impulsive touched it. Of course he made it seem as if it were a normal interaction— brushing it away from her open shoulders to show off the dip in the heavenly dress she wore to some banquet he couldn’t even remember the occasion for.

All he knew was that he instantly became addicted to the feeling of the strands between his fingers.

They’d be talking underneath the trees of the gardens and he’d randomly start petting her head. At first Jaehaera would tense up because of the foreign feeling, but after a few seconds and Daemon asking her permission, she’d let him to it again. Oh he’d be jumping for joy in his brain.

Especially loving it when her eyes would flutter shut when he’d start to scratch her scalp and massage her temples.

And however wholesome this man could be at sometimes, he’s mind would definitely wander. He’d start to wonder what it’s be like if she were underneath him, hair and body sprawled out for him to play with. To make her feel good.

Or perhaps if she were to ride him and as she leaned forward, her hair would drape around them, all while tickling his thighs, arms and face. Oh how pretty she would look.

Oh and don’t get him started about how hard he gets when she pulls her hair into a ponytail or high braid. All he could think about was taking her from behind, pulling on her hair so that her back would be flush with his chest.

God she drove him crazy.

So the infamous Prince, know for being I’ll tempered and cruel, would be siting with the girl in her free time, taking turns braiding each others chair.

What he doesn’t know is that she’s not as oblivious as he thinks. It wasn’t hard to notice how he’d have to shift in he seat around her, or the growing bulge in his pants as she laid her head in his lap— letting out shameless moans as he kneaded her scalp.

Jaehaera just thought in rather fun to tease him, and to make him think she was totally innocent in her acts.

But besides the obvious sexual tension— Dameon would respect Jaehaera a lot. Of course he’d still be hot headed, crazy, and rebellious. It was his nature. And it also happened to be hers in some cases.

It was almost like putting two delinquents in the same room with some gunpowder a few matches.

The only difference was that she was more rational when it came to future consequences. She actually looked ahead. Dameon… not so much. He’d rather jump into battle or war, only depending on himself and his sword “dark sister”.

But.. if he had to, the person who’d he’d listen to was Jaehaera. And that’s because in his eyes, she was always right.

And that was not to be disputed.

Rhaenyra

She’s spoiled. We all know that. So she’s definitely get more possessive of Jaehaera.

When she married Laenor, it was hard because she longed for intimacy that he could not give her. But she was content with him because she thought she had at least evaded being married to an imbecile.

So even though it was unheard of, Rhaenyra still insisted on sharing a bed with her almost every night. Both girls were always close, and comfortable with each other physically. Rhaenyra had been the second person to bless her with gentle affection through touch. One might say that other than herself, Jaehaera trusted Rhaenyra with her body the most.

They would cling to each other in the night, bodies intertwined, grazing each other carefully, or tenderly squeezing flesh. All of it was natural to them. And to Jaehaera it was all she’d ever known when it came to the pair. It was only after their incident at the brothel that caused a shift in their behavior.

Rhaenyra had only heard of what had happened with Jaehaera because of her fathers reprimanding. It was light compared to what she faced, but she still felt something brewing in her stomach. She couldn’t quite place the emotion, it resting somewhere in between jealousy and curiosity. And it scared her.

Soon she found herself growing paranoid and angered at everyone Jaehaera looked at fondly. Especially a particular maid of hers…

Soon Rhaenyra would lie awake at night, Jaehaera sleeping soundly beside her, and she’s let her mind wander to what she thought the girl may have been doing with other women.

Soon she’d been touching herself at the thought of it being her who received such attention from Jaehaera.

And later as she noticed Daemon’s actions toward them both she couldn’t help but dwell on the thought of having them both. Even after Daemon married Laena. She’s simply add her to the equation too; she knew how much Jaehaera fancied her.

However, as the drift between her and Alicent grew even larger— especially after the whole air Criston cole situation— she became more worried that Jaehaera would leave her.

She had no reason to worry, I mean Jaehaera absolutely adore the girl. She would do practically anything for her. And the two princesses were almost attached at the hip at some point.

Yet as Jaehaera began to venture farther out, her time away from home increasing every voyage, Rhaenyra would make sure to claim whatever time Jaehaera had to spare when she had returned.

Of course, she didn’t mind sharing this time with other people she loved: Viserys, Daemon, Laenor, Sir Harwin.

Jaehaera knew. Anyone could tell that her children were not sired by Laenor, but Jaehaera knew that they were his kids.

And that’s because she walked in on them fucking once.

To this day she’d tease Rhaenyra about it, occasionally praising her for how quiet she could be with such a large prick inside her.

(She would also confirm to anyone that asks that Sir Harwin is hung— because let’s be honest he is.)

And after Rhaenyra had Jace, she’s notice that happened to grab even more of Jaehaera’s attention. More of her protection. Jaehaera would visit more frequently, ask if she was being properly taken care of, if anyone had disrespected her, and constantly hovering around her and Jace when she was at home.

As much as Rhaenyra loved Sir Harwin, she couldn’t deny that Jaehaera was a huge reason for her having more children. For the more she had, she more of Jaehaera she got.

Alicent

Obsessed and paranoid.Gonna be real— we all saw this coming.

Alicent would definitely be giving yandere, but she would never tell Jaehaera when she could or could not leave. (Like shed be able to in the first place.)

At first, when they’re in their later teens, Alicent really just wants to keep Jaehaera in her life. So she sees Rhaenyra as a threat, because they’re at all odds. She gets extremely worried whenever Jaehaera starts to pull away because of her marrying Viserys, and a little scared. Alicent really didn’t like lying to her, but she was as equally as scared of her father’s backlash. So when Jaehaera started to catch on with the whole scheme, Alicent didn’t know what to do or think.

Jaehaera was never actually cruel to her in anyway. In fact, the rather opposite. She’d still join her for tea or visit her whenever Rhaenyra was busy with her duties. But there was always a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that made her need validation.

“You’re not mad at me are you Princess?”

Glancing up intently at her, Jaehaera would answer, “No, Ali. I just hate your father insists on hurts those I care for.”

Hitching her breath, there was a small flutter in the pit of her stomach. Jaehaera made it sound as if she were included in the category. That sent Alicent’s heart on fire.

“And don’t think of defending him darling,” Jaehaera snipped, standing up to grab ahold of her chin. “It’ll just make me hate him more.”

Would definitely become paranoid later on as Rhaenyra has kids because well… Jaehaera increasingly becomes more attached to her as she does. Not that Alicent’s children don’t get enough attention as is. Jaehaera spoils every single one of them. But Alicent doesn’t see it like that, so what does she do? Talks shit.

She’ll start sneaking in comments or rumors of Rhaenyra’s children’s the obvious hair color difference, and other features. How they’re “growing in to very clad, dark handsome boys” and how she “adores their curly brown hair”.

Then, on top of it all is— she thinks she’s getting away with it at first because Jaehaera will laugh occasionally and say something back. Soon she becomes unaware of the warning stares being sent her way. Her growing audacity eventually leads to a more intense reaction after she questions their birthright.

“I’m not sure if they would be given the thrown that easily.” She’d say calmly with a soft smile while pouring Jaehaera a drink.

She’s hear the princess hum and ask, “Why’s that?”

“Oh you know, their features are rathe strange for a Targaryen. Some might question if they are truly—,”

Alicent would be cut off quickly, and the bottle of wine would have slipped through her hands from shock and broke into pieces by their feet if it weren’t for Jaehaera’s quick hand. With one hand setting the bottle aside, the other held Alicent’s jaw firm, making it so she couldn’t talk, yet it would not leave a bruise on her skin.

Jaehaera’s were practically predatory as they glared into Alicent’s. And as she leaned closer to the woman’s face, Alicent couldn’t help but gasp at the proximity.

“Don’t start acting like your father Ali. It doesn’t suit you.” Jaehaera would whisper firmly, pulling away only to keep a burning gaze. “And if you ever say something like that again around me, I promise you, I will kill him.”

After her hand leaves her mouth, Alicent would rub the tender skin, weak in the knees and almost desperate for it to return. “Why?” She’s ask in a whisper.

Tilting her head to the side, Jaehaera’s expression softened and she caressed her cheek. “Because he would have killed something I care for. And I cannot allow that.”

Otto

He’s a petty bitch.

Would not know what the fuck to do when it comes to Jaehaera.

Would also try really hard to spread rumors about her under the kings radar. Probably called her a homophobic slur at some point and made a backhand comment about her being a woman. We all know it’s true.

He’s well aware that she hates him after Alicent marries Viserys. Would for sure get tortured by Daemons antics even more because of Jaehaera’s permission.

Honestly he’s just fucked, so he’s constantly trying to find a way to keep himself in the good graces of the king, so Jaehaera won’t kill him.

Also another reason why he’d push Aegon to succeed the thrown— also also another reason why the greens pull this shit while she’s gone on her voyages and travels. He knows he wouldn’t be able to get away with it otherwise.

Sir Criston

Another petty bitch.

Jaehaera finds him annoying after a while. She gave him a little sympathy at first because of the whole Rhaenyra brothel incident, but she’d always choose Rhaenyra.

Lightens up around Alicent because she likes her. But she’ll roast the shit out of him at any time. Unprovoked.

And if he really pisses her off best believe she’s threaten him (and let Daemon loose).

“I gave you the position in the kings guard, I could easily take it away. Even if it hurt Ali’s feelings for a while. She could never stay mad at me. She’d forget you in a heartbeat.”

Sir Harwin

Homies Fr

These two would just make a bunch of dirty jokes, cursing like sailors, and spar.

Canon that they would call each other bad worms as pet names:

“Good morning my little bitch how are you?”- Jaehaera greeting him in the mornings for training.

“Hey arsehole! You owe me one!” - Harwin after covering up for her to go sneak off with a lady/lord and/or when he’d lie about seeing Daemon first in the nighttime competitions.

Causal greetings or hellos: “Hello there cunt!” “Ahhh there’s my favorite little shit!”

Both were definitely into each other some point but it was a fleeting crush. He fell in love with Rhaenyra, she loved him, so Jaehaera loved them and that they were happy.

Harwin along with Laenor we’re her personality wingmen and cheerleaders.

He’d cover/lie for her in a heart beat. And he has soooo much respect for her. In another life they’d probably be siblings.

Laenor

I’ll say it again for the people in the back: Laenor is Jaehaera’s cheerleader.

If they had the word bestie back then, best believe he’d be like: “GO BESTIE, GO!!!”

Ton of gay jokes, but also would comfort each other being of society and internal homophobia because people fucking suck. (I’m looking at you Otto)

Definitely have seen each other naked, probably drunk or honestly skinny dipping. Also— because they’re constantly covering for each other so they can… Y’know… they’ve probably stood guard for each other at some point. So I can definitely see Laenor or her just opening the door once as the other and whoever they’re with is mid fucking, and be like: “can you hurry up Rhaenyra (or some other person) is looking for you?”

And if Laenor ever finished quickly, Jaehaera would say: “damn took you longer than I thought, ten whole seconds, I had my money on five.”

Oh and Laenor absolutely giggles or chokes on his drink anytime someone says anything remotely disrespectful toward Jaehaera or him because he knows this person is about to die.

Rhaenys and Corlys

Definition of second parents. Basically adopt Jaehaera whenever Viserys isn’t around.

Corlys is so proud of her when she gets older and leads a battalion and or her own voyages. He would also get teary eyes whenever he sees her helping Luke learn how to navigate and captain a ship, then blame it on “salt water that splashed into his eyes”.

He LOVES being a girl dad (excluding Laenor). Prizes Laena and Jaehaera. And even low key ships them because let’s be so for real… he knows. Later he’ll make jokes that it must be in the gene’s because both his kids came out fruity.

And Rhaenys and Corlys adore the relationship between her and their kids.

Rhaenys especially. She loves how safe and natural both her children are around her. They don’t have to pretend. She swears she’s trust her with both their lives because she knows Jaehaera would always protect them and vise versa. (Also ships Laena with her, and claims all the time that Daemon is just a third party.)

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princessconsuela120 · 1 year ago

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Since it's spooky season, could you do an aged up ff about you convincing stan's friend group to go trick or treating with you?

PRINCESSCONSUELA'S FALLFEST EVENT🍂🧣🎃🍃

🧣 - Cozy Up: Send in any fluff requests from the prompt list that should be posted shortly. I will write a short blurb for any prompt.

—🧣

Summary: it’s Halloween, so you convince the boys to go trick or treating…even though you’re all on high school now.

Warnings: cursing, South Park…all warnings that come with that.

Authors Note: I’m so sorry this took so long, but I adored this idea!!! More Fallfest docs coming out tonight!!! Enjoy!

—🧣

IT WAS AN EXCEPTIONALLY WARM DAY FOR FALL IN SOUTH PARK. Like Cartman liked to say, the only two seasons in South Park were Winter and July, but today was different. It was warm, WARM! In South Park! You couldn’t just let that pass up.

“Come on guys, please! Look at the sun, it’s shining! Have you ever seen the sun before?” You rambled, practically running circles around the boys as they walked to class. You and been friends with them since the 4th grade, and now being Juniors in high school, it was safe to say you were very close.

“Yes I’ve seen the damn sun before y/n.” Cartman snarked, choosing to miss the point of what you were saying. You rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly as the other boys chuckled.

“We could be scooby doo, or, what about..”

“I swear to god, if you suggest crayons again I’m going to scream.” Kyle said, making you groan, shaking him lightly with impatience.

“Oh come on you guys.”

“I don’t know y/n it’s just, we’re in high school now. Isn’t there like, a legal age limit for trick or treating.” Stan said, making Cartman scoff, nudging you back.

“Yeah, it ends at 8 years old.” He teased, making you roll my eyes yet again.

“I’m sure Kenny wasn’t to go, don’t you?”

“Anything for free candy.” Kenny said, the two of you high diving as Cartman rolled his eyes in defeat.

“Yeah you know what, I can be a kid for the night for some free candy.”

“You don’t need anymore candy fatass.” Kyle teased, Cartman turning to look at him angrily.

“Aye!” He shouted, as you and Kyle laugh to each other.

“I guess I’ll go. Got nothing better to do anyways.” Stan says, shrugging as you jump up and down with excitement. You turn to Kyle, rubbing your shoulder happily against his as you smiled.

“Yay! So Kyle, what’s it gonna be?” You teased, making him sigh.

“Fine.” He pointed a finger at you. “But I’m not being a damn crayon.” You nodded in agreement before jumping and squealing happily.

—🧣

SOMEHOW YOU HAD MANAGED TO CONVINCE THE BOYS TO BE THE GHOST BUSTERS. You had found a bucket of green paint in Stan’s farm-from good knows what- and paint Cartman head to toe in green paint. You sewed together some makeshift green outfit for him to wear and deemed him the ghost to your quartet. You can only imagine how happy that made Cartman.

“Why did I have to be the ghost?” He whined, stomping behind the four of you as you came up to your first door.

“Because your fat.” Kyle said, not missing a beat.

“Aye!”

“What he meant to say, was that you just shine, like a ghost would shine.” You say, as Cartman scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Oh cut the crap y/n.”

“Trick or treat!” You all shouted, bright smiles on all your faces as the two adults at the door greeted you with excitement.

“Oh honey look, it’s the ghost busters!” The one woman said, nudging her husband as she pointed out Cartman.

“Yeah, and Bruce vilange.” Her husband cheered, making Cartman fume.

“God damnit I’m not Bruce villange! I’m a ghost!”

“Oh, of course you are honey.” The woman said nicely, making cartman scoff, grabbing the serving bowl from the lady and dumping half of it into his pillow case, causing you and the other boys to laugh.

“Just gimme the damn candy.” He grumbled, making you lean onto Stan as you laughed even harder. “I hate you guys.”

—🧣

“YOU GIVE ME YOUR ALMOND JOYS AND I'LL GIVE YOU MY PRETZELS.” Cartman bargained, making you frown as you held the blue wrapped candy up to you chest protectively. The five of you were now sitting in Stan’s living room, the contents of your pillow cases spilled out infront of you as you made trades for candy. Most of the time, when you were younger atleast, all the bags of chips and pretzels and drinks that you all got, you would all donate to Kenny, so he could take something home for his family. And besides that, he got to bring home the candy no one else would eat. Now Cartman on the other hand, would always try to go to bed Halloween night with even more candy than he had walking in the house. You of course, wouldn’t let this happen.

“But I want my almond joys.” You mumbled, a pour on your face as Cartman sighed, waving the bag of pumpkin shaped pretzels in the air.

“Well, don’t you want some pretzels?”

“Sure, here. I’ll give you my almond joys.” You handed him a few candy bars as he clapped excitedly.

“One bag of pretzels is equal to four.” Cartman corrected, making you roll your eyes.

“Right okay, well pretend that makes sense. Now, you give me your pretzels.”

“Ooo, ghost and pumpkin shaped, how spooky. Now, you give me back two almond joys.”

“Okay.”

“And I give you back your pretzels.”

“Okay.”

“Now you give me three more almond joys.”

“But there’s only two in my hands.” Cartman pouted, as you shook you head at him, gesturing to his pillow case.

“Then take it out of your bag.”

“Good idea.” He said, quickly digging for almond joys in his bag.

“Okay, and now you give me your pretzels.”

“Perfect. Aye!” Cartman yelled, watching angrily as you proudly stuffed both the new almond joys and spooky pretzels into you bag.

“No more candy trades boys, I’m all out.” You teased, dusting off your hands as Kyle Stan and Kenny all applauded you with amusement.

“That was amazing.” Stan muttered, making you chuckle as Cartman pouted in the corner, almost just like when you were kids. It was wonderful to be kids again on Halloween. Something the boys had missed. And even if they wouldn’t admit it, in fear of bruising their pride, they were happy you convinced them to go.

—🧣

#south park x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #stan marsh x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny mccormick #eric cartman #eric cartman x reader #south park #south park imagine #PrincessConsuelasfallfest2023

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kiyomitakada · 2 months ago

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trick or treat -@dykemisaamane

you got: trick! here is misa being a tumblr user.

kuromisa: ughhfhghhghh anyway dnfuckingi if youre a soulless ghoul who wants to DENY LOVE #tooootally not a vague #literally why r you in their TAG if youre gonna just post ship hate #hope kira gets you “What are you doing, Misa?” Misa whirls around. “Oh! Light! I didn’t see you come in.” “I’m quiet,” Light says. He dumps a bag of groceries by the fridge, unquietly. “I got food.” “Oh, Light, you’re the best!” Light neatly dodges Misa’s attempted glomp. He’s so cute, Misa thinks. “Thanks. Just start on dinner soon, okay?” “Okay!” Misa stretches. She’s done with Tumblr user monochrome-wonders anyway. That should put them off for a good long time before they come mess with her again. Ugh. If Misa could just tell that user that she literally played the character, everything would be so much easier. But Light wants her to practice “cybersecurity” or whatever, so Misa’ll have to refrain from playing her trump card for now. Light peers over at her phone. “Is that… Tumblr?” “I keep telling you to follow me, don’t I?” “Sure,” Light says. “What’s a ‘vague’?” Misa brightens. “Sit down,” she says, shooting him fingerguns. “I’m going to learn you a thing.” The expression of utter despair that comes over Light’s face is, honestly, really satisfying.

(here's the extended version if anyone wants to read it)

#dykemisaamane #asks #trick or treat #i think i can maintag this since it's more complete so #misa amane #yagamane #THANK YOU FOR THE ASK i almost forgot i wrote this one

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peachkkuma · 8 months ago

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📓. DIARY ENTRY 07 ︴MAY 15, 2024

dear loass diary…

I just fully realized that I’ve been doing this like five minutes ago, so I had to write it here to get my thoughts out, make sure I don’t forget my realization, and hopefully have an epiphany.

So, context first. I’m sick rn and I remembered a specific part of one of Neville’s lectures where he said something along the lines of how a sick man wanted to be healthy so all he did was focus on being healthy. (semi-unrelated note to future self: Notice how I put “ALL HE DID” as in, that was the only thing he did? That’s because that’s the only thing he needs to do!! it’s all about having genuine awareness of obtaining your desires, stop over complicating it and trying to make excuses when u know damn well that’s all there is to the law). After remembering that I was like, “yo why don’t I try that” because why would I want to be sick?? So anyways I was like trying (emphasis on the trying) to imagine myself as my healthiest self and only be aware of being healthy. After two minutes of that, I decided to call it quits and thought to myself “hope it works.” GIRL WHATTT?? That’s my problem right there, I’m pretending even in my own imagination. I think I have myself fooled, that I’ve deceived myself into thinking that I believe I have what I want in imagination when I DONT. Right after my so called imagining I literally had the thoughts of a person who was sick, was aware and focused on my illness, and just overall identified as someone who caught a cold. and then, that’s when the common sense hit me and I was like “wait, who do I think I’m fooling?” It’s like I thought just because these circumstances exist in the 3D doesn’t mean they can’t also be in my imagination. It fr is like i see the 3D and 4D as something separate when that’s not at all the case. Because those thoughts of me being sick? That was a state, the was who I was in imagination. Who I am in imagination. Life truly is imagination. And I rlly feel that now. So, future me, let me try to help u out by telling u how to actually get into ur desired state and maintain it:

1. Decide u have it

“I have xyz” BOOM ur done, it’s done, because creation is finished. There is nothing to create in the 3D or the 4D, it already exists exactly the way u want it to, waiting for you. So act like it.

2. State ≠ instant gratification

I’m gonna hold ur hand while I say this, states aren’t here to be a relief or a distraction. They’re not meant to temporarily ease any anxiety u have. So stop treating the sowf as a temporary escape from the 3D, it’s real. and if u keep up this bad habit, if u start seeing the sowf as just a way to shut up ur worries without actually knowing it’ll come to pass, then you’re on a dangerous road that leads to believing the 3D is the real reality. And yk that it’s not.

3. Actually maintaining a state

U r meant to see the world from the perspective of ur desired self, the u that has it all. Why do u think it’s called the law of assumption girly? U gotta assume u already got it. My thing is, I have too much going on in my real life and I think “I don’t have time to be in the sowf I have too much on my mind.” That’s a problem because one, ur allowed to be a part of the 3D. U don’t have to pretend it doesn’t exist. And two, I’m identifying with the 3D and it’s circumstances. News flash, the 3D doesn’t just disappear the moment u say an affirmation or visualize a scene, u still have responsibilities. The trick is knowing that’s not u. U don’t have to be thinking like ur desired self 100% of the time so don’t expect urself too. Deal with ur stuff, but know who u actually are, who YOU chose to be. To maintain ur state, do whatever helps u feel like ur the u want to be. Revise ur day before bed, think the thoughts ur desired self would think, but don’t force anything. Forcing urself just means u feel like u don’t have what u want, and so ur desperate to get it, if u feel like u don’t have it, don’t force a method. Instead remind urself that it’s already done, it’s been done.u already decided that u had it, nothing can erase that decision except for u.

4. Getting used to it

Everytime I think of ur desired self remember that THAT IS U!! Not someone u could be or will be soon, BUT YOU RN. If u don’t feel that way, it’s because u identify with the 3D and ur past assumptions of urself, and we already discussed how that’s a huuuuuuggggeeeee no. Don’t force urself into getting used to it because, again, force means wanting to get something out of the 3D. But that’s not the real reality, so why want something from there when u can have what u want rn? Remember that ur imagination, ur awareness, ur consciousness, whatever u wanna call it won’t lie to u. It’s the most accurate reflection of both u and ur life. What u experience in there is ur real reality, whether that be the one u want or not. So girl, get used to being who u want to be. It’ll feel so weird at first, uncomfortable rlly. Cuz ik myself, the only way I’ll get in the state is if I keep myself in check. (going on a mental diet is okay if ur not doing it for the 3D, future self.)I’ll probably just be asking myself 24/7 “would my desired self think/react/feel like that?” And honestly, that’ll probably be the only way I’ll learn. Once u start correcting urself, for the sake of wanting to be ur desired self, it’ll come naturally. Both the habit of being in the state and ur manifestations

The law wasn’t mean to be tricky, how could it be when it’s literally called the law of assumption? There rlly isn’t much to it except assuming u have what u want by helping urself believe u have what u want, so stop trying to think there’s more to it— that it’s not that simple or easy. Ur wasting ur time with everything else, the overthinking, the wondering about the when and how, the over complicating, and the wondering if u did it right. Just be.

kisses, peachkkuma

#loa blog #manifestation diary #peachkkumas diary #loa tumblr #loassumption #manifesting #pure consciousness #edward art #loassblog #manifesation #manifestation #neville goddard #loa #loablr #loa diary #law of assumption #assume and persist #shifting consciousness

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thewhumpcaretaker · 9 months ago

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⚜ 𝓑𝓮𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓭𝓰𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 - 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐼𝐼: 𝐹𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝑜𝓃 𝒶 𝒟𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝐻𝑜𝓇𝓈𝑒 ⚜

Oops, I guess it wasn't a one-shot after all. Thank you again to @evren-sadwrn for the beta read!

TW: gunshot, car chase, canon-typical violence, John and Vincent bickering constantly

Summary: In the wake of the contract notice, John, Vincent, and Dog must flee the Wick residence.

Vincent was fine, actually. Crying? Someone had been crying five minutes ago? Definitely not him.

So John wanted to help him, presumably out of some deranged fit of loneliness. Who really cared why. This was the best news possible. He would be reinstated in no time.

He reclined on John’s couch as if it had been his idea to do so all along, swinging one leg absently over the side while his host dashed back and forth through the house, packing. This rushing around had started the very moment that Vincent stabilized. They’d already waited too long, probably, to leave. The Table would know that he could only be going to one place if he had come to New York, and they would converge on the location. The Wick residence had just become a deathtrap.

But that didn’t concern Vincent terribly - John seemed intent enough on addressing the issue. He went downstairs with an empty duffle bag, came up with a holster around his waist and the duffle bag full, went upstairs in a t-shirt, came down in a black vest under a matching suitcoat. Vincent contemplated whether it was drab. Maybe not, maybe more like “morose.” But well-fitted, at least.

There was something coming down the stairs after John, something that growled and moved a little too quickly towards the couch, halted only by a leash.

“Hey.” John stopped by the coffee table with a harsh look that brought his bulldog to a sit. “We’re gonna be nice to the Marquis, yeah?” It whined apprehensively, casting a suspicious glance in Vincent’s direction, but stopped growling.

Vincent eyed it back with at least as much suspicion. “Is it trained? I don’t want some mutt biting at my heels in the midst of a fight. We’d be better off leaving it behind.”

That harsh look shifted from the bulldog to the Marquis.

“I need you to listen very closely. This is important. You remember what I did to Iosef, yeah? If that dog dies, you die. I have no interest in your marker if that happens. You do not treat him as something you can sacrifice to save yourself. He IS you, got it?”

“C'est un putain de – [It’s a fucking –]”

“He’s you. A vital body part, like your liver.”

“If you knew how a man who can afford the finer indulgences in life treats his liver, you might reconsider your metaphor,” Vincent shot back, smirking.

“Okay, your heart then. But just. Vital. Okay?’

As he realized the purpose of this conversation, something bitter sunk into his stomach and he felt his cheeks flush. “You don’t need to explain empathy to me like I’m a child. I have dogs, you know that, yes? Cats, horses, swans, a peacock…” He strained to remember the more exotic creatures in his collection. Did he buy that hyacinth macaw, or did he choose the palm cockatoo instead? He hadn’t seen the bird since, so he couldn’t be sure. “Anyway, you know nothing, as usual.” Already this man was insulting him again. Unbelievable.

John just sighed. “Up. We have to go.” He extended a hand that couldn’t have tempted Vincent any less if it had been coated in live wasps. He gave John a look so icy that it earned another whimper from Dog, and struggled upright on his own.

He didn’t trust himself to speak on the walk to the garage. Every step, every tilt of the shoulders, winded him. Maybe shock had been a blessing - he realized that most of the pain had been numbed. But now it was back, tracing a stabbing, fiery line across the pectoral into the bone. It certainly seemed to be aggravated by certain movements, to get worse, but mysteriously, he could never quite detect a moment when it was better. It was a damn trick of the body that took over his vision with a total miasma of pain.

He didn’t even notice John’s hands on him until he was already being lowered into the passenger seat with surprising gentleness. The bulldog was already in the back. Had he blacked out for a second? Massive, muscled hands gripped either side of his waist securely, those darkly troubled eyes peering into his with such maddening concern. This condescending piece of work buckled…his fucking…seatbelt…for him. “Je te déteste [I hate you],” he managed, almost slurring.

“Good. We need you hateful. You want a grenade?”

“I – what? Yes, give it to me.” That woke him up quickly enough. “I’ve never wanted anything so much.”

John dropped the duffle bag in his lap and circled around to the front seat. The engine purred to life. “There’s already a blockade at the end of the street. We cut through the neighbor’s fence. Grenades go out the back after we’re past them.”

The garage door rolled slowly back and for a few short minutes, everything was okay again. Everything was giddy, in fact. It was just after dusk, the sky greying slowly from indigo to black. A quiet, peaceful evening that Vincent couldn’t wait to rip to shreds. With both windows rolled down, the night air rushed between them in a roaring channel of wind that sent John’s hair whirling. A dark little ball of fire turned over and over in Vincent’s hand, and there were more where that came from. John put the pedal to the floor, the acceleration pressing Vincent into his seat and sending a thrill through him as they shot straight through the neighbor’s white picket fence and left two tire treads in a streak across their manicured lawn.

An orderly line of cars scrambled to turn and give chase, bullets striking the taillight, the back window, the trunk. You think you can open fire on the rightful Autem Imperator? He fixed his eyes on them in the rearview mirror, pulled the pin with his teeth, and let them have all the pent up fury of the past miserable day.

Shattered glass and burning bodies. Orange roses and golden filigree painted against the sky. John flying, gliding lane to lane, firing over his shoulder, blind.

Pin. A moment of stabbing pain from the pec all the way through the throwing arm (suddenly worth it). Unfurling flames. Another pin. Another! Could he get this one through the shattered windshield into this idiot’s lap? Yes. He was laughing despite the way every breath stabbed through his chest, every stab fueling the next throw. He was drifting in John’s polished Mustang as it gave its life for him, slowly being riddled with holes but still kicking as the people who hated him spun out in confusion or died screaming in pillars of fire.

They abandoned it some ten minutes later, and jacked a boring white BMW, partly to avoid being followed and partly because it had rattled to a stop all on its own thanks to engine damage. John looked at the previous vehicle for a long moment as he lingered by the driver’s side door. “I like that car.” A simple thing to say, but so loaded given the circumstances.

“It handled like a dream. But at this point, it’s not worth fixing,” Vincent said casually. “You may as well get something even better when this is all over.” He set the final grenade back in the bag, still grinning at the memory of what he had just done.

“No. I want this one and I’ll fix it.” He put the dog in the passenger seat and turned to Vincent at last. “Get in the back this time. Laying down. Better if you don’t get spotted.”

It did sound good to lay down. “…Fine. But if you try to buckle me in again, I’ll cut off your whole hand to match that finger.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He laid down across the backseats. It wasn’t a great fit for someone of his height, but with his legs folded, he managed. In the meantime, John was rooting around in the trunk. He found a throw blanket, probably meant for someone’s pet, and tossed it to Vincent. “Put that over your face, so no one sees you through the windows.”

“It smells disgusting.”

“Just do it.” Vincent was in a good enough mood now not to argue. He grinned up at the ceiling, finally allowing himself to relax as they pulled away. “That was rather exhilarating.”

“Yeah.” There was a hint of a smile in John’s voice.

“So. Where are we going?”

“That depends. Who’s on your side?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we can’t unrun them. You need to solve this. Who would help you with the High Table problem?”

“Are you a simpleton? I’m excommunicated. No one will offer services to me.”

“…Is there really not one person who has a history with you? Who would help you just because of that?”

“Your naiveté astonishes me yet again, Wick. It’s a wonder you’ve survived this long.” The only person who would have helped him for his own sake was Chidi. A pang went through him at that thought. And here was John lording it over him. He swallowed hard and added, “Do you honestly think anyone has helped you just because they’re on your side? At best, people fear you. They see you for the killer that you are and wish to ingratiate themselves to you. No one would want to help you. Maybe you got lucky, found one woman who was confused enough to think of you as worth saving. But look where that got her.”

The car lurched forward with the tiniest increase in speed as John lost control of the gas pedal for a moment in his anger. “Why? Why do you go for the throat like that? I just barely start to have a pleasant conversation with you and then - This is why there’s no one who has your back.”

“At least I know it. I rely on my own strength. You on the other hand - ”

“Forget it,” he spat. “We’ll figure it out in the morning. I’ll just find somewhere to spend the night, next state over.” A tense silence fell between them.

Several minutes later: “…I’m sorry. About your bodyguard.”

Why did this bastard have to be so raw about everything? “…That has nothing to do with anything.”

“Mm-hmm.” The silence resumed, somehow even more tense, but with an entirely different flavor. Vincent found himself holding his breathe, as if John could hear the lump in his throat if he exhaled wrong. Damn him. He was determined not to cry twice in one day.

They took a scenic route into Pennsylvania, avoiding the toll roads. Vincent gazed out of small gap at the edge of the blanket, gradually beginning to shake again. From that low angle, he could see the near-perfect circle of the moon. The radio warbled on about weather next week and love confessions and affairs. He would almost find this moment peaceful, except…there was that horrific, continuous, world swallowing ache from the center of his chest. An ocean of blood no longer restrained. A fracture in the bone at the core of his body. He could not take this kind of pain, he thought. It was an absurd, even a comical amount of pain. He simply could not take it. He should say something to John, perhaps…but he didn’t. And the world began to dissolve.

At last, Vincent de Gramont passed fully into unconsciousness, and dreamed that he was buying a fine show horse. A jet black Orlov, with a star at the center of its forehead. Ribbons of white sheen glimmered down its shiny withers like a freshly waxed autobody. He mounted it for a first ride, eager to inspect his new wares. And as he did so, the spirited creature read something in his motions that was unworthy of trust, something he could neither have predicted nor suppressed. It seemed so unfair… The horse tossed its dark mane, and reared up in terror, and threw him onto the brambles below…onto a jutting tree branch that impaled him through the sternum, far deeper than the bullet had ever sunk.

(Author's note: An Orlov is a Russian horse breed.)

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#john wick #john x marquis de gramont #marquis de gramont #john wick fanfic #wickblr #marquis de gramont whumpee #gunshot #angst #emotional whump #hurt/comfort #whump fic #assassin whump #ao3 crosspost #enemies to lovers

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