#fanfic rollercoaster

[liyliths]

౨ৎ ⋆ ｡˚ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

summary: you wind up a monster hunter, also third wheeling nancy and jonathan until steve harrington of all people shows up, surprise! between genuinely thinking you're going to die, fighting a monster, and trying to get will back, you're still wondering how you ended up in hawkins of all places. and, what's better, going back to living with your pos dad or fighting interdimensional monsters? you also find out steve harrington isn't as bad as you thought he was, yay!

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Is King Steve realizing he might not be a king after all?” She teased, watching with amusement as he winced at the nickname, waving her off. "Please, don’t call me that," he groaned, rolling his eyes as he stepped closer, closing the distance between them. "And, uh, Carol and Tommy? Yeah, they turned out to be real assholes."  Y/N shrugged, her tone light but knowing. “You were an asshole, Steve Harrington.” She pointed a finger at the boy’s chest, before giving him a slight, playful shove. Steve’s shoulders slumped slightly as he gave a small, regretful shrug. “I guess we all were, and I’m sorry.” Y/N’s lips curved into a grin as she met his gaze, her eyes softening. “Apology accepted.”

pairings: steve harrington x reader

warnings: mentions of a fight, death, blood, injury, cursing, monsters, and use of firearms and weapons

word count: 8.3k

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Outside Hawkins Middle School, the teens rushed to Jonathan’s car underneath the stars. Jonathan slid into the driver's seat, shutting the door with a sharp thud. Nancy climbed into the passenger seat, her eyes sharp and focused. In the back seat, Y/N slipped in and glanced between her friends, taking a deep breath.

“Will the kids be okay by themselves?” She was quick to ask, glancing between her friends in the front seats.

“They should be. We need to grab those supplies from the police station,” Nancy nodded, shifting in her seat and turning to face Y/N. “We can’t let Hopper and Joyce walk in there like bait. If we can kill that thing from up here, it’ll give them the upper hand.”

Jonathan nodded, “Then let’s grab what we need from the station and get the hell out of there.” He spoke as he ignited the engine, the car’s tires screeching against the parking lot asphalt as they backed out of their spot, rushing to the station.

𝐁𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Jonathan killed the engine as the group piled out of the car, their breath visible in the dark fall air. They rushed to the trunk where they had stashed the hunting tools and traps they had recovered from the police station after breaking in. Nancy grabbed the gasoline, while Jonathan hefted a box filled with bear traps and other supplies. Y/N took a deep breath and picked up a bat, turning to look at her friends.

Jonathan’s eyes scanned the shadows of the yard, his voice steady. “Let’s get inside and set up. We don’t have much time.”

They set to work immediately. Jonathan placed the bear trap in the hall, nailing it to the floor to be sure it was sturdy. Nancy reloaded the pistol they had stolen from Jonathan’s dad, while Y/N shuffled around the house, checking the windows and making sure all their defenses were in place, then began pouring a gasoline trail leading to the bear trap.

After everyone finished their contraptions, they gathered in the living room. “Remember—” Jonathan began reciting their plan, glancing between the two girls.

“Straight to Will’s room, and—” Y/N recalled, with Nancy finishing her sentence. “Don’t step on the trap, then wait for the yo-yo to move…” She then glanced to Jonathan who gestured at the lighter in hand, clicking his tongue.

“We light it up.”

“Alright, are we ready?” Jonathan glanced up, the group stood in a tense circle. They each held knives to their palms, hands trembling. The plan was simple but terrifying: lure the Demogorgon with their blood.

“On three,” Jonathan’s voice wavered, betraying his nerves. He took a shaky breath, his eyes lingering on the girls, sensing their hesitation. “You guys don’t have to do this—”

“Jonathan, stop talking.” Y/N interrupted the boy, her voice strained but firm.

“I’m just saying, you guys don’t—” Jonathan tried to argue before Nancy’s voice cut him off.

“Three!” Her sudden shout cut through the tension, sharp and decisive, like the blade they all pressed into their palms. The room erupted into a flurry of movement as they each sliced their skin, blood spilling freely from their hands.

“Holy shit—this is going to scar,” Y/N gasped, clutching her bleeding hand with her uninjured one, trying to shake off the intense, stinging pain. She watched as blood dripped down her wrist and onto her fingers, meeting the floor beneath her.

“Quick, let’s get wrapped up,” Jonathan rushed to the first-aide kit by the couch, urgency creeping into his voice. Nancy winced as she looked down at her own crimson-streaked palm, her face pale yet determined.

The group worked in silence, the eerie quiet only broken by the rustling of bandages and the occasional hiss of pain. Jonathan focused on wrapping Nancy’s hand first, his movements quick but careful. Y/N noticed how delicately he handled Nancy’s wound and the way he looked at her with soft eyes—it was hard to miss.

“Did you hear that?” Nancy asked suddenly, her voice tinged with fear as she glanced toward the window, while Y/N continued bandaging her palm.

“It’s just the wind,” Jonathan replied, though his voice lacked certainty. He kept his eyes on Nancy’s bleeding palm, trying to finish the task at hand while the girl’s gaze darted around the room, her paranoia growing with every growing second.

“Jonathan, are you sure?” Nancy’s voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with fear.

“Don’t worry,” Jonathan tried to reassure the girl, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself, too. “My mom said that when it comes, the lights speak. They blink… think of them as alarms.”

Y/N nodded, but her unease was clear as she held her bandaged hand toward Jonathan. “Do you think this is tight enough?”

Jonathan glanced at her hand, noting the blood seeping through the white bandages. “Wrap it some more—”

A sudden, thunderous knock echoed through the house, cutting off Jonathan mid-sentence. The sound was so jarring that all three of them jumped, their hearts pounding wildly as they whipped their heads toward the front door. 

For a moment, they were frozen, caught between fight or flight as the reality of their situation hit them full force. A deafening silence followed the knock, each of them holding their breath, waiting for what would come next.

“Jonathan, are you there man? It’s Steve!” The boy’s voice shouted from the other side of the door, and the group looked at each other with panging confusion written all over their expressions. 

“Is Harrington seriously at my house right now?” Jonathan scoffed.

“I just want to talk!” Steve continued pounding on the front door. Y/N shook her head in frustration—mostly disbelief, glancing between Nancy and Jonathan. She stood from her seat, marching toward the front door.

Steve Harrington has the absolute worst timing ever. The door creaked open, revealing the boy. “Hey, Y/N—what are you…” Steve’s voice faltered, his eyes landing on Y/N’s figure. His usual perfect appearance was wild—his face bloodied and bruised from the fight with Jonathan, and his hair tousled and messy.

“Steve, listen to me. I’m serious. You need to leave.” Y/N’s voice was tense, her body angled to block the doorway, preventing him from seeing the chaos inside. She peeked through the crack, her bandaged hand gripping the doorframe.

“No, no—I’m not trying to start anything, okay?” Steve pleaded, his hand resting against the doorframe, eyes wide with desperation.

“Steve,” Y/N raised her brows cautiously, “I don’t care about that. You have to leave, now.”

“No, please listen I–I messed up, okay? I messed up! I just want to make things right. Please,” Steve pleaded, but his words trailed off as his eyes landed on the girl’s bandaged hand resting on the rim of the door, blood seeping through.

“Hey, what happened to your hand? Is that blood?” Steve’s face was etched with genuine concern, reaching out instinctively to examine the wound, but Y/N yanked her injured hand back, tucking it behind her.

“Nothing��it’s nothing. It was an accident, alright?” Y/N snapped, her patience wearing thin. 

Steve Harrington, after all he’d done—was the last person that should be wrapped up in this, and quite frankly, the last face on the entire planet Y/N wanted to see.

Steve’s brows furrowed, his concern shifting to confusion. “Wait—did Jonathan do this? Did he hurt you?” His voice wavered as his mind raced to put the pieces together. Before Y/N could respond, her words caught in her throat, and she watched as Steve’s expression hardened.

Oh shit.

“Let me in!” He demanded, shoving the door with force. Y/N tried to hold him back, but Steve’s determination overpowered her. He stumbled inside, eyes widening as he took in the chaos. His gaze landed on the bear trap, the weapons, and the mess strewn across the house. Nancy and Jonathan stood by the couch, watching the boy cautiously.

“What is all this? What the fuck…” Steve’s voice trailed off with bewilderment. He looked around, the acrid smell of gasoline filling his nose. He barely had time to react before Jonathan rushed up, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

“You need to get out of here!” Jonathan shouted, shaking the boy by his collar. “I’m not asking you—I’m telling you.”

But Steve Harrington’s skull was too thick to get through.

Steve jerked his arm free, glancing down at the floor with disgust. “What is that smell, is that—gasoline?” His voice wavered with disbelief. But before he could process it further, Nancy stepped forward, the sound of a gun clicking catching Steve’s attention—raised and aimed directly at him, while Y/N and Jonathan shared a stunned glance, taking a step back.

“Steve! Get out!” Nancy’s voice cut through the tension, panic edging her words. Steve’s eyes widened as he quickly raised his hands in defense, staring down the barrel of the pistol that was just a few feet away from his face.

“Wait, wait, wait, what is going on?” Steve stammered, attempting to wrap his head around the situation he found himself caught in.

“You have five seconds to get out of here!” Nancy shouted, her eyebrows furrowed together with determination.

“Okay—is this a sick joke? Put the gun down!” Steve’s voice grew louder, his hands held out in defense.

“I’m doing this for you,” Nancy raised her eyebrows at the boy. Steve’s heart thudded in his chest, his breathing heavy. 

“Nancy, seriously! What is—” But before he could finish, the lights above them flickered violently, the hum of electricity faltering. Nancy began counting down from three, with Steve pleading for the girl to stop.

“Nancy!” Jonathan’s sharp voice cut through the girl’s reverie, catching her attention. “Look at the lights!” His finger shot upwards and she followed his gaze—gasping. But Y/N didn’t waste a second. She grabbed a crowbar from the coffee table, her knuckles white as she clutched it while the others followed suit, collecting their weapons.

“Where is it?!” Y/N shouted, spinning in frantic circles as the lights flashed erratically, nearly blinding them.

“Where is what? Easy with that thing!” Steve’s erratic voice followed Y/N’s, watching her group with the others, backs against each other as she clutched her crowbar.

“I don’t see it!” Jonathan yelled out, eyes darting to every corner of the house, squinting to see through the blinding lights. “Hello?! Will someone please explain what the hell is going—” Steve screamed out frantically, demanding answers before getting cut off by a sickening crunch from above as the ceiling buckled. They were met with the horrifyingly tall figure of a monster crawling through—the Demogorgon.

Nancy didn’t hesitate. She began to fire at the monster as it hung in the ceiling through a coat of thick slime, but Jonathan grabbed her arm, dragging her back to the safety of the hallway to follow their original plan. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, her eyes flicking between her friends retreating and Steve stood frozen in place.

Without thinking, Y/N lunged toward Steve, grabbing onto the boy. Her grip was tight around his hand—double her size, yanking him down the hall as hard as she could. Steve stumbled as he was pulled away, following Y/N’s lead down the hallway—the Demogorgon screeching just behind them.

“Jump!” She shouted through the chaos as she passed the bear trap, and Steve barely registered the warning.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” He screamed, his voice raw with fear as he leaped over the trap, his hand clutching onto Y/N’s as if she were his lifeline.

They stumbled into Will’s bedroom, slamming the door shut behind them with a heavy thud, their hearts hammering in their chests. “Jesus Christ, what the—what the hell was that?” Steve blurted out through his ragged breath, his voice cracking with adrenaline.

“Shut up!” Nancy and Jonathan turned to face the boy, shouting in unison, their voices strained with panic. Nancy looked downward between Steve and Y/N, her eyes instantly locking onto their interlocked hands.

Steve’s breath hitched as he glanced down, suddenly noticing his hand still tightly intertwined with Y/N’s. His fingers, sweaty and trembling, lingered in hers as she shook with fear. Y/N’s heart dropped, and the sudden warmth of Steve’s touch hit her like a jolt of electricity through the panic—she quickly pulled her hand away, clutching it at her side.

Nancy hesitated before she shifted her focus to the door, weapon ready in hand—where the growling of the Demogorgon grew louder with each passing second. The floorboards outside the door creaked, and the walls seemed to tremble under the creature's weight, its shadow looming beneath the door as they held their breath.

Suddenly—the lights above stopped flickering, plunging the room into an unnerving stillness as the electricity hummed still. The relentless sounds beyond the door ceased, replaced by silence. The group let out a breath they didn’t even know they were holding, attempting to ground themselves.

“Do you hear anything?” Y/N whispered, her voice barely more than a breath as she glanced between the others.

Jonathan narrowed his eyes, trying to listen for any sign of the monster. He sighed heavily, the sound filled with both relief and dread. “No, nothing.”

After a few moments, Jonathan hesitated before opening the bedroom door, taking the lead with his bat readied. He peeked his head out, scanning the shadows. The others followed close behind, every creak of the floorboards underneath their feet thunderous in the silence, with each passing second becoming more and more unpredictable.

As the group cautiously entered the living room, their heads darted around as they took in the silence. The spot where the ceiling collapsed had vanished without a trace, leaving just a crack as if it were remnants of some sort of leak.

The Demogorgon was nowhere to be found.

Y/N turned around, snapping out of her thoughts to see Steve muttering to himself, “This is crazy, this is crazy, this is fucking crazy!” His brown eyes were wild with panic, hands trembling while he paced in frantic circles.

He suddenly paused, with desperation flashing in his eyes—before lunging for the Byers’ home phone mounted on the wall, his fingers fumbling to dial 911. Y/N, adrenaline coursing through her veins, stormed towards him, yanking the phone from his grip.

She could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her as she forcefully chucked the wireless phone across the room, the device clattering against the wall and shattering the tense silence. Steve looked at her, stunned, his erratic breathing mirroring the chaos in his mind.

“What are you, crazy!?” Steve's voice trembled as he held out his hands, desperation and fear etched on his bruised face. His eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of the looming threat. 

“It’s going to come back! So you need to leave, right now.” Y/N shouted, her voice laced with sternness as she fixed him with a determined stare. She watched as Steve hesitated—his eyes flickering between her, Nancy and Jonathan, and the front door.

With no words spoken, Steve made a sudden beeline toward the door, his footsteps echoing loudly in the silence of the room. As the boy hurriedly exited the house, the rest of the group gathered close in the living room, their backs against each other, eyes darting nervously in every direction.

“Is it going to come back?” Nancy questioned, her back pressed firmly between Y/N and Jonathan’s. Before anyone could answer, the lights above them began to flicker erratically, with wild shadows dancing across the walls. 

The Christmas lights strung around the room blinked in a dizzying array of colors, their intensity almost blinding in the dimness. Tension hung heavy in the air, their hearts pounding in sync with the erratic pulsing of the lights. They took labored breaths, looking between every corner of the house the eye could spot.

“Come on, you son of a bitch!” Jonathan readied his bat, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the base.

“Where is it?!” Y/N shouted, clutching her crowbar in hand.

"I don’t see—“ Nancy's voice faltered as the electricity abruptly cut out, plunging them into pitch-black darkness, leaving the group with just a few feet of visibility in front of them. A heavy silence settled over the house, broken only by the sound of heavy breathing and the faint rustling of the wind outside.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she cautiously turned around, examining her surroundings with what she could see, the air thick with dread. A strange grumbling noise sounded closely, and she narrowed her eyes, focusing on the odd figure before her—until she realized what it was. 

Just in front of her loomed a monstrous figure—its grotesque, faceless visage and pallid, slimy skin, gleamed in the dim light, a chilling reminder of the imminent danger she faced just feet away. 

Y/N's sudden scream pierced the air, her terror echoing through the house as Jonathan and Nancy whipped around to the scene unfolding before them. The Demogorgon moved with quick and terrifying speed, locking onto Jonathan and tackling him to the ground, sending the boy’s bat clattering away in the chaos.

Gasping for breath, Jonathan struggled to regain his bearings as Y/N, fueled by adrenaline, swung her crowbar at the creature in a desperate attempt to help her friend. The metallic clang echoed against its ribs in the dimly lit room, and they could only watch as the monster suddenly halted its advances on the boy.

The Demogorgon turned its attention towards Y/N and Nancy—its pale, slimy skin reflecting the dim lights of the room. It stood tall and menacing, its faceless visage haunting in the darkness. Jonathan, barely conscious, could only watch helplessly from the floor as the creature slowly advanced on his friends with deliberate—almost mocking steps, its presence dreadful.

“Nancy, do something…” Y/N’s voice shook, backing up cautiously beside her friend. 

She watched in the corner of her eye as Nancy raised the pistol she held in hand, aiming the firearm at the monster. Its face opened up, revealing the horrifying sight of a shape almost like a flower blooming underneath its flesh—with slimy and thin sharp teeth covering every inch beneath its skin. “Go to hell, you son of a bitch!” Nancy screamed as she pulled the trigger, the room lighting up with each round that went off. Gunshots echoed through the house, but dread filled inside them as the bullets had no effect—the monster’s skin was too thick. It kept advancing, making slow steps toward the pair. Nancy fired again, each step backward more frantic, desperately hoping the bullets would make some kind of difference until an empty click sounded. Heart racing, she fumbled to reload, only to realize she was out of bullets.

Their backs met the wall behind them, defenseless, only able to watch as the Demogorgon inched closer. Its rancid, deathlike stench filled the air, horrifying their senses. Y/N shut her eyes tightly, her breath hitching as the creature's growl rumbled just inches away. Suddenly, a hard shove sent her sprawling to the floor, landing on the back of her head harshly. She looked up, heart pounding, only to be met with the faceless monster towering above her—her mouth forming into a silent scream.

Her body trembled as dread settled into her bones, each shallow breath scraping her lungs, desperate and thin. Time seemed to slow into eternity as she stared at death just inches away from her face—the monster’s foul breath fanning across her skin, with thick, wet slime dripping off its mouth, splattering on her forehead. Her fingers clawed at the floor, searching for something—anything, to save her. 

The only thing she felt was the cold certainty that this was it.

A guttural grunt broke through the tension, snapping Y/N back to the present as a heavy thwack echoed off the Demogorgon’s thick skin. In a blur, the monster above her shifted its attention and she gasped—barely able to process the sight above her. Steve Harrington, breathing hard—eyes blazing with something between terror and fury stood before her, ready to take on the monster. 

Steve Harrington had just saved her life. 

The boy’s movements were much different than a few moments ago when he had scrambled out of the house in an escape—his body now ready to fight. Y/N could only watch as he dodged and weaved the Demogorgon’s relentless attacks, each move a desperate dance for survival.

With every opening, he swung the bat Jonathan had dropped, the wood and nails cracking against the monster's slimy skin. He drove it back, blow after blow, the force reverberating up his arms. The Demogorgon stumbled into the hallway, Steve’s strikes landing on its stomach, doubling it over. With a final, powerful swing, he forced it into the bear trap with a resounding snap.

“He’s in the trap!”

Nancy rushed to Jonathan, who was still recovering on the floor, urging him to get up and offered her hand to help. Steve quickly shuffled over from the hall to Y/N’s side, grabbing her hand and helping her up from the ground as she trembled. 

“You okay?” The boy was quick to ask, his eyes examining the girl as he delicately held her steady by her waist.

“I think so,” She breathed, nodding, ignoring the sting on the back of her head as she shifted her attention to her friends in the hall standing before the Demogorgon—preparing to finally kill the damn thing.

They watched the creature thrash around wildly in the bear trap, writhing against the jagged metal. Without wasting a second, Steve and Y/N rushed into the hallway. Jonathan fumbled in his pockets, pulling out a lighter. With a flick, he ignited it, then hurled it toward the monster, flames catching instantly on the trail of gasoline leading to the trapped beast.

The entire hall erupted into flames, the roar of the fire deafening. Heat blasted into their faces, singeing their skin and filling the air with the acrid smell of burning. The group shielded their eyes from the intense light, watching in horror as the Demogorgon writhed within the flames, its agonizing shrieks piercing the air.

Jonathan bolted from the hall and returned with a fire extinguisher, dousing the flames. A thick, white fog enveloped the hall, causing them to cough and squint against the harsh chemical mist. As the smoke cleared, they cautiously approached the bear trap in the charred hall, hearts pounding. The monster had disappeared, and no trace of it was left in the trap.

“Where the hell did it go?” Nancy’s voice trembled, barely above a whisper.

“It has to be dead—it has to be,” Jonathan panted, his eyes frantically scanning the space where the monster had been.

“Jesus—do you think it just melted into the fire or something?” Y/N grimaced, looking at leftovers of rancid skin melting on the trap’s metal. Suddenly, the Christmas lights hanging above them began to flicker to life softly, a section at a time toward the group as if something was walking in their direction. 

Everyone’s heart stopped, the question lingering in their mind whether the monster had survived on the other side. They backed up cautiously as the light slowly approached them, but something was different about it—the energy was calmer.

“Do you think that’s it?” Steve questioned, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I—I don’t know, it seems…” Jonathan tried to find the right words, stuttering slightly. “Different.” Y/N finished the boy's sentence. The lights then continued and crossed over the group’s heads, a trail of electricity lighting up toward the front door. They followed the light outside on the porch, watching a street light in the distance flicker off and on as they caught their breath, slight relief filling the air around them.

“Where’s it going?” Nancy murmured, watching the faint light in the distance.

“I don’t think that’s the monster.” Jonathan’s eyes narrowed as the group shared uneasy glances.

Realization dawned on Y/N, her eyes widening. “Hopper and Joyce.” 

Nancy turned to her, concern etched on her expression. “Do you think they’ve found Will?” 

“I sure as hell hope so,” Y/N sighed, letting out a shaky breath she didn’t know she was holding.

After a few moments of silence, the group began to retreat inside the house, but Y/N lingered on the porch. She gripped the railing and let her nerves settle, attempting to ground herself. Nancy and Jonathan made it inside, but Steve hesitated—pausing in front of the doorway, concern flickering in his eyes.

“You coming inside?” Steve’s voice was gentle, almost hesitant as Y/N stood on the edge of the porch, her gaze fixed on the shadowed woods. Her back was to him, shoulders tense, a slight tremble betraying her steady stance.

“Y/N?” he murmured, resting a firm but careful hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

Y/N turned slowly, wiping at her eyes. For a fleeting moment, Steve thought he’d caught her crying—but then he saw the spark of a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. Suddenly, she burst out laughing. She knows she shouldn’t, it’s absurd—but she couldn’t help it. Steve blinked, then found himself chuckling too, shaking his head. 

"Holy shit! I can't believe Steve Harrington just saved my life from a fucking monster!" Y/N exclaimed, her laughter infectious as her nervous system took over.

Steve smirked, looking out into the dark. "Oh boy, what would you do without me?” He muttered, shaking his head as he leaned against the porch frame beside her.

Y/N rolled her eyes, still grinning. “Guess I’d be a goner,” she replied, shoving her hands in her pockets. But as her laughter faded, a quiet settled between them, and she found herself glancing at him, studying the faint bruises and scratches on his face. "Didn’t think you’d come back, honestly.”

He could feel Y/N’s eyes on him. “Honestly, I didn’t think I would either,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “When I saw the lights flickering in the house… I was frozen. Part of me wanted to run, to save myself.” He paused, furrowing his eyebrows together as he softly shook his head.

“But then I thought about all of you inside. I guess it was finally time to stop thinking about myself for once.” He met Y/N’s eyes, hoping she could see the sincerity in his words.

“I get it, actually,” Y/N spoke, and Steve glanced at her, surprised. “You saved my life, Steve. I don’t know how to thank you for that. I know it’s not easy—showing up like this. Especially when people don’t expect it of you.”

He nodded, letting out a small sigh. “I mean… everyone’s got me pegged as this guy, right? King Steve,” he quotes, “the guy who throws parties, dates pretty girls, and looks good doing it. No one asks for more, and it’s easier to just… live up to it,” He paused, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“But I’m tired of everyone acting like they know me better than I know myself, especially my old man. Maybe if I look good enough on the outside, it’ll cover up all the other shit, y’know?” He spoke as he fidgeted with his hands.

Y/N’s gaze softened, her own expression guarded. “Yeah, well, if it makes you feel any better, you’re not the only one who’s had to play pretend.”

Steve looked at her, his curiosity piqued, and she hesitated before going on. “After my mom died, my dad was never himself again. He… wasn’t the type you’d want around. So, I learned early on that letting people in only gets you hurt.”

“Sounds familiar, but that’s not always true,” Steve murmured, their eyes locking in a long, weighted silence. After a moment, Y/N broke it, her tone soft but genuine. “For what it’s worth, you’re not so bad after all, Harrington.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re not too shabby yourself, Smith,” he replied, a small smile creeping onto his face as they leaned against the porch frame, earning a chuckle from the girl.

“Friends?” Steve straightened up, turning to face Y/N, his hand outstretched with a hopeful expression.

“Friends,” Y/N nodded, meeting his gaze as she took his hand in a firm shake. Y/N was grateful she finally got to see him—not Steve “the asshole” Harrington and most definitely not Steve “the king” Harrington.

Just Steve.

𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥

The moment the teens arrived at the hospital after receiving word Will was rescued, Jonathan was the first to sprint inside, rushing to ask reception where his little brother was. He was the only one who could see Will being immediate family, so the others retreated to the waiting room.

Nancy was the first to rush inside when she spotted her family, with Mike running from his seat and colliding into her embrace, almost knocking the girl down. “What happened?” Nancy held the boy’s shoulders, watching as his lips quivered and tears filled his eyes.

“El…” He looked up at his sister, until she pulled him into another tight embrace, holding the back of his head in an attempt to comfort him. The look in his eyes said it all—Eleven was gone.

The girl who helped them find Will was gone. That stung at Y/N’s heart—she’d only met her briefly, but she knew someone that young didn’t deserve what she went through. It wasn’t fair.

“We should go sit, yeah?” Steve’s voice broke through Y/N’s focus, gesturing toward the empty seats in the waiting room, his voice gentle. The girl nodded absently, before scanning the room once more—her heart plummeting to her feet. Hopper was nowhere to be found. 

Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway behind her. She turned, her heart leaping as she recognized the man. It was the Chief of Police—Hopper, approaching with a weary but relieved expression. “Hey, kiddo,” he spoke softly, his eyes filled with relief at the sight of the girl.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise and without hesitation she made quick, raced steps toward the man, her footsteps echoing in the corridor. She collided with Hopper, wrapping her arms around him tightly, as if he were her lifeline.

"I was so scared," she whispered, her voice slightly trembling.

Hopper held the girl close, his own emotions threatening to swell within him. "It's okay, I'm right here. I’m not planning on going anywhere, kid." He reassured her, his hand holding the back of Y/N’s head. They stood there, holding each other—grateful to find each other in one piece.

Y/N didn’t know what she would do if she lost him.

Suddenly, voices broke the stillness from inside the waiting room. “Guys, guys! He’s awake! Will’s awake!” Mike shouted, excitement spilling from him as he gathered his friends. Y/N pulled back from Hopper and watched as they bolted from their seats past her, turning a corner and sprinting to Will’s room. 

She was beyond grateful the boy was okay. Though the guilt still lingered in the back of her mind—if she had stayed with Will, and insisted on biking him home, none of this would have happened. No one would be hurt.

She was pulled out of her thoughts as Nancy suddenly brushed past her. She looked pale and fragile, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she hurried down the hall. Y/N glanced at Hopper, then at her friend disappearing around the corner.

“I’ll go check on her,” she murmured, concern pulling her forward.

Hopper gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be in the waiting room, kid.”

Y/N nodded, then followed after Nancy, her footsteps echoing softly in the quiet corridor. She rounded the corner just in time to see the girl heading toward the restrooms. Before Nancy could slip inside, Y/N called out gently, “Nancy?”

The girl turned around, her expression bitter and eyebrows knit together. “Are you okay?” Y/N asked gently, her arms crossing over her chest as she studied her friend’s face.

Nancy hesitated, her eyes flickering away from her friend’s. “Yeah, it’s just…” she trailed off, pausing. “I wish Barb were here, too,” she finally admitted, her voice trembling. The words hung heavy in the air, a painful reminder of the friend they had lost. 

Barb was gone. 

Y/N’s chest tightened, feeling the ache behind Nancy’s words. “Me too. I’m so sorry,” she said softly, stepping closer. She unfolded her arms, reaching out to pull Nancy into a comforting embrace. They held each other in silence, Nancy clinging tightly, as if afraid to let go of the last person who could understand her loss.

After a long moment, Nancy pulled back, her eyes clouded with guilt. She looked down, unable to meet Y/N’s gaze. “It was my fault,” she whispered, almost as if admitting it to herself.

“Nancy—” Y/N began, ready to reassure her, that she didn’t deserve to take on that kind of guilt. But Nancy shook her head, cutting her off.

“You don’t understand,” she continued, her voice thick with regret. “Steve invited us to a party. I didn’t want to go alone, so I… I made Barb come with me. I thought it would be fun—just one night.” She bit her lip, voice wavering. 

“But then… I ditched her. I ditched her to be with him, and I didn’t even realize she was gone until it was too late.” Her hand covered her mouth as she finished her sentence, as if speaking it made the guilt unbearable.

Y/N processed Nancy’s words, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. Nancy had never mentioned going to parties with Steve, much less bringing Barb along. She took a breath, her voice gentle but tinged with hurt. “Nancy… why didn’t you tell me?”

Nancy finally met her gaze, eyes wet with unshed tears. “Because I left her alone. I was supposed to be her friend, and I just… left her.” She paused, her eyebrows knit together. “I don’t think I will ever be able to forgive myself for that.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in the back of her throat. She could see the guilt etched on Nancy’s face, the way her hands trembled ever so slightly as she held back tears. What could she say to ease that kind of pain? Nothing felt right, nothing seemed enough.

An uneasy silence settled between them, thick and heavy. Finally, Nancy dropped her gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. “I need a minute.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and disappeared into the bathroom, the door closing quietly behind her, leaving Y/N standing alone in the empty hall.

Her stomach twisted. She knew Nancy’s pain, understood that kind of guilt—and hated there was nothing she could do to ease it. Losing someone like that wasn’t a wound that healed, it was the kind that lingered, carving a mark that would stay with a person forever.

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟒𝐭𝐡 ��𝟗𝟖𝟑

Soft snow fell gently over Hawkins, blanketing the trees in pristine white. The night had settled in, bringing a cold chill that lingered in the crisp winter air. Christmas lights and decorations adorned neighborhood houses, bringing the holiday spirit. Jonathan and Y/N arrived at the Wheeler’s for a quick hello, and to pick up Will.

The harsh chill bit at Y/N underneath her jacket, and she folded her arms for warmth as Jonathan knocked on the front door. After a moment, Mrs. Wheeler greeted them, her face lighting up in a broad smile. “Jonathan! Y/N! Merry Christmas, come in!” Her voice was warm and familiar, instantly making them feel at home.

The pair thanked Mrs. Wheeler as they stepped inside, the warm air greeting them as they brushed snow off their jackets. Jonathan made light footsteps past the kitchen toward the basement to retrieve Will, but Y/N lingered at the entrance of the home, hesitating. She glanced inside the kitchen, seeing Mrs. Wheeler’s baked Christmas goods made with love. 

The girl took in a deep breath before treading toward the basement. As she turned a corner, about to follow Jonathan's path, she nearly bumped into Steve, who had appeared in the hallway. His hands were tucked awkwardly in his pockets, and he looked as though he'd been waiting for her. "Hey," he said, voice low.

“Hey,” Y/N breathed, meeting Steve’s gaze. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Truth is, ever since Will had been brought back home, nothing had been the same between any of them.

A few weeks after Will returned home, Y/N had been certain that Jonathan and Nancy would get together, though it never happened. She wasn't entirely sure why, there were a countless amount of reasons—but she saw how it crushed the boy when he and Y/N spotted Nancy and Steve making out in the school hallway, almost as if nothing bad had ever happened.

And Y/N would be lying if she said it didn't crush something in her, too. Steve and Nancy looked happy, sure. Happy in a way that made her feel both relieved and, unexpectedly—a little hollow. 

“I, uh, never got the chance to thank you—for what you said. That day in the alley, you know, the fight with Jonathan.” Steve tumbled over his words as he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down at Y/N who gave a tight smile.

“Yeah, sure,” she replied, swallowing. “I’m really glad everything worked out for you, Steve.” 

An awkward silence stretched between them, neither of them quite knowing how to bridge the gap. Finally, Y/N cleared her throat, stepping away. "I should probably get going," she muttered, turning to wait for Jonathan and Will at the front door.

But before she could leave, Steve’s voice stopped her.

“Y/N?” He called out, stopping her in her tracks. She paused, glancing back at him.

"I'm... sorry," he began, his voice steady but filled with sincerity. “For everything. I shouldn’t have broken Jonathan’s camera, and I shouldn’t have said those things back in the alley. I was wrong.” His words hung in the air, and when Y/N met his gaze, she saw something genuine in his eyes, just like that night at the Byers house.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Is King Steve realizing he might not be a king after all?” She teased, watching with amusement as he winced at the nickname, waving her off.

"Please, don’t call me that," he groaned, rolling his eyes as he stepped closer, closing the distance between them. "And, uh, Carol and Tommy? Yeah, they turned out to be real assholes." 

Y/N shrugged, her tone light but knowing. “You were an asshole, Steve Harrington.” She pointed a finger at the boy’s chest, before giving him a slight, playful shove.

Steve’s shoulders slumped slightly as he gave a small, regretful shrug. “I guess we all were, and I’m sorry.” Y/N’s lips curved into a grin as she met his gaze, her eyes softening. “Apology accepted.”

Steve nodded, the corners of his mouth pulling into a small, genuine smile, one that reached his eyes. “Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he said quietly, his tone almost shy.

“Merry Christmas, Steve,” she replied, her smile lingering for a moment longer before she turned, heading for the front door—giving the boy one last glance over her shoulder.

As Y/N made her way past the kitchen with the scent of Mrs. Wheeler's baked goods filling the air, she spotted Jonathan and Will waiting near the front door. She was about to continue when Nancy suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, a neatly-wrapped gift clutched tightly to her chest.

"Jonathan, wait up!" Nancy called out, her voice urgent as she hurried down the stairs toward him.

She stopped in front of Jonathan, a bright, warm smile spreading across her face. "Merry Christmas," she said, holding out the neatly wrapped gift to him. Jonathan hesitated, looking from the gift to her, his fingers brushing the wrapping before he took it, still unsure.

"Thanks, but—I didn’t get you anything. I feel bad," he admitted, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he looked down at the gift in his hands.

Nancy waved it off with a soft laugh. "No, it’s not really a present," she said, her tone light as she shrugged. "It’s… well, you’ll see."

Jonathan's brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face as he glanced at the gift in his hands, unsure what she meant. Before he could respond, Nancy stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on his chest. She leaned in and pressed a quick, unexpected kiss to his cheek. Jonathan blinked, his face flushing deeper as he pulled back slightly—caught off guard by the gesture.

Y/N took a quiet step forward, her presence breaking the tension. She met Nancy’s gaze as she stood beside Jonathan, offering a small, awkward smile. Her eyes flickered briefly between the pair before cutting through the silence. “Merry Christmas, Nancy.”

“Merry Christmas. I’ll see you guys later,” She gave a small smile before walking off toward the living room, sharing one last glance with Jonathan. He then looked toward Y/N and Will with a slight blush left on his cheeks, “you guys ready?”

Inside Jonathan’s car, Y/N sat in the back seat, her arms wrapped tightly around herself in an attempt to ward off the chill that crept in through the windows as the car warmed up, with a soft, steady snowfall creeping outside. Will sat in the passenger seat, his gaze darting between Jonathan and the small present nestled in his lap.

“I’ll drop you back off at Hopper’s, Y/N. We all buckled up?” Jonathan asked, his voice warm despite the cold.

Y/N nodded, offering him a grateful smile. “That sounds good, thank you.” Her eyes lingered on Jonathan for a moment, meeting his gaze with a flicker of appreciation before he turned back to the steering wheel and started the engine.

“Yep,” Will chimed in from the front seat, giving a quick nod. Then, his curiosity got the best of him, and he turned to the gift. “Can I open it?”

Jonathan grinned, a playful glint in his eye. “Yeah, sure.”

Will eagerly tore into the wrapping, his fingers quick and excited. As the paper fell away, the box inside was revealed—a brand-new, latest edition camera. He held it out so Jonathan could see, glancing at him with an awestruck smile. “Pretty cool,” The boy beamed, admiring the gadget.

Jonathan and Y/N exchanged knowing a look, both of them knowing exactly where it had come from.

Steve Harrington. 

𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫

As Jonathan’s car slowed to a stop outside Hopper’s trailer, Y/N pulled her jacket tightly around herself, bracing against the chilly night air. Snow was still falling, blanketing the ground and trees in white. The lake once flowing with water was now frozen solid. She thanked Jonathan, wishing him and Will a good night before closing the door softly behind her.

As Y/N entered the trailer, the warmth greeted her immediately, the fireplace crackling to life in the living room. There were a few holiday decorations Hopper had put up with Y/N, and a small Christmas tree lighting up the corner of the room. Hopper was sitting on the couch, his expression somber but soft, as if he’d been waiting for her. Y/N slipped off her coat, hanging it by the door, before approaching him.

“Hey, kid,” Hopper greeted her, his voice low, a hint of something weighing on it.

“Hey, Hopper,” she replied, offering him a faint smile as she took the seat across from him.

After a pause, the man cleared his throat. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but... Well, it’s been busy. So... I got some news.”

Y/N felt anxiety creep in the pit of her chest, settling itself inside her as she sat across from Hopper. If this was what she thought it was about, she had been pushing down the sickening thought for months. The anticipation gnawed at her. “News about...?”

“Your father,” Hopper said gently, watching the girl carefully.

Y/N’s breath caught in the back of her throat, her chest tightening. They’d been waiting to hear something since the court hearing. The silence from her father—Thomas, had been telling, but still, she’d clung to the hope that he’d at least care enough to reach out. 

She didn’t know what she would do if she had to go back to live with her father—knowing it would only be a certain amount of time before he snapped again and lost another job and they moved far away from Hawkins, a place where she had found a home, repeating the endless cycle once more.

He was still her father after all, but she was starting to wonder if maybe—just maybe, she could belong somewhere else—somewhere far away from him.

Hopper cleared his throat, breaking through the heavy silence settled between them. “He didn’t show up to the court hearing today.” 

Y/N’s heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach. Her father, ultimately, just let her go to the state. No explanation—didn’t show up for her, like she hadn’t even mattered. “What?”

Hopper watched her, his face gentle with understanding. “Listen, I know that’s hard to hear. It’s a hell of a thing someone could do.”

“Yeah, it’s just...” Y/N hesitated, then took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I thought he’d at least try, you know? I guess... I just hoped maybe he’d want me.”

Hopper’s expression softened further, a sadness in his eyes that mirrored hers. “Sometimes people are like that. Selfish. They don’t do what’s right, even when it’s right in front of them. But that doesn’t mean you’re not worth more than he could ever understand.”

Y/N’s lips trembled. She couldn’t find the right words to say.

“Listen, kiddo. I can pull a few strings, and keep you here as long as I can while you’re in custody of the state since your father didn’t show.” Hopper began, pausing as he observed the utter defeat etched on Y/N’s expression.

She didn’t want to leave this all behind—she couldn’t.

"And while you’re here,” Hopper continued, adjusting himself on the couch, rubbing his hand absently over his mustache, “we could talk about something more… permanent. Maybe adoption, if that’s something you’d want.”

"Adoption?" Y/N repeated, the word barely a whisper, her gaze meeting Hopper’s. 

“Yeah, kid.” Hopper gave the girl a warm smile—one that didn’t show itself too often. “And that’s if you’re comfortable with it, and of course, it’ll take time for both of us to think about it. Sound good to you?”

Y/N took a breath, feeling something in her chest finally settle. "That sounds… really good," she breathed, a genuine smile breaking through the uncertainty.

“I’m glad,” Hopper grinned through his mustache, leaning forward as he ruffled Y/N’s hair, his large hand playfully tousling it until she let out a small laugh, swatting his hand away before he spoke. “There’s something else I’ll fill you in on, too. Good news.”

Y/N glanced at him as she fixed her hair, trying to flatten down the frizz. “What is it?”

Hopper exhaled, glancing around as though to make sure they were really alone. “I’ve... been looking into a few things lately. Some sightings and rumors—small, but there might be something there,” he paused. “It’s about El.”

“El?” Y/N’s eyes widened. 

Eleven. The girl who had saved them all, the one they’d thought was gone forever.

Hopper nodded. “Nothing’s for sure. But, I’ve got a feeling she might still be out there… hanging on.”

And Y/N hoped he was right. It tugged at her heart. After everything Eleven had done for everyone—what she’d been through at her age… the girl deserved a second chance at life. It wasn’t fair.

"And you know... how have your dreams been, kid?" Hopper snapped Y/N out of thought, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

They hadn't exactly stopped, but they were better than the last few months, especially when everything was going on.

"Haven't been having very many lately," Y/N shrugged, "so it's been fine."

“Good. Guess we should call it a night, huh?” Hopper said finally, giving a tired stretch, his arms rising above his head. “Can’t be staying up all night waiting on miracles.”

Y/N chuckled softly, nodding. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” She stood, brushing her hands against her jeans before glancing out the window where the snow continued to fall, blanketing the trailer in quiet white.

Hopper moved to stand by her, looking out into the dark, peaceful night. After a moment, he opened his arms in a rare invitation, his voice softening. “Merry Christmas, kid.”

Y/N looked up at him, a small smile spreading across her face as she stepped into his embrace. “Merry Christmas, Hopper.”

The truth is, nothing would be the same again. Y/N knew that. Between her life being at stake, and discovering monsters and superpowers are real against all odds—she didn’t need to ask for anything else. All she needed was right here, these people, in this town.

Maybe Hawkins wasn’t too terrible after all.

────────────────────────────────────────────

worlds apart navigation previous chapter

taglist: @anqelically @cupofjoekeery @steviespookie @hailqueenconquer @just-tiredman @x-theolivia @fuckshitslover @uselessnewt @kitdjarin1 @newyorkangelbaby

[star-the-car]

STUDENT A WHEN I CATCH YOU STUDENT A

IT IS ON SIGHT YOU ACTUAL MOTHERFUCKER

[greycaelum]

"When I said, I love you. I meant it to the smallest of your flaws to your best."

Soft whispers echoed through the silent dark bedroom with nothing but the faint buzzing of the air-conditioning. It's a hot summer night where skins are flushed and bare against each other with the most normal and serene silence.

It was when you could hold him longer, tucking him in your chest as you pressed sweet soft kisses to his temples.

"When I said yes. I meant to your darkest and brightest moment."

It was when his eyes were finally ready to close with the assurance of your soft hands treading his locks. The faint sensation of tugging on his scalp elicited a small groan of satisfaction from his chest while you shushed him to sleep. He buried his face against the valley of your chest listening to the steady beating of your heart.

He mumbles incoherent words as he nuzzles deeper into you finding a certain position to get comfortable with until sleep claims him.

"And when I said, it's you. I meant that I will choose you and only you in this lifetime... Satoru."

A soft kiss pressed between where his brows meet, soothing the headache earlier this morning in the darkness of the night, in the soft hold of your arms.

It was when it was your turn to shield him from the world, to keep him, safe to keep him warm. If you could, you would've hid him, away from this chaotic neverending bustle. Away from what seems to be a constant chase of life and death shadowing him day and night.

"Y/n?" Satoru murmurs in an uncharacteristic child-like sleepily tone.

"Don't go anywhere, 'kay?"

A small pause ensued followed by your arms tightening against him and in a hushed manner, like a secret promised just between the two of you.

"Okay."

[all-eyes-no-dragon]

I wanted to rec this for a while. This is the most amazing humans are space orcs story I've ever read. It's called, "In Search of Home".

It's an original work so there's no fandom you need to know to read it, it's over 362,000 words, which is more than decently long, and has an ongoing sequel that's surpassed the word count of the first story (we love getting closure 💞). It has a happy ending (not a spoiler, it says in the tags) so don't worry about your heart breaking too much.

I'm rereading the first story and I feel kind of cool knowing the alien words.

I cried reading it, I laughed, I felt victorious. I love it so much and want more people to know it exists because original works aren't as popular on ao3.

Mind the tags!

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43547319

Summary:

[nanamineedstherapy]

In Shadows of his Heart

Watching Megumi Fushiguro fall in love with someone else - (Ao3)

Summery - I watched him from the shadows, from across hallways and rooftops, through laughter and heartache. Over the years, Megumi Fushiguro became the center of a world he’d never know he created within me. My words stayed locked away, my feelings buried, while he found comfort in another’s arms. And still, I remain—close enough to share his silence, yet forever worlds apart from the piece of him I can never reach. This story explores the bittersweet experience of loving from a distance, a journey marked by joy, pain, and the quiet acceptance of what can never be.

A/N: Hey lovely readers! So, this little story came to me when I saw this playlist tagged above, fueled by way too many late-night JJK marathons

The first time I saw Megumi Fushiguro at Jujutsu High, he was just a boy with distant eyes and a heaviness I couldn’t name. But something in him pulled at me, a force I couldn’t shake. So, I slipped into the background like always, hiding my gaze as he passed. But I couldn’t escape the way he filled every corner of my days—training grounds, hallways, in fleeting shadows. Each time he walked by, my heart lurched, words I’d never say burning in my throat.

I kept my distance, as he grew more powerful, surrounded by friends and purpose. Yuji, Nobara—they became his family, his laughter and life. And I watched, each shared smile and laugh a hollow ache, reminding me that I would always be on the outside. Sometimes, he’d look my way. I’d turn too quickly, terrified he’d catch a glimpse of something I could barely admit to myself.

He tried to bridge the distance—small moments, a casual comment, a glance that almost felt like it lingered. But I always gave some empty response and retreated, the words I wanted to say trapped under my cowardice. He’d never know what it did to me to be near him, how each shared breath shattered my composure in ways he could never understand.

Then she came along—Aoi. Strong, confident, the kind of person who could stand next to him with nothing held back. I watched them, the way he looked at her with a softness I knew I’d never earn. She could touch his arm, hold his gaze, unburdened by hesitation. And I knew—I was nothing like her, would never be. My place was in the silence, out of his world. She was everything he deserved, and I was just an unwanted shadow.

The years passed, and I stayed hidden. Now we were 27, bearing scars and ghosts we couldn’t shake, hardened by loss and regret. Megumi and Aoi had become inseparable, two halves of a whole, bound by the love I’d never have. I saw it—the way his gaze softened when he looked at her, the silent promises I’d never hear. I was left with the fragments of what could never be, buried under years of unspoken longing and painful devotion.

Sometimes, he’d still find me. He’d ask if I was okay, offer a rare kindness that twisted the knife deeper. I’d nod, smile, and step back, choking down words that would only poison me more if I let them out. He’d never know what he was doing to me, how much it hurt to be a witness to a happiness I could never touch.

One night, after a brutal mission, he found me alone on the rooftop, the city lights below a cold reminder of everything slipping away. He sat beside me, close enough that I could almost pretend we were still kids. His gaze searched my face, a silent question hanging in the air.

“You’re always running away,” he murmured, quiet but piercing. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I forced myself to look at him, to hold that gaze even as my chest twisted in pain. “I’m fine, Megumi. Just… tired.”

He nodded, unconvinced, his expression something like regret. “If you ever need to talk… I’m here.” The words were gentle, a kindness I could never reach. I managed a broken smile. “Thank you, Megumi.”

He smiled back, his hand reaching out to pull me to my feet. That simple gesture—the touch I craved and feared—felt like the cruelest gift. As we walked back together, side by side, I stole one last glance, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Megumi Fushiguro, the boy who’d become my world. He’d never know what he’d done to me, how I’d carry this hollow ache for the rest of my life.

I’d stay beside him, invisible, bound to a place that could never be mine. I was a silent ghost in his life, a shadow on the edges, haunting him with a love he’d never see.

Author's Note: Hey lovely readers! So, this little story came to me when I saw this playlist tagged above, fueled by way too many late-night JJK marathons and an unhealthy amount of caffeine. 🚀 Remember, unspoken love is like a cursed spirit—it’s always lurking, just waiting to mess with your feelings. Feel free to drop a comment if you laughed, cried, or if you just want to yell about how much you love Megumi (because, same).

[invisiblewille]

Leviticus: To Lie With a Man and Taste Heaven on His Tongue

Enjoy chapter 7 my loves

Thank you as always to @glassdollls for being the most amazing & wonderful beta as well as @prplewille & @in-amor-veritas for helping me with some scenes in this chapter 🫶

This chapter is long and a lot happens to move the story, so refresh your check of the tags if you need to!

[hopepaigeturner]

An Offer From An Avid Reader: Jail Scene

Ever since reading An Offer From a Gentleman I have wanted to rewrite a better confrontation scene--so like a good ol' writer these scenes came to my head in the middle of the night lol.

And now that the name and casting of Sophie Baek has been announced I can finally post it!

I hope you enjoy it! Shout out to @orangepeelshortbreadcookies for beta-reading this. Go check out her awesome fics and blog at that name!

✨CONTEXT: ✨

I have split the jail scene in two for I agree with @eleanorbradstreet that the rapidity of plot points tied up via exposition could be improved upon. (post here)

So, part 1 will cover the confrontation with Araminta, Bridgertons swooping in, and jail release yet will not include the blackmailing of Araminta. That is for a future post where Kate & Violet BADASS Bridgerton come to the fore. 

Multiple ideas/motifs in other posts link to this one. Most importantly are my ideas for how Sophie’s trauma could be shown in the show, (here). So I recommend reading that if you want a bit more context. Yet you can still enjoy the piece. 

This scene follows straight on from a scene between Anthony, Benedict and Genevieve here.

Due to the length I have posted an extended version on AO3 that is also uncensored.

Check it out here

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ✨The Scene ✨

“Ugh I give up!” Sophie yells as a rat scurries across the floor.

We find Sophie in a musty prison, water dripping down the walls, and a soiled floor. In the distance are muted sounds of wailing and shouts of injustice. She has just risen from a stool—the only furniture present apart from a dirty (but empty) chamberpot. Her dress is rumpled, her typically perfect braids in disarray, as she stares at the bars encaging her.

“Do you hear me! I give up!” She shouts but at what she does not know. Fate? God? Herself?

“It is somehow fitting that after being behind figurative bars my entire life that I should find myself behind real ones.” Sophie puts her head back against the wall, looking up with unfocused eyes. “And there’s no point complaining because you got exactly what you wanted, didn’t you Sophie? A fresh start, mind you in Australia rather than the Americas, but one cannot be picky. A position far away from the Bridgertons and everyone else, so far that you will never make anyone you love or like miserable. And you cannot really make people more miserable when they are in chains—although knowing you there would be something. Yes, this is what you wanted wasn’t it? This is what you wanted when you rejected him, to be all alone, no happy ending. As it should be, as I deserve to be.” Sophie looks down at her scarred hands.

A pause.

“Yet there’s still one final question. Why?” Sophie looks back to the ceiling. “Because that has always been the question. Why? Why did you keep me only to ignore and then discard me? Why did you give me the lessons and ribbons and fairytales but never a smile? I could have lived without all that, it would’ve been hard but I would have never known better. I would have been content as a servant in the kitchen with calluses because I would never know what it was for hands to be smooth . Fairytales would be in books not in half-realities that all too easily get snatched away. Life would be hard but far easier than the half-life you’ve rendered me to.”

“And again why?  Why Papa?” She stands her voice growing in volume. “Yes, I will finally call you Papa because that was what you were. My papa. You were my papa even though you never gave me a kind word or an embrace. Why did you not love me papa? Why did you not protect me papa? Why did you let her hurt me, papa? Why did you let her treat me like a dog when I was your daughter?

“I did everything right.” 

Sophie starts pacing as for the first time, the anger, the pressure, the pain has space to rise. 

“I squashed myself into the boxes that you liked with the pretty ribbons and bows and locked anything that did not fit far, far away. I put on the mask and played the part to perfection.  The perfect daughter, shining and sweet. The perfect step-daughter, quiet and subservient. The perfect servant, meek and mild. And yet you still did not love me!”

And it is not impossible! I did none of it—hell, I did the utter opposite and still Benedict bloody Birdgerton chased after me!” She cries, not bothering to stay silent, not now, not when she has nothing to lose. “Still he loved me even when I exposed it all, still he loved me even when I pushed him away.”

Her volume rises and ries.

“So what was your excuse, papa? What is your excuse, when I did everything right? Why? Why could you not love me even though I did nothing wrong!” 

The words are wrenched out of her. They hang suspended in the air, her eyes seem to follow them as they dissipate. 

“I did nothing wrong,” her voice is softer, and she slides down the wall. “I did nothing wrong…”

Sophie takes a long, deep breath, as if something has flown from her chest enabling her to breathe deeply for the first time. Sophie sits, eyes lost in the wall as the statement settles in her chest.

She did nothing wrong.

Then comes the noise of heels on stone.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here.” The camera pans to Araminta, sneering through the bars. “The little b----d is finally getting her just desserts.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Benedict, Anthony, and Genevieve Delacroix enter the frame. The latter two talking and the former unnaturally withdrawn. They pass in front of Bridgerton House.

“I insist you come in for refreshments—we have kept you the entire morning,” Antony says. It seems in their little quest he seems more at ease around Genevieve.

“Oh, I do not think it would be proper.”

“Neither would be my brother marrying an illegitimate daughter,” Anthony quips back earning a smile as they ascend the stairs. It seems he is not the only one whose ice has thawed during this encounter.

“We must find her first,” Benedict mumbles. Genevieve’s face falls.

“I cannot think of another place she could have gone…perhaps you should try the docks? She would muse about saving money and boarding a ship to America…a place where class is not so rigid.”

“America?” Anthony cries.

“I have already asked around the docks, but none are sure they have seen her.” Benedict exhales wearily. “But if she is on a boat then she will be safe…safe from all who could hurt her or failed her.”

“Benedict you have never—”

“I have failed her far too many times.” His eyes are distant; the ball, Penwood Place, the lake, the studio.

The trio start climbing the stairs.

“But if she has gone to America, what would you do?” Anthony asks, looking pained at his brother’s drawn face. Benedict rolls his shoulders as if winding himself up then gives a smile—a pale imitation of his usual grin.

“Never fear, brother, I will still be useful. I shall shower your children with presents, be their greatest conspirator for pranks and corrupt them when they turn of age—you better watch out Anthony, your children shall adore me and I will undoubtedly be the best Uncle of them all."

“You could find another—”

“No.” Benedict’s voice is determined but gentle, as they stand in front of the door. “No. There is only Sophie. I knew it two years ago, I know it now and I shall know it on my deathbed.”

“Benedict…” Anthony says, hand reaching for his shoulder. Benedict steps away.

“Please, do not—”

The green door slams open.

“We found Sophie!” Hyacinth cries, barreling into them as they go into the hall. The other ladies are following—Violet at the front. “Penelope found Sophie!”

“What?”

The crowd parts and Penelope comes forward.

“I received a couple notes from my informants–” she hands Benedict a letter. 

Benedict snatches the paper away—his entire frame trembles when he sees the words.

“There was quite the scene along the cobbles of Grosvenor Square two day ago, when a young woman was accosted by the Countess of Penwood on the grounds of the woman stealing from her. Considering the most recent scandal the countess has found herself in, this author cannot guarantee the validity of the countess’ claims. But the constable had no such quibbles when he carted the young woman off to jail…"

“That damn witch!” Genevieve cries then remembers her surroundings and curtsies, “ My apologies lords and ladies.”

“Not at all, I can agree that Lady Penwood is an utter b---,” Kate says without flinching. Meanwhile Anthony is reading the paper. In the background is Benedict pacing, running his hands through his hair, his face in anguish.  

"We still do not know which jail she could be in?” Anthony mutters. “It does not say whether they have taken her to Fleet, or Newgate or Westminster.”

“We could send three parties, one to each prison?”

“But would we have time? It has been two days, if they had sentenced her–”

“They would not hang her?”

“I would not put it past her, that woman has despised Sophie for years.”

“Will you all stop and someone tell me what we are going to do!” Benedict cries.

They all stare at Benedict who looks ready to bolt–or hyperventilate. Anthony steps forward. 

“Benedict–”

“Ant, I, I—”

Anthony grasps Benedict by the shoulder but he tries to shrug Anthony off. 

“Benedict, look at me, look at me,” Anthony commands.

Benedict does, his eyes seeking support like a child. And for once he finds support in Anthony’s eyes—not the other way around. Anthony continues, words slow but full of feeling.

“We shall rescue her; we shall free her, Benedict. And you two will be married and you will live the rest of your lives in love. I swear it on my title, and on father’s name. Do you hear me?” Benedict mumbles. “Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” Benedict’s voice is hoarse. “Yes, I do.” “But how will we find her?”

“We know!” 

Everyone turns to find their housemaid Nadia and Rae, Penelope’s ladies maid. 

“Rae? What do you know?”

The girls rush forward.

“A tradesman down by Newgate saw a woman being taken into the prison two days ago.”

“How do you know it was Sophie?”

“She dropped this.”

Nadia hands over a messy gukwa knot, the mauve yarn fraying from age but still recognisable as if its meaning of eternity was embedded in the very strings knotted together. The viewer recognises it as the chrysanthemum knot always hung around Sophie’s waist, the one made by her mother. Similar to the one Sophie gave Benedict all those weeks ago.

Benedict’s jaw clenches. 

“We need to go to Fleet.”

“Right,” Anthony straightens, years of responding to crises galvinating his mind. “Let us fetch a carriage and free Sophie. After all, if my title means that I am a hoarder of privilege, power and wealth that was built on the backs of the oppressed—then I might as well use it for some good.” he smirks at Eloise whose mouth is open at the parroting of her words.  “Let us go.”

“Wait for me!” Violet Bridgerton calls, grabbing her purse from Mrs Wilson and walking towards the doors.

“Absolutely not,” Anthony states. “I will not have you exposed to—”

Violet brushes him off.

“Oh, Anthony, it is not as if I am a wilting flower. And this is not up for discussion.” Violet does not make a habit of using the divine right of mothers, but when she does it is felt with force. “Also, I can vouch for Sophie’s character.”

A staring match between Anthony and Violet…Violet raises her eyebrow. Anthony breaks the stare. Violet smiles and walks out, calling over her shoulder,

“Now, we must make haste!”

Benedict and Anthony share a look, Benedict nods slightly and follows his mother—still visibly distraught.

Anthony reaches back and pulls Kate in for a kiss.

“We shall be back anon.”

“Bring her home safe, my love.”

“Ofcourse. And make sure Madame Delacroix has something to eat—she has not broken her fast yet.”

“Lord Bridgerton I am quite capable—” but Anthony does not hear the seamstress as he runs out and bundles into the carriage. As soon as the door is shut Anthony, Violet and Benedict cry,

“Ride on!”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

We return to the prison where Araminta is standing tall and proud outside Sophie’s cell. Yet Sophie remains in her prior position, staring at the wall with her eyes unfocused as her most recent revelations continue to unfurl and take root in every cell of her being. 

Araminta frowns then strikes the bars.

“Are you listening, wench?”

Sophie slowly turns to Araminta, finally registering her presence.

“No.” Sophie says absentmindedly before turning back to the wall.

Araminta changes tack.

“You must know I could not believe it when I heard you had the audacity to return to London. Nor do I know whether to be shocked or impressed that you had somehow wormed your way into the Bridgertons’ affections. Then again you always had a proclivity to squirming your way into places you did not belong--like mother, like daughter.”

Sophie stares resolutely at the wall.

“Unfortunately for you the magistrate does not look kindly on thieves.” Sophie continues to ignore her. “The shoe clips were bad enough but he grew ever so angry when he heard how you stole my engagement ring.”

Sophie whirls around but bites her tongue upon seeing the sly smirk on Araminta’s. Sophie glares mutinously at her, which makes her smile wider.

“As you well know it is your word against mine.”

There is the beautiful saccharine sweet smile that has haunted Sophie’s childhood. But this time Sophie does not shiver, instead she crosses her arms.

“I see you have it all worked out.”

Araminta shrugs.

“Lucky for you I have pleaded clemency on your behalf so that you do not lose a head—then again I have heard all sorts of stories about wild animals in Australia.”

“A model of Christian charity,” Sophie bites out. “The justice will be so touched.”

“Indeed.” Araminta preens, revelling in her victory. Sophie stares at Araminta for a moment before finally asking that damnable question.

“Why? Why did you hate me so? I tried so hard to impress you and abide by your rules—why?”

Araminta’s smile drops, she comes close to the bars and hisses through them

“I do not hate you, I despise you. No woman should have to live with another woman’s castoffs, yet he paraded you around in my presence, educating you, clothing you, providing for you until his death. All as a ploy to punish me.”

Sophie’s brow furrows, which spurs Araminta on.

“He kept you to remind me of my failure as a wife for not giving him a son as easily as a serving wench could give him a b----d. You were my punishment, an insult and mockery I had to bear every day. You have no idea the depths of pain and humiliation you forced me into.”

Sophie can only stare, not in horror, not in sadness but…pity. For finally she can see the truth. Araminta is a girl in a cage, yet one who took her fire out on those around her and so became so much worse than a caged phoenix—for she took her fire out on an innocent child.

“You were as trapped in a cage just as I am, yet you wallowed in your pain and took it out on an innocent child.” Sophie stands. “I was a punishment? You speak as if my father cared for anything other than his pride. And you speak of pain and humiliation yet you cannot see what pain you inflicted upon me. Do you know what I have finally realised? You are not a monster, just a very sad, powerless woman who is trapped in her pain and does not know how to let it go.”

Araminta’s perfect face falls into something far uglier. She bangs her fist on the bars and Sophie jumps back, eyes wide.

“I am not trapped. I am not the one in the cage. I have the power. You deserved everything I did to you, because you are nothing. Look at yourself.” Sophie looks down at herself. “You are unloved, alone, encaged just like the filthy b----d child of a whore you have always been and will forever be.” Sophie shivers and does not look up. Araminta continues savagely. “I am the one who is free, I am the one who triumphed, I am the victor! And who are you?”

Sophie breathes heavily, closing her eyes against the words. But then we see flashes of memories.

“Who are you?”

The image of her laughing with Ginny over wine.

A shot of her chatting with her fellow servants, Nadia and John.

A shot of Sophie comforting Eloise as she weeps on her bed.

“Who are you?” Echoes in her head.

A shot of Sophie grinning while sat at tea ensconced in conversation with the Bridgertons.

A shot of her discussion with Violet about love, wallflowers and Eloise.

And finally of Benedict’s words in his studio.

“You are a woman who is kind and compassionate even after a life of hardship that would bow or break the strongest of men. You are a woman who stands by her convictions no matter how people try and sway you, no matter how many lashes you endure or even if the other road is easier. You, Sophie Beckett, are brilliant, in mind, heart and soul...”

Sophie looks up, her piercing eyes resolute.

“I am not nothing.”

Araminta’s eyes widen at the resolve in Sophie’s tone.

“I am a compassionate friend and a trusted confidante. I am a survivor.”  Sophie takes a step forward as Araminta steps back.

“I have survived destitution, loneliness and disrepute.”

Another step forward. Araminta takes another step back. 

“I have survived the fiery venom that you spat at me every day of my life and the lashes you afflicted me with your actions. Yet I have emerged with a richer soul and a far stronger spirit that you will never break. For I am loved.”

An image of her being embraced by Ginny, another of her being kissed by Benedict.

“I am wanted.”

The shot of Benedict on one knee in front of her.

“I am enough.”

Sophie stands tall, her head held high, backlit by the sunlight through the jail cell window.

“I am Baek Soo-Hye, the daughter of Si-Woo Gun, Lord of Gun, and I shall never bow nor break.”

Araminta is a couple steps away from the bars in the gloom. The shot is positioned so that the shadows of the cell’s bar are cast over Araminta. She sneers like a caged animal and goes to spring forward,

“You little—”

“Sophie!”

They halt.

“What?” Araminta turns towards the sound.

“Sophie!” The voice rips through the air.

Sophie turns to the sound, hope in her eyes.

“Benedict?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Read the rest here

Hopefully this ‘rewrite’ achieves a couple things:

A satisfying confrontation that reflects the character journey and healing Sophie undergoes in S4.

Does not justify Araminta’s backstory but shows the mindset of an abuser.

Links in with imagery around ‘cages’ and ‘masks’ that I have planned for in previous and future S4 posts.

Stress that Sophie’s identity comes from herself and the relationships she has formed–not just the one with Benedict.

Retain the chaotic comedy

Have Benedict Bridgerton getting into figurative, and literal, conflict for the love of his life.

Cute Benophie feels. Supportive Anthony feels. Violet BADASS Bridgerton feels. ALL the feels.

As always I’d love to hear your ideas/corrections/opinions and always open to chat or requests!

So, check out the list here, for more of my ideas.

Or check out the general arcs of my prospective S4.

[take2me5to9hell9]

chapter 14 of take me back to the night we met is finally out (there was a civil war during the process of making this chapter, but hannigram helped for some reason!!?)

Feel free to share your thoughts and maybe your prediction.

Thanks @geo-daddyxd for some of these amazing memes

[dcdp]

First ship: Danny Fenton x Jason Todd

First fanfic: Revenant Revenant by Civilized_muppets

Summary:

The Bats are falling apart at the seams and no one really likes Bruce (aka Batman for those of you who don’t know) and it’s reaching a breaking point. Jayce is hit the hardest with these developments and him and Bruce “fall off the edge.” Danny becomes the savior of the Bat kids (Tim,Richard and Jason) Damian comes later but not in the way you think 😏. And things become interesting.

Thoughts:

After reading this one…. It really explains the whole “Batman/Birds/Bats relationship. It gives more context into each personal experience each kid and Alfred have with Bruce. From parental to feeling loved and wanted. Now I know it’s different from how it’s usually portrayed in comics, tv shows and movies but this fanfic gives more insight.

Batman WAS my fave superhero but honestly after reading this one I just can’t with him. Like I won’t give away spoilers (even if asked) but just take into account everything you read in this one cause it’s just so sad and heartbreaking to read. I mean these poor kids are brought into this household expecting love and support and… it’s just so sad. I mean just read it and you’ll understand. Just ugh!!!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😩😩😩😩😩😩🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😡😡😡😡😡

But on a happier note: Jayce x Danny in this one!!!!!!!!!!!!! They both just need love and support and the only people they’ve ever accepted/received it from are: Tim and Jazz (Jayce Tim and Danny Jazz) and it’s just SO WHOLESOME AND SWEET!!!!!!!!! Like I totes ship them together. I mean 1/2 ghost/High King (Danny x revenant (Jayce) it’s like so perfect I wanna cry!!!!!!!!! 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😘😘😘😘😘😞😞😞🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣

For those of you that don’t know the backstory of either Danny or Jayce then read any fanfic of theirs. Mostly reveals gone wrong (Danny) and Jayce getting killed by Joker ones. That’ll explain why Revenant Revenant is so wholesome and gives you all the feels!!!!!!! I literally cried throughout this whole fanfic like bawling crying!!!!! Just please read it!!!!!! No smut but very fluffy and gooey!!!!!!!!!!!!

[foolishlovers]

accurate depiction of me writing fanfic btw

[thelaughingmerman]

I only want to draw them being cute ok thank you

[certifiedwerewolf]

In which a group of teenagers find each other, and themselves, and learn to deal with everything their lives can throw at them by having each other's backs.

I made the final edits to Volume 1 of the Rollercoaster rewrite this weekend, which means it's finally ready to start posting! I'm going to give it a few days to marinate before I start posting but in the meantime I thought you guys might like the chance to read (or reread) the chapters that were already posted.

Even if you've read them before, I highly recommend reading them again; I made some changes to the chapters that were already posted a couple weeks ago and you'll likely need a refresher anyway.

[coloradocharmiegirl]

Chapter 39 here--New 11/26/23

Summary:

Timmy's idyllic morning ends as he steps through the classroom door, setting in motion a confluence of expectations, assumptions, and just plain bad luck that threatens everything that had seemed so sure just hours before, leaving Armie blindsided at the worst possible time.

Excerpt:

His eyes fell on the metallic blue key hanging from his ring and he could barely swallow, his food suddenly tasteless and dry. How was it that only a few hours ago he’d sat right here, thinking about his and Armie’s life together to this point and all that the future could hold, so anxiously happy about moving in together? And now?

Now he didn’t see how he could.

How could he live with someone he couldn’t trust?

Deep down in his heart, he knew he couldn’t.

His chest felt tight as he pondered–how could he have been so wrong? He thought…

Well, it didn’t matter what he thought he knew, did it?

As a doctor, he’d been trained to see what was in front of him, not to rely on what people said. People lied, for all sorts of reasons.

He just hadn’t thought Armie would.

Or start from the beginning here

Hello! For all of you still hanging around, thank you! I'm sorry this has taken so long, but it's an important chapter to me, and it deserved special care (as well as just being somewhat emotionally hard to write.) For those of you who love angst--this is for you. But please remember--this story has a happy ending. I promise.

Much love, CCG 💙 💚

[jerzwriter]

Rollercoaster

Thank you to @starsarewithinme for the <100 words drabble request for Trystan, Carolina/Rollercoaster. It's a ton of silly fluff, but I hope you will enjoy it!

Book: Crimes of Passion (Post Book 2) Pairing: Trystan Thorne x F!MC (Carolina Rose) Words: Uhm. 1,400. (Only 1,300 more than 100! lol) Rating: Teen Category: Utter Fluff Summary: Trystan offers Carolina a penny for her thoughts... then he wishes he could give them back.... just a little. A/N: Participating in @choicesnovchallenge | Fireworks Night

There was much that Trystan Thorne admired about Carolina Rose. If asked to list the qualities and attributes he found most endearing, he would demand at least a week’s time to capture them all, knowing he’d still come up short when his time reached an end. Her natural beauty, incomparable sass, and sheer audacity were the first things to pique his interest. But, the more he came to know her, the more he knew her mind was the most fascinating thing about the woman who owned his heart.

She was brilliant... but not in a way that can be learned from books, but in a manner that is only earned through life experience. Sharp, intuitive, and quick-witted... she had a knack for knowing just what to do, just what to say, regardless of circumstances. Facing down a serial killer? Cutting a bigot down to size on the subway? Making him smile after a grueling day? Tending to an injured kitten outside her uncle’s bar? Carolina always sprung into action before he could even take stock of the situation, leaving him more awestruck each time.

It’s no wonder trying to read her mind had become one of his favorite pastimes, whether they were at work or at play. Sometimes, she’d catch him staring at her intently as she poured over the details of a case, stared out a window, or bopped around her apartment, dancing to music only she could hear. He’d often ask what she was thinking, and he could now guess with about fifty percent accuracy – something he was immensely proud of.

But recently, Carolina’s therapist all but ordered her to find little ways to reduce stress in her everyday life. And this time, it was Trystan who sprung into action. He ran to a corner gift shop, returning with a vast assortment of colorful gel pens, retro stickers, glitter glue, and notebooks festooned with images of unicorns, rainbows, and cartoon cats.

“What on earth is this for?” Carolina chuckled as Trystan scratched his head.

“I don’t know, exactly,” he admitted. “But how can anyone be stressed in the presence of glitter, unicorns, and adorable kittens? We’ll find a way to put it all to good use.”

And, of course, Carolina did. Popping in her earbuds, she’d pick the most insipid pop songs she could find, typically from Trystan’s playlists, and doodle whatever came to mind. Soon, the pink and lavender pages of the notebooks he gifted her were filled with Carolina Rose originals. Every time she did this, she was so happy and at ease that Trystan forgot about his mind-reading hobby. After all, seeing her so content warmed his heart. But some days, like today, he was curious.

Carolina’s smiles had been punctuated with delightful little giggles, but when he peeked over her shoulder to see what she was drawing, he couldn’t make sense of the abstract loops and swirls. She caught him staring at her over his latte and removed her earbuds with a smirk. 

“Yes?” she asked playfully.

“Nothing,” she swore she saw him blush. “I’m just....”

“Just what?”

“I’m wondering what you’re thinking of. You seem so happy this morning.”  

“I am,” she grinned, shutting her notebook. “I’ve been doodling all the things I want to do with you.”

“Oh... really,” he smiled lasciviously with a raised brow.

Carolina tossed her head back in laughter. “Keep it in your pants, Thorne. These thoughts are as PG-13 as the Hello Kitty notebooks you gave me.”

Trystan sheepishly pushed a shiny silver quarter across the table, then placed it in Carolina’s hand.

“What is the saying? A penny for your thoughts? This should buy me at least twenty-five of yours. Now I must know... what is it you wish to do with me,” he grinned.

Carolina jumped onto his lap, eagerly pointing to the various drawings. She pointed to a pair of ice skates, telling him they’d be going to Rockefeller Center, Wollman Rink, and Bryant Park very soon. Then she tapped on a sketch of a picnic basket she planned to fill with treats to share. Some waves along a beautiful shore, with a blanket made for two, were just how she imagined their trips to the beach next summer would be. Then, her excitement doubled.

“And this! This is the best of all!”

“What is it?” he asked.

“The Cyclone. At Coney Island... have you ever been?”

“Uhm... I can’t say that I have.”

Carolina clapped her hands with delight, a squeal befitting a thirteen-year-old escaping her. “Good!” she beamed. “Then I get to take you on your first ride! I found myself a Cyclone virgin!”

“A Cyclone... virgin? What exactly do you plan to do with me? Offer me as a sacrifice?”

“Trystan,” she reprimanded. “Given our history, can we refrain from talking about sacrifices?”

“Duly noted,” he smiled. “But what about the Cyclone?”

“I told you! We’re riding it! I figured we could do that as soon as Luna Park opens in April. Then, we can head over to Jersey and go to Six Flags. We’ll start with El Toro and then move on to Nitro and Kingda Ka. The following weekend, we have to go to Hershey Park! Their coasters aren’t as scary, but they have so many! And I don’t care what anyone says, Storm Runner is still enough to scare the crap out of you! We’re going to have....”

She came down from her reverie long enough to notice the pale expression spreading on her boyfriend’s face.

“Trystan? Is everything all right?”

“Yes. Sure. Fine.... it’s only November.”

“And?” she asked, perplexed.

“That gives me four, five months to prepare. Are their classes?”

“Classes?” She giggled. “For riding rollercoasters?”

“No... classes to get over my fear of riding rollercoasters.”

“Trystan Thorne! You’re not telling me that you, the former prince of Drakovia, are afraid of... rollercoasters.”

“It’s a little detail we hid from the public eye. It would have brought great shame to the family. However, I assure you, I am not afraid. The more appropriate word would be horrified. I am absolutely horrified by rollercoasters. So, needless to say, I have to end up with a girlfriend with a rollercoaster fetish.”

“I wouldn’t call it a fetish,” she laughed. “But I do love me a good coaster.”

“Right... so, are their classes?”

Carolina looped her arms around his neck. “Trystan, I’m teasing you. But if you’re really frightened by them, I’m certainly not going to force you to go on with me.”

“But if it’s something you’re looking forward to, I want to do it with you.”

She placed a quick peck on his cheek. “And that means so much to me, but it’s OK. We can double date with Luke and Ruby. She loves a good coaster as much as I do, but Luke, not so much. So we can be all badass and you guys can hold our purses or something.”

“Great,” Trystan sighed. “I’d like to at least try. Don’t they have kiddie coasters I can start with?”

“Sure, but we probably surpass the height limits. They are kiddie coasters, after all.”

“Damn!” he spat.

“It’s really all right, babe. There are plenty of fun things we can do at amusement parks without putting you on a rollercoaster.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very!”

“So, tell me about these fun things,” he asked, wagging his brows.

“Well, there is the merry-go-round.... the bumper cars....”

“Oh, I excel at bumper cars. You are going down, Detective Rose!”

“HA! I learned to drive on the Grand Concourse in the Bronx, baby... we’ll see about that!”

A big smile spread on her face as she pointed to a page virtually covered in an explosion of glitter.

“And, of course, there is this. The fireworks at the end of the night. We’ll watch together with a delicious treat in hand. It can be popcorn, cotton candy, ice cream.... what do you think you’ll want?”

“If I’m snuggled up with you? Then I’ll already have my delicious treat.”

“Aww, you’re the best, Trystan,” Carolina teased. “Even if you are a rollercoaster wuss.”

“I’m sorry, Carolina, but no one is perfect. Not even me.”

“Nope,” she said with a bop to his nose. “But you come damn close.”

Carolina was surprised to see him take out his phone; his attention shifted away from her. 

“Hey, what are you doing? “

“I’m looking into books on how to overcome silly fears. I’m getting on those coasters with you, Carolina. After all... you deserve perfection.”

@choicesficwriterscreations - Tags on reblog.

[justporo]

A Night of Song and Laughter (Big Part 9!)

So, this is it - the main idea I had in mind when starting this story. You might've noticed it has taken me eight parts to get there, but yeah... There's just so much to explore. This is a really long part and I really poured my heart into this one and finished it in the middle of the night. So I really really hope you will love it (trying hard not to be desperate here, tbh). It's really quite a lot of romance for this part - Astarion deserves it and Tav too. There's seductive music casting a spell, Tav and Astarion dance, their hearts might feel closer than they've ever felt before - but they might be changed when they stop spinning around each other.

You can read this and the parts after it on AO3!

This was the song that inspired the idea: Satyros - Faun And the song that gave me the right mood for the end (only vibes, not the lyrics): Viva La Vida - Coldplay And just for the hell of it, take one of my all time favourite love songs: Muse - Neutron Star Collision

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You)

Phew, here we go - hope you'll enjoy!

(Gif from here!)

After that you all turned into a giggling mess from there on out. All the liquor you’d drunk was really making you light-headed. Even Astarion seemed a bit out of it even though you weren’t even sure if vampires could get drunk. But frankly – you really didn’t care.

You’d taken to tell Astarion about some of your collective memories of your adventures as thieves – but only ones that made you scream laughing when you thought about them. Like the time Eodin (“this goddamn prick”, Daegin offered) had hidden in someone’s closet and had only gotten off the hook as a thief because he had pretended to be the lover of the lady of the house – who had been 80 years old, seemingly senile and almost blind. Or the time Daegin and Lira had posed as a noble couple at a party to get to their target although they were the most terrible actors Faerun had ever seen and the dwarf didn’t seem to be able to shake the terrible practiced accent after that for months!

Astarion laughed openly at all your silly stories, asked questions about details, enjoying himself so much making friends with Lira and Daegin that your heart felt like it might burst any second. After another story about how Miyena (“Bitch”, Lira whispered, getting praised by Astarion for her efforts) had almost burned all her hair and her eyebrows off in a failed attempt to use explosives to get into a vault, you were just done wiping tears from your eyes while trying to avoid dying from laughter again, Astarion asked: “Now, come on, my friends, there must be a story about Tav completely embarrassing herself. I truly can’t believe she would never get herself into trouble. At least from my short time of enjoying her company my experience is that you can’t leave her for half an hour before she’ll run off to save some puppy or getting herself thrown into the deep end – always ending up in dire need of saving.” You pinched his side to which he reacted with a dramatic yelp. “You’re one to talk. Like it wasn’t always you having your hands in someone’s pocket who looked at you funny, trying to steal from then and then getting caught”, you spat back at him and stuck your tongue out at him making fart noises. Astarion grabbed your nose and softly shook your face. “Not you trying to sneak up on someone and knocking over the tallest candelabra around!”, he countered, his silly act making you break into giggles again. You pinched one of his pointy ears so he’d let go of your nose.

“Alright, you silly geese, rear it in”, Daegin began, rolling his eyes at the two of you. “There actually is a story.” “Oh, colour me intrigued!”, Astarion exclaimed and turned his attention towards the dwarf.

You drew your brows together because you actually had no memory of what that story could be. Then the dwarf began telling the story while Lira was already giggling: “One time, we actually hadn’t gotten lucky enough to talk ourselves out of a hairy situation. We were actually captured by the city guard and thrown into a cell, awaiting trial the next day. And we were all really panicking because we were sure that – for once – we’d all run out of luck. But” – and here he threw you a secretive glance – “Tav had a genius plan to get us out of there.” The dwarf kept smirking at you and that was, when you remembered how that story went down. Oh shit – just to be prepared you grabbed the almost empty bottle of liquor and poured yourself another generous shot. Astarion leaned back as if to signify how taken aback and interested he was in how the story would continue.

“The one thing we were actually lucky about, was, that we were guarded by a greenhorn. And so, Tav ruffled her hair a little bit, opened up the front of her shirt a little and went to press herself against the bars of the prison cell and started cooing at this boy guard. Telling him that she was actually a nymph, only captured by accident and promising him that she would gift him the most unforgettable night of his life if he let her and us others free.” You buried your face in your hands but this bastard elf grabbed your hands and held them tightly while already starting to laugh. “Don’t you dare cover your face, darling, I need to see your face for this”, Astarion laughed and raised his eyebrow at you – and was that a glint of mischief in his eyes? You were basically burning up with shame in the meantime.

Daegin continued: “Well, the boy was hesitant at first saying how he couldn’t do that since he was only a cadet and stuff but Tav layed it on so thick, sweet-talking him, telling him in incredible detail what she would do to him if only he let us free.” You tried to bury your face in your hands again, now remembering the whole scene in incredible detail as well. But Astarion just shook his head and pulled you close to his chest while holding your hands in his iron grip and raising his eyebrows at Daegin in anticipation.

“So, he finally let us free”, the dwarf continued ignoring you struggling with Astarion so he would just let you sink in the ground “and he made big happy puppy eyes at her when she was standing in front of him – absolutely bewitched by her. And Tav”, now Daegin started struggling with holding it together “just stepped close to him and told him to close his eyes to which he happily obliged and then”, Daegin and Lira could barely stop chuckeling, you winced “she kicked him so hard in the balls you could hear him howl through half the city probably. And dare I say it probably was the end for this young man’s family plans.” Lira started howling with laughter, Daegin had to bury his face in his hands and you could feel Astarion’s chest shake with hearty laughter. And then you couldn’t help but join in, your body shaking with fits of laughter although you couldn’t quite tell if it weren’t sobs after all. You felt delirious from the alcohol, from actually being alive and being so lucky to make memories with your friends again and of course with him – this elven vampire that might just had gone as insane as your two other friends.

“Oh, my little siren”, Astarion laughed while finally letting go of your wrists “please, never do that to me!” He kept chuckling: “If you ever feel the need to kick me in the balls, please just do it fair and square.” He lost it once more, his head lolling back while laughing. You didn’t think you ever saw him this relaxed before – never had he opened that much before with anyone else but you.

You hugged him and pursed your lips while everyone’s laughter was slowly reclining. “Don’t worry, darling, I will”, you promised him sweetly but mischievously to which he put a finger under your chin to make you meet his gaze. His chest was still shaking with silent laughter. You thought he was about to say something, but he just shook his head, kissed your forehead, and then leaned his own forehead to it.

You kept hugging him while the other two of your band of thieves recalled even more stories. Breathing deeply you could feel yourself getting a little tired. Your vampire rubbed circles on your back, listening to your companion’s stories but sometimes throwing a caring glance at you to check if you were still alright. He could seriously be so thoughtful and sweet – you’d never would have thought when he’d first held a knife at your throat upon meeting you.

As you were just resting your eyes a bit while leaning onto Astarion you heard a soft, seductive melody drifting up from downstairs. Single notes plucked on a lute, a deep, pleasant voice humming to it. It should have been impossible to make this out over the crowd, all the chatter and laughter, over couples snickering in the dark corners of the tavern, glasses and goblets being clinked, between threats being made and dice being rolled. But you heard it. The melody enchanting you and reminding you of more memories that had been buried deep down in your mind.

You untangled yourself from Astarion and slowly walked through the crowd to the railing of the gallery, ignoring your soulmate's and friends' questioning looks. You looked down at the band of elves. The drow bard had his head thrown back, his eyes closed while plucking on his lute and humming. You could see the sheen of sweat on his face and body – he was shirtless now. He was softly swaying from side to side while continuing his tune, his brows drawing together seemingly concentrating hard on his task. The female bard had put down her violin for the moment, putting her hands on his bare body from behind, openly touching him everywhere, her eyes also closed. Were they simply two artists bound by the magic of the moment or eternal, unyielding lovers? Who knew? The rest of their band just seemed as enchanted: slowly, almost silently playing their instruments.

It was like a spell started to work its sly magic on the crowd – not imprisoning it nor silencing it but making everyone hearing this wistful melody sway with its highs and lows. You felt your heart react to the song. You knew it, you’d heard it once before and had never forgotten about it – and you knew exactly what was about to happen. Your hands gripped the wood of the railing hard, your heart beating with anticipation.

Astarion stared at your back while you watched the band. He thought the song started to sound familiar – wasn’t it… elven? His brows furrowed, there was something about the tune but it was evading his mind. His eyes flicked from the back of your head to your two friends. Daegin seemed oblivious to what was happening around him, not yet captured by the spell that was being woven around everyone else. But Lira was looking at the vampire, a knowing glint in her eyes. “If I’m right about what’s happening, you’ll be in for the surprise of your life, Astarion.” His brows furrowed even more deeply. Where did he remember this tune from? It seemed impossible to wrap his head around it. Could it be… he read and heard about it from legends? He turned back to where you were still standing at the rim of the gallery.

You knew exactly what was going on and what would happen. You had seen it happen once already in your life, in what had felt a lifetime ago and on an entirely different plane of existence. Your hands clawed at the railing still, while the tune started to rise more and more.

Finally, the drow opened his eyes again, breathing deeply. He threw a soft, longing glance at his partner who continued to hug her body to his and letting her hands wander over his form. “For this next song”, he then spoke, his somber and seductive voice carrying easily through the space as if it had been amplified by magic “I will need all your help for it is not only a song, but a ritual.” He enunciated every word with care, the crowd hanging on his lips for every word. “An old elven ritual and a trial to test the strength of your earthly bonds – as old as legends, maybe as old as the Gods themselves.” The song became more intoxicating by the second, making your hairs stand on end, as you felt it’s hypnotizing pull.

“To those of you here, tonight, brave enough to undertake the ritual, I say, come and be tried”, the bard spoke, his voice rising and his eyes wandering over the crowd. “And to the rest, I say, make way for those fearless enough to put what they think of as undying love on trial.” While he spoke the last words, the drow’s eyes landed on yours. On his lips was a knowing smile when he looked up at you and you felt a shiver running down your spine. You knew what you had to do. This might just be a show, the drow’s pathos only a party trick and the ambience merely a collective delirium but you could feel somehow that there was more at work. A kind of primal and untamable sort of magic had found its way into this hellhole of a city. And as it was being summoned it demanded to be paid its due.

You threw a glance back at Astarion who looked confused and unsure about what was happening, but your decision was made. And somehow you felt it hadn’t been your choice at all; rather that it had been made for you, long before anything else, by powers beyond your understanding.

The space in front of the stage cleared slowly as being pushed back by invisible hands. You were still looking at Astarion, then mouthed “trust me” at him before you darted for the stairs to make your way to the front of the stage.

Astarion was suddenly very much on edge, the whole situation feeling unbearably and torturingly similar to one not so long ago. Although he could feel that this time around it wasn’t the same deep, dark and threatening magic at work but something much more benevolent, he couldn’t stop the freezing feeling of dread clawing its way up his spine. He started to run after you, when he felt Lira’s hand grab hold of his wrist. Her eyes were shining with anticipation and warmth. “Don’t worry, Astarion. Tav will be fine and so will you – maybe even more so”, the half-elf said ominously and knowingly. Surprisingly your friend’s words and reaction did calm him although they didn’t soothe all of his fear. Lira motioned for Astarion to walk over to the railing and watch what might happen next. The vampire stood at the railing of the gallery impatiently awaiting what would transpire.

The crowd was just as tense with anticipation. You made your way to the round space now cleared in front of the stage. You stepped past the line of the crowd, steeling yourself with a deep breath and throwing another glance over your shoulder to see Astarion stand on the gallery watching you with deep worry in his eyes. Lira was beside him, a hand on his arm in a soothing gesture. On his other side even Daegin had made his way over to watch the spectacle, climbing onto the stool he had moved over. You smiled at your lover, then turned around. Your heart had never been so sure.

With you there had been three others stepping up to take this seemingly ancient test of love: three other women, two elves and one half-elf. Of course, this all had appealed to draw those with elven heritage out of the crowd. The magic in your blood connected the four of you for as far as you might be in any other moment in your lives. The same was true for the elven musicians. The four of you eyed each other, then you looked at the drow bard who had started humming again while waiting for you to come down to the open space. The wood elf bard had picked up her violin again and begun to play slow soft chords on it.

“So, four of you, delightful”, the drow bard spoke, already speeding up the tune on his lute. “Let us begin!”, he exclaimed and threw his head back. And then they began to really play.

The four of you stepped closer to each other. You had only seen and heard the happenings of all this once, but you knew exactly what to do. And so did the others. An ancient form of magic guiding you.

The four of you grabbed each other’s elbows to start and slowly began to dance in a circle – first to your right side, then to the other. You started singing in elvish, not even remotely sure what words it were that left your mouth. Then you let go of each other and started twirling each on your own while singing and clapping your hands.

Slowly, one by one the bards and the rest of the elven musicians took up your chant and so did the crowd. As you turned and turned you could see Astarion whenever he came into your view. His eyes widening with every second, not in fear it seemed but in wonder.

You closed your eyes for a second, while still singing and dancing, magic steadying your feet. Then the first of you four women disappeared into the crowd and returning with a tiefling man in her arms. They twirled together for a few rounds while you others kept dancing and chanting. The pace and volume of the song slowly picking up speed. Then the tiefling man was twirled from his lover’s arms to each of you in turn until he was in his original lover’s arms once more.

That was the point for you and the other two lone dancers to break off into the crowd in search of your own soulmates. You threw a quick glance up to the gallery. You felt all flushed from the hypnotic dance and song. You smirked at Astarion and curled your fingers at him in a “come hither” motion before you sped towards the staircase up to the gallery. Pushing past a very confused Kirin you met Astarion, who had also rushed towards you, halfway up the stairs. He grabbed your face with both his hands, anger, worry, wonder and fear all battling in his eyes. “What the fuck are you doing? What the fuck is happening?”, he asked you desperately.

“Showing the whole world and the Gods that our love is unbreakable and that you’ll always belong to me and I to you”, you broke out breathlessly then grabbed his hands from your face and dragged him down the stairs, past a very confused Kirin – again. “Ye goddamn weirdo elves”, he shouted after you but you couldn’t care less right now.

You were the last to return with your partner to the circle of brave dancers. One other had grabbed another male elf and was already dancing and only mere moments before you the half-elf had dragged a human woman with her into the circle. As you entered the circular space you saw that Astarion could suddenly feel the pull as well of whatever it was exactly that was happening. His pupils widened, his mouth opened. You moved in close to him, grabbing his one hand and placing the other on his shoulder while he placed his other hand on the small part of your back pulling you even closer.

A slight moan left his lips when you started to move together. Not only had you never danced together – not that you even knew how to (although Astarion most certainly did) – but this suddenly felt incredibly intimate. The crowd had picked up the elvish chant even more enthusiastically than before. You heard them clapping and stomping which made everything even more ecstatic than before.

“Are you passing me on to the others as well or am I allowed to stay with you?”, Astarion asked breathlessly while twirling you, turning and turning. You let your head fall back for a moment while you laughed and shook your head no. “No, never! Now it is a competition, only one pair is actually chosen”, you explained quickly while taking quick gasps of fresh air in between. “Oh”, Astarion simply mouthed back at you.

You could feel sweat running down your face as you kept moving and turning around in circles at break-neck speed. Not sure how long it was physically possible to keep going without perishing on the spot you noticed how animated the vampire looked in your arms. All his fear was gone now, he had only eyes for you, making you almost forget that you were on display in front of a huge audience right now. If he had been able to flush and sweat you were sure he’d been just as agitated as you but even now it seemed a certain shimmer of liveliness had crept into the vampire’s face and body. Then you heard a scream coming from the crowd – it seemed one of the other couples had fallen. Shortly after you heard another shout of disappointment by the audience.

You concentrated only on Astarion now, on his piercing but soft red eyes, his loving smile, the way the wrinkles around his eyes creased when he laughed with you. How he held you steady against him to make sure you would never fall.

And he saw only you. How your face filled with warmth when you looked at him, how your eyes always openly showed your love for him, how your body felt against his, like you were made solely for him, to hold only you. How you were always the right thing he needed.

In this moment you were both completely sure of each other and each other’s love: that you would always walk by each other’s side and that no matter what might happen in this plane of existence, your souls would always find their way back to each other.

And as you were about to forget completely where you were, the world just rushing by in drifts of colours and snippets of sounds, you heard another scream coming from the crowd. The last other couple had not made it.

Realization only slowly dawned on the two of you. Astarion kept twirling you for a few more rounds but slowing down. When the vampire finally slowed you down completely, he suddenly dipped you impossibly deep down to give you the most pure kiss he’d ever given you, while the female bard dragged out one long and final note on her violin.

The spell was over, the crowd erupted, impossibly loud, stomping and cheering and clapping. People rushed to you to touch you and cheer you. You felt tears stream down your face and laughter bubble up your throat and you saw Astarion felt very much the same. Whatever had happened it had brought you together even closer. As Astarion lifted you up again, eyes blazing with love and passion, you let your eyes wander over the crowd. You saw that the wood elf had her arms around the drow again, standing behind him. And you were pretty sure now they were lovers by the knowing and appreciative smiles and nods they offered you. You saw Daegin and Lira cheer and clap up on the gallery.

Then you looked at Astarion again, tears still leaving wet trails down your face. He leaned in to kiss you again and you let him, wanting to be as close as possible to him.

The crowd broke into jubilant cries once more. But you didn't care, for you, there was only Astarion. And for him, there was only you.

[marzissilly69]

SKEPHALO FIC -- ROLLERCOASTER (Fic generator prompt)

☆A/n : Like 700 words or so I dunno ‼️‼️ I didn't fix the spelling so erm cry about it if there's spelling errors <3 ☆

Bad and Skeppy were streaming, arguing as always.

"Yeah, Skeppy was so scared that he made me hold his hand. Oh and he was almost too short to ride.." Bad lied, a devious look on his face as he did. Skeppy, on the other hand looked offended.

"Hey!!! No!!! I begged you too ride it!!

"Nope absolutely not!" Bad protests at the younger boy next to him, an annoyed glare appearing on his face.

"Don't listen to this STUPID BITCH!!! I'll tell you what really happened." Skeppy says crossing his arms, a smirk on his face.

"Hey language geppy!!!" Bad exclaims a pout apperant on his face.

****

"Its just a Rollercoaster!!!!!" Skeppy whines in response grabbing onto the others shoulders and gently shaking them both back and forth.

"But 'Geppy!!!! It's too high. What if we fall off, or worse. Get stuck upside down." The older says, some of his words muffled from the two being shook back and forth.

"Pleasee...." Skeppy pleads, snivelling. The fake crying being loud enough for a few people to turn their heads for a minute. But Skeppy didn't care. Not really, he'd made scenes way worse than this in the past, because we'll. It worked. The loud whining and pleading had always made Bad embarrassed.

Panic fills Bad's eyes as he sees people staring at him and his whining and snivelling Skeppy. "Fine!!!" Bad quiet screams at the shorter boy next to him. "Just stop crying!!!!" He adds, and Skeppys posture instantly straightened at the olders words along with a large smile almost instantly.

"Yay!!!" The shorter boy practically screams before grabbing hold of the others hand and dragging him over to the biggest Rollercoaster there. Man, Bad was gonna regret this.

By the time they got to the line, which wasn't very long, sence it was a small, quite cute amusment park and all. Bad looked nervous, Skeppy watched as the boy next to him was tapping his foot to the ground and sweating. More than usual. Yup he was definitely nervous.

Skeppy grabbed the older boys hand once again and held it tightly in his, squeezing gently. Bad looked down at the shorter, a small smile on his face.

"I'll hold your hand the whole time" Skeppy chirps a big, dumb smile covering his face. Bad giggled looking at the sparkle in the slightly shorter boys eyes, it made his face heat up. Just a little.

"Okay but if I die on there it's your fault 'Geppy." Bad says pointing to the Rollercoaster, which was going right now. The screams of the people being clearly heard, one of them even screamed "We're all gonna die!!!". This made Bad shiver slightly.

The two waited in mostly silence for two or three more minutes before people started getting off and before they knew it the were boarding the Rollercoaster. Still holding Bads hand he guided them to the front as quick as he could, strapping them both in with that cold metal Rollercoaster bar. A big smile coated Skeppy's face and he was practically jumping for joy in his seat.

"Geppy.." Bad says, trying to get the other boys attention, poking his arm gently, a worried smile on his face.

"Yesss Bad..?" Skeppy asks in response, a large smile still on his face. Bad found it cute, but he wouldn't admit that.

"You said..." Bad mumbles before pausing. He breathes in shaking the blush from his face. "You said we could hold hands." He finally gets out, a warmth coating his face in a strawberry pink.

"Oh yeah..! Sure Badboy." Skeppy says, a small smirk on his face, as he grabs Bad's hand. Ready to ride the thing of Bads nightmares.

****

"Then we rode the Rollercoaster!" Skeppy says a smile on his face. "And it was so so fun..Bad was screaming the whole time and...-" The shorter boy trailed off as Bad stared at him, holding his own cheek in his hand. A small blush coated Bads face as Skeppy continued to explain what happened after and stuff that Bad didn't really have to add to.

Hopefully, people didn't screenshot this or put it in one of those "Skephalo moments!!!" videos. Hopefully, people just didn't notice the staring at all.

A/n #2 : GAY ‼️‼️ GAY GAY GAY‼️ if you read this platonically, just know you're lying to yourself