#had some original pancake house

[alltheprettyplaces]

3 polyps and some adhesion removed later….

[try-set-me-on-fire]

They’ve got the little window over the sink open and Bobby keeps calling through it, asking for ingredients, utensils. Eddie clatters around the cabinet by the fridge.

“Third shelf,” Bobby says again, elbow on the sill. It doesn’t help any more than the first time he said it.

“I don’t even- Bobby, I don’t know what I’m looking for. Just- you can’t just use a normal spatula?”

“The flexibility and sharp edge of a fish spatula,” Bobby says, also for the second time, with a strained sort of patience, “Is perfect for sliding under-”

Buck’s arm reaches over Eddie’s shoulder and plucks a long slotted spatula from Bobby’s elaborate and baffling collection. “Got it.” He kisses the side of Eddie’s head as he keeps moving, lips catching the top of his ear. “It’s better for-”

“Pancakes, fritters, any sort of delicate patty, yeah, yeah, I heard.”

Bobby and Buck grin at him with identical raised eyebrows, it's kind of uncanny. “He’s not hopeless after all.”

“I do my best,” Buck says, smacking Eddie on the back and heading towards the door. “He’s come a long way.”

Eddie crosses his arms. “I don’t have to keep handing you shit. We’re not at work. I could make you walk inside every time.”

Bobby grins wider. “And I could give you all the burnt tater tots.”

Eddie pouts. “I’m reporting you to HR for unfair retaliation in response to labor concerns.”

“We’re not at work,” Bobby says, serenely. “Hand me the tenderizer.”

Eddie was sent in here, originally, like half an hour ago, to cut up the two giant watermelons Hen and Karen had brought direct from the farmers market, but he’d only got the knife halfway through the first one when the side quests started coming. He finally returns to the cutting board as Buck and Bobby’s voice drift further away, towards the grill. He cuts the thing in half and then stares at it so long he jumps a foot in the air when Maddie suddenly appears next to him.

“Woah,” she laughs. “What secrets of the universe does that watermelon hold?”

Eddie coughs out a chuckle. “I was just- debating the best shape to eat.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Big choice. Little cubes? Little cubes are nice. Or, like, slices?”

“I’ve always been a fan of a nice wedge.”

Maddie makes a triangle shape with her hands. “It is a classic.”

“Kind of makes your plate top heavy, though.”

“You’ve got two watermelons,” she points out.

“Wedges and cubes,” Eddie nods. “I like your way of thinking.”

She grabs a bowl from a different cupboard — why does everyone know this kitchen so well already? This is the new Grant-Nash residence house warming party, Eddie’s got lost on the way to the bathroom like three times since he got here — as he cubes the first melon. “How was the movie?”

“Hm?”

“Didn’t you and Buck go see Conclave earlier? The trailer looked interesting.”

“Oh, yeah.” Eddie scoops the cubes into the bowl and rinses his hands off before starting in on wedges.

Maddie laughs behind him. “… and how was it?”

“Oh! Uh- yeah, I mean- you know, horror movies, they’re fun.”

Maddie tilts her head. “Wait, wasn’t that one a drama?”

“Uh-”

“Wait.” She wrinkles her nose. “Were you just- were you making out with my brother literally the whole time?”

Eddie, hands up, gives her a bare teeth grimace of a smile as she cackles and whacks him with a towel. “Hey- I mean, I kind of looked up once, they were in some sort of- I don’t know, a theater or something? It was really dark in there? It looked kind of creepy.”

“Oh my god.”

“There’s a lot of Catholicism themed horror movies,” Eddie weakly tries to defend himself. “How was I supposed to know?”

“By watching it!” She laughs. “Why spend the $12?”

“My air conditioning is broken,” Eddie says sheepishly. “And it was 10 AM on a weekday, the only other person in there was 80 years old and snored through most of it.” He frowns. “Which also makes more sense if it wasn’t- I don’t know, I thought it was like The Conjuring?”

She laughs again, helpless giggles while she covers her face. Her daughter laughs the same way sometimes. “Don’t you have catholic guilt? Wasn’t that a thing?”

Eddie shrugs. “My abuela always says once I commit to something I never do it by half.”

“So, making out all through a movie about the pope?”

Eddie points at her. “Gay making out all through a movie about the pope.” He frowns again. “Damn, it was really about the pope? Okay I’m not- look, I’m not feeling guilty about that but, uh, if you ever talk to my grandmother or Pepa, uh-”

“I don’t think it would come up,” she says, patting his shoulder.

“They’re not- it’s- they wouldn’t like me making out with a girl during a pope movie, either, it’s not the gay thing.”

“I know, Eddie,” she says, more kind than teasing. “Everybody’s really happy for you,” kinder still.

“Oh.” His cheeks are probably bright red. “Uh. Thank you.” His ears burn as he busies himself with the watermelon again. “You know- I wouldn’t’ve got here, without Buck.”

Maddie comes close, presses their elbows together until he looks back up at her. “He deserves someone who doesn’t commit to things halfway.”

It makes Eddie laugh with soft edges, because: “I think… I’ve always been all the way, with him.”

She smiles so wide her nose crunches. “I know.”

There’s a tap at the window, and there he is, Buck himself. His nose is a little pink from the late October heat, he’s smiling real big. “Hi.”

“What do you want now?” Eddie’s tone is snappy but he’s sure his face is pure mush.

Buck sticks a thumb at Maddie. “Chim’s threatening to, and I quote, ‘eat five hundred tater tots,’” Buck pauses, presumably in service of Chim’s love of dramatic effect, then continues, “‘and then fall into a coma.’ So, like, if you wanna do something about that you might wanna get out there.”

“W-” Maddie starts to ask, and then shakes her head. She grabs the cube bowl. “At least he should have some fruit, too.” She flashes them a grin as she walks out the door, their laughter following.

When Eddie looks back at the window Buck has his chin in his hand, smiling at him. “What?” He laughs, ears hot again.

“Admiring the view,” Buck says, with the combination of flirtatious and earnest that Eddie has come to expect but is never prepared for. “Food’ll be up soon. Come and join us?”

Eddie leans forward over the sink. “Cap doesn’t need anything else?”

Buck shrugs, very close now. Eddie almost laughs wondering if he’s on his tiptoes in the dirt out there. “He can get his own shit. I’ll eat your burnt potatoes.”

Eddie closes the last half inch of distance and does laugh, right into Buck’s mouth. “We can share,” he says, magnanimous, because Buck’s always been all in, too. He can go halfsies, it’s only fair.

There’s shouting outside, Buck pulls back, drums on the windowsill. Smile, wink, turn. Eddie grabs the wedges, and hurries out the door.

(Ao3)

[heartfullofleeches]

aspen with a reader who wants to be HIS housewife

if i tie him to the bed with like 70 zip ties and some rope that MIGHT give me enough time to make him some pancakes as a breakfast in bed :)

[Yan Assassin Male Housewife + G.N Reader]

-

He should've known you had some ulterior motive when you pulled out those handcuffs last night-

Bathed in the afterglow of your love making, Aspen snuggled up to your side fully content with having his wrist shackled to the bedframe so long as the precious seconds it would've taken to uncuff him were spent elsewhere in your arms. He knew there'd be some soreness come morning, but what he hadn't expected was the rope.

Where was this all evening?

Not too shabby with your knot typing skills either- He knew all those camping trips he dragged you alone for would be good for something. Aspen would have be more concerned, had he not found the receipt for the rope amongst the other goodies in your car while cleaning. That, and he doubts many of his rivals would go through the trouble of decorating the nightstand with his favorite flower.

Carnations... You remembered~

A gorgeous display, but Aspen had more pressing matters at had. It seemed the thrills of passion left him worn out than usual. As much as he'd love a continuation of last night's fun, if he didn't manage the house, who would? He needed to do the laundry. The garden could need some tending to as well. How could he do any of that without first preparing your-

"Breakfast!"

The bedroom door flies open as you enter. Aspen props himself up on his elbows to get a better look at the contents of the tray in your hands. A fresh stack of pancakes coupled with a small jar of honey- He always preferred over syrup with his breakfast. Was.. Was this all for him? Couldn't be- It was agreed upon on your wedding day that he'd be the one to spoil you with this type of treatment!

Aspen tugs on the chains of his restraints as you set the tray down beside him. "Darling~" He coos, the airy softness behind his voice genuine as his frustration. You should be in his spot!

"We had a deal, did we not? I cook, I clean, and you give me your undivided love and affection."

"Shh, shh-" Picking up the knife and fork, you begin cutting up the pancakes into smaller bite sized portions. "That may have been the original plan, but I'm bored of being the only one who gets to take it easy in the morning. Consider it my duty as your spouse."

You- How dare you pull that card on him! Just you wait until he gets out of this rope. He'll show you!

Aspen huffs, pointing an accusatory finger in your direction. "Soon as you untie me I'm scrubbing the kitchen top to bottom! I'll make it so clean you never want to step foot in it again and need me to prepare every meal you have from now on including snacks!

"I guess I just won't untie you then. Now hush up and eat your breakfast before it gets cold."

Upset as he may be, there's no way Aspen could refuse an act of your love.

"Yes, dear....."

[1d1195]

Neighbors Extra VII

Read Neighbors here | ~1.8k words

From me: surprise! This has been in my drafts since I finished the original storyline

Warnings: none

Summary: It's the first s'mores fire of the summer. She and Harry are in love with their little life. And Rory hates lying.

“Hey lad,” Harry said. They were sitting on the couch watching the latest Disney movie that Rory had been asking to watch. Harry paused it and Rory looked at Harry curiously. He wondered if he forgot to put his shoes away or a different chore that Mumma asked before she left to see his Auntie. “D’you remember when y’went to the hospital cause y’were sick... and we ate pancakes the next morning?”

“I remember. Mumma made chocolate milk,” he nodded.

“Right,” Harry chuckled. The real highlight of that morning it seemed. “Do y’remember me asking if I could date, Mummy?”

He thought for a moment and nodded. For Rory, that was a weird question when it was asked. But he didn’t think too much of it in itself because he was little. Also, Harry was his best friend, so he didn’t really mind because it just meant he got to play with Harry more often. “Yeah, I remember.”

Harry smiled, took a deep breath. “Do y’think you’d be okay with me marrying Mummy?”

“What’s that? Like have Christmas with Mumma?” his little brow puckered together. “We already do that Harry, silly.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. Rory was the cutest thing in the entire world. “That’s merry with an e, lad. I said marry with an a. D’you know what marry means?”

He shook his head. “I hearded it once in a movie.”

Harry smiled and looked at his hands a moment before he looked up at the now six-year-old. “I ask Mummy if she wants t’marry me and if she says yes, I have t’give Mummy a ring t’put on her finger. And then we would have a big party.”

“I like parties,” Rory smiled impishly nodding his head.

Harry laughed quietly again and nodded. “Me too. All of our friends and family would come and... well I’d be Mummy’s husband and she’d be my wife.”

Rory knew those words from kindergarten. His teacher had a husband. “Wouldn’t you be my dad, then?”

Swallowing nervously, Harry nodded. He was wondering if Rory would think about that. “Well, yeah, kind of.”

“I thought you already were,” Rory shrugged casually.

Harry chuckled. He could have cried if he wasn’t trying so hard to keep it together. “Well thanks, lad. I kind of think so too. This would make it a bit more real.”

“Would you and Mumma have another baby?”

“Maybe,” Harry smiled. He certainly hoped so.

“I think Mumma would like a girl,” he told Harry. “So then she would have someone to play with like I play with you.”

Harry smiled. “So I can marry her?”

“Does this mean you have to kiss more?” He wrinkled his nose.

“Probably.”

“I still don’t like kissing,” he grumbled.

“I know, lad. We won’t kiss that much in front of you.”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged. “You can marry her. Can we finish the movie?”

Harry pulled Rory into his arms and gave him a huge hug and kissed the top of his head. “I love you, Rory,” Harry said knowingly.

“I love you too, Harry,” he giggled.

*

“Mumma, do we have s’mores stuff?” Rory asked.

“Hmm... let me go look,” she said. “I’ll get some drinks, too. Do you want anything in particular, baby?” She asked looking at Harry.

Harry’s heart warmed at her kindness as always. “M’fine, kitten, thank you.”

“Careful around the fire, boys,” she said as she headed back for the house to look for supplies and drinks. Rory was sitting patiently by the fire while Harry kept an eye on him and the flames. Glancing toward the gate leading out toward the front he saw a single hand wave over top and then a thumbs up.

“Hey lad, d’you remember our conversation from a couple weeks ago? When I asked you if I could marry Mummy?”

He nodded watching the flames. “We’ll have a party, right?”

Harry chuckled. “Yes,” he nodded. “Would y’want t’help me ask Mummy?” He wondered.

He shrugged. “Sure!” He wasn’t doing anything at the moment. Mumma and Harry always said he was a really good helper too.

“Good,” Harry grinned. “M’gonna ask her when she comes back out. D’you think y’can give her this?” He asked, handing him a card from the back of his chair’s pocket compartment. He nodded. “Tell her y’made it at school and y’want to give it to her now,” he winked.

“That’s lying, Harry,” Rory pouted and shook his head. “Mumma doesn’t like lying.”

Shoot. Harry forgot that Rory was the sweetest little boy in the world. “You’re right. S’a little fib, I promise she’ll forgive you. This is the one time.” He wrinkled his eyebrows together and pursed his lips. Rory really wanted to help Harry. But he did not like the idea of lying to Mumma. She would get really mad. “I promise this one is okay,” Harry said again.

Rory sighed and nodded. “Okay... just this once though.”

Harry nodded and crossed over his heart. “Just this once.”

“Alright boys,” she said returning with her arms full, silencing Harry’s prep work. “I have the goods. Are we ready for the first s’mores fire of the summer?” She said wrinkling her nose so cutely as she settled the stuff on the nearby patio table. Harry glanced at the gate once more and then back to her.

“Here, love,” Harry said moving to her side and pressing a hand on her lower back. “Let me,” he smiled. “You sit,” he said pressing a kiss on the side of her head so gently she wondered what that was all about. It was just s’mores. And she liked s’mores. She was good at making them and didn’t mind in the slightest. But it was nice as always for Harry to just do things for her after so many years of having to do everything on her own. Even when he did little things like scooping Rory up from his car seat or carrying the groceries in, it just made everything so much easier for her.

She thought about the month and a half she tried avoiding Harry. It was by far the stupidest thing she had ever done, and she wondered often what would have happened if she never got over her silly fears. But fortunately, she didn’t have to worry long, because Harry was right there, making s’mores for her and Rory like he always did.

“Mumma, I made this in school,” Rory said suddenly pulling her from her thoughts. Rory looked at Harry impishly as he handed the envelope to his mum. Good thing this would be the only lie. He was a little worse for wear on the delivery.

“For me?” She smiled curiously and took the envelope in her fingers. She slid open the top.

“Uh-huh,” Rory giggled sheepishly.

Harry glanced at the gate again and then held his breath as she pulled the card from the envelope. “What’s it say, Mumma?” Rory giggled and if she hadn’t already been reading the words on the card, she would have realized Rory had no part in this little scheme.

She turned suddenly after her eyes scanned the card once and she looked at Harry with wild eyes. “Harry?” She asked nervously.

“Harry said I could lie,” Rory said quickly seeing her discomfort and was worried he would get in trouble. He didn’t like it when Mumma was mad at him. Mumma was the best and didn’t ask Rory to do anything except to not lie. “Just this once,” he promised.

“That’s okay, love bug,” she said softly barely looking at him as she did. Relieved that he wasn’t going to upset Mumma, Rory sat back in his chair and waited for Harry to do whatever it was that he wanted to do.

For once, she ignored Rory. Her eyes stayed on Harry as she felt her heart nearly beat out of her ribs. “What does it say, beautiful?” Harry smiled. His eyes were so gentle.

“It says ‘Life is s’more fun with you, will you spend the rest of it with me?’” She read carefully.

Harry bit his lip. “It is s’more fun with you,” he repeated, and he moved in front of her chair and knelt between the fire and her. “Will you marry me?” It was amazing Harry could be so hopelessly in love with her and have her still be so surprised that she was deserving of love that was so all encompassing, Harry sometimes wondered how he could stay upright.

“Really?” She whispered breathlessly and her eyes darted to Rory so briefly, but Harry still caught it.

Harry chuckled. “Yes, really, you silly, sweet thing,” he rolled his eyes. “M’horribly in love with you and would like t’spend the rest of our lives together,” he repeated. “Please marry me?” He repeated.

“Are you sure?”

“Jesus Christ, just say yes!” Her sister’s voice distinctly called from the front gate.

“You brought my sister here?” She asked with a teary giggle.

“Auntie?!” Rory shouted and ran for the gate.

“Um... I brought everyone... I really anticipated you saying ‘yes’ a lot quicker than this,” he chuckled awkwardly. Rory opened the gate, and the entourage of people Harry invited came through the gate. Her eyes lifted to look at them so briefly she barely saw who was in attendance. Her eyes returned to Harry knelt before her waiting expectantly for her answer. “I’ll beg if you want,” he said softly with a grin.

“Mumma, look! Grandma’s here!”

She smiled and waved to her mom standing beside Anne and Gemma who were watching with such happy smiles. “You really want to marry me?” She asked softly. As if no one was in the backyard except her and Harry.

“Very badly,” he nodded, and he pulled the box from his pocket. “Maybe this will help,” he smiled gently. The diamond glittered in the sun so beautifully. Harry was wonderful. He always was and this was no exception. But she closed the box quickly as she answered.

“I’d marry you without it,” she whispered.

He chuckled, shook his head at her. “So that’s a yes?” Harry had never felt so happy. He didn’t think she would say no, but he knew she could convince herself she didn’t deserve happiness if he gave her enough time.

“God, yes,” she nodded and giggled excitedly. She leaned forward as Harry moved toward her as well and kissed her sweetly on the lips.

“You said no kissing!” Rory called.

She laughed against his lips, ignoring her son’s protest and continued kissing Harry. “I’ll love you forever,” she promised.

Harry grinned, nodded, and kissed her again as he mumbled against her lips. “And then some.”

--

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neighbors taglist: @mopeymousey @vmpellie

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[kcrossvine-art]

G'morning all! Its nice to get back things,. Theres been some roadblocks with med shortages and life, and also with the material for these recipes. So far we've covered a lot of pastries, not because theyre mentioned more often in the series, but because being mentioned lends them more specificity in flavor than things like gravy, peas, or various meats. The latter can be prepped, seasoned, and served in so many different ways that it feels harder to make them 'faithfully' because a packet of instant potato mash is just as faithful as a pot of buttered potato mash. Baked goods tend towards 1, maybe 2, 'base' recipes that get altered and added to. 

 Today, we'll be making Beorn's Honey Cakes! A dish from one of my partners favorite characters- a delectable little treat befitting the… warm personality of the character.

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to Beorn's Honey Cakes?” YOU MIGHT ASKSimple stuff! Simple sweet stuff!

All-purpose flour

Baking powder

Salt

Ground nutmeg

Unsalted butter

Whole milk

2 eggs

Honey

Vanilla extract

The veins of honey cakes ancestry can be traced back to any moment where people began baking bread. Honey is a natural preservative, and sweeter still on its lonesome.

AND, “what does Beorn's Honey Cakes taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKLike your aching muscles repairing themselves

Tastes like a honey graham cracker

But the texture is softer, wetter- somewhat like banana bread

Oh, and this will make your house smell So So Good

If you can resist the temptation of eating them immediately, they taste even richer the day after baking

Would pair well with milk green tea

Would also pair well with fresh orange slices (or those chocolate 'orange slices' candy)

Genuinely don't forget to flip them upside down when they go to bake the second time, not sure what it is but i was curious and did a test where i flipped half of the batch upside down and kept the other half of the batch right-side up like they cooked in the muffin tin. The ones i flipped upside down universally had a more consistent texture and the honey was able to permeate further.

.where honey called for, used clover honey

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

From start to finish this recipe takes about an hour of work, give or take some negligible time for prep.

The batter is perhaps the babybird of all cake batters. The gloopy, protruding crumbs of butter, not unlike a squabs beady pupils visibly dark under its skin, break up the mass of sickly smooth and reassuringly sweet-smelling oak-colored liquid. You can feel the confusion of bees outside your home, wondering if this your attempt at making royal jelly.

Just like a babybird, it becomes more than the sum of its parts. Layer on that honey drizzle, layer it on thick, theres no risk of drowning subtle flavors. Its crisp edges will keep its form, springy and warm, inviting you as if you're not the one who crafted it (food you didn't cook always tastes better). The bees are sooooooooooooooo jealous of your opposable thumbs and muscular strength.

If you dont have eggs you could try substituting with apple mash. I can't vouch for it in this recipe but replacing eggs with mashed up apples for pancakes gives it adds a nice fruity flavor without changing the texture, and in theory should work here as well.

I give this recipe a solid 10/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) 

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

270 grams all-purpose flour

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 tsp freshly ground nutmeg

1 stick unsalted butter

160 grams milk

2 eggs

110 grams your favorite honey

1 tsp vanilla extract

Muffin tray and parchment paper

Method:

Preheat oven to 350f

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt, and nutmeg.

 Add the butter and rub it into the flour with your fingers until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. 

In a small bowl beat the eggs until just combined. Pour in milk and then vanilla extract while stirring.  Keep stirring vigorously while slowly pouring in honey.

Stir until the mixture is consistent in color.

Pour the liquids over the dry mixture and stir until just combined.

Pour the batter into a greased muffin tray, don't use any muffin paper/lining/cups.

Bake for 16 minutes, or until they reach their full height.

Carefully remove from the muffin pan and place the muffins upside down on a parchment lined tray.

Using a silicone pastry brush, generously cover the tops of the cakes with honey. Allow to sit for about 5 minutes to let the honey soak into the cakes.

Bake for an additional 8-10 minutes, or until the cakes are golden brown.

Remove from the oven and allow to cool.

[stevie-petey]

episode five: the nina project

His confusion is adorable and you can’t help but press yet another kiss to his nose. “Wake up, honey.” “Five more minutes?” “Nancy seemed pretty alarmed–oof!” Steve’s arms wrap around you and pull you into his chest. He’s overly warm from sleep, his cologne is faint, but still it feels like home.  Steve nestles against you and sighs, content. “Much better.”

Summary: you and dustin steal pancakes to spite ted wheeler, steve just wants one morning of peace, nancy takes you to a haunted house, cobwebs are surprisingly intimate to remove from someone, and vecna decides to play flashlight tag with everyone. hes so sweet :)

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: mentions of blood, panic attack, , swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 7.2k

Before you swing in: hey gang ! i present chapter 5, aka my least favorite ep of season 4 </3 however, she was very fun to write and i enjoyed twisting some scenes together ;) enjoy, thank yall for waitin !

–

“Hey, bee.”

The line is quiet.

You sound tired, you know Jonathan will hear the exhaustion in your voice, and he’ll worry. 

“I, uh. I miss you.” And you do. 

You’re in the Wheeler’s kitchen, Nancy and the others are down in the basement, trying to pretend that tonight they’ll fall asleep. The reality is that you’re all too afraid to fall asleep. The terror of what could happen in the dark ensures this. 

Steve sits on the counter across from you. He stares down at his hands, picks at his nails. He doesn’t want to be here, he doesn’t want to hear whatever you have to tell Jonathan. When you demanded to call him, Steve had originally denied you. He didn’t understand why you’d want to talk to him or why you’d risk not having your walkman on after what happened with Max. 

But then you’d broken down into tears and Steve gave in.

“Listen, I know we haven’t talked in a while.” To think that four days without hearing Jonathan’s voice is now considered a while saddens you. For years you couldn’t go more than a few hours without his voice. “But, um. It’s been… it’s been awful, without you.”

I could die tomorrow and I can’t remember what your hand felt like within mine.

A tear falls down your face and you wipe it away. You’re so tired of crying. “I don’t… I don’t know how much you remember, the last time we spoke. I just-I’ve had the worst week of my life and I could really use your voice right now.”

Jonathan is still the one you run to. He always will be. 

The line remains quiet. 

“Please, can you just… call me? I–” breath catching in your throat, you choke on the words that simmer on your tongue. “I’m really scared, bee.” 

This is the first time you’ve ever spoken the words out loud. They’re whispered, they come out hushed, as if afraid someone will overhear and call you weak. 

The voicemail line beeps, indicating that you’ve used up all your time to record the message. Numb, you place the phone against the wall. 

Steve looks up, sensing the conversation as drawn to a close. He stands up and wraps you in his arms. You’re cold to the touch. It unnerves him. You’ve always been so warm, so full of heat. “Did he… what did Jonathan say?”

Your head drops against his chest. “He didn’t answer. Voicemail.”

“Oh.”

The silence drags on a painfully long time. You reside in Steve’s arms, seeking comfort in whatever touch you allow from him. Your headphones, which rest against your neck, dig into Steve’s uncomfortably. Clearing his throat, he taps them with his finger. “Music?”

You nod, too tired to fight him. Ever since the cemetery, Steve and Dustin have insisted that you never take your headphones off. Music is what saved Max; they’re convinced they can keep you out of harm’s reach if you listen to your favorite song as well. 

“The tape, please?” You mumble softly to Steve, slowly lifting your arm to point to the kitchen table.

Understanding what you’re asking, he quickly lets go of you to retrieve it. Grabbing the old tape, his fingers find your walkman buried in your pocket. Steve puts the tape inside, eyes skimming over the writing that resides on it.

For bug.

“Will you ever tell Nancy?” He finds himself asking, unaware that the question had even been on his mind. 

It was only days ago that Steve’s biggest problem had been Jonathan’s vague question of “what if”. Now he stands in Nancy’s kitchen, cradling your body, wondering just how many more hours he has left with you. 

You rub your head tiredly. “I will, it’s just…”

I could be dead by tomorrow.

The words go unsaid, hanging in the air between you and Steve.

He stares down at you. Guilt twists in his chest. He’s caught between you and Nancy, between saving you and sparing you. A strand of hair falls in your eyes. Steve brushes it aside, his cracked lips press against your forehead. 

“Hey,” Lucas stands awkwardly by the kitchen counter. He looks between you and Steve, a sad, yet nervous look in his eyes. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Max told me to come get you, Y/N.”

“Is everything okay?” You ask worriedly, stepping out of Steve’s arms. 

Lucas sees your worry and immediately raises his hands. “She’s fine, she’s just five seconds away from murdering Dustin. He keeps trying to turn her music all the way up and it’s hurting her ears.”

A ghost of a smile crosses your face. In his own, albeit flawed way, Dustin is trying to show how much he cares for you and Max. “I’ll talk to him.”

While Lucas nods with relief, you kiss Steve’s cheek and wish him a soft goodbye. The two boys are left alone in the kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler have long since gone to bed. Holly, too. 

Steve clears his throat. Lucas hasn’t left yet, and Steve doesn’t really know what to do. It’s been an exhausting few days. All he wants to focus on right now is you; already your absence makes his body weak. 

“How do you do it?” Lucas is so quiet that Steve almost doesn’t hear him at first. 

“What?”

“How do you do it?” Lucas asks again, this time with more urgency in his voice. He’s looking at Steve, his body stoic. There are tears in his eyes, though Steve doesn’t say anything. “How can you love Y/N and not want her to die?”

The question stuns Steve. 

Lucas stares up at him and for a moment he looks like the twelve year old kid he met all those years ago. Only now he’s fifteen, taller than ever before, and he’s experienced more loss than any kid ever should. 

Steve forgets, sometimes. How young they all are.

He sighs. “Look, Lucas–”

“I don’t think I can do it.” The boy leans against the counter, his entire body weight threatens to collapse. “I just, I love Max so much. And seeing her today… she almost-she almost–”

Lucas inhales suddenly. He doesn’t allow himself to cry, he doesn’t want Max to see the tear stains later. He shakes his head, instead. “What do you do, when the person you live for is already set on dying?”

Steve wants to tell him that you and Max aren’t dying. He wants to tell the teen that they’ve faced worse monsters than Vecna. They’ve escaped Russian lairs and navigated tunnels rooted with poisonous particles. They saved Will, closed a gate that was an endless abyss. 

But none of it amounts to the loss they’d feel if you and Max died; Lucas is the only one who truly understands this. 

So Steve doesn’t lie to him. 

Instead, he says, “You hold their hand.”

And that’s all they can do. 

–

Everyone takes turns watching over you and Max that night. It was Nancy’s idea, one you were entirely against. 

“Max is the one who had the vision, I don’t need you guys–”

“Shut up, Y/N.” 

The argument was over before it even really began. Dustin had shoved your headphones back on and turned the volume so high that you nearly winced. Steve laughed before dragging you over to the couch and forcing you to lay with him. 

“I’ll be first watch for Y/N.”

Robin had rolled her eyes. “I know death is like, totally evident. But you disgust me.”

Soft laughter rippled through everyone, but soon the shadows fell and night took over. Despite your protesting and insistence that the Beatles would keep you up all night, you somehow fall asleep against Steve’s chest. 

It’s the first time you’ve slept through the night in weeks.

– 

You wake up to Nancy shouting at Dustin.

“Then where is she?” She exclaims, shaking his shoulders.

Still half asleep, it takes you a few moments to understand what’s going on. “Where’s who?” You ask through a yawn, rubbing your eyes. 

“Max!” Nancy glares at your brother. “She isn’t down here, Dustin was supposed to keep watch.”

Your heart stops. Immediately you sit up, ignoring Steve’s groaning as you forcefully shove against his chest to stand. Even though you roughly pull from his grasp, he’s back asleep in seconds. “What do you mean she isn’t here?”

“I swear I just dozed off for like…” Dustin looks down at his watch, worried and guilty, and his face pales when he realizes what he’s done. “An hour.”

“Dustin!” You screech, now panicking as well. Before he can say anything else, you’re already running up the steps to find Max. Nancy follows close behind. “I swear to God, if she’s hurt–”

Max sits at the dining room table, head down with her headphones on. You and Nancy let out heavy sighs of relief while Dustin rolls his eyes in annoyance. 

Mrs. Wheeler greets you in the kitchen. “Good morning, guys!” When she notices you holding your chest, she frowns slightly. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Nancy breathes out, her own nerves finally settling. “Everything’s… okay.”

“Very okay.” You chime in, forcing a happy smile on your face. Pointing to the pancakes on the stove, you hum with gratitude. “Especially now that I know you’ve made your famous pancakes, Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Aw, you’re very kind, Y/N.” The woman gushes. She grabs a plate and starts piling the pancakes on. “Here, take as many as you’d like. You know, I think it’s sweet that you guys are sticking together like this.”

Mr. Wheeler flicks his newspaper with a huff. “Could try sticking together at a different house for a change.”

Nancy ignores her father and walks towards where Max is sitting. You and Dustin share a look, both of you despise the man. Shoving a pancake into your mouth, you moan dramatically. “But where else would I get such fantastic food, Ted?”

He glares at you while Mrs. Wheeler chuckles. “You know you kids are welcomed here anytime.”

“Totally, you’re like family.” Dustin smiles kindly at her before pointing to the remaining, untouched pancakes. “May I?”

Mrs. Wheeler readily offers your brother a plate and he eagerly starts stacking as much as food as he can. You grab a few more pancakes for yourself; they’ve always been your favorite. Mr. Wheeler notices you grabbing more and he narrows his eyes. “Yeah, why not? Take us for all we’re worth.”

“You heard the man.” You nod at Dustin, catching his eye.

Understanding immediately, your brother smiles even wider. “Okay!” 

Together, the two of you grab the remaining stack of pancakes and throw them onto your plates. Mr. Wheeler watches in disdain, his coffee cup raised just before his mouth. Seeing the mug, you gasp. “Oh! Mrs. Wheeler, could I possibly bother you for some coffee as well? I know Mr. Wheeler really values his expensive roast, but with everything happening this week…”

You stare up at the woman, eyes wide and innocent. Mrs. Wheeler places a hand against her heart and coos at you. “Oh, of course you can have some of Ted’s coffee, honey. Let me fix it right up for you.”

“You’re too kind.” You thank her, shoving yet another pancake into your mouth. Speaking through the food, you turn to her husband. “Thanks, Ted!”

Dustin snickers while the man clenches his jaw. Satisfied, you make your way over to the table and join Max and Nancy. 

“Holly let me borrow some of her crayons.” Max explains as you sit down. There are papers scattered all over the table. “We’ve been having fun all morning, right, Holly?”

The young girl hums in agreement, not looking up from her Lite Brite. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hey, Holly.” You pinch her cheek, causing her to giggle. It’s rare to see Holly outside of the Wheeler house. You’ve babysat her a few times over the years, and she enjoys the cookies you make, but your interactions have always been limited. She seems to like you though, which pleases you. “Can I draw as well?”

Holly nods enthusiastically and quickly hands you a crayon and paper. “Here!”

“Thank you,” you accept the blue crayon and start to doodle something, keeping the girl distracted. As she colors with you, you finally look at the drawings that litter the table.

When your eyes land on them, you forget how to breathe for a moment. They’re horrible, filled with blood red. Ruined landscapes surround bodies wrapped in vines. The figures are twisted, disjointed. 

“You drew these, Max?” The thought terrifies you. 

“Is this what you saw last night?” Nancy asks softly, her expression mirrors your horrified one. 

Max shifts uncomfortably. “It’s supposed to be. I, uh. Thought it’d be easier to draw it out than to explain it, but… not so much.”

“I’m so sorry,” you breathe out, reaching across the table to grab her hand. 

Nancy touches one of the drawings, this one depicting Fred’s and Chrissy’s corpses. “Is that…?”

“It was like they were on display or something.”

You nearly gag. “Oh, my God.”

Max doesn’t look at you. “And then there was this red fog everywhere. It was like a dream. A nightmare.”

Nancy asks if Vecna could just be trying to scare her, but Max doesn’t seem sure. She explains how he originally used Billy, but last night felt different. “He seemed surprised, almost. Like he didn’t want me there.”

You frown at this. “Then that would mean Fred and Chrissy never made it to wherever you were. That Vecna didn’t take them there.”

“Maybe you infiltrated his mind.” Dustin offers as an explanation, now joining at the table. “He invaded your mind, right? Is it that big of a leap to suggest you somehow wound up in his?”

“It makes sense,” you bite your lip, abandoning the drawing you were working on with Holly. 

“Like Freddie Krueger’s boiler room.” Dustin adds, oddly excited about the idea. When Holly doesn’t understand the reference, your brother readily explains. “He’s a super burned-up dude with razors for fingers.”

“Dustin,” you try to get his attention, worried he’ll frighten the kid.

But of course he continues. “And he kills you in your dreams–”

“Dustin.” It takes smacking his head to finally shut him up. He yelps in pain, cowering, but you glare at him. “You’re such an idiot sometimes.”

“She wanted to know about Freddie Krueger!”

“She’s a kid.”

“But–”

You hit Dustin’s shoulder this time. “Apologize and tell Holly that Freddie Krueger isn’t real.”

After begrudgingly apologizing to Holly and explaining that it’s all just a movie, Dustin adjusts his hat and continues the conversation from earlier. “Anyways, just think about it. What if Max somehow unlocked a backdoor to Vecna’s world?”

“You mean, like another gate?” You’re so tired of goddamn gates.

Dustin shrugs. “Possibly? Who knows, maybe the answer we’re looking for is somewhere in this incredibly vague drawing.” He stares down at the picture he’s picked up and scowls. “God, we need Will.”

“For his artistic abilities or his connection to the Upside Down?” You ask, looking around the table. “Because either way, I agree.”

Max shakes her head, annoyed. “I tried calling them again this morning, but it’s the same busy signal.”

“I wasn’t able to get through last night, either.” You admit, watching with slight curiosity as Nancy starts compiling all the drawings. “Anything catching your eye, Wheeler?”

“Is this a window?” She asks Max, who quickly says yes. “Stained glass with roses?”

Max perks up. “Yeah. See? I’m not so terrible after all.”

Sipping your coffee, you wave the mug at her, unconvinced. “Your composition could use some work.”

She glares at you, but Nancy doesn’t pay attention to any of it. Instead, she starts sorting through the drawings with vigor. “Well, it helps that I’ve seen it before.”

Before anyone can question what she means, Nancy starts folding pieces together and arranging them. At first you’re confused. You don’t understand what she’s trying to do. But as the pieces start to take shape and you recognize what she’s doing, you drop your crayon in shock.

“It’s pieces of a house.” Max realizes as well.

“Holy shit…”

Nancy grabs a marker and outlines the house’s shape. She fills in the windows, adds details that she shouldn’t know about. “Not just any house.” 

She folds another drawing, careful with its edges. The drawing becomes a clock, its center the rose stained glass. Nancy drops the folded up grandfather clock in the center of the house she’s created. It lands with a quiet, yet final, thud.

Seeing the house unnerves you, and you shiver slightly. Nancy notices your unease and her eyes soften with dread. “It’s Victor Creel’s house.”

You suck in a breath and Nancy is already leaving the table. Dustin looks at you, confused, before calling out to her. “Where’re you going?”

“To wake the others.”

“I just wanted pancakes,” you mumble sadly, quickly shoving the breakfast aside so that you can follow after Nancy. 

She’s already shaking Lucas awake by the time you catch up. Robin is slouched against the coffee table and you take pity on her. Nudging her softly, you ease her awake. “Hey, rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

“Why does my neck hurt?” She groans, eyes still closed.

You laugh. “Because you decided to sleep against a table, dummy.”

“Why’d you let me do that?”

“Blame Steve, not me.” You kiss her forehead, leaving her to wake up more on her own. Nancy has finally managed to rouse Lucas, so you turn to where Steve still sleeps soundly on the couch. He looks so young when he sleeps. His delicate features aren’t clouded by the worry he always seems to carry with him.

The morning sun seeps through the only window in the basement and basks against Steve’s face. He’s a warm honey-orange in the glow, and your chest constricts in a sickly sweet way that you’ve come to love. Walking over to him slowly, you press yourself against him and litter kisses across his face.

Steve scrunches his nose, surprised by your sudden body heat. “Y/N?”

“Nancy may have connected Victor Creel and Vecna.” You tell him in lieu of good morning. 

He opens his eyes, blinking a few times as he yawns. You don’t think he’s heard you, he’s never been a morning person. “What…?”

His confusion is adorable and you can’t help but press yet another kiss to his nose. “Wake up, honey.”

“Five more minutes?”

“Nancy seemed pretty alarmed–oof!” Steve’s arms wrap around you and pull you into his chest. He’s overly warm from sleep, his cologne is faint, but still it feels like home. 

Steve nestles against you and sighs, content. “Much better.”

You know that Nancy will be upset you’re taking so long, you know you should be next to Max, making sure her headphones are on, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away from Steve. You know you’ve asked so much from him lately; expected more from Steve than you know he’s willing to give you. And so, for now, you indulge him, risking a kiss before the others see.

Steve kisses you back; he always kisses you back. His lips move against yours, languid and slow, and for a moment everything is okay again between you.

– 

“Nancy, you know I trust your judgment,” you poke your head through the trunk’s gap and find the girl’s eyes in the rearview mirror. You’re in the back of the car with Steve and Dustin while Nancy drives. “But do we really have to do this?”

“It’s the only way we’ll get answers.” She sighs, although she also looks uneasy as her car comes to a stop. Nancy parks and everyone silently gets out. 

In front of you is an old, dilapidated house. Its shutters are boarded up, the blue paint has long since chipped away and rusted over. The yard before it is a mess; weeds grow everywhere and old debris litters the green. No one has touched this house in years, maybe even decades.

“The Creel house,” you murmur to yourself. The wind around you picks up, a chill hangs in the air. Every nerve inside your body stands on edge, screaming at you to run away. There’s something ominous, dangerous even, about this house. 

You don’t like any part of this.

“Yeah, that’s not creepy.” Steve voices what everyone is thinking.

Max sees your discomfort and she nudges you softly. “Hey, it’s just a stupid house.”

Shame washes over you. Max shouldn’t be the one offering comfort. It should be you reassuring her, not the other way around. Swallowing thickly, you nod at the girl before following the others. 

When you get closer to the house, it becomes clear that you’ll have to break in. A padlock rests against the boarded up door. Nails are rusted into its wood, sealing the horrors within the house. Steve groans. “Oh, joy.”

“I brought hammers, we can try to pry the nails out.” Nancy says, as if it’s perfectly normal to bring hammers with you to a haunted house.

“Of course you brought hammers.”

Nancy ignores you and runs back to the car, quickly returning with the tools. She hands one to Steve, who wastes no time digging into the nails and pulling them out of the wood. Nancy joins him, but it’s an achingly slow process.

“What exactly are we supposed to be looking for in this shithole?” Steve grunts, pulling off yet another nail.

“We’re not sure,” Nancy admits, wincing slightly at a particularly difficult nail. “We just know this house is important to Vecna.”

“Sure, so let’s bring Max and Y/N to a place from Vecna’s red soup mind world.”

You flick Steve’s head, sending Nancy an apologetic frown. “He’s just upset he couldn’t sleep in today.”

“Maybe the house holds a clue to where Vecna is.” Dustin suggests. “Why he’s back, why he killed the Creels. And how to stop him before he comes back for Max, or before he tries to go after Y/N.”

“We’re stopping him before he comes back for Max.” You remind everyone, an edge in your voice.

The group is quiet for a moment. Steve and Nancy share a concerned look with one another, something unspoken passes between them. The look upsets you, but you don’t have time to care. Eventually the silence becomes too much for Lucas, and he hesitantly asks if anyone thinks Vecna is actually inside the house.

“Guess we’ll find out.” Max says, looking at you briefly. The last nail falls, and together Steve and Nancy pull the board off the doorframe. It lands with a loud thud on the porch, sending fallen leaves and dirt into the air. 

You cough. “Christ.”

“Sorry, angel.” Steve looks remorseful, but you wave him off. He faces the door and twists the knob. It doesn’t budge. “Should I knock, see if anybody’s home?”

“No need,” Robin calls out, and it’s only then that you realize she’s no longer beside you but rather halfway in the front yard. She’s holding up a brick, a wicked smile on her face. “I found a key.”

“Oh dear God.” Your eyes widen. Steve tugs at your jacket as soon as Robin throws the brick. You fall against his chest, heart pounding. The stained glass shatters. Poking your head through the broken glass, you breathe out. “Nice, Robin.”

She bows. “I try.”

Steve gently pushes you aside so that he can reach his arm through the hole. He’s careful not to touch the jagged edges of the glass. Finding the knob on the other side, he twists it roughly, unlocking the door.

He’s the first to go in, and he lets out a low whistle. “Jesus.”

You follow after him, turning your flashlight on in the process. The stench of mildew is what you notice first. It’s poignant, intermixed with the scent of dust and discarded furniture. The house is filthy, covered in cobwebs; it’s practically frozen in time. 

Lucas tries to turn a light on, but it’s useless. Everyone turns their flashlights on, and Steve looks around, bewildered. “Where’d everyone get those?”

Dustin turns to him and lets out a surprised huff when he realizes Steve doesn’t have anything in his hands. “Do you need to be told everything? You’re not a child.”

Steve stares at him and you roughly hit your brother’s chest. He can be such a jerk sometimes, you don’t understand where this shift has come from. “Don’t be such an asshole.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Steve accepts the spare flashlight you hand him while Dustin rubs the spot where you hit him, tossing his bag to the ground. 

You walk deeper into the house, scanning your flashlight over the furniture strewn throughout. Draped cloth covers them. A mirror stands before you, its frame a rusted gold. You find a girl in its reflection, and for a moment you almost don’t recognize that it’s you. 

“Hey, guys?” Max calls out to everyone, catching your attention. She’s standing in front of something, an uneasy look on her face. “You all see that, right?”

She’s pointing her flashlight at a grandfather clock. You stumble back when you see it, breath catching. The bones in your body scream at you to run away. “Is that…?”

You can’t bring yourself to finish the question, but Max understands anyways. She nods, eyes never leaving the grandfather clock, silently confirming that it’s the one she saw in her vision. 

“I don’t like this.” You turn to the group. None of you should be here, you had no right to enter the abandoned house. 

“C’mon, Y/N. I mean, it’s just a clock, right?” Robin shrugs half-heartedly. Before you can stop her, she steps closer to it and wipes her hand against its glass. Dust smears away. “Just an old clock.”

Steve isn’t convinced. “Why is this wizard obsessed with clocks?”

“Please don’t call him a wizard.” If you’re going to die, you’d rather it be at the hand of some dangerous, other dimensional creature. Not a wizard. 

“Sorry, but what if he’s like, I don’t know. A clockmaker or something?” 

Dustin breathes heavily through his nose. “I think you cracked the case, Steve.”

“All I know is that the answers are here.” Nancy looks around, not sounding as convincing as she’d like. “Somewhere.”

“You really want us to stay here?” You ask her, slight resentment in your voice. You trust Nancy, you always have, but something feels wrong about all of this. There’s this voice, screaming in your head, to get out. To leave, never return; the voice won’t leave, and you’re afraid it’ll rip your skull to pieces soon. 

Nancy offers you a reassuring smile. She understands your fear, that she’s asking a lot from you and Max right now. She’s placed you in the heart of the monster that wants you to die. “Everyone will stick together, no one will be alone. We’ll stay in groups. I promise.”

“But–”

“Robin, upstairs.” Nancy instructs, pointing towards the steps for the girl to follow her. They’re gone in seconds, already off on their own adventure yet again. Your throat feels gummy with fear. 

Max grabs Lucas’ hand and rushes off without another word. Steve and Dustin are left with you. They exchange words, bickering about something, though you don’t process what they’re saying. They wander off somewhere, unaware that you’re lost in your panic. Breath spiking rapidly, your muscles tense together, prepared to run. You need to leave. This isn’t safe. You’re going to die.

Light headed, you blindly fall against the stairs behind you. You’re struggling to breathe, the room spins. Desperate, your head falls towards your knees. Curling into yourself, you try to steady your breathing. You think you’re having a panic attack.

In through your nose. 

Out through your mouth. 

Except your breath gets stuck in your throat and blood drips from your nose. Frantic, you harshly wipe at your face, smearing the blood even more. 

Your first nosebleed. Another one of the symptoms. No one can know about this. 

The grandfather clock looms over you; it taunts you. 

“Hey, Dustin. You there?” A voice breaks through your panicked haze. “Remember me?”

They’re familiar. You know the person, you know you do. Carefully, you lift your head up. Looking around, you try to find the source of the voice. 

“Hey, if anyone’s there, I really think I might be in a bit of trouble here.”

It’s Dustin’s bag. 

“Wheeler? Anybody?”

“Eddie?” You rasp, barely able to pronounce his name. Your mouth is numb, your body still stuck in its terrified state. You have to press the walkie close to your lips, too weak to say anything else. 

“Henderson?” While Eddie is relieved someone answered him, he’s surprised that it’d been you. “Can you-can you get your brother? I’m kinda in deep shit.”

Your stomach twists at the anxiety in his voice. “He’s not with me.”

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Jason–” Static comes through, cutting off whatever Eddie is trying to tell you. “They-it’s not–”

The static intensifies. You hit the walkie, frustrated. “Hello?”

“–Boat and I think–” Eddie cuts in and out in a dizzying manner. “Here, and they’re–holes!”

“Holes?” None of what he’s saying makes any sense. “Boats? Are you-are you trying to tell me that there are holes in the boat?”

“No!” Eddie screeches, but then the broadcast goes out completely. 

You stare down at the walkie, brows knit together in confusion. “What the fuck?” 

But Eddie doesn’t respond. It’s quiet again. 

With a huff, you toss the walkie back into Dustin’s bag and sling it over your shoulder. At the very least, the bizarre conversation with Eddie was enough to pull you out of whatever spiral you’d been in. Steve and Dustin will be looking for you soon, probably even send out a search party if you don’t follow them upstairs. 

“‘The world is full of obvious things,’” Dustin’s horrible British accent greets you when you finally find him upstairs. He’s standing with Steve in a random room, though the older teen doesn’t look particularly pleased. “‘Which nobody by any chance ever observes.’”

Steve looks at your brother as if he’s grown a second head. You lean against the doorway, smiling slightly. “It’s a Sherlock Holmes quote, Steve.”

Both boys whip their heads around to face you. Dustin looks shocked, while Steve looks like he’s seconds away from strangling you. “Were you-were you alone?”

“Dude, how could you?” Dustin shoves his chest, already blaming him for abandoning you. “You know we can’t just leave her alone, she’s practically patient zero!” 

Steve slaps Dustin’s hands away and reels back to yell at him, but you step between them. “Okay, first of all, I’m cursed. Not infectious. Second of all, you both wandered off without me, but I’m not a goddamn child. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, but–”

You hold up your walkman up to Dustin’s face, shutting him up. “I also have this, in case you two idiots forgot.” 

“That’s great,” Steve responds sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “That’s real great. Totally reassuring that your life rests in a walkman.”

“Take it or leave it, Harrington.”

“Actually, can we go back to you knowing Sherlock Holmes? I’m dating a nerd. That can’t be good for my image.”

Dustin snorts. He pats Steve’s chest, already walking away. “Yeah, okay, buddy. Your ‘image’.” 

Steve scoffs at him and you pull the two boys away. “Stop being annoying, we’re supposed to be looking for clues or whatever the hell Nancy told us to do.”

No one argues, and the three of you split up. Dustin wanders towards one side of the room, you make sure to keep an eye on him as he looks around. You go with Steve, following him to the other side. 

A vent catches Steve’s eye. He nods towards it, alerting you of it as well. You shrug, indifferent. He bends down, opening it to reveal a collection of jars with twigs and debris inside. You make a face. “Gross.”

Steve reaches inside, picking up one of the jars. He brings it closer, aiming his flashlight to illuminate its contents. When the light reveals dead spiders inside, your heart lurches fearfully. You’re fucking terrified of spiders. 

And then, naturally, one begins crawling up Steve’s arm.

You scream, your fear alerting him of the insect. Steve drops the jar and quickly swats at his shoulder, stumbling backwards. He’s freaking out, so are you. You’re hitting his shoulder as you scream, stuck between wanting to help him and wanting to leave him for dead. 

“Stop!” You screech, falling backwards as well.

Steve doesn’t hear you, breaking through the doorway, before the two of you collide into another body. “Woah!” 

Nancy’s arm steadies you, concern etches her face. “What’s wrong?” 

“There was a spider,” Steve speaks for you, panting. He knows your fear of the creature. He brushes at his jacket, as if he can still feel it crawling upon him. “It was a black widow.”

Your heartbeat is in your chest. Looking at the door you crashed through, you topple forward and slam it shut. “Fuck this room.”

“That bad, huh?” Nancy can’t hide her laugh. She feels bad that you had to experience a black widow, but your almost childish reaction amuses her. 

“Fuck spiders.” Is all you can say. 

Nancy starts to laugh again, but stops mid-way. “Oh, oh no.” Her hand reaches towards Steve, her fingers find his hair. 

Steve flinches away, both from shock that she’s even touching him and from the idea that there’s something residing in his hair. “Is there something? Shit, okay.” He instinctively moves towards you, freaking out, but Nancy gently chides him. 

“Stop moving, come here.” She stands behind him now, her fingers still in his hair. Softly tussling the strands, you watch as she gently plucks a cobweb. “I got it.”

It’s the way her voice softens when she speaks to Steve, the delicate way her fingers course through his hair as if she’s always done this. You suppose, in a way, that the delicacy comes from practiced ease. She used to do it all the time. 

Unable to stop yourself, you raise your eyebrows. Something twinges in your chest. An icey, red hot feeling that you despise. 

Nancy must sense that she’s upset you, because she awkwardly clears her throat and snatches her hand away. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles, fearful she’s crossed a line.

Steve steps away, already back by your side.

“If there’s a spider in Steve’s hair, you’re never gonna find it until it lays eggs and the babies spill out.” Robin suddenly appears, cackling at her own joke. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Steve hisses at her, patting his head, now slightly paranoid. 

Robin leaves just as suddenly as she arrived, her laughter echoing in the hallway. Steve looks at you, and you merely shrug. “It’s Robin, what can you expect?”

“She’s got problems.” He huffs. When Nancy agrees, Steve jumps at the opportunity to lessen the iciness he feels between you and her. He wishes things were how they used to be, back before feelings complicated everything. “It’s, uh. Cool that you and Robin are friends now.”

Nancy doesn’t say anything, and you busy yourself with running your hands over the expanse of Steve’s back. You do it because you’re worried Nancy may have missed a few cobwebs, though a part of you knows that you also do it to show her that you can. That Steve allows your touch, leans into it. 

“Maybe after we find Vecna, kill him, save the world and stuff, maybe we can all go out or something?” Steve knows it’ll never happen, but he still says it anyways. It’s his way of extending friendship to Nancy, proving to her that there aren’t any hard feelings. “A long overdue double date, you know? You, me, Y/N, and Jonathan when he’s back.”

Jonathan’s name slips from Steve’s mouth before he can stop it. He knows he’s made a mistake.

You look away from him, the guilt of remembering Jonathan’s words. His dangerous reminiscing, how you still haven’t told Nancy.

And Nancy looks away because she’s reminded of her problems with Jonathan. The distance that has grown between them. How it feels like they haven’t been on the same page for a long, long time now. 

“I’d-I’d like that.” You finally say, the words bitter.

Nancy nods, her own uncomfortable expression mirroring yours. “Yeah, totally.”

Neither of you sound convincing. Neither one of you can look the other in the eye. You can’t bear to look at Nancy because of the overwhelming guilt. Nancy can’t bear to look at you because you’re Jonathan’s best friend. 

“We can bring Robin on the date!” Steve is desperate to break the tension. He hates it, he hates that Jonathan has created a chasm that he can’t cross. “I’m sure she’d love to join.”

Thankfully Nancy laughs. “Why would she want to third wheel?”

“Who says Robin would be the third wheel?” You say, relieved by the change in topic. “She’d be my date, obviously. Steve would be the third wheel.”

“Obviously.” Steve rolls his eyes, though there’s fondness in his voice that Nancy doesn’t miss. 

You pick the last of the cobwebs off of him. Running your fingers through Steve’s hair one last time for good measure, you poke his cheek. “You’re officially cobweb free, by the way. We should probably get back to searching the house.”

“‘The obvious things are not what people observe,’” He catches your hand as it falls, squeezing it. “Or-’don’t observe’?”

Steve’s cute little frown warms you. He’s trying to impress you, quoting what your brother had only a few minutes ago. You squeeze his hand back, your cheeks warming as you smile up at him. “‘The world is full of obvious things by which nobody by any chance ever observes.’ You were close.”

“Thanks, angel. I would’ve gotten it eventually.”

“You would’ve.” 

The tenderness that Nancy sees in Steve’s eyes burns. The way you’re smiling at him, the softness underneath your voice. She sees the way you squeeze the other’s hand. It makes her ache; she misses holding Jonathan’s hand. 

– 

You stand underneath a chandelier, its lights flickering. The sight is a familiar one. Flickering lights have become a part of your nightmares. 

Max and Lucas had called everyone over to where they were. They’d found the lights that way. 

“It’s the Christmas lights all over again.” You don’t know why you’re whispering, but it feels wrong not to. 

Nancy nods in agreement, but Robin leans forward. “Christmas lights?”

“When Will was in the Upside Down, the lights… came to life.” Nancy explains, staring up at the way the chandelier flickers now. 

“It’s how we knew he was alive.” Your chest tightens at the memory. You’ll never forget the dread you felt, realizing that Will was alive, yet trapped somewhere you could never reach. 

Lucas clenches his fist. “Vecna’s here. In this house. Just on the other side.”

Steve grabs your hand, protective. He doesn’t like the idea of Vecna being so close to you. When the lights stop flickering, he pulls you closer to him, on edge. Equally as scared, you turn to Max to make sure she has her headphones nearby. 

“Max, get your headphones on.” You command her, but she doesn’t listen.

“I think Venca just left the room.” Robin announces, looking at the group surrounding her.

Max frowns. “Did he hear us?”

“Can he see us?” Steve asks, hand skimming the walkman that resides in your coat pocket. Your headphones dangle from your neck. He positions himself so that if he needs to, he’ll be able to grab them as fast as possible.

“Headphones.” Lucas echoes your prior command, only this time Max doesn’t hesitate to put them on. He looks at you, too. “Y/N.”

You shake your head at him. Not yet. You’re scared that if you play your music right now, you’ll somehow miss any signs of danger for Max. You can’t be distracted, you can’t risk it. 

“Everyone turn off your flashlights and spread out.” Nancy orders. There isn’t any time to argue, she recognizes that. You’ve made your choice. 

Steve protests not having any lights on, and you can’t help but agree. The idea of running around the house without any sense of guidance makes you incredibly uneasy. It makes you easy targets.

But no one listens, already spreading out as Nancy told them. Steve groans, knowing you have no choice but to follow along as well. “Jesus Christ.”

“We’ll be fine.” You promise him, but Steve refuses to let go of your hand.

Robin is the first to find Vecna. 

“I got him!” Her flashlight is pointed in the air, illuminating for only a second before the light dies completely. She slowly lowers it, defeated. “I… I had him.”

Then Steve’s flashlight turns on. He holds it away from him, though quickly he realizes that the light is following something. “He’s moving. I-I think he’s moving!”

Steve makes it to the top of the stairs before the light dies once more. He curses in agitation. But before he can complain, your flashlight turns on. 

“He’s back,” you whisper, too afraid to raise your voice. Steve tries to snatch the flashlight from you, he doesn’t want Vecna anywhere near you, but you push him away. “He’s taking us somewhere.”

“Up here,” Max says, pointing towards a door. It’s cracked, faint light seeps through. Shoving it open, she reveals a separate staircase. 

“It’s an attic,” Robin’s voice pitches an octave. “Of course it’s an attic.”

No one says anything as you make your way upstairs. Your light shines brightly, growing stronger and stronger with every step you take. Dustin tries to warn you guys that it could just be a trap, but his protests go ignored. 

He’s probably right, but you’re already cursed and you have nothing to lose. 

When you reach the attic, a single lightbulb hangs from the rafters. It flickers wildly, growing dimmer and stronger in stuttering patterns. Your flashlight begins to mimic the light’s pattern, before everyone else’s flashlights flicker on. 

You all stand around the lightbulb, flashlights now joined together. 

“Okay, what’s happening?” Steve looks around, anxious. 

No one answers him. No one can answer him; but you can. The hair on your arms stands up. Static swirls around you, your body shivers at the sensation. 

You’re standing where Vecna’s standing.

“He’s here.” 

No one asks you how you know this.

A searing pain rips through your head. It’s so sudden, so jarring, that you can’t mask the pained sound you make. Everyone looks at you, terrified that you’re next, before the lights go haywire. The flashlights reach a burning capacity, energy exceeding their limits. One by one, they explode. 

Glass flies everywhere. One piece cuts your cheek. The cut isn’t deep, it’s only a superficial wound, but Steve has your head in his hands before the blood can even begin to drip down your skin. 

The lights go out. Steve tends to you in the dark.

The entire car ride back to Nancy’s, his hand never leaves yours.

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ i am no longer doing a taglist, my apologies ! however, please feel free to like, reblog, and comment instead :)

[koinotame]

your (househusband) roommate, ajax

word count: 1.5K content warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamics, childe gets called your house husband but you’re not actually married, generally gross stuff (he sniffs your used shirt), it's implied of childe scares away someone else

a/n: this is a repost (slightly edited)! i lost the original post w/ the basic idea but essentially this is a side au of sagau/self aware genshin where the characters (in this case childe) find their way into your world, but in the process you lose all memories about genshin. i'll be reposting all of the series, but it's also on ao3! part two is here!

when you first learned who your roommate would be, you were exasperated. you’d heard about him before, and you were well aware that he's amassed a reputation of being a trouble maker. you had no interest in getting into trouble, especially not during your first year.

...so you were pretty pleasantly surprised when he turned out to be a total sweetheart.

you’re reminded of that when you enter the kitchen, rubbing at your eyes and yawning. the smell of pancakes wafts through the air, and you can’t even get out a small 'good morning' before ajax is grinning at you and sliding you some pancakes. "don’t wait for me and eat up, okay? I put plenty of love into them, so they should taste great."

you ignore his banter (insisting on waiting for him is a lost battle, you’ve learned) and take a bite. you don’t finish chewing before you sleepily nod.

he laughs good-naturedly. "I’m glad, I’m glad. do you want more?" another drowsy nod has him piling most of the remaining pancakes onto your plate.

he continues chatting with you while you eat and he finishes the batch, though he does most of the talking. as usual, he doesn’t seem to mind your silence too much. once he’s done, he turns the fire off and props his elbow on the counter to stare at you. you don't pay him any mind.

he slides the platter to you the second you peek at it. after having eaten well over two servings you’re not really interested in more though, so you shake your head. "I'm full. aren’t you going to eat any?"

he beams. "aww, were you thinking about me? don’t worry, I already ate." you’re almost certain he didn’t. avoiding the judgemental look that crosses your eyes at his response, he laughs in a way that’d be awkward if it was anyone else. "I’ll put the rest in a tupper then, okay? have them whenever."

he’s taking your plate and putting it in the sink before you can even stand to move it to the dishwasher. you sigh and stick out your tongue at him when he turns to you. "you know you really don’t have to go out of your way do all of this."

he smiles at you. "why not? I enjoy cooking, and you can be my taste-tester." the amounts he feeds you go well beyond that, and he's avoiding the rest of your question, but okay. you should've gotten the message—that it's futile to ask him this kind of question—by now.

while you you face plant into the couch to avoid thinking about anything else, ajax stays in the kitchen, cleaning up and humming some lullaby as he washes the pan and plates. it’s too early to think on this saturday morning. the cushion feels nice and soft against your cheek and you can’t help but burrow yourself further into the pillows.

wait.

you lift your head up, peeking your head out behind the back of the couch.

"the apron is cute."

he nearly drops the pan.

it’s not often that you bring over friends, so ajax insists on cleaning beforehand and serving your group snacks much like a mother hen would throughout their stay.

their two, maybe three if you're pushing it, hour stay. all you’re going to is chat, it’s not like they’re going to be staying overnight or anything.

you sigh but let him do what he wants.

some cookies are laid out by the time they arrive, and he’s hovering around pretty much indefinitely to serve tea or juice.

it’s cute, in a way, but your friends’ teasing is not.

"you know, he’s kind of like your house husband, isn’t he?" your friend comments, leaning over and biting into a powdery cookie.

you try to ignore the way ajax beams. you try to ignore the way he cheers to himself even harder.

"not really..." your weak attempts at rebutting their words make your friends laugh.

the rest of the session goes by normally; you talk about the kinds of things you’d regularly talk about with friends. someone in your group recently received a promotion, and somebody else got fired. somebody gained a boyfriend, another realised she didn’t have the time or energy for relationships not too long ago.

the longer the conversation goes on, the more the chatter becomes background noise as the you retreat to your own world. the drink in your hands gets lukewarm long before you finish it despite your frequent sipping.

when they finally leave, you feel more relieved than you should.

you see them off with a smile, but your head is pounding by the time you sit back down and your ears can finally rest. now that you’re (mostly, ajax is always just kind of there) alone, you can finally have some peace and quiet and relax.

or that’s what you think until ajax leans over the couch, head hovering above yours. "now that they’re gone… would you prefer dinner, a bath, or me?"

you stare at him. he doesn’t move, clearly eager for your answer. eventually, you sigh and gently push his face away. "dinner would be nice."

he laughs, something warm and domestic dancing in his cold eyes. "of course! it’ll be ready soon."

he presses a quick kiss to your cheek before leaving.

you whine, but the space he touched feels tingly even against your own hand.

"ajax."

he drops your wallet, not even attempting to take back the couple hundred bills peeking out. his response is nonchalant, even at his supposed surprise at having been caught by you. "ahh, I wasn’t expecting you to be back so soon. look at what I found!"

you stare. at him. at what he’s holding. at your wallet on the floor.

you’re certain you did not have that many hundred bills. you’re going to cry if you find him trying to stuff his money into your wallet again.

"you mentioned liking this, right? I was out earlier and I thought I could get it for you. you know, as a sign of goodwill and all, for being such a great roommate."

a couple months ago, you would have been perplexed. he insists on doing all of the chores and most of the cooking, and he pays most of the bills. is the 'great roommate' status because you’re quiet and don’t host loud parties, or…? you don’t question it anymore at this point.

"ajax."

a couple months ago, he might’ve gotten unnerved by your silence. instead, he pushes it into your hands, a wide grin on face, ruffles your hair and saunters out.

you have yet to find his wallet. despite that, all the cash (and then some) that you’d left on his bedside table or bed has always managed to find a way back to your wallet, so there would probably be little point anyway.

"ah, that reminds me!" he peeks back into your room a couple minutes later. "what would you like for dinner?" the nerve of him to ask this right after he calls you a great roommate…

"maybe some soup?" you say instead.

he smiles, bows, and takes his leave. the apron you called cute a few weeks ago is already fixed onto him.

you sigh, sliding the bills in properly.

wait a second. is that a credit card…?

you were expecting many things when you finally caught him, but him sniffing only your shirt—out of all your available laundry—wasn’t one of them.

"…what are you doing?"

you have never seen him jerk his head as quickly, nor have you ever seen him so red. or speechless.

you both stand there in silence for a few seconds before he blinks rapidly and his breathing becomes ragged. "it’s not—I—it’s not what you think, I swear—"

"okay, whatever." you wave him off. somehow, this doesn’t alarm you as much as it should. "I don’t care what you were doing, don’t do it again."

he nods quickly, considerably less composed than he usually is, and shoves your shirt back into the basket briskly. "also… can you stop leaving your stuff in my wardrobe. I know you know the difference."

"ah, that was…" he’s clearly at a loss for words, not sure how to justify himself after having been caught committing not only one transgression, but two.

you set the clothes of his you were bringing to him down, tempted to just throw them at him.

you swallow your nerves, almost nervously meeting his eyes. "look, I don’t really care, but can you at least leave me stuff like your jacket or sweater? your shirts aren’t really my style."

his breathing hitches again but he gives no response otherwise, so you shake your head and turn to leave. the laundromat room is thankfully empty save for the two of you, something you’re glad for.

as you pass through the door, it occurs to you that the guy who’d been smoking in here hasn’t shown up in a while. now that you think about it, that was the reason ajax had offered to take over laundry duty too...

oh well, it’s of no concern to you, you think to yourself as you make the journey back to your room.

[mihotose]

something like this idk

i have a vision for expressing my ginkaho/ginkozu/ginhime/ginsuzu dynamics thoughts where the medium is Emoji but im not sure i can pull it off

[itsallyscorner]

Maple syrup, coffee, pancakes for two | H.S

pairing: boyfriend!Harry Styles x reader

summary: you unintentionally help Harry with a song he’s been struggling to write

warnings: a lil on the cheesy side tbh, but she’s cute. Mentions the pandemic

a/n: this was one from the drafts, originally written when Harry’s House was released and I finally got around to finishing it :)

Sometime during 2020 and the pandemic

His soft murmurs and humming were the only sounds that can be heard in his makeshift studio. The occasionally creaking of the house or him clicking his pen would break the silence from time to time. His frame was hunched over on the burnt orange colored couch, with his knees almost pressed against his chest, the couch was far too small for his tall figure. However, he liked the couch and it was comfy to lay on when he took breaks from writing. The journal he used to jot down lyrics was balanced on his left knee while his right hand scribbled words on the paper sloppily.

He had just gotten off a zoom call with Kid, Mitch, and some other members who he’s been working with for his new album. While they were supposed to be working in the studio for today’s session, one of the writers had come down with a cold. While it wasn’t confirmed to be COVID, Harry and his team decided it would be safe if everyone just isolated themselves for a while until further notice. Harry actually enjoyed the thought of working on the album at his home. He considered this to be one of the most intimate albums he’s ever made. The artist in him believed that being in the place where he’s comfortable being vulnerable would allow him to write more personal songs. Being home also allowed him to be closer to his muse—you.

The small claw clip holding his fringe from his face began to feel a bit too tight and his eyes were straining against the warm toned light to look at the page on his journal. He had been stuck on a certain verse for a while now and couldn’t bring himself to just call it a day on writing. He had been on the grind when he first started it, but all of a sudden his verses were turning into single words waiting to be properly knitted into a song. So far, some words/phrases he had were:

Wine glass

Puff pass

Side boob ;)

Cocaine

Toothache

Yellow sunglasses

They were the most random and absurd words to be grouped together, yet he knew he was going somewhere with whatever he had. His train of thought came to a halt when your voice rang through the room.

“Hey, you”

His eyes shifted towards your voice and there you were leaning against the door frame. You wore one of his old sweatshirts, which came up to your knees, and some socks on your feet. You weren’t wearing much but your presence and the soft smile gracing your features screamed comfort to him.

The slight frown on Harry’s face turned into a smile that resembled yours. Pushing off of the door frame, you slowly approached Harry’s spot on the couch.

“Hi angel.” He greeted you, spreading his legs out to make space for you. You happily make your way in between his legs and settle on the floor. You crossed your legs and sat so you were looking up at him. Harry craned his neck to place a kiss on your temple, his lips continuing to move down your face to spread little kisses all over your face. When he got to your lips he placed a soft peck on them with a smile on his own pinkish lips.

“Hope you don’t mind me bothering you.” You tease, the sweet smile still on your face. Harry scoffs playfully, “Y’never a bother to me. I missed you today, what’ve y’been up to?”

He’s been in the “studio” since the morning, having a quick breakfast with you and immediately hopping on zoom to work with his team. It was now 6pm and you couldn’t recall seeing or hearing your boyfriend leave the room throughout the day for a break or a snack—which led to you checking in on him.

“Not much, finished up some things for work and caught up on some Love Island.” You shrugged, Harry rolling his eyes jokingly at the mention of the reality tv show. “How ‘bout you? Was today’s session successful?” You ask. Harry hums, reaching for his journal.

“S’half ‘n half. We finished that track we wrote last month—don’t know if y’remember it—but it turned out really great. I have a good feeling ‘bout it once it’s out.” He began while still flipping back to the page he last wrote on. “I started writing another, b’now I’m just stuck. M’brain feels like it can’t think of anything else, s’blank.” He ranted using his hands to express his emotions. You let out a chuckle as you avoid one of his large hands waving around from hitting your face.

“Maybe it’s time for you to take a break, H. You’ve been here all day, god knows how long you’ve been slouched on this couch.” For emphasis, you nudge said couch, Harry shooting you a look.

“S’not a bad couch, leave m’couch alone.” He pouts, silently agreeing that it was definitely time for a break. You duck out of his arms and get up, walking towards the door. Harry follows, moving to get up but halts his movements when a crack comes from his back. You swiftly turn around with your eyes wide and an amused look.

“Oi m’back!” Harry exclaimed in shock. He stood there for second before making eye contact with you. The two of you burst out laughing.

“I fucking told you!” You pointed at him, only to be gently pushed out the door by Harry who was muttering for you to “shuddup”.

Despite the two of you being home, Harry linked his fingers with yours while you both walked to the kitchen. His large hand engulfed yours, his rough thumb stroking the top of your hand.

“I’m actually hungry.” Harry thought aloud once the kitchen came to view. He was wondering what he should eat, deciding between leftovers, cooking, or ordering in. However, he let out a gasp when he saw food already on the table.

He turned around to you beaming, “Y’made my favorite!” On the dining table were pancakes, hash browns, eggs, and coffee. Even though he was eating healthier, Harry believed that one can never go wrong with breakfast for dinner. The main reason why he loved it was because of a memory you both shared during the early stages of your relationship.

The two of you had overslept at his house after movie night and skipped dinner. By the time you both woke up, everything was closed. So the two of you ended up rummaging through his kitchen only to find eggs, pancake mix, frozen hash browns, and coffee. Harry loved that night so much because it was the moment you two truly got to know each other more and connected. It was like finally breaking the barrier of whatever was holding you back from one another. Till this day he remembers the sleepy haze behind your eyes as you shared stories from your past. Your mascara smudged beneath your eyes and your hair was a mess, but none of that mattered because he thought you were beautiful either way. Ever since that night, the two of you would have breakfast for dinner as a staple in your household.

While Harry piled two plates with eggs, pancakes, and hash browns, you filled up two mugs with coffee. Harry liked his black, while you liked yours with a bit of cream and sugar. The two of you settled in the living room, ditching the dining table because it just wasn’t comfy enough. You smiled down at your plate—which had maple syrup dripping down a tower of pancakes—as Harry picked a record to put on. Call it old school, but it was one of the normal things keeping you sane during this lockdown. He had chosen one of his Elvis ones. The same one he played that first night you had breakfast for dinner.

You sat across each other on the couch, feet nuzzled together and your knees bumping alongside the other. The sound of your forks and knives scratching against the plate filled the room along with Elvis’s voice on the record player.

Harry had forgotten he had been writing the entire day. Instead, he remembered all the places you traveled to and the memories you made together on those trips. Being stuck at home for months made the both of you crave the outside world and the normality of it all. Though as much as you wanted to book a trip to Italy, it wasn’t safe to leave the country.

It felt like the world was ending, but to Harry it didn’t feel like it because he was with you. You brought light to the darkness—yes, it was cheesy—but it was the only way Harry knew how to describe being with you.

You guys spent the night eating and reminiscing on past memories you made together. As the hours passed, your plates were now empty and on the coffee counter, while you had found your way into your lover’s arms. His arms held you close to him as your body rested perfectly against his. Your head laid upon his chest, allowing you to feel him breathe and hear the beating of his heart. You were surrounded by his warmth and it was truly all you ever wanted.

Harry could feel you dozing off, your sentences had gotten shorter and your voice had a slight slur. With his nose against your temple he whispered, “Y’know I’ll always love you, right?”

You shifted your head to look into his dark emerald eyes, “Yeah.”

His eyes squinted at you playfully, “How so?” He tested you.

“Because I know I’ll always love you too.”

Then just like that, a spark set off in his head, and all of a sudden the words he has jotted down earlier that day made sense.

[vodika-vibes]

Hey I was wondering if you could write a crosshair x reader where they have a lazy morning maybe with batcher too.

Lazy Morning

Summary: You decide to sleep in on your day off. It leads to a very relaxing day with the love of your life.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!Reader

Word Count: 1087

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I started writing this ages ago and then put it on pause, before continuing it today and I have no idea where I was originally going with the story, so I'm sorry if the vibes changes midstory. The only problem now is that I want to lounge by the pool. Alas, there is no pool.

It’s early, though not so early that the sun isn’t high in the sky, and you groan in annoyance when the bright morning sun hits your face, waking you from your very nice sleep.

Wait.

You’re fairly certain that you shut the curtain before you fell asleep last night.

You crack open a singular eye just as something large and heavy lands on the bed, and then you yelp as the solid mass of muscle flops next to you. “Batcher-?”

The lurca hound releases a happy little noise and buries her head under your pillows and blankets. 

You groan and roll onto your back, flinging your arm over your eyes, “Crosshair? Why is your dog in my bed?”

“I’m fairly certain it’s our bed, angel.” Crosshair replies from somewhere on the other side of the room, near the door. He’s probably the one who opened the curtain too.

“You don’t live here, leech.” You counter without any heat in your voice.

“Rude, and I went through all of the trouble of making caf and breakfast for you. But, since you aren’t interested-”

“I hate you. What did you make?” You ask as you slowly sit up and squint at the man leaning against the door frame, “And how’d you get in anyway?”

“I made a quiche-” You shoot him a look, and he rolls his eyes, “Believe it or not, I am capable of following instructions from a recipe.”

“Yeah, but normally people start with, like, pancakes. They don’t tend to jump to quiches.” You reply as you swing your legs off the bed and stretch your arms over your head, “And you didn’t answer how you got in the house.”

“I picked the lock.”

“Cross!”

“Hey, you don’t want me to pick the lock, then give me a key.”

“Ugh, I haven’t had a copy made yet. I’m working on it.” You pad over to him, yawning widely, and then you thump your head against his chest, “Why’re you and Batcher over here anyway.”

“My brothers are annoying.” Crosshair replies as he sets his hand between your shoulder blades, “I needed some quiet.”

“Mm,” You slide your arms around his waist, “And you decided to make breakfast for me while enjoying the quiet?”

You feel him shrug, “You deserve to be spoiled. Maybe.” He says, his hand sliding up to rest lightly at the back of your neck. 

“Maybe?” You ask with a laugh.

“I do have a reputation, kitten.”

“Yeah, yeah. I remember.” You rub your nose against his chest, allowing the sharp scent of Crosshair to fill your lungs, and then you pull back slightly, “Thank you for making breakfast, I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” He lightly rubs the back of your neck with his thumb, a small, slightly crooked, smile on his lips. “It still needs to cook for a bit, so you have time enough to shower and wake up.”

You hum thoughtfully, “Yeah, I might do that.” You lean in to brush your lips against his jaw, only to giggle as he ducks his head to kiss you properly. You lightly trail your fingers against his jawline, “Good morning, Crosshair.”

“Mm, it is a good morning now,” He murmurs, before he drops one more kiss against your lips, “Go take your shower, I’m going back to the kitchen. Batcher, off!” The dog whines but jumps off your bed, dragging your comforter with her.

You sigh, and Crosshair chuckles, “I’ll handle it, kitten. I’m planning on spending the day lounging by your pool, so maybe grab a swimsuit.”

“You just want to watch me parade around for you in a bikini.”

“Yeah, of course.”

You huff, though there’s no heat, and you lightly kiss him one more time before you meander over to your dresser to dig out your swimsuit, “Why do you want to use the pool when we live on an island?”

“Uh, there are people at the beach, and there aren’t people here. Besides, you’re the one who owns a pool in spite of living on a tropical island.”

You scowl at him as you pull out your bathing suit, “I didn’t build the pool, the house came with it.”

“You still bought it.”

“Inherited it.”

“Same difference.” He walks over to you and tugs your bikini out of your hands, before pulling a different one out of your dresser, “Wear this one.”

“...this is white.”

“I know what I’m about, kitten.”

“You’re such a man sometimes,” You take the bikini though and turn towards the bathroom, “I’ll be down shortly.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Fifteen minutes later, you step into the kitchen, clad in the white bikini and a sarong hung low around your hips. Crosshair offers you an appreciative whistle, before he tosses a ball out the back door for Batcher to chase.

“Prettier than a sunset,” He praises, a small smirk on his lips.

“Only because I’m wearing this thing,” You counter as you walk over to him and lightly pluck his toothpick out of his mouth.

“You could take it off, I won’t complain.” He drawls with an appreciative drag of his eyes down your body.

You point at him with his toothpick, “Pervert.”

“Guilty as charged.” He pushes your hand away and stands so he’s able to catch your lips in a kiss, “I opened the umbrella and put your breakfast on the table outside already. I also put out towels for us, as well as the sunblock.”

“Well, you have everything in hand, don’t you?”

“All that’s left to finish the perfect morning, is you sprawled out in the sun.” Crosshair replies.

You laugh softly, “Well then, who am I to deny you?” His arms snake around your waist and he tugs at the knot holding the sarong in place.

“You’re not going to need this, kitten. It’ll just get dirty.”

“And I’m sure it has nothing to do with wanting to see my legs.”

“Of course not.”

“Uh-huh.” You slide your hands up his chest and then wrap your arms around his neck, “It’s a good thing that I actually like your attention.”

“Oh, how much do you like my attention?” Crosshair asks as he bumps his forehead against yours.

“Enough that I’m considering inviting you to spend the night.”

He chuckles, “Well then, I’d better behave so you don’t change your mind.”

And you laugh one more time, before you pull him down into a kiss, leaning your weight against him. He’s right about one thing, this is definitely the perfect morning.

[l0vedoe]

Hello! I was wondering if you are up for a request. If so I was wondering if you could do something with a Yandere Lucifer(You can count this as a somewhat part 2 to your original Yandere Lucifer if y’a want) when he took us down to hell. I was think that he finds out that we can dance really well if we actually tried to(I feel like the little dance we did for him was just silly to make him leave) how would he react to that?

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPR35fxHm/

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPR35BGFM/

^here are some inspiration TikTok’s

I really enjoy your work keep it up!

I loved that! Sadly, I can't do anything happy with yandere Lucifer, but I hope that you like what I wrote! I changed the dance because I thought it wouldn't match the vibe of that fic, I hope you're okay with that!

Part 1 here!

Yandere!Lucifer X GN!Reader - Part 2

Words: 2181

Synopsis: Two weeks after being kidnapped by Lucifer, he notices that you're quite sad and decided to do something to cheer you up.

The only time you felt everything was all right was at night. At this time, Lucifer wasn't usually around, so you would sleep thinking that you weren't in hell, that it was all just a dream and that you would wake up soon in your bed, in your house.

You dreamt with your friends, your family, with your home, and everytime you woke up covered by those red blankets you felt a discomfort in your chest and your eyes filled with tears. It wasn't at all pleasant being stuck in hell. You know you hadn't died, but you didn't feel alive anymore.

Two weeks had passed since your arrival in hell, two weeks in which your life had changed abruptly without you having a choice.

You were fast asleep, dreaming of everything you wanted back, when suddenly something woke you up.

“Good morning, my love!” you hear a familiar voice. When you open your eyes, you notice Lucifer wearing his pajamas and holding a plate of pancakes, which he places on the dresser next to the bed.

It wasn't comforting seeing him as the first thing when you wake up.

You sit up, rubbing your eyes.

“Did you sleep well?” Lucifer asks, kissing your forehead and sitting next to you on the bed. You don't answer him. “I made pancakes, they're delicious! You have to try them!”

Lucifer takes one of the pancakes and eats it. You weren't making eye contact with him and he noticed, worried.

“What happened, dear?” He holds your hand. “It's been a while since I last saw your smile. Is something bothering you?"

How ridiculous. How couldn't he notice he was the one bothering you? He was the one who was ruining your life, depriving you of everything and not giving you freedom.

You sigh.

“It's nothing”.

He kept looking at you with worry in his eyes. He snapped his finger, a light bulb went off in his head, looking like he had an idea. A smile appears on his face.

“I know what can cheer you up.” he stands up, extremely excited. “Eat your breakfast, get yourself ready and come to the dancing room!”

Without you being able to answer, he ran out of the room.

You weren't in the mood to eat and get out of bed. You just wanted to get under the blankets and stay there, quietly, without anyone bothering you. You just wanted to be alone.

You took a deep breath and finally did what Lucifer asked you. You ate, changed your clothes and headed to the dancing room. When you entered, you could see Lucifer humming softly as he walked around the room.

Your breathing quickens when he notices you.

“Honey, right on time!” He approaches, hugging you. You don't hug him back. He lets go of you and walks over to a table in the corner of the room. “Come on, I've prepared everything!”

“Everything…?”

You ask, slowly walking towards him.

“The music!” He answers, touching a stereo on the table.

Music? What did he want now?

“Let's dance a bit, shall we? I think it might cheer you up! When you danced dressed as a duckling it was so cute, I loved it! But I want to see how you deal with something that is not so silly."

You arch your eyebrows. Why didn't he ask you if you wanted to do that? He always did that and you always got mad at it. He brought you stuff that you never asked for, he made you do things that you didn't want to. He never really cared for doing something that you liked to do. It was always about him, everyday was just him.

“I don't wanna dance.” You say in a low voice. You didn't even have strength to speak like you used to.

“Oh…” Lucifer gets discouraged. “But what do you want then, my love? We could watch something together, or cook together, or I can show you my new inventions! You know, I made a rubber duck that can–”

“I don't want any of those things!” You raise your voice, making the blonde startle and stop talking. “I wanna go home, I wanna see my friends, I want my life back…”

Your eyes filled with tears, the sensation of your throat closing and the discomfort in your chest showed the first signs before you could collapse crying.

For a moment, Lucifer had an annoyed expression on his face, but it soon softened and his eyes began to convey empathy. He approached you and held your face, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. He was looking at you with a comforting smile.

“My love, I hate seeing you like this…” he says, you still don't look at him. “How about that: we dance a little bit and, after that, I’ll let you see your friends. What do you think?

You look incredulously at Lucifer. Was he really serious? You could see your friends again?

You were so happy you couldn't believe that was really happening. You were so happy that you could hug Lucifer if it weren't for everything he did to you.

“Everything he did…”

No, it couldn't be true. Lucifer kidnapped you, kept you in his house and whenever you tried to escape he would left you locked up in a room without windows for hours. He wouldn't let you have any contact with the world outside, your life was just about pleasing Lucifer, talking to Lucifer and staying with Lucifer. Your life was Lucifer. Knowing him, he would never let you see your friends again.

But then, why did he said he would? What did he want, anyway? Test your loyalty to him?

You didn't know what his intention was, but you decided to believe in his words for now. He could be telling the truth, maybe he was sorry?

“Would you really do that…?” You ask, fearful.

Lucifer nods his head, still smiling.

“But you have to dance with me!”

You think about it again. If he was telling the truth, all you had to do was dance a bit with Lucifer and you could see your friends again, right? They should be worried by now, and maybe Lesley would know how to get you out of here…

Whether it was true or not, you didn't know, but you decided to try.

“All right.” you say after a long sigh. “What do you wanna dance?”

“Oh, I have so many ideas!” Lucifer goes back to the table, you follow him. “Can you dance anything other than silly dances?"

“Actually, I have done dance classes since I was a kid…” you say.

Your parents had put you in a lot of dance classes, and you grew up loving it, but after moving from your parent's house you stopped dancing often. You were a bit rusty, but it would work. It had to.

“That's great! So, how about we dance something romantic?” Lucifer asks. You could feel his flirty aura.

You nod.

Lucifer, then, puts music on the stereo and slowly approaches you with a smile. He holds your left hand, while his other hand rests on your shoulder. Your free hand was now holding Lucifer's waist. He was smaller than you, there wasn't much way to change the roles.

Lucifer didn't take his eyes off of you for a second as you two slowly danced around the room. You two were completely silent, just feeling the music and letting yourselves go, and he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

You felt uncomfortable, Lucifer always looked at you intensely, sometimes looking like he was eating you with his eyes. It was weird and most of the time you looked away, but even doing that you could feel the blonde still staring at you, and even without looking at his face, you could tell exactly when he was smiling or not.

As soon as the song ended, along with your dance, Lucifer pulled you closer. His hands held your face, and finally he pulled you for a kiss.

It wasn't everytime that you two kissed, fortunately, but whenever it happened you could feel like you were going to throw up at any moment. Lucifer tried to use his tongue with you a lot of times, but you never let him and used the excuse that you weren't ready.

It was disgusting to feel the lips of someone who didn't really cared about you.

When he stopped, you could see his red cheeks and his eyes glowing. His gaze oscillated between your eyes and your lips.

“So…” you start. “Can I–”

“I want just one more thing.” Lucifer interrupts you. You look at him curiously. “Dance for me. It can be any dance, any song, just dance for me again. Please?"

If that's what it takes to have a chance of escaping this (literally) hell, you'll do it.

You shake your head positively and go to the music player to choose a song. It was hard to choose something like that, without even having an idea of what to choose.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, remembering when you used to dance to your parents, when you used to be alone in your room and convey your emotions through your dances. That’s it. You would use your dancing to vent again.

As soon as you've chosen the music, you get ready to start.

When the song starts, your eyes close and you let yourself be carried away by the music.

Good times for a change

Seems the luck I’ve had can make a good man turn bad

Being able to dance like this was like flying, flying in a blue sky being free to go wherever you wanted. Every second, every step you took and every turn of your body you could feel yourself free again. You weren't a prisoner in hell anymore, you were in a flowery field, feeling the breeze and breathing the fresh air.

Haven't had a dream in a long time

Seems the life I’ve had can make a good man bad

Your hands touched your chest and softened, falling beside your body, as if that simple move could take away all the weight that was inside you.

So for once in my life let me get what I want

Lord knows, it would be the first time

Your mind goes blank, and even a smile begins to appear on your face. Your expression was soft, just like your movements.

Please, please, please

Let me get what I want

All your pain had dissipated at that moment, and what remained was an intense feeling of floating.

Let me, let me, let me

Let me get what I want this time

The song ended along with your dance, leaving you with your head tilted back. You open your eyes, noticing the dark ceiling above you, making that feeling of floating disappear in a few seconds as you remembered your current situation.

As you returned to your normal posture, you looked forward just to find Lucifer, who was standing there staring at you in amazement. His eyes were shining in admiration, his mouth was ajar and his cheeks were rosy. Lucifer seemed to have been intensely touched by your dance.

“So…?” You ask, nervously.

Lucifer runs to hug you.

“I loved it! You danced so well, my sweetie, you were feeling the music and I was feeling you! You did so good, my love…” he smiles, caressing your face once more.

“Thank you…” you say. “So…can I see my friends now?”

You ask, nervousness consuming you even more when you hear Lucifer let out a laugh.

“D-did you really believe it…?” He asks between soft laughs. Your eyes widened, your head shaking wanting to deny what you’ve just heard. He couldn't be serious. “I'm not stupid, love, I know you would try to run away from me…"

Your eyes fill with tears, an even greater feeling of suffocation consumes you and you break down crying, sobbing. You fell to your knees, you were breathing fast and crying loudly, hugging yourself in search of comfort.

Lucifer knelt down, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“I can't risk losing you, you're everything I have…” Lucifer smiles, caressing your shoulder. He pulls your chin, making you look at him. “I can't risk losing you, did you understand? I’ve already lost someone important once, and I won't let that happen again."

He kisses you again, making you cry even more. He hugs you tightly, stroking your hair.

You keep hugging yourself, the pain in your chest getting worse and worse, your sobs getting louder, your thoughts getting darker and blurrier. The life you once had was now in the past, and you would never have it again, never, and that hurt so much, so much... Lucifer's words seemed to have woken you up to reality, making you realise that it really was impossible to free yourself from the chains that bound you, and that your destiny now was to stay here, with him, forever.

Well, that's it! I hope you all liked!

I guess I won't be doing more chapters to this fic, and I won't do Yandere!Lucifer anymore either

I feel bad lol, he's just a baby, he would never that

So, if you guys wanna request something other than that with Lucifer, you can!

Thank you so much for your support!! <3

[strangersteddierthings]

The Conversation

Final Part of The Interview [Part One] [Part Two] [Ao3]

Steve finishes putting on his boots, shoves a beanie on his head, and grabs his thermos of coffee before heading outside. Robin had texted when they left Pendleton so they should be arriving soon, and he wants to make sure the dogs stay clear of the driveway, and also finish some of the chores he is being lazy about. The mountain air is cold in February, and the snow is deep, but it's still warm for a winter day in Eastern Oregon.

His childhood house had been at the edge of a little forest. His current home is tucked away in the woods, trees for miles, and the nearest neighbor farther still than that. He's lived a lot of places, been able to see the whole of America almost, and in the process, he's learned that he'll always be a small-town boy. The real revelation is how at home he feels in this two-bedroom cabin sequestered away from any town at all. Sure, he's got to drive a little over half an hour to get to the nearest grocery store, but he's learned he likes that.

He's got 1600 acres of woods all to himself and the dogs. He's owned this property for almost four years, but recent events made him finally move out here. Originally, he'd bought it to make it as another flip project, but something in his gut told him to make it a vacation home / safe haven for his family instead. Robin, mainly, as a getaway from the LA life and overwhelming spotlight she'd started to face as her music career took off. He might be turning it into his permanent home and base of operations, but everyone knows they're still welcome.

Anyway, the day might be warm for winter, but the night won't be, so Steve sets his thermos on the top of the wooden railing of the porch and heads down the steps to the woodshed. The plan in the summer is to update the cabin, which includes adding central air and a good heating system, but until then, portable heaters are in the bedrooms and the wood stove gets the rest of the cabin. There's also plans to start the construction on the guest house. It's going to be a busy summer.

He replenishes the woodpile on the porch from the woodshed and debates chopping more but decides against it. That can be a tomorrow chore. Next is cleaning up the snow paths he's made previously. Doesn't want anyone falling on their ass on the way to the house, no matter how funny that'll be to watch. As usual, Pancake makes the task difficult because she wants to play with the snow shovel. Melody cries until he throws snow into the air by the shovel full for her to play in. Chowder, old man that he is, supervises from the porch, front paws hanging just off the top step.

It's rough going but he manages to complete the few chores, even with two dogs underfoot.

Steve is on the front porch, forearms holding his weight as he leans against the railing, thermos of coffee between his hands, taking in the afternoon sun and enjoying the silence when Dustin's work truck slides into the driveway. Almost literally, given the foot and a half of snow still on the ground. The driveway is long, okay. Steve's doesn't have enough time in his day to keep up with salting it all.

It'll be strange to see Eddie after all these years. He still can't believe Robin got him to come. When he'd asked how she did it, she brushed him off with an it's not important.

Speaking of Robin, she's the first person out of the truck, sliding out of the passenger seat and then cursing when she drops right into the snow. She shoots an accusatory look towards the cabin, and therefore Steve, like he placed the snow there himself, when the fault is Dustin, who has left the driver side with plenty of room between the truck and the snowbank.

Dustin gets out of the truck and Steve faintly hears him say this side, man, less snow before pushing his door closed and turning to brace himself as Pancake and Melody rush from the porch to circle like sharks, barely restraining themselves from jumping up. Chowder follows after slowly, taking his sweet time getting to Robin, his favorite human. Steve can't even be jealous about that because Robin is his favorite human, too.

The back driver side door opens, and he watches as Eddie Munson all but falls out of the truck. It's the least graceful anyone's looked getting out of the back of the truck and that's counting Chowder and his old man hips. Seeing Eddie again is- well, it's a lot of emotions all at once, but they're are all overshadowed at the moment by how Eddie looks... well, bad. His hair is longer than Steve's ever seen it, a little longer than mid-back length, but it looks like it hasn't seen a proper hair brush in a couple of days. Even from this distance Steve can see the bags under his eyes. He looks like he hasn't slept in days.

He pushes himself off the railing and meanders down the two steps, waiting for them to notice he's waiting. Robin trudges out of the snow berm and to the front of the truck, where Chowder is waiting patiently for his pets and kisses. Dustin has managed to get Melody to stop hopping in front of him so she can get her side scratches, and Pancake has realized there is a new, third person with a set of hands currently not petting her, and is circling Eddie, waiting for him to reach down and pet her but he just stands completely still, heading tracking her in her circles.

"She's friendly, I promise," Steve calls out, which makes Eddie's head snap up to look for the source of the voice. Well, everyone looks, but Eddie looks like he's seeing a ghost, which. Fair. Steve kind of feels the same way.

"Hello, Dingus," Robin calls as she stands from her crouched position, where she's been cuddling Chowder. As soon as she stands, he starts making his way back to the porch. "I have delivered one Edward Keaton Munson. You are not allowed to ask anything of me for, at minimum, a year."

"Steve! Why didn't you tell me you knew the Eddie Munson?" Dustin shouts.

Robin is scoffing, clearly offended. "Am I not famous enough for you Henderson!?"

"Get back to me when you've run a 24-hour Dungeons and Dragons live stream for charity!" Dustin shoots back, then has to dodge Robin's half-hearted punch aimed for his arm.

Eddie stays silent, looking more pale than when he got out of the truck. Steve's a little concerned he's going to faint.

"You been living under a rock, Dustin?" Steve asks. "My knowing him is apparently the only thing on the internet currently."

Dustin puts his whole head into the eye roll. "You spend a month backpacking with your girlfriend in the southern hemisphere and you never get to hear the end of it. I told you I'd catch up on your drama after I catch up on my DnD Live Plays."

"You also missed me winning a Grammy, you know."

"I thought Steve's thing was more important?"

"You are impossible, Henderson."

"You guys going to argue in the snow all afternoon, or do you want to come inside?" Steve says then places his fingers in his mouth and whistles. Melody and Pancake dash for the front door, where Chowder is already waiting. Dustin, Robin, and a still eerily quiet Eddie fall into line to walk the trail to the porch Steve had cleared.

Steve jumps the steps, grabs his thermos, lets the dogs in, and then holds the door for everyone else. Robin and Dustin breeze past, but Eddie slows, eyes jumping around Steve's face as they just look at each other for a moment. Eddie opens, then closes, then opens, then closes his mouth.

"Hi," Steve offers up, shifting a foot to hold the door open so he can wave his fingers at Eddie.

Eddie swallows thickly, then whispers back, "hey."

"In the house, Eddie. Don't want to let too much cold in," Steve tilts his head towards the doorway.

"Oh, right, sorry," that kick starts Eddie again and he crosses the threshold, Steve close behind.

Robin and Dustin are currently occupying the bench just inside the door, taking off their shoes. Once Dustin has his boots off, he leaves the bench, heading to the kitchen. Eddie seems lost, just standing in the entryway, so Steve takes the spot Dustin just left and proceeds to undo the laces on his boots. He gets one boot done by the time Robin stands, wandering after Dustin once she's hung up her coat, scarf, and gloves. Eddie doesn't move still, so Steve pats the empty spot beside him.

"No shoes in the cabin. Dogs track in enough snow, don't need us doing it too," Steve says, then busies himself with his other boot.

He sees Eddie sit and begin to untie his- jesus, he's not even wearing boots. Just a black pair of sneakers. Eddie unties his shoes in silence, sitting rather stiffly next to Steve.

This quiet, obedient Eddie is not what he expected.

"You want something to drink?" Steve asks, once both of them are free of their shoes.

"No, thank you."

"Alright. Have a seat, then," he gestures towards the couch. The cabin door opens up directly into the living area, which Steve has set up as 3/4th a living room and 1/4th dining room, in that a small kitchen table is along the far wall. Beyond that wall is the kitchen, where Robin and Dustin are undoubtedly helping themselves to his coffee or hot chocolate.

Eddie shuffles off to sit on the edge of the couch, as close to the armrest as he can get. Now that Steve can see him closer, he can see he's added more piercing to his face than just the eyebrow ring he wore in high school. Snake bites, a septum piercing, and a second eyebrow ring next to the original. He's sure that if Eddie's hair wasn't covering his ears, he'd see more metal there. Eddie had hung up the coat he'd been wearing but under that is a hoodie he didn't take off, so Steve can only guess if he ever got those tattoos he'd been planning in high school. His entire outfit is black, which just makes him look sickly in the cabin lighting.

Steve drops himself into the chair facing the couch. It's Melody's favorite chair to curl up in, but Steve thinks she'll forgive him for taking it. There's tension in the room, so he tries to break it. "You look like you've seen a ghost, dude."

Eddie makes a weird nose, almost a whimper or a whine, but before he can say anything, Robin rounds the wall, holding a mug of hot liquid and she says, "Oh, I'm sure he feels that he has. I didn't tell me we were coming to see you."

"Robin!" Steve is shocked.

"What? You said you wouldn't mind getting some closure, so I got him here. Does it matter how?" She takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch from Eddie, making a show of how comfortable she is in the space by sitting cross-legged and leaning back against the couch, in comparison to Eddie who is sitting up completely straight, barely on the couch with how close to the edge he's sitting.

"Yeah, it does! If he's not here voluntarily- if Eddie doesn't want to talk to me you can't-"

"I do," Eddie says. It grabs Steve and Robin's attention and Steve sees Eddie almost wilt under their twin stares. He clears his throat before continuing, "I mean, I would have come still, if she'd told me. I do want to talk to you. Apologize for.... for everything. So much I don't even know where to begin, or how."

"Uhh, this feels like something personal," Dustin says from where he's standing with his own mug, hovering nearby. "Should I be here for this?"

Good question. Steve doesn't care if Robin and Dustin hear what they talk about, but Eddie might. "How about we just relax a bit. How was the drive?"

Eddie scrunches his face, a half confused expression on his face.

"Fine," Robin says at the same time Dustin says, "Tense as fuck."

"Those two things don't seem like they match," Steve says.

Dustin moves to plop himself on the couch in between Eddie and Robin, then quietly curses as his drink sloshes over the edge of the mug. He starts mopping at it with the sleeve of his shirt as he says, "Robin is a liar. The tension in the truck is going to linger that's how bad it was. I'll be feeling the tension every time I get in the rig. Clients will feel the tension when I pull up to their curbs!"

"It was not that bad!" Robin swats Dustin. Successfully this time, since there's no way for him to dodge unless he wants to spill his drink again.

Steve just laughs. "Robs, light of my life, mate of my soul, knowing you and your grudges, Dustin's probably going easy on the description of the tension here."

"Well, there wouldn't be tension if I was allowed to say what I want to say."

"Can we go, like, five minutes without your negativity?"

"My negativity!? I'm not negative, I'm rational and level-headed!"

"You are not sounding very level-headed right now."

Dustin chimes in, "Steve's right. Level-headed people don't have to shout that they're level-headed."

"What say you, Eds?" Steve asks, the old nickname slipping out. He doesn't have time to be embarrassed about it though.

Eddie stands quickly and flings his hands in the air, having reached an invisible limit Steve is unaware of, pacing about the living room as he basically shouts, "Why don't you hate me!? You should hate me! I hate me! I can't- why are you just sitting there, trying to have a-a decent conversation with me? You should be screaming at me! You should be mad! Why aren't you? My fuckin' song ruined your life!"

The silence in the living room is heavy following that, all eyes on Eddie. Even the dogs, who had been in various states of sleep, lift their heads and look in Eddie's direction.

He looks mortified by the out burst, and his face turns red. "I-I'm sorry. I- I'm just, I'm sorry. I need air."

They all watch silently as Eddie jams his shoes back on and goes out the front door without tying them or grabbing his coat.

Steve sighs, deep and annoyed. At Robin and himself. He looks to Robin and she looks shocked by Eddie's outburst. She was watching the door, but turns her head to meet Steve's eye, a small frown on her face.

"Well, it's not like he's going far," Dustin says. "You going after him?"

"I don't know if I should."

Dustin scoffs. "Don't be an idiot, of course you should. We drug that guy to the middle of nowhere to talk to you. He agreed to come to the middle of nowhere even though I could have been a hit man hired by Robin to off him in the woods and he didn't even complain. Didn't even question. I don't know what happened, but I think you two need talk it over."

Steve blinks at Dustin. "Since when did you get so wise?"

"I've always been wise. You just refuse to see it with your ageism. Go. Robin can fill me in on the beef, here in the toasty, cozy cabin, while you two chat in the cold, and freeze your asses off."

"I don't have ageism-"

"Wrong argument to be having, Steve!" Dustin interrupts. "And take another cup of coffee with you. Even if he doesn't drink it, dude doesn't have gloves either so y'know, warm the hands."

Steve does just that. Fills his other thermos with coffee, taking a chance by adding cream and sugar, before putting his boots, coat, and beanie back on. He throws Eddie's coat over his arm and tucks both thermos' against his body with that same arm so he can have a free hand to open the door.

Eddie isn't far. He's pacing back and forth in front of the truck, talking to himself.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Steve steps off the porch and makes his way to Eddie. "Hey."

The pacing stops and Eddie turns to look at Steve. They just look at each other as Steve approaches. Steve doesn't stop until he's close enough to reach out and touch before he shuffles the two thermos's to his other arm and extends the one with Eddie's coat on it out.

"Thank you," Eddie says, taking the coat and shoving himself into it quickly.

"Brought you coffee, too," Steve holds out one thermos and after a pause, Eddie takes it, too, then almost instantly brings his other hand up to cradle it, warming his fingers.

He looks up from the thermos and meets Steve's eye. "I am sorry, Steve. I'm sorry for how things ended between us, and for the song I wrote, and for-for not thinking about how people would be able to work out that you were the Steve from Hey Steve. You should hate me for that alone. I'm so sorry for everything that's happened because I didn't think of the consequences."

"I don't- I don't hate you man. Not... not anymore. Not for a long time."

"Well, you should!"

Steve frowns. He wants to argue because who is Eddie to tell him how he should feel? But that's not going to help anything. "When Robin called me. During her interview after the Grammy's and asked if she could tell the truth I never- I didn't know what she meant by the truth. But. Well, nothing she said was a lie, but it wasn't the full story."

Eddie stays silent, seemingly waiting for Steve to continue.

"Those first two years after our breakup were- I'm not going to lie, they were fucking awful. I think I received my first bit of hate mail the very same day Hey Steve released. It was harsh. All from the same person, but sent to my Facebook and my Twitter and Instagram. Guess they really wanted me to read it.

"And then, with each passing day, a new person, new message, just as awful. After three days I deleted Instagram and Twitter. Then I locked down Facebook but like- physical letters showed up at my house. I can't lie, it certainly felt like you'd ruined my life."

Eddie makes a wounded sound at that. "That's because I did! What I did was unforgivable and-"

"You don't get to decide for me if I forgive you or not!" Steve snaps. "I haven't actually said I did forgive you, did I? All I've said is I don't hate you."

That gets Eddie quiet again for a moment, then he says, "you ended up hospitalized because of me."

"Robin said I ended up hospitalized, and that's true, but it wasn't- It was more complicated that just being your, and your fans', fault. For people who were supposedly on 'your side' of our breakup, they used a lot of homophobic language. That's how my mom found out. The letters were easy enough to just get rid of because all the bad shit was on the inside, but someone sent a post card, and mom collected the mail that day. It's... I don't like talking about this."

"Then don't," Eddie is quick to say, "you don't have to explain anything to me, or make yourself relive these events. It's- you don't owe that to me."

"I think I need to. I wrote you a song, said I'd do it all again, and I meant that. I want you to understand why. Just. Just give me a minute."

Eddie nods and takes a sip of his coffee. He looks pleasantly surprised and takes bigger drink before his face falls into a frown as he stares down at the thermos and Steve has to look away. He turns and squeezes his eyes shut to continue. "Mom showed the postcard to my father, and he confronted me that evening. It was.... it didn't start off bad. He asked if it was true. That I was gay. I made a choice, then. I didn't have to; I could have lied. I could have told him I was straight and that I didn't understand what the postcard was saying, but I didn't.

"I knew how he felt about queer people, and I told him the truth anyway. I was bisexual. I thought it was a miracle that he didn't kick me out instantly. Instead, he calmly asked me if that meant I liked woman. I said it meant I liked more than just woman.

"Then he told me that didn't matter. That so long as I liked woman, I would be with a woman, and that we never had to speak of this again. And I told him no. He didn't get to decide that for me. He said that he would rather have a dead son than a faggot one. And I thought- I never- surely he was just meaning, like, metaphorically, right? Like, he'd disown me, kick me out or something so I scoffed and said- God, I was so stupid. I knew it wasn't safe, but I was so angry at him, I shouted 'dead or alive, I'm your faggot son so deal with it.' And he- he said 'dead it is' and he attacked me."

He hears Eddie suck in a breath, hears the crunch of snow in what could only be Eddie taking a step towards him but stopping after just one step. Steve doesn't know if he wants Eddie to close the distance and give him the hug he knows Eddie wants to do. Steve doesn't know if he'd welcome the embrace or not. He sucks in his own shaky breath, and continues, "He almost beat me to death that night. The only reason he didn't was because mom dialed 911," Steve turns around, looks at Eddie and sees the tears falling down his own face reflected on Eddie. "As far as I know, dad's still serving time for his attempted murder, so like, at least I don't have to worry about him. And mom... I don't even know what to think of that.

"She called 911, didn't want to see me die, I guess, but also couldn't have a gay son. She sold the house, and everything in it, while I was still in the hospital, and just... disappeared. Robin's family took me in. She told that story during the interview, you knoe, but I wasn't even at the house when that guy with the gun showed up. I was meeting with a lawyer.

"She-Mom was- I don't know what she was trying to do but she gave me the family business. The whole company! It felt like she was trying to buy my forgiveness, except she didn't ask for it and still hasn't contacted me. It's like... she felt guilty about what happened but hated me at the same time. Felt she needed to do something to alleviate her guilt? Or maybe she just wanted to cut herself free of the whole Harrington name; free herself from me and my father. I don't think I'll ever get closure for that one."

Steve quits talking, needs to take another moment. He'd already rambled on about more than he meant to but talking to Eddie had always done that to him. Afterall, before they dated, they'd been friends. He sips at his coffee, not knowing what else to say.

"Jesus, Stevie, I'm so sorry. I didn't know- It's no excuse but I'm just so sorry."

He doesn't think Eddie knows he called him Stevie, but it's nice to hear. "So, see, it wasn't your fault. Your song set things into motion, for sure, so it's nice to hear an apology, but like, if anyone is the bad guy in this situation, it's Richard Harrington."

"But Robin said she just had to help you move to here. That you still get hate mail, and doxxed. That's on me. I saw your list of addresses, Steve! You've had to move, like, eight times a year!"

Steve can't help the cackle that springs from him. He surprises himself with the laugh, and Eddie, too, if his wide eyes and eyebrows hidden behind his bangs are any indication. "I- yeah, I move a lot. And yes, this most recent move was because of a brick with Hey Steve scratched into it broke my living room window, but like, I've only had to move because of harassment like, four times, if I'm counting the whole mom-selling-the-house thing."

"What?"

Steve holds up a finger, adding a new one as he counts them out. "Mom sold house. Scary gun guy at Robin's. The year anniversary of your first album's release. I was still in Hawkins, figuring out what to do with all the money I'd, uhh, inherited I guess, so I was easy to find. And the most recent one. Not sure what inspired it this time. Usually, the hate mail resurges when you go on tour, but it's less and less every time. Anyway, none of those other moves are because of crazy fans."

Eddie blinks at him, a picture of confusion. "But I found a YouTube video and that guy- he showed all your old addresses. He said- I thought..."

"Well, there are a lot of addresses. But not because of your fans. I move for my job. Do you... did you even read the truck?" Steve gestures to Dustin's truck and Eddie steps around to see the printed H&H Project Flip and below that is their website.

Eddie looks back to Steve like that answers nothing. Which, fair, but it would answer a lot of questions if Eddie had looked up the website. "After that surge of anniversary hate, I knew I needed to get out of Hawkins. Robin was graduated, then, and headed to college. I decided I wanted to see more than just Hawkins. I followed Robin to college in Chicago, and uh, bought a house. A real fixer upper but that was fine. I had plenty of money to throw into it. On a whim I thought, what if I try to fix it. I had a lot of free time and if it ended up badly, I could afford to pay a professional to fix whatever I broke. I found that I loved doing that."

He's still just being looked at like he's not making sense.

Steve rolls his eyes, "I flip houses, dude. Me and Dustin. Harrington and Henderson Project Flip. I was in Chicago for three years, lots of addresses for that city. But then Robin pointed out there were a lot of states. That I should see all 50 of 'em by renovating a house in each. She'd moved in with her then-girlfriend by this time, so she said I should go. See the States at the least. So, I did. I find it easier to just live in the house I'm renovating, so I'm not paying mortgage and then rent somewhere else in the same city."

Eddie looks like he's had a rug pulled out from under him and he lets out a laugh that's a little hysterical.

"And moving so much has allowed me to meet so many amazing people, y'know? I got friends in all the states. So, like, yeah, you did ruin my life, but like, just my life from 18 to 20. So, yeah, I'd do it all again. Did you think I've been living in perpetual misery for the last ten years?"

"Robin certainly made it easy to assume that, so yeah!"

"I think she did that on purpose. To hurt you back."

"I deserve it," Eddie says. "I didn't even try to check in on you. Well, once, but when I couldn't find you on any socials I just. Gave up."

Steve shrugs. "I didn't reach out either. And if you'll remember, I broke up with you. Screamed in your face that we were over and went home."

"I don't know when, or even if, Corroded Coffin will tour again, but I swear to you, we'll never play or release Hey Steve again. And I'll release a statement, or go on camera, or something, and address this. I can't make it right, but I can make a change starting now, to do better and be better," Eddie says this while gripping his thermos to death.

"I believe you, and I forgive you."

Eddie nods grimly, then looks from Steve to the cabin, and back to Steve. "Do you think Robin will ever forgive me?"

"I don't know. You hurt her pretty badly, too. We were all best friends in school and when we broke up, you cut off Robin, too. And then, when she started to gain her own fame- I think when she first moved to LA, she thought you'd try to reach out. But you never did."

A silence falls over them, and Steve refuses to break it. He's done enough talking. They drink their coffees 'til they're empty before Eddie speaks.

"Where does this leave us?"

Steve thinks about it before answering. "You were my best friend before you were my boyfriend. You'd been in my life longer than you've been out of it. We don't have to be anything. We can have our closure and go our separate ways, if you'd prefer. But, I think I'd like another chance at being your friend."

"I can do friend," Eddie says slowly, like he's picking his words carefully. "I can. But, full transparency, I think I still love you."

It hurts to hear, after all the pain and the time, and it's a bittersweet kind of hurt. "I'll always love you, Eds. I meant it, you know, every word of the song. But I don't know if we can, or should, try again. We were so good until we weren't."

Tears spring from Eddie's eyes when Steve says he loves him, and they don't stop falling even as he's nodding along with everything Steve says. "No, I know. I know. I just, I needed you to know. Friend is, it's so fucking great. More than I ever expected, and certainly more than I dared hope."

"Come on. Let's go inside where it's warm and chat with Dustin and Robin like civilized people. I need a break from the heavy talk."

"Yeah. Me too. Thank you, Steve. For the chance."

Steve shrugs and shoots him a crooked grin. "Yeah, well, ruin this a second time and Robin will rip you to shreds on live TV, probably."

There's more to talk about. More hurts to heal and things to discuss, Steve knows. And maybe after all the talking, they'll learn they've changed too much to even be friends. But that'll be okay, because if that's how it goes, it'll be because they talked it out instead of screaming at each other in a living room.

If they've changed too much, this time, it'll end gently.

It doesn't stop Steve from letting a little bit of hope in. That this won't end, that they can find a way to be in each other's lives again.

As friends, or more.

[yerimbrit]

[flufftober day 10, wc: 816] - ghost photoshoot : b. jeemin

“STOP, WAIT! I CAN’T SEE ANYTHING…” jeemin panic-shouts, hands splayed in front of her and bumping into you as you tried to trace eye-holes on the large sheet that is covering her body.

“maybe if you’d hold still so i can get this done, you’ll be able to see,” you grumble out, steadying her by the shoulders and drawing two medium-sized circles in sharpie around where her eyes are. “there! now all we have to do is cut it out.”

you pull the sheet off of jeemin rather quickly, which causes her to fall forward and against you—thankfully, you catch her because you’d both be turned into a stack of pancakes otherwise. “are you alright?”

she weakly gets back up on her feet, pouting at you, “you could’ve warned me.”

“sorry babe,” you press a light kiss to her cheek, which seems to cheer her up quite a bit, “we have to get this done fast because mai-unnie’s coming soon.”

thanks to your encouragement, jeemin picks up the fabric scissors and begins cutting away at the outlined holes diligently. you do the same with another sheet of fabric which was prepared before this, and the two of you make such an efficient use of time that you finish a whole episode of some murder mystery show on netflix. jeemin’s even at the brink of slumber when mai rings the doorbell that jolts you awake.

when you open the door for the older girl, she’s almost taken aback at how drowsy your girlfriend looks. “sleepy? i’m not late, am i?”

“no, we just finished early,” you look behind you at jeemin, slightly smiling, “you have the camera?”

mai nods and gestures to her car parked outside, “in my bag. off to the photoshoot?”

“off to the photoshoot.”

there’s an assortment of props that you packed for the ghost photoshoot trend (that you may have been late to by a measly four years… but you digress) including chic sunglasses, a top hat and a cowboy hat, and a tea set. the plan is to go to a local park, risk your dignity for a few photos in case someone recognizes you, and go back home.

the photoshoot was an idea that randomly popped up in your head after doom scrolling on tiktok, and of course you had to drag your girlfriend in to do it with you. not that jeemin complained, because not to boast but you’re pretty sure she would adopt a dog to surprise you if you mention it in passing once. although it does sound nice—owning a dog together, jeemin coming home from walking the dog just in time for dinner which you lovingly prepared… such a dream.

“come here you two,” mai beckons with her hand, grabbing the white sheets from the trunk, ones that you’ll be covered with very soon. jeemin and you approach her obediently, receiving the sheets and pulling it over your heads, waiting for further instructions. “glasses,” she hands the pairs of sunglasses to you both.

now decked out in standard-ghost-photoshoot attire, you and jeemin set off to do whatever while mai captures you with her canon dslr camera (which is well-loved and also getting kind of old; you plan to get her a new one for christmas), grabbing multiple shots of different scenes thrown together.

you pat the space next to you on the ground, adjusting your sunglasses and intertwining your fingers with your girlfriend’s when she sits down. mai stands nearby, ready to press the shutter button, “three, two-”

“wait,” jeemin calls out, before reaching around you and gently easing your head down to rest on her shoulder. the action moves your glasses from their original position, but you dismiss it. “okay, ready.”

the older girl slightly shakes her head with a smile before counting down again, the sound of the shutter following soon after. she looks down, checking the recent photos and flashing a thumbs up, “i think we’ve taken a good amount.”

the three of you head straight to the car, you and jeemin still in the ghost-fit, and drive back to your place. your parents are gone for a work trip, so it’s just you guys in the house sorting through the photos. there’s some of you walking and holding hands, taken from the front, some of you wearing the hats (jeemin had the top hat, and you the cowboy hat) and pretending to sip tea, and various different shots of other poses and such.

“the others are gonna complain that we left them out,” you laugh, moving over on the bed to look at mai’s camera.

jeemin wraps her arm around your shoulder, giggling softly. “then that’s too bad for them.”

“cold much?” mai looks over her shoulder, grinning. “was this worth it to you two?”

“so worth it,” you sigh, slightly leaning back on your hands and closing your eyes.

so worth it.

flufftober masterlist!

a/n : i miss u bang jeemin i do

[cobrakaisb]

a dazzling haze and chocolate chip pancakes

summary: mark wants to introduce you to his friends, just not at this very moment

word count: 1.02k

the warm glow of the sunlight streaming through mark’s window causes her to shift in her sleep. she turns her head, sinking further into the comforter and boyfriend’s arms. he hums softly, arm tightening ever so slightly around her waist as her face buried into his bare shoulder. it’s quiet and peaceful, two words that aren’t typically associated with the sophomore hockey house.

“estapa, what do you want from…oh shit,” one of the guys, mark’s roommates, shouts as he barges into the room.

mark groans, his face burying deeper into the crook between her neck and shoulder. “edwards. get the fuck out,” he says, voice groggy and filled with sleep. 

edwards, or ethan, laughs before saying, “just letting you know we’re ordering breakfast. text me what you and your girl want.” she feels mark’s mouth open, as if to argue with his friend, but the boy has already left, closing the door behind him. 

it takes a minute for mark to catch his bearings, but when he does, he turns to face her. she stares into his brown eyes for a minute, comforter still pulled up to her chin, protecting her exposed skin from the cold air and replacing the warmth from his body heat. after a minute of just staring, she feels a smile break out onto her face. “your girl, huh?” she teases, watching as his cheeks turn a deep shade of red. 

“like you didn’t already know,” he responds, moving just enough so that his forehead rests against hers. her smile widens, and she closes her eyes, basking in their proximity. “you should text your friend our order,” she says, breaking their serenity. “you don’t even know where we order from,” he answers. she shrugs, “how hard is it to make chocolate chip pancakes?” 

he sighs, arms reaching for her as she tries to sit up in the bed. “mark,” she warns, trying to pry his arms away. “can’t we just stay in bed a little longer?” he begs, his face hiding in the divot between her shoulder blades. “your friends are ordering us breakfast. besides, weren’t you just talking about how you wanted me to integrate into your little group?” she says, raising an eyebrow, even though he can’t see it. he groans, letting go of her waist as she stands up from the bed. he can’t help but stare at the marks from last night, watching with a satisfied smirk as she throws on one of his t-shirts. 

“do you still have a pair of my running shorts here?” she asks, walking over to his bureau to look for them. “they should be in the top left drawer, babe. with all your other stuff,” he mumbles, getting up from the bed to put on a pair of gray sweatpants. she scours around in the drawer, eventually finding a pair to slip on. “let me just brush my teeth, then we can go down,” she says, coming to stand next to him. her hand holds onto his bicep as she stands on her tip-toes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. then, she’s gone. 

“took you long enough. what do you want? we’re waiting for you,” one of the four boys says as the couple walks into the kitchen. she assumes he’s the one that woke them up originally, but she’s not quite sure. “sorry eddy. she had to get dressed,” mark explains, a cheeky grin on his face. her mouth falls open, a look of betrayal and disbelief crossing her face. “me? you’re the one who didn’t want to get out of bed!” she shouts, pointing a finger at him. mark flushes as all the boys laugh at his expense. 

“sorry for wanting to spend some time with my girlfriend. sue me,” he defends, holding up his hands. “please, you spent all night together. i could hear you,” another one of the boys says. he was taller with a head of curly brown hair. she flushes at his statement, arms hugging her torso as she rocks on her heels. “good job hughesy, you made her uncomfortable,” another hockey player, this one shorter than the rest, says as he slaps hughesy on the shoulder. the latter grimaces, before mumbling out an apology.      

“anyways, i’m ethan, mark’s best friend and roommate,” the first guy introduces himself. she smiles at him, watching as the others say their names: mackie, dylan, and luke. by the time they’re done, mark is standing behind her, hands clutching at her waist. “i’m y/n, mark’s girlfriend,” she says, giving them a shy wave. 

“oh we know, he doesn’t shut up about you, tutor girl,” mackie teases. she giggles at his words, poking at mark’s abdomen. “knew you liked me,” she whispers. he shakes his head, a smile on his face from her words. “uh duh! he raves about you. speaking of, i have a paper due in a couple days, could you help me with it?” dylan asks. before she can answer, mark does it for her, “get your own tutor, she’s mine.”

“oh she’s mine, she’s mine. what happened to sharing is caring? or were you absent from preschool that day?” luke sasses, and she snorts at his words. her hand comes up to cover her mouth, trying to muffle the sound, but her shaking shoulders give her away. mark pinches her side, in good nature, and she jerks away from him. “it was funny,” she says, giving him a pointed look. 

“it was not funny,” he replies, pouting like a preschooler. “aw baby don’t be sad, want me to kiss your boo-boo? will that make it better?” she teases, a mischievous look in her eyes. his pout deepens, and his arms cross against his chest. “please.” she sighs, but gets on her toes, arms wrapping around his neck to keep her balance. his hands find her waist, holding her steadily against him. the second their lips connect, gagging echoes throughout the room. 

“get a room please.”

“we don’t need last night part two.”

they laugh, putting some distance between themselves. “i really like your friends,” she whispers, and he just smiles.

[sparklingcid3r]

Do you have headcanons for the Curtis parents

HELL yeah i do‼️ a lot of these are inspired by my own childhood bc i got nostalgic😭

- I’m gonna call Mrs. Curtis Josephine because I saw it once and ran with it, also it’s not fair we don’t know her name :(

- But in my head, Josephine accidentally got pregnant in her senior year to Darrel Sr., who’d already dropped out of high school, and they decided to keep the baby, and Josephine ended up dropping out

- Josephine’s parents were furious over the situation, both her dropping out and getting pregnant to someone like Darrel. They kicked her out of the house

- Darrel worked like hell to provide for her and his own family put up money for them to try and help, but it wasn’t much. Despite that, they were happy

- Shotgun wedding! Not a big thing or anything, Josephine wore her patchy homecoming dress and Darrel’s mom sewed up one of her husband’s suits for him, and it was a quiet affair

- Darry lowkey tricked them into thinking parenting would be easy because he wasn’t a crier even when he was born. He was well-behaved and didn’t cause them that much stress. Like he still cried but not nearly as much as a normal baby would. It was a little nerve wracking as they wondered if something was wrong with him or if this whole parenting thing was easy asl

- Uh yeah so then Soda was born

- Josephine had bad post partem depression after Soda where she couldn’t spend a lot of time with Soda and kind of used Darry as a crutch, spending more time with him as a result was Darrel spent more time with Soda. I imagine this being the reason Soda took on more of his dad’s mannerisms while Darry took his mom’s

- Slowly Josephine started coming around, but it was still hard. She spent as much time as she could handle with Soda, but Darrel always told her not to pressure herself and that she just needed to give it time, but he was anxious about the situation too

- Darry was actually the one who coined Pony’s name. When Josephine was pregnant with him, she let Darry and Soda touch her stomach and feel for him, and Darry said he kicked like a pony and Darrel and Josephine looked at each other like 👁️👄👁️☝️

- Originally it was just going to be Pony, but Darrel started saying “How’s our Ponykid doing in there?” and so when he was born and they found out he was a he, Josephine switched it because she didn’t want him to be called a kid his whole life

- Josephine was the cook of the family, but some days Darrel would make pancakes for the family while Josephine would make faces out of syrup and fruit for the boys

- Same with the grill, Darrel would ask for everyone’s order: burger, cheeseburger, hotdog, and Josephine would help them making faces and (not very good) pictures with the ketchup

- Darrel always woke the boys up saying “Time to make the donuts!” and while Darry and Soda knew what that meant, it took Pony a little longer to stop getting disappointed when there weren’t any donuts waiting for them in the kitchen

- Josephine was the one who tucked the boys in, but Darrel usually came in a few minutes later to say goodnight to them as well, and if he hadn’t shaved that morning he’d rub his face against theirs without them expecting it and hurt like a mf, Soda swore he’d always be clean-shaven

- Even though they didn’t call him Superman, Darrel was the one they all associated Superman with. Before closing their doors at night, he’d always do the motion of ripping his shirt across the middle as if to reveal the logo on his chest, so Pony calling Darry Superman meant more to Darry than he ever wants to admit

- Josephine was always singing or humming, just making music. When she was cooking, cleaning, doing the laundry, music was always going in the Curtis home. I’m pretty sure in the movie there’s a piano in the house, and it absolutely belonged to Josephine. She tried to teach all three of her kids how to play, but Darry was the only one who really took to it

- Josephine could have died from joy hearing Pony and Soda singing Andy Williams and Hal David off key while Darry stumbled through a song on the piano

totally feel like i could go on about this family, they mean so much to me🙏

[snowprinceau]

SO question. May be stupid. But eh.

How did the others react to icekings randomly having a kid he adopted? What about Marceline? How did she react.

Counter question. Does the ice king still kidnap princess bubblegum or did he stop? If he continued did fin ever talk to her?

For the most part, no one knew that he had adopted a child, much less a human.

In fact, everyone just realized at some point that the Ice King hadn't been seen for the past few years, and if he had, he was harmless in terms of kidnapping.

Though he did regularly stop by the Breakfast Kingdom and steal pancakes and toast from there.

PB just quietly exhaled and went about her business, and Marcy, following the original timeline, was on a trip and didn't know about Finn until the events in the tree house.

Next question.

He stopped kidnapping princesses, in fact I think a part of Simon woke up in him that prioritized taking care of the baby like he did with Marcy after the war