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raaorqtpbpdy · 11 months ago

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Brotherhood (2)

Directly following the events of Double Helix, Danny enrolls in Bayville High school and joins the Brotherhood of Mutants. He's not sure if they actually believe he's a ghost and not a mutant, but at least they don't care enough to challenge him on it, and that's good enough for him. This is a direct sequel to Double Helix (linked above), and some parts may be confusing without the context of the original fic. I suggest you read that first.

Written for @crossoverdanuary Week 2024, Day 5: The Owl House X-Men Evolution | Shell

I have seen exactly two episodes of The Owl House, and that was like four years ago or something, so I was not confident in my ability to write a crossover for it. Also, from this chapter on, it's unedited and I'll come back to edit later. I just want to actually finish this fic tonight.

I tried to work in a theme of both Danny and Wanda "coming out of their shell" throughout the fic. You can also read it on AO3.

Chapter 2: Transition

[Warning for mental institutions]

"You guys got any plans for the long weekend?" Lance asked as he sprawled out on the shabby couch in the board house. "Kitty told me she and some of the X-dorks are going on an educational retreat to the California redwoods. They decided on it yesterday. Can you imagine being able to just up and fly to the other side of the country on a whim."

"And for educational purposes, yuck!" Toad agreed. "If I had my own jet like they do, I'd go to Vegas!"

"If you could afford a jet like they have, you wouldn't have to go to Vegas," Lance said. "You'd already be rich. If I had my own jet, I would use it to go to all the concerts I'd normally miss because they're too far away."

"I don't need a private jet to go wherever I want," Pietro bragged. "If I want to go to a concert, I'll run right in past security and no one will even know."

"And if that concert is in Europe?" Lance asked. "Or Asia? You know, across a massive ocean? Can you run there?"

"Okay, point taken, but why would I wanna go to a snooty European concert anyway?" the speedster scoffed. "What about you, Danny?"

"What do I need a jet for? I can already fly," he said. "Not that I use it for major travel much. Maybe I should. That's what my cousin does. She flies all over the world."

"Hey! We should do something fun this weekend!" Toad declared. "Maybe sneak into a concert, or go somewhere cool! Show those X losers we know how to have a good time while they use their fancy private jet to go learn things."

"Sure, I'm down," Lance agreed.

"Sorry guys, I'm gonna pass this time. I actually do have plans this weekend," Danny said. "I'm gonna fly upstate and visit a friend. I haven't seen her in a few weeks."

"Her?" Pietro repeated with a smirk. "This wouldn't happen to be a girlfriend would it?"

"It's not like that," Danny said. "She's a friend. She's a girl. That's it."

"Uh-huh... sure," Toad said, sounding unconvinced. "You dog."

"Lay off," Danny said, rolling his eyes. "Come on, we gotta get to school. Long weekend's not here yet."

Toad groaned.

"Buck up, we've only got one more day," Lance pointed out.

When the long weekend finally arrived, Danny filled his pockets with all the things he wanted to bring, said good-bye to the Brotherhood, who barely acknowledged him as they argued about what to do that weekend, and took off. He flew north, toward the mental institution. It had been almost three whole weeks since he'd last been there, but he remembered the way.

Honestly, he hadn't expected to go back so soon, and Wanda probably wouldn't be expecting him either, but it wasn't like he was gonna be an inpatient this time. He would turn invisible and pop into Wanda's room to hang out with her. It hadn't even been that long, really, but he missed her.

Thinking about her in that room all alone again, without anyone or anything to distract her, it almost made him regret leaving in the first place. He should have been more considerate. Even though she said she'd be okay, leaving just because he didn't like Xavier was selfish.

When, after almost a full day of flying, he finally caught sight of the building, resentment gripped his chest. He hated this place. If it weren't for Wanda, he wouldn't have even stayed as long as he had. And if it weren't for her, he definitely wouldn't have come back, ever. No matter what.

But he did. He came back. For Wanda.

Sneaking in went just as planned. No one saw him. No one heard him. He was a ghost, after all. The moment he saw Wanda, he realized that he'd missed her even more than he'd thought.

"Knock knock," he said as he appeared in her room.

She jumped in surprise, but when she saw him, she smiled. "You scared me."

"Should I have said 'Boo', instead?" he asked. "I totally should have. Missed opportunity."

She chuckled slightly and shook her head.

"You seem to be doing pretty well, all things considered," he noted.

She was still wearing a straight jacket, but it looked looser, like whoever had put it on her wasn't as worried about her getting out. Her small smile still seemed genuine. Three weeks on her own again hadn't sent her straight back to her darkest place, it seemed.

"Yeah," she agreed. "I've been taking your advice. Whenever I notice myself getting stuck thinking about the bad memory, I try to think of three good ones. It's hard sometimes, but I think the more effort it takes, the better it works, because it keeps me distracted for longer. Yesterday, I remembered reading that book with you. You know the one. I tried to imagine an ending for it where they were both arrested as war criminals instead of having a happy ending. Do you want to hear it?"

"Absolutely," Danny confirmed.

In truth, he hadn't even thought about that trashy romance novel in ages. It was largely forgettable for him, but if it helped Wanda better navigate her emotions then hell yeah he wanted to hear her ideas for an alternate ending.

In her version of the ending, there was a huge trial. The kings of both sides agreed that the Warlock and Sorceress were guilty of crimes against Arvenia, and sentenced them to live the rest of there lives in a deep, dark dungeon where the lovers could only communicate by having rats deliver notes between them.

Then, after years of planning their escape one note at a time, they broke out and took over the world together, killing the kings and terrorizing the people of Arvenia to keep them in line.

"Ooh, plot twist!" Danny said when she got to that part. "I like that you made them the villains in the end. They should have been the villains from the beginning."

"I agree," Wanda said. "It was stupid that the book just gave them another villain to blame for all the bad things they did and fight off, rather than acknowledging their crimes."

"Totally!" Danny emphatically agreed. "Oh, I just remembered! I brought you some stuff."

He reached into his pockets and pulled out all the stuff he'd brought. He pulled out a deck of cards, a book of MadLibs and a pen, a sheet of stickers. He wasn't sure what they would have the most fun with, so he'd just brought a bunch of random junk. Lastly, he pulled out a necklace, a black choker with an ankh charm.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Your first goth accessory," he said. "I found it in a random box in the attic where I'm staying now."

"No, I mean what's that symbol?" she asked, repositioning herself so Danny could put the necklace on her.

"Oh, it's an ankh. The Egyptian symbol for life, I think."

"Life, huh? Doesn't sound very goth."

"Well, you would be wearing it ironically," he said. "Most of the other gothy stuff I found had crosses, and seeing as your Jewish and all...." He shrugged. "Felt like it would be disrespectful. So, do you like it?"

"Yeah, I like it a lot," Wanda said. "You know," her voice became suddenly softer than before, like she was nervous. "Professor Xavier is going to come tomorrow. I think tomorrow might finally be the day he takes me with him."

"You think?" Danny asked, excited for her despite his hatred of the professor.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "I've been doing a lot better lately, and I have a really good feeling about it."

"That's awesome, Wanda!" he told her. "In that case, let's call the necklace a good luck charm. I'm rooting for you. I know you can do it."

"Thanks."

"You know, I also found this totally sweet red leather coat when I was rooting around in the attic," he said. "Ankle-length, flared collar, and it's your favorite color. Once you're ready to give up the straight jacket, I'll bring it to you as a congratulations present. What do you think?"

"I think you're really trying to motivate me."

"What can I say? I miss my friend."

"Then we have a deal," she agreed. Tomorrow is gonna be the day. I just know it."

Danny grinned widely at her.

For the rest of the day, they mostly played MadLibs. They tried a few card games, too, but with Wanda's hands restrained, the only thing they could really do was collaborative solitaire, and that got old fast. Danny stuck little ghost and bat stickers on all the latches on her straight jacket while he told her about the school he was going to, and the board house. How he'd picked the same city the Xavier Institute was in so he could see her again when she enrolled there.

"They're all mutants at the board house," Danny told her. "I don't know if they actually believe I'm not, but they don't push it. They don't even call me a mutant by mistake. I don't know, maybe it's 'cause they're afraid I'll do something, or maybe it's 'cause they just don't care enough to argue with me, but either way, that's better than I ever got from Xavier."

"I'm glad you found people who accept you," Wanda said. "I hope when I go to the professor's school, I will too."

"Me too," Danny agreed. "And hey, even if you don't find them there, you'll still have me."

She smiled at him. Her smile was always small, burdened, a little sad behind the eyes, but it was honest. Danny liked that about her. She never tried to hide anything.

That night, he crashed in her room. Despite being fully padded, it was not very comfortable, but it was better than trying to fly through the night and ending up sleeping in a tree somewhere. He said 'see ya later' and left early in the morning to make sure he wouldn't be seen when the orderlies came to get her for her meeting with the professor, and promised to meet up with her again soon.

Then, he spent another day flying back to Bayville.

"You're getting back a little late, aren't you?" Lance observed when Danny finally returned to the board house. "Did you get to spend some quality time with your girlfriend?"

"Again, not my girlfriend, but yes, I did," Danny responded. "How was your... whatever you guys decided to do this weekend?"

"Oh, we ended up not being able to decide, so we just ordered pizza and stayed here all weekend," Lance answered. "So that was... that."

"Oh, yeah, those X-Men are gonna be soo jealous of the weekend you had."

"Shut up!"

It wasn't until a couple days later that news reached the Brotherhood of the X-Men's newest member. It came by way of Lance's budding relationship with Kitty.

"Really!? The X-Men have a new member?" Danny repeated excitedly when he heard the news after school.

"That's what Kitty said," Lance confirmed. "Apparently she's not gonna start at Bayville High for another few of days so she can get settled, but yeah. I don't know anything about her, though."

"I'm pretty sure I do!" Danny said. "I gotta go!"

"What?"

Danny didn't bother to explain. He went ghost, made a quick pit-stop in the attic to grab something and then flew straight for the Xavier Institute. He'd never actually been there before, but Tabitha told him where it was a while back. Apparently, she used to be an X-Men trainee before she joined the Brotherhood, and she was still friends with some of them.

Turrets rose up out of the ground the moment he got past the gate. Probably motion-activated. Danny easily avoided getting hit by turning intangible and staying that way until he'd flown straight through the front door. It actually took a while. The grounds were huge.

By the time he got through, there was a group of mutants waiting for him, suited up and ready for a fight.

"Relax, I'm not here to fight," Danny said. He held up the paper bag he'd brought with him. "I'm just bringing a friend a gift."

"Who are you?" demanded a guy with a weird visor. Scott, probably. He seemed like Scott.

"What do you mean who am I?" Danny asked. "You know me!"

"Like, I've never seen you before," Kitty said, crossing her arms.

How they expected to protect their identities when they didn't even wear masks, Danny had no idea.

"What are you talking about? I—" He stopped himself abruptly. "Oh yeah, my bad," he said, and let the rings of his transformation wash over him, revealing his human form. "Recognize me now?"

Judging by their gasps, the answer was yes, but they didn't stand down.

"What are you doing here?" Jean asked. "I thought you didn't want anything to do with the Xavier Institute."

"I don't wanna join, but it's not like I hate you guys or anything," Danny said. "This just isn't the place for me. And I already told you why I'm here. I'm brought a congratulations present for Wanda. She's your new member, right? Or trainee? Whatever."

"How do you know that?" asked a fuzzy blue mutant that Danny didn't recognize until he started talking. That German accent was unmistakably Kurt.

"Well, when I saw her the other day, she said she felt really confident that she was going to be able to join you guys soon, and then Lance said Kitty said you got a new member, so I figured it must be her."

The others all glared at Kitty.

"What?" she asked. "It's not like it was gonna be a secret for long anyway. We, like, all go to the same school!"

"I wasn't aware you and Wanda were so close," came a familiar voice.

Danny turned to see the professor wheeling in and had to school his face to avoid scowling at him.

"We're friends," he said. "Can I see her or not? And keep in mind if you say no, I'm just gonna find her anyway."

"As long as you haven't come with ill intentions, I see no reason why you shouldn't be allowed to see her," the professor said. "We're all mutants after all, and a sense of community is important."

"I'm not a mutant," Danny muttered, his scowl finally breaking through.

The professor responded with a tight smile. "Jean, why don't you show Danny to Wanda's room."

"Of course, professor," Jean agreed. "It's this way."

She headed up the stairs and Danny followed.

"So do you and Wanda know each other from the institution?" Jean asked. "I mean, sorry, that's probably personal. I hope you don't mind me asking."

"It's fine," Danny said. "Yeah. Security couldn't exactly hold a guy who walks through walls, so I would sneak into her room sometimes and we'd hang out. She always wanted to be able to come here. I could never really understand it, but I'm still proud of her, you know? I may not agree with you guys, but you're good people. For the most part. I'm not quite sold on Scott, yet."

Jean chuckled. "I guess we can't really ask for more than that." She stopped in the hallway and knocked on a door. "Wanda, you in there? You have a visitor."

The door opened seemingly on its own.

"Danny!" Wanda's voice called. "I didn't think you'd be here so soon."

"I came as soon as I heard, and I guess word travels fast," he replied. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, come in," she said.

"I'll leave you to it," Jean said, as she backed away into the hall and closed the door behind her.

"You look good," Danny said.

Her clothes were a bit mismatched, but it was the first time he was seeing her without a straight jacket, and that was a huge improvement. She was also wearing the choker he'd given her. Her hair looked recently washed, and was neatly combed and tucked behind her ears.

Even the way she held herself was more confident, happier. Not being in that rotten mental institution was already having a positive affect on her, it seemed.

"I brought something that'll make you look even better." He held up the paper bag.

"The coat?" she asked, rushing forward excitedly to take the bag from him.

"I hope it fits," he told her. "It looked about the right size."

She let the bag drop to the floor as he pulled the coat out and smoothly slid it on. It looked like it might be a little wide in the shoulders, but other than that, it fit like a glove.

"It's perfect," she said.

"I also found some earrings that match the necklace," he said. "I slipped 'em in one of the pockets. I know you don't have pierced ears, but I figured if you ever did, you might like to have them."

She patted the pockets until she found what he was talking about and smiled when she pulled them out. Then, she laid them gently on her dresser.

He didn't think he'd ever seen her smile so much, and so unabashedly. It wasn't the tiny, hesitant smile she'd worn before. She was really coming out of her shell.

"Careful," he said. "Looking at you now, I'd almost think you weren't consumed by rage."

Her smile fell.

That had been the wrong thing to say.

"I am still angry," she said. "I can't stop it. But... you were right. I didn't need to control my anger. I just had to stop letting my anger control me. Now I can be angry and happy at the same time. Angry and excited. I feel more than just anger now. It feels good."

"I'm happy to hear it," he told her. "So how's this place treating you so far?"

"I have a roommate!" she replied instantly. "Her name is Rahne. And tomorrow, when they're done with school, she and some of the other girls are gonna take me to the mall for new clothes so I don't have to wear stuff from the lost-and-found anymore."

"That makes sense," Danny said.

"Do you wanna come?" she invited.

"I... would... but I might ruin the mood," he said apologetically. "Some of them don't trust me since I'm technically part of the Brotherhood, and we're... enemies? Rivals? Something like that. Plus, you don't want a guy tagging along on your first girl's shopping trip. Trust me. You'll want the full experience."

"You have a point...."

"I'll enjoy the surprise of seeing your new wardrobe when you come to school in a few days," he said.

They hung out and chatted for a little while until Wanda's roommate came back and Danny figured that was his cue to go. As he left her new room, he had the distinct pleasure of telling her he'd see her at school.

He could feel eyes on him until he was all the way off the manor grounds. They may not have hated him, but these X-Men sure as hell didn't trust him either.

Whatever. He didn't care what they thought about him. As long as they took care of Wanda, and left him alone, they were alright in his book. So far, so good.

#dp #danny phantom #x men #x men evolution #dp x x men evolution #fic #things i wrote #brotherhood #double helix #crossover #dp crossover #crossover danuary week 2024 #crossover danuary week #danny fenton #wanda maximoff #sequel

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gayashelljatp · 3 months ago

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Prince Charming x James Hook | Trophy Boy ChapteR

Tags :Sorta Enemies to Lovers Fake/Pretend Relationship Not Canon Compliant, Inspired by Cinderella (1997), I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Prince Charming is a Bi-King, Prince Charming Is Filipino, Because the actor is and I also am one so yeah, Prince Charming gets a lot of bitches but no love, Merlin Academy (Disney), James Hook is gay, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, I don't know how to tag in this fandom, No Beta Like Not Going To Castlecoming

Summary:

Charming had himself caught up in a pretty little lie, telling his parents he had a date for his birthday ball. Desperate to stop their meddling in his love life, he came up with a plan: show up with someone who’d make the court gasp—a notorious pirate at school, James Hook. It was supposed to be a quick fix: fake a romance, cause a stir, and be free from the royal matchmakers forever. But the more time Charming spent with Hook—as a person, the sharp banter—the more complicated things got. This wasn’t just about pretending anymore. He was starting to get hooked. Or The sorta enemies to fake dating to lovers between Hook and Charming no one asked for.

Content Rating: Teen and Up.

Wordcount: 5,931

Notes (Same On AO3):

Hi, I'm Ace. But I'm here posting and writing more gay shit for the Descendants fandom.

I'm one for a crack ship and these two don't even interact in the movie so you may be wondering what made me do this. Three things actually:

I'm in the Descendants editing community and I saw this edit by @jewishvarian. Hook's actor Josh pretty much showing his support to this ship has made we want to do this.

The second inspiration is Once Upon A Time ship Captain Charming my sister had a Once Upon A Time phase so I know quite a bit about them. The third thing the catalyst for this is the fanfic Stage Call by Montythecrow. (The first chapter is really good can't wait for more. Also R.I.P. DBD I never got to make a DBD fic before it got cancelled *sighs in JATP*)

Let's do some housekeeping and explain the lore because this fic grabs from fifty million things.

- The Brandy Cinderella movie or Rodgers & Hammerstein's Cinderella (1997) as it's also known are major inspirations. I pulled the characterization of Charming from this film and the new Descendants film and I pulled the whole of Charming's parents and his butler Lionel from this movie. (Pls watch this movie. It's really fun, campy and entertaining.)

- I also took from various Prince Charming media from Cinderella movies from Disney to non-Disney. Charming (2018)'s Trophy Boy by Avril Lavigne, Ashely Tisdale and G.E.M. is where the title of this fic comes from. It's a bad movie but this song is legendary and pop perfection. A K-pop star, a Disney star, and a rock star all in one song is crazy.

- This fic has multiple POV's for Charming focused parts 👑 emojis are used on the other hook if it's James it's this emoji 🪝.

- Finally, this isn't a GayashellJATP fic without a playlist of songs I have on that help immerse you in the universe. Spotify playlist here!!!

Now that we are done with some housekeeping. Enjoy the fic & Remember to give feedback!!! It is always appreciated.

Notes (Tumblr):

I'm trying to do better on posting on here and being on time. With being a cross platform author. I still don't know how Tumblr works pls help me. Once again I suggest you read on AO3 my formatting is way better on that.

Chapter 1: Before The Ball

👑

Charming was so screwed.

He'd been excused from class by royal summons, which only meant one of two things: either bad news or... well, worse news. Lionel, the family’s loyal servant and his assigned guardian at the academy, was jittery, practically fidgeting as he escorted the skateboarding teen to the castle.

Lionel’s nervousness only heightened Charming's suspicion—did he tattle on him sneaking out of the academy for a late-night date? Again? Or worse—had he forgotten some royal obligation that would now come back to bite him?

Despite the comfortable life he'd been born into, Charming had a talent for getting into situations that made it... uncomfortable. Usually of his own making.

The moment they arrived at the vast, gilded throne room, the knot in his stomach twisted tighter. His mother stood. Not good. Queen Constantina only stood when something serious—truly serious—was about to be discussed. Lionel cleared his throat and began the ceremonial introduction.

“Your Royal Highness, Prince Charming—”

The Queen interrupted with a sharp glance. “Prince Christopher Rupert Windermere Vladimir—”

“Mom,” Charming sighed, cutting Lionel off. “He doesn’t have to say it every time.” The poor man practically bowed in relief when Charming gestured for him to be seated. The full name was ridiculously wordy, one of the many reasons why "Prince Charming" stuck much more easily.

“Son, you didn’t need to dismiss him,” King Maximilian spoke up from beside the queen, kissing his wife’s hand. Charming had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

His parents were constantly doing that—displaying affection as if they were still teenagers in love. Any love hater would have gagged, but Charming simply tried to suppress a smirk. Even he couldn't deny they were a good match, for better or worse.

“Mom. Dad. What is it this time?” Charming asked, his voice strained but trying not to sound too impatient.

“Watch your tone, Junior,” his father said, though not harshly.

Charming forced a deep breath. “Fine. What’s the big news?” he said, layering on enthusiasm that was just short of sarcasm.

The Queen exchanged a meaningful glance with her husband before turning to her son, her posture regal and dramatic all at once. "Your eighteenth birthday in two days."

“I thought—” his father began, but a sharp elbow from his wife stopped him. “We thought it would be appropriate to throw a birthday ball.”

Charming's heart sank. "A ball?" His voice came out strained. "Father, is that really necessary?"

Queen Constantina's eyes glistened with an air of theatrics as she responded, “You haven’t shown any of your potential picks for marriage. You are two years overdue for at least a partner!” Her voice hitched as though it were a tragedy in itself.

Charming had tried, of course. He'd gone on more first dates than he cared to count, but none had led to anything serious. His royal reputation for being “charming” only went so far, especially when he wasn’t charmed by anyone.

“I’m working on it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But Mom, I don’t think a ball for my birthday is necessary.”

“Necessary?” His mother’s voice shot up an octave, her hand flying dramatically to her chest as if she were about to swoon. “Is it necessary that I should die knowing my only son will be a lonely king?!”

Charming’s eyes widened. “Mom, please. You’re not going to—"

“I might!” she countered, her voice trembling as if the mere thought of his supposed future loneliness was too much to bear. “The idea of you being all alone without a wife or family—oh! How tragic it would be!”

Charming rubbed the back of his neck, suppressing a groan. He loved his mom, truly, but sometimes her dramatics were... a lot. “Okay, fine. I get it. But… I have someone. Already. A partner.”

The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think them through. His heart nearly stopped as both his parents' faces lit up.

“You do?!” his father exclaimed, clapping his hands together in glee.

The Queen looked like she was about to burst into tears of joy. “Oh, my darling boy! You’ve found someone! You’ve—”

Charming quickly nodded, feeling his stomach churn with regret. “Yep. Found someone. Really great.”

His father beamed. “That’s fantastic news, son! We were beginning to wonder if you'd ever—"

“But the ball,” Queen Constantina interjected with a flourish of her hand. “The ball must still happen! After all, it’s been paid for, and all the preparations have already been made.”

Charming’s shoulders slumped. “Of course it has…”

His mother took his hands, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, darling, I can’t wait to meet this special someone of yours. Bring her to the ball!”

"Yeah. Absolutely," Charming forced a grin, though inside, his mind raced. He was so, so screwed. Not only was the ball happening no matter what, but now he had to show up with a date—someone bad enough to stop his parents from meddling in his love life ever again.

Where on Earth was he going to find that?

👑

Charming zoomed through the academy gates on his skateboard, the wind whipping through his hair as his thoughts churned. Why had he lied? It gnawed at him, the weight of a falsehood pressing on his conscience. Lies weren’t really his thing. Now, he’d have to turn that lie into reality, or it would eat him alive.

As he skated through the courtyard, his gaze caught Fay, a fairy in training and his hexalogy class partner, sitting cross-legged on the grass, her nose buried in a spellbook. She was mumbling under her breath, waving her wand with exaggerated movements as sparks of magic fizzled in the air.

“Hey, Fay,” he called, slowing down as he rolled over.

Fay glanced up, her wide eyes narrowing with playful frustration. “Charming, where were you?” she asked, tapping her wand against her open book. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to hex yourself and then unhex yourself without your partner? I nearly turned myself into a frog!”

“Royal duties,” Charming shrugged, offering an apologetic smile.

Fay’s expression softened immediately. She knew all too well the burden his title carried. “What did the queen say this time?” she asked, her tone light but sympathetic.

Charming rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re throwing another ball.”

Fay’s face lit up. “A ball? Isn’t that fantastic—” she paused, noticing the scowl creeping over Charming's face, “—ally… impossible to enjoy?” She attempted to course-correct, her enthusiasm dimming as she realized how much the idea clearly weighed on him. Fay wasn’t the best at being negative, but she tried.

“But I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be there for the next class.”

“You better be,” Fay huffed, but her tone was forgiving.

“The whole kingdom’s invited. Maybe I’ll catch you at the ball?”

“Nah, I doubt it. I’ll be here practicing my spells,” she said with a shy smile, already inching back toward her book. Fay wasn’t one for social events—she always seemed to vanish from them, though Charming never asked why.

“Well, I’ll see you later,” Charming said, giving her a quick wave.

“Later, skater!” Fay called, attempting to sound cool, which earned a chuckle from Charming. She couldn’t help but laugh at herself as he rolled away.

But as Charming skated off, Fay accidentally mispronounced her next spell. Instead of reciting "double the bubbles," she muttered "double the wobbles" under her breath. Without realizing it, she had casted a spell on Charming’s skateboard, causing it to take on a life of its own.

Charming, an experienced skater, didn’t notice anything at first. But as he glided past the group of notorious students hanging out by the courtyard's edge, the board beneath his feet began to wobble violently, as though possessed.

His body lurched forward, trying to steady himself, but the board had other ideas. It veered, zigzagging uncontrollably, and before Charming could react, it shot straight toward a cluster of students.

In a blur of motion, Charming collided with none other than Captain James Hook—his pirate classmate, and perhaps the academy’s most infamous heartthrob after Charming himself. With a loud thud, both boys went crashing to the ground, Hook's shiny golden hook clattering against the stone courtyard as they tumbled in a tangle of limbs.

Charming groaned, disentangling himself. “I’m so sorry!” he blurted, scrambling to his feet. His skateboard had spun off and smacked into a nearby tree, finally bringing the spell to a halt.

Hook stood up slowly, glaring down at Charming with narrowed eyes. His gaze was sharp and menacing, but there was a flicker of something else—jealousy? Amusement? It was hard to tell.

“You really are a royal asshole, aren’t you?” Hook growled, dusting off his crimson blazer. His voice dripped with venom, but there was something undeniably captivating about the way he spoke. “Gunning for me, were you?”

“No! No, I swear. I didn’t mean to—I lost control of the board.”

Hook didn’t seem convinced. He stepped closer, his imposing presence casting a shadow over Charming. “You were heading straight toward me, mate,” Hook said, his tone dangerously low. His golden hook gleamed as he pointed it directly at Charming’s perfect face. “That doesn’t seem like much of an accident.”

Charming’s heart pounded as his eyes flicked from Hook’s face to the hook hovering too close for comfort. He held up his hands in surrender, his voice calm and soothing. “Whoa, easy,” he said, gently grabbing Hook’s wrist and pushing the hook away from his face. For a brief second, his fingers brushed against Hook’s skin.

For just a moment, Charming couldn’t help but notice Hook. The sharp features, the dark, windswept hair, the way his crimson blazer framed his broad shoulders. And those eyes—intense, narrowed in suspicion, but undeniably alluring.

Charming blinked, snapping out of it. He was in trouble, not admiring the guy who was about to gut him like a fish.

Hook, however, seemed to notice Charming’s lingering gaze. His eyes flashed with something almost wild, and a wicked smirk curled on his lips. “What’s the matter, Prince? Distracted?”

“Uh, no. Not at all. Just… don’t want to get impaled, that’s all.”

Hook raised an eyebrow, amused but not backing down. “Right.” He clicked his tongue, his hook gleaming in the sunlight as he let it fall to his side. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today. Or else…” He let the threat hang in the air, his eyes still burning into Charming’s.

“Right, yeah. Lucky,” Charming muttered, his pulse still racing. He wasn’t sure if it was from the near-death experience or the fact that Hook was standing way too close. He hadn’t expected Hook to be so—well, so much. Why was he noticing that now?

Hook’s smirk lingered as he stepped back, finally giving Charming some space. “Try not to skate into any more of your classmates, mate. Especially not me or my crew got it?.” He turned, flipping his collar with an air of superiority, though there was a glint in his eye as he strode away.

Charming watched him leave, shaking his head. Hook was dangerous—and not just because of the hook. There was something else there. Something he really needed to avoid.

But as he glanced back at his skateboard lying against the tree, the thought struck him: maybe, just maybe, Hook was exactly the kind of problem he needed.

If he could bring Hook to the ball, that would surely get his parents off his back. Right?

How would he ever get Hook to agree to that? He was really, really screwed.

🪝

Hook was seething. What a clueless little prince, he thought, his jaw clenched as he stormed through the academy's halls. Charming had to be the most oblivious royal he'd ever met. For someone so poised and charming, the prince had no idea how to navigate the real world.

Not that Hook expected much more from royals—they were all so privileged, so sheltered, so painfully clueless. That’s what made them easy marks. Their money, their fine clothes, their trinkets—it was all just there for the taking, practically begging to be lifted.

But this? This was different. Hook’s pride was bruised more than anything. Charming had made him collide with the earth, of all things, and Hook wasn’t going to forgive the little prince for sullying his pristine, mint-condition vintage blazer. He cast a quick glance at the fabric—no visible damage, but that didn’t matter. The fact that it had touched the ground at all was an unforgivable offense.

And worse, Hook knew his crew would never let him live this down if they found out. His reputation couldn’t take a hit like that, not when he had spent so much time cultivating it. He had to get his revenge. Teach the prince a lesson.

So, during storybook history class, Hook slipped out unnoticed. He snuck across the academy grounds to the royal dormitory— Full of one bed and customized rooms, unlike less privileged students. They weren’t allowed to deface their rooms and they had a roommate system. But Hook wasn’t complaining his roommate was pretty great.

But he wasn’t here to brood. No, he was here to act.

Charming’s dorm was up ahead, and Hook was relieved to see no sign of that bothersome butler Lionel. Of course, the little prince needs a servant to wait on him hand and foot, Hook thought, rolling his eyes. He always found it odd—off-putting, even—that Charming couldn’t go anywhere without a personal attendant. How soft and pampered could you get?

Hook approached Charming’s door, a sly grin spreading across his face. With a quick glance down the hallway, he slipped his golden hook into the lock, working it with practiced ease. Today, he was wearing his favorite hook—the golden one that added a touch of class to his ensemble. He’d have to be careful not to scratch it. The lock gave way with a soft click, and Hook pushed the door open, slipping inside.

The room smelled of expensive cologne, and everything was arranged perfectly. Typical royal. Hook sneered. He moved to the wardrobe, his eyes scanning the rows of pristine clothes.

Charming had quite the collection—mostly royal-styled barongs and beige outfits, which made Hook wrinkle his nose. Beige? Ugh, he thought with disdain. Not his color at all. Where was the flair, the vibrancy? Not a single dark or deep color in sight. Charming had such a boring taste in clothes for someone so well-dressed.

Still, a theft was a theft. Hook rifled through the clothes, trying to find something worth taking. Surely the prince won’t miss a few pieces, he thought, tossing aside a particularly dull-looking beige tunic.

What Hook didn’t realize was how much time he’d spent browsing

But time had gotten away from him, and Hook hadn’t realized how long he’d been sifting through the prince’s belongings until he heard the unmistakable sound of the door opening behind him.

“Looking for something?” came a voice that was far too calm for Hook’s liking.

Hook froze, hand halfway through a drawer of silk cravats. Slowly, he turned around, his heart sinking as he locked eyes with Prince Charming standing in the doorway with a smirk, arms crossed over his chest. He hadn’t expected to get caught—he never got caught.

Hook blinked, trying to regain his composure. “Ah skater boy,” he began, straightening up and smoothing his jacket. “This… is not what it looks like.”

Charming raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Really? Because it looks like you’re in my room rifling through my wardrobe.”

Hook swallowed, his mind racing for an excuse. He’d been in tight spots before, but this? This was a mess. “I was, uh… inspecting your clothing choices. Offering a little… constructive criticism, you might say,” Hook replied, flashing a crooked grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He wasn’t used to feeling this off-kilter. “No offense, mate, but 50 shades of tan and beige? Really?”

Charming’s expression remained neutral, though there was a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. “And you thought breaking into my room was the best way to offer fashion advice?”

Before Hook could answer, Lionel appeared in the doorway, eyes wide as they flickered between the pirate and the prince. “Am I interrupting, sir? I didn’t expect a guest,” Lionel said, his voice a touch too polite, suspicion creeping in.

Charming, without losing his cool, glanced slightly over his shoulder at Lionel but didn’t shift his focus from Hook. “It’s fine, Lionel. Could you give us a moment?” His tone was dismissive but not unkind, the sort of royal command that left no room for argument.

"Of course, Your Highness," Lionel replied, a touch too formal as he bowed and quickly excused himself, but not without one last curious glance, probably wondering if he had just witnessed the beginnings of some lovers' quarrel. The door closed softly behind him.

The moment Lionel left, Hook let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He eyed Charming warily, wondering how much trouble he was in. He hated the feeling of being cornered, especially by a royal.

“So…” Hook began, his voice dripping with false confidence. “No need to make this a big deal, yeah? You’re not going to go crying to Merlin, are you?”

Charming’s lips curled into a small smile. “I’m not planning on it, no.”

Sweet relief washed over Hook, but it was short-lived as Charming took a step closer, his tone turning just a shade more serious. “But I can’t just let this slide either, can I?”

Hook swallowed, his bravado faltering for a moment. “I only did this after our little incident,” he blurted out, trying to regain control of the conversation. He gestured vaguely between them, referencing their earlier collision.

Charming tilted his head slightly, as if considering Hook’s words. “And you thought breaking into my room and raiding my wardrobe was the right way to even the score?”

Hook’s mind scrambled for a sweet escape. “Look you don’t need to turn me in,” he said, practically begging now.

Charming considered this for a moment, his gaze flicking over Hook’s disheveled form and the mess of clothes scattered around his room. Then, almost as if a thought occurred to him, his smile returned—this time, sharper. “Actually, I think I might have an idea. Meet me by the castleteria at dinner time.”

“A dinner? You’re not going to tell anyone about this?”

“No, not yet,” Charming replied, his voice smooth but tinged with mischief. “But if you don’t show up, then maybe we’ll reconsider the whole punishment thing.”

Hook’s stomach twisted. He hated feeling like he was at someone’s mercy, especially Charming’s. But something in the prince’s eyes told him this wasn’t just about revenge—it was about leverage. Hook didn’t know what Charming had in mind, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

Still, he nodded, trying to regain his bravado. “Alright, Prince. Dinner date it is.”

Charming smirked, stepping aside to let Hook pass.

Hook left the room, heart still pounding, cursing himself under his breath. He’d been caught, and now, somehow, he was in too deep.

🪝

“Hook, what bullshit did you get into?” Uliana’s voice cut through the room like a whip, her tone sharp with irritation as she lounged on Morgie’s bed, her tentacles subtly shifting.

The five of them were crammed into Hook and Morgie’s shared dorm room, a small space that felt even smaller with Uliana’s dramatic presence filling the air. Hook, on the other hand, was sprawled lazily across his bed, legs crossed like he had not a care in the world, but deep down, his stomach churned with unease.

Hook glanced at Uliana, who was tapping her nails against her belt buckle.. “Relax, Uliana. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Is it a date?” Morgie piped up, his eyes wide with genuine curiosity as he fiddled with a piece of parchment,

Hook scoffed. “Really, wizard-oo? That’s your question?” The brunnete pirate shot back, but he didn’t quite meet Morgie’s gaze, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. “It’s not a date, you idiot.”

“You didn’t deny it, Hook, so that means you’re going on a date with that royal eyesore,” Maleficent added with a sly smirk, reclining against the wall. She twirled a strand of dark hair between her fingers.

Hook sat up, trying to regain his composure, his golden hook glinting as he gestured wildly. “He’s got a little rebel streak in him, sure, but a date? With me?” Hook forced a laugh, but it came out a little too harsh. “He’s too soft for that.”

Hades, who had been lounging in the corner, arms folded and his fiery blue hair flickering lazily, chimed in with a smirk of his own. “I dunno, mate. You see those blue streaks he’s rocking these days? Kid’s got a little fire in him. You pick them well, James.”

What did the prince have in mind for him? Why had Charming asked him to meet at dinner? He was good at handling himself, but this was different. Royals had a way of twisting things to their advantage, and he wasn’t sure he’d come out on top this time.

Uliana’s tentacles flexed, her eyes narrowing. “This better not blow back on us, Hook. You get tangled up with that prince, and we’re all screwed. I’ve got enough on my plate without cleaning up your messes.”

Morgie, ever the optimist, gave Hook a hopeful smile. “Maybe it won’t be so bad? You two could, you know... find common ground?” He shrugged, completely oblivious to the heavy glares that Uliana shot his way.

Hook grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Trust me, I don’t belive in common ground I’m a pirate after all. The seas are what matter,” he muttered, but even as he said it, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Charming wasn’t as simple as he’d like to believe. Whatever the prince had planned, Hook had no choice but to play along—for now.

👑

Lionel watched as Charming’s fencing movements faltered, his usual grace replaced by distracted, half-hearted parries. The clanging of their swords echoed through the gymnasium, but the prince’s mind was clearly somewhere else.

“Sir—I mean, Christopher, what’s the worry face for?” Lionel asked, lowering his sword slightly, his tone a mix of concern with playful scolding. “Your mother would say frowning is terrible for the face.”

Charming winced and laughed, “Ouch. Thanks for that reminder, Lionel.”

Lionel tilted his head, eyeing the prince with the same scrutiny one might give a misbehaving child. “Having love problems, are we?”

Charming hesitated mid-lunge. “Sorta… kinda... undetermined.” He shrugged, trying to mask the uncertainty in his voice with nonchalance.

“I’ll try to make sense of that, sir,”

Charming straightened up, tossing his sword onto the nearby rack. “I do have a problem,”

“And what may that be, Your Highness?”

“I lied to my parents,” Charming confessed, running a hand through his streaked hair. “I told them I had someone to bring them for the ball, but... I have no one.”

Lionel gasped theatrically, hand flying to his chest in mock horror. “Oh dear! The end of the world!”

Charming grinned, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t panic. I’ve got it under control. I think…”

“Is that why there was a handsome pirate rummaging through your wardrobe this morning?” he asked with a pointed look. “Is he part of your grand plan?”

Charming blinked, caught off guard. “He’s not that handsome,” he blurted out, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. Lionel’s amused smirk only deepened. Charming’s cheeks flushed. “I mean—he’s alright,” he backpedaled quickly, though Lionel’s knowing look said it all.

Lionel chuckled softly, tapping the flat of his sword against the ground. “What would your parents think of him, then? A pirate at the royal ball?”

“They did say every suitor in the kingdom that doesn’t exclude male or pirates. But they’d be terrified,”

“And here I thought you were planning to bring a princess,” Lionel mused, shaking his head with fond exasperation.

“Well, ‘pirate’ does start with a P,” Charming quipped, unable to suppress his grin. “Might be close enough. Don’t ask for permission ask for forgiveness.”

“The ball’s happening no matter what, Christopher. Your parents are set on it,” Lionel reminded him, though there was no judgment in his voice. He was used to the prince’s antics by now.

Charming nodded, tossing his fencing jacket aside. “Yeah, well, might as well make it a little more exciting.”

“If I’m going down, I’m going down singing.” The prince sang.

Lionel chuckled, stepping forward to ruffle the prince’s hair. “You’re always causing trouble. But… you're going to be fine, you always are.”

Charming laughed, a bit of the tension easing from his shoulders. “Thanks, Lionel.”

"Just... try not to start a royal scandal this time,"

"Can't make any promises," Charming shot back with a grin.

👑

The night had settled over Merlin Academy, and the castleteria was buzzing. On the lower level, students from various backgrounds sat together, some attempting to eat in peace while others whispered and laughed in tight-knit groups.

The second level, however, was a different story entirely—a separate, glass-enclosed space designed for royal students, a consequence of the infamous "Ariel incident" from freshman year. Uliana, the sea witch, had stirred up a food fight with the sophomore Little Mermaid herself, (A girl her older sister bullied aswell)

which ended with food flying and a lot of egos bruised. Now, extra security stood guard, and Charming hated it.

It drained his social battery to be so isolated. He used to enjoy mingling, making polite conversation with his peers, but now he found himself perched in this sterile room, looking down at the rest of the academy through the glass window like he was in some kind of fishbowl.

It didn’t help that Lionel, who usually provided some form of company, was off handling royal duties whenever it was mealtime. So Charming sat alone, poking at his food, waiting.

Well, not exactly alone. He was expecting someone. Or rather, a pirate . The word "victim" had crossed his mind, but that sounded too cruel, and blackmailee was just unpleasant. So, pirate it was.

Charming’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a scuffle outside the door. Voices—loud, irritated voices—drifted in, and he didn’t need to guess who it was.

“Let go of me! Easy on the coat!” came the familiar accent, sharp and indignant.

The guards were clearly manhandling Hook. Charming sighed, standing up from his seat and making his way to the door. He opened it just in time to see one of the guards tugging on Hook’s crimson coat, and Hook, true to form, looking royally pissed off.

“Stop it!” Charming barked, a little more forcefully than usual. “Let him go. He's with me.”

The two guards immediately released Hook, straightening up as they realized their mistake. One of them, the taller one with a stern face, glanced at Charming apologetically. “Apologies, Your Highness. We didn’t know he was—”

“Yeah, clearly,” Hook cut in, brushing off his coat like he’d just been dragged through the mud. “A real fine welcome, I must say.”

The other guard, younger and more nervous, muttered, “We thought he might’ve been here to, uh… cause trouble, Your Highness.”

Charming sighed, rubbing his temples. “He’s not here to cause trouble. I invited him.” He shot a look at Hook. “Sorry about the mix-up.”

Hook crossed his arms, glaring at the guards. “Way to go, Prince. You invite me, then forget to tell your people I’m coming. Real nice lad, aren’t you?”

Charming gave him a sheepish look, stepping forward and placing a hand on Hook’s shoulder—more of a placating gesture than anything. “I said I was sorry.”

Hook immediately shrugged off his hand, the familiar click of his hook against Charming's wrist. “Easy on the coat. You and your lot have already helped it deteriorate faster than it should.”

“Shall we?” he said, gesturing toward the table.

Hook huffed in response but said nothing, striding past the prince and into the dining area. His eyes scanned the lavish room, taking in the gleaming chandeliers, the velvet-lined chairs, and the royal setup. For a moment, Charming saw a flicker of appreciation cross his face—just for a second—before Hook’s usual facade of nonchalance slipped back into place.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Hook said, though the casual tone didn’t quite match the look in his eyes. “Bit excessive for a meal, don’t you think?”

Charming smirked, crossing his arms as he followed Hook inside. He could see through the pirate’s act. “If it hadn’t been for that food fight with Ariel and your friend during freshman year, none of this would’ve happened.”

“Yeah, well, she was pretty awesome for that.��

Charming rolled his eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Right. Let’s just sit and eat before you start a revolution in here too.”

They settled into their seats, a tense silence hanging between them. Charming could feel the weight of Hook’s gaze, sharp and calculating. This wasn’t some casual dinner. Both of them knew it, even if neither wanted to admit it.

The dinner had been silent for too long. Hook, never one to let tension sit without poking at it, decided to break it “So, what are your intentions, Your Highness? You’re a popular bloke around here. Getting lonely?”

Charming’s fork paused mid-air before he set it down, carefully. “I have friends.” His mind flickered to Aladdin and Jasmine, who often joined him for meals, bringing stories of their magic carpets adventures.

Then there were Ella and Bridget, after the two got together they always found time to drop by with baked treats—often enchanted with strange, unpredictable side effects, like turning his hair fully blue or making him float for a few minutes.

Zelly, ever the life of the party, would bring her chameleon Pascal, and they’d all end up doing karaoke. After all, the royal dining area inexplicably had a karaoke machine tucked in the corner.

“So it’s not loneliness or complete boredom, why have me here?” Hook pressed.

Charming hesitated, trying to maintain a mysterious air. He knew Hook was too clever to show his cards too early. “I have something to ask,” was all he said, keeping his tone casual.

Hook leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips as he lounged in the velvet chair, clearly amused by the prince’s attempt at suspense. “What’s this all about, then? A royal invitation for little old me? You're not planning on throwing me in the dungeons after dessert, are you?”

Charming chuckled, though there was a hint of nervousness behind it. “No dungeons. Just… an arrangement.” He felt Hook’s guard go up instantly, the pirate’s smirk hardening into something more defensive.

“Arrangement?” Hook’s brow arched in mock curiosity, though there was no mistaking the sharpness in his tone. “What sort of arrangement would a prince want from moi ?”

“I need you to be my date,” Charming said, the words slipping out before he could fully gather his nerve. He paused, seeing Hook’s expression shift, and hurried to clarify, “Not in the traditional sense.”

Hook’s face didn’t change much. He leaned in slightly, his gaze sharp, like he was toying with a fish on a hook. “You went to so much trouble to impress me,” Hook said with snobbish amusement, “I’m flattered, but you’re not my type.”

Charming felt his face flush but pushed on. “My parents are throwing me this stupid ball, and I hate it. It’s all about me, and I just—” He suddenly found himself unraveling, words tumbling out in a rush. “I blurted out that I had a date, thinking it would stop them from pressuring me, but now it’s just worse, and I don’t know how to—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold your horses, Prince,” Hook interrupted with a bemused smirk, holding up his hand. “That’s a lot of whining for me.”

Charming blinked, startled by Hook’s bluntness. Somehow, those few words snapped him out of his spiraling rant. He let out an embarrassed laugh, the tension easing from his shoulders. For a second, he found himself thinking Hook looked oddly…kinda hot.

The pirate, for all his snark, had an air of control about him that made Charming’s stomach twist in a way he didn’t quite understand.

But Hook was getting up, clearly looking like he was about to leave. He couldn’t let him just walk out, not after coming this far. Desperation flickered in his chest, and he scrambled for a last-ditch effort.

“Wait!” Charming stood quickly, his hand brushing against Hook’s arm as he reached out. “I haven’t told you the benefits yet.”

Hook paused, turning halfway with a knowing gleam in his eyes. “Alright. I’m listening.”

Charming exhaled, thinking quickly. “You’ll get lots of opportunities being seen with me. The ball is in two days. You won’t have to pretend for long. You’ll get to live lavishly, and you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone about your… thieving incident.”

Hook’s eyes flickered, but instead of biting, he turned fully away, stepping toward the door. Charming felt his heart sink. He'd blown it. This was going to be harder than he thought—time for Plan B, whatever that was.

Then, Hook stopped, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk that made Charming’s pulse quicken. “I’ll do it.”

“What?”

“I said I’ll do it,” Hook repeated, turning fully now, his expression unreadable. “I’ll be your boyfriend. For rent, of course.”

Charming bristled slightly. “That doesn’t sound very nice.”

“Well, that’s the reality, babe,” Hook teased, the last word slipping off his tongue like a taunt. The prince stiffened at the word. He didn’t like the way it sounded coming from Hook’s mouth. Or maybe he liked it too much, and that was the problem.

“Fine, we’ll talk tomorrow, lay down the ground rules. We can discuss everything over breakfast.”

“Blah, blah, so boring. You don’t need so many pleasantries to fake-date me, you know. We’re not writing a treaty.”

Charming stepped closer, his face inching into Hook’s space. “I’ll pick you up in the morning. We’ll discuss the plan then.”

Hook gave him a mocking grin, eyes flicking down between them before meeting Charming’s gaze again. “You just love a good scheme and a meal, don’t you? That’s pathetic—and kinda cute, actually.”

Something inside Charming snapped at that last line. “Who are you calling pathetic?” he growled, stepping even closer until they were face to face.

Hook’s eyes danced with amusement, but there was something else beneath the surface, something unreadable. For a brief moment, they stood there in awkward silence, close enough to feel each other’s breaths, their hands grazing.

The bell rang suddenly, cutting through the moment and pulling them back to reality. Charming took a step back, clearing his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked, his princely demeanor slipping back into place, though his voice was quieter than before.

Hook smirked, already slipping toward the door. “You know where to find me, Your Highness .”

Charming was still screwed how was he going to pull this sham? But he did make some progress he just hoped the pirate didn’t cause too much trouble.

👑

Notes:

Hope you enjoy the fic & Remember to give feedback!!! It is always appreciated. The fate of this fic is in y'alls hands its up to all of you whether this continues. (And if you reading this on tumblr. Thank you so much for giving this a read.) Request go here on my tumblr.

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olderthannetfic · 1 year ago

Note

I recently got so fed up with the nonstop antisemitism in my comments section of my fics that I quit writing entirely. All the fics on that account are canceled. Discontinued. We're done. And it's been so, so good for my mental health. I feel like I can breathe again. I don't have to dread writing, I can write something and just keep it to myself and never get yet another snide remark about """the Jews""" or "the Hebrews", as one total weirdo referred to us. No one informing me they Googled it and actually I'm wrong about [insert thing here]. No more Holocaust denial comments from the Danny Phantom fandom. Just me, writing. Making things I like. And then then I'm done, I don't have to brace for arguments later.

I genuinely do not remember why I ever posted fic for other people to read but I really do envy goyim sometimes. It must be nice to write things and not get referred to as Hebrews in the past tense like you're extinct or have Holocaust deniers pop up yelling at you for mentioning WWII. I feel like fandom would be fun if I weren't Jewish, or if I never mentioned Jewish people in my stories. But I am and I'm tired of having to edit people who are like me out of stories in order to not get shit on. And the sheer volume of antisemites in the End OTW Racism crowd shows me that there's no chance of things improving any time soon. Fandom is for certain kinds of people and I am not the kind of person it's meant for.

Initially I was thinking of getting a second AO3 account and posting something on there but I'm honestly enjoying the lack of hate so much I think I may just be done with fanfic entirely. And what's the wildest thing to me? I'm not upset about it. I'm just glad it's over.

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ladytauria · 2 years ago

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Chubby!Jason+Tim cooking, if you don't mind prompt now

❤ i never mind prompts! sometimes i am just very slow at getting to them ^^;

ngl there didn't end up being much cooking in this lol. i thought i was gonna sit down & write ~300 words of cooking + banter & ended up with almost 1k of fluffy domesticity, so. i hope u like it!

it's been a bit since i've had the spoons to do much writing so having this flow as (relatively) easy as it did was a treat. thanks for the prompt~

(i have another jaytim prompt sitting in my inbox rn too, so if ur reading this, nonny, i promise i'm going to get to it! my brain just refuses to settle on one idea~)

OH. and apologies for any missing 'e's.' the key was doing... not fine, but like, decently, and then it decided to pop out & then back on wrong. i think i caught them all, but. just in case.

EDIT: …the last paragraph seems to have disappeared for me? i hope i’ve fixed but, uh. this is also on AO3. if this keeps happening, you may want to read it there instead.

Tim comes home to the heavenly smell of something cooking. He smiles to himself, despite the heaviness in his limbs, and makes his way into the kitchen. Jason stands at the stove, stirring something, while meat sizzles in another pan. Normally Tim would take a moment to admire him; how comfortable and relaxed he is here, in this home they've built together.

Not today.

Today, he plasters himself against Jason's back, burying his face in the fabric of Jason's t-shirt and winding his arms around Jason's waist, underneath his Wonder Woman apron. This close, he can smell the lingering traces of Jason's favorite soap, the slight tang of sweat, and something uniquely Jason. He sinks into his warmth with a soft sigh.

"Long day?" Jason asks, voice rumbling under Tim's cheek. He lays a hand over Tim's arm, slowly stroking his skin with his thumb.

Tim nods. "In and out of meetings all day," he says. He prefers days when he can disappear into the R&D labs. Though, honestly, he'll even take the paperwork over meetings—especially a full day of them.

Jason hums sympathetically, which Tim feels more than hears. "Food'll be ready soon," he says. He taps Tim's arm once, twice. "You should go change."

"Mm. I'm good here, actually," Tim mumbles. Jason-cuddles are the best cure for long, draining days. Nothing beats burying his face in the plushness of his chest or or stomach. Especially when he absentmindedly cards his fingers through Tim's hair, scratching his scalp in just the right way to make him melt.

The space between his shoulder blades is nice too, though.

Jason snorts. "Uh-huh. I don't want to listen to you bitch about getting stains on your shirt tomorrow. Go."

Tim huffs. "I can eat without staining my shirt." Usually.

"Let's not take chances. Besides, are you really telling me you want to spend the rest of the night in your suit?"

Tim doesn't have to see Jason's face to know he's arching a brow, the same way Alfred does when he knows he's got you backed into a corner. He huffs again, but doesn't argue. After all, Jason's right. He really doesn't want to spend the rest of the night in a suit, no matter how perfectly tailored it is.

Still. He pinches Jason's side when he pulls away, grinning smugly at his boyfriend's undignified (and adorable) squeak as he dances out of reach. Jason glares at him, effect totally ruined by his mouth twitching at the corners. Tim sticks his tongue out. Jason loses the battle, treating him to a fond, helpless smile as he shakes his head.

Tim ducks into their bedroom, shedding the suit in favor of one of Jason's shirts. It's soft and worn, the Shakespeare reference on the front chipped from too many washes. Perfect to relax in. He takes an extra minute to stow his suit properly, if only so he doesn't have to iron it later, and returns, finding Jason plating their food.

"Feel better?" Jason asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe," Tim says.

He snorts, and offers Tim one of the plates before nudging him toward the couch. "Is it a Criminal Minds or Star Trek night tonight?" he asks, scooping up the remote before Tim can and navigating to the family's shared digital library.

Tim's chest does something soft and gooey which really shouldn't be legal. He's not sure what his face is doing—only that he is helplessly, utterly, heels-over-head in love. These days, he's grown accustomed to the feeling; the warm glow in his chest from Jason's presence, the safety and surety he feels at his side. But sometimes something happens—something small and simple like Jason remembering his comfort shows—and love overwhelms him all over again. He hopes it never stops.

"Star Trek," he says, voice maybe a little thicker than normal. Jason doesn't comment; just finds the listing and starts up one of Tim's favorite episodes, casual as you please. Oblivious to or ignoring the effect he has on Tim. (The slight pinkness to the tips of his ears would suggest the latter.)

Tim leans into his side, pressing a kiss into his shoulder. "I love you."

Jason kisses the top of his head. "Love you too," he murmurs into his hair. They stay like that for a minute—just a minute—before Tim reluctantly drags himself away to eat.

It's delicious, as always. Tim hasn't eaten this well (or regularly) since he moved out of the manor—his self-provided meals being mostly takeout, and often skipped or forgotten in favor of work. And he's not the only one benefiting. Jason, no longer bouncing between safe-houses and looking over his shoulders, has filled out; hard muscles now protected by a layer of padding and squish perfect for curling up against.

Which Tim does, the second both their plates retire to the coffee table.

Jason snags the plush throw they keep on the back of the couch and re-positions them so they're reclining on the couch. Tim's head is pillowed on Jason's chest, near his heart; one of Jason's arms snug around his waist, and both of his pressed against Jason's sides. It doesn't take long for Jason's free hand to settle on his head, combing through his hair, untangling knots with perfect gentleness in between soft scritches.

It doesn't take long for Tim's eyelids to droop; heaviness returning to his limbs. He sighs quietly, contentedly, turning his face into Jason’s chest, and sinks into sleep.

#jaytim #timjay #jason todd #tim drake #dcu #batfam #tauriawritesfanfic #lovely anons #asks and answers #tauriawrites #domesticity my beloved #also i always write jason comfort so i figured it was tim's turn this time #tim deserves snuggles & by god he is going to get them

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gendervapor14 · 1 year ago

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~ how to make a fanfiction masterlist on tumblr ~

a detailed guide for folks new to tumblr, or those who just want to use tumblr to link and organize their fanfiction :D

disclaimer: i did this on a PC, and tumblr likes to update and change the layout of everything, so some locations may be different for you. feel free to reply or DM with any questions and i will try my best to help you out!

first thing's first! locating your account. this will make it easier to find your posts. when you first log onto tumblr, there is a list of items to the left. find the one that says "account".

locate your blog. you may have to scroll a little to find it. once you see it, click on it!

that should open up your posts and reblogs. it's okay if this section is empty! mine displays my intro post, but don't worry, i'll show ya how to make one of those. for now, go ahead and click on the "create" button at the bottom left. (alternatively, there's a bar at the top center you could use. click on "text" if you prefer this option)

go ahead and select text post!

here you will be greeted to a blank text post. there's a space for a title and text. if you don't want a big title, you can just backspace and it'll default to regular text. feel free to experiment a little here. the colorful icons to the right allow you to insert photos, gifs, links, and more. if you type something and highlight the text, you'll find even more options!

enter whatever you'd like to greet people with if they visit your blog. some sort of introduction. i threw out some random basics here. you certainly don't have to format it like this! get crazy, insert some photos and use colored text if you like. at the bottom of your post, you'll see a section for tags. i recommend using tags relevant to whatever content you'll be posting, so others can find your blog easier. if you're on ao3 or another fanfic platform, i'll show you how to link that to your intro post! for now, just type something like "link to my fanfiction" or "link to my ao3", or whatever tickles your fancy.

then, highlight whatever part of the line you want to serve as your hyperlink. in this case, in the "link to my fanfiction" line, i highlighted "fanfiction". a small menu should automatically pop up above that. the second to last option looks like a chain link. that will allow you to insert a link on whatever you've highlighted. click on it.

an "http://" option will display. paste your desired link in the display bubble! for instance, i pasted the link to my ao3 dashboard.

next part is posting! don't worry, your intro post isn't done, i know. in order to move on, we need to make some more posts to link, so for now, we're just going to post this "incomplete" intro. you can always go back and edit posts, so it's no worry! the post button is at the bottom right.

in order to ensure the post stays at the top of your profile, you need to pin it. (i used a random post in my example because my intro is already pinned, but the mechanics are the same.) in the top right of your intro post, there will be three little meatball dots. click on those.

that'll open up a dropdown. click on "pin". then your intro will always remain at the top of your profile, even as you keep posting/reblogging.

next part is making the actual masterlist! create a new post (button on the bottom left --> text post) and fill it out however you wish! i listed some different things you can include to describe your stories, but i've seen people organize these by characters instead, or themes, or fandoms. basically, you're creating something that will link from your intro to this post. so write up whatever you want someone to be brought to after clicking the hypothetical "my fanfiction masterlist" link in your intro post. if that's just at temporary list of characters without any stories linked to them yet, that works! you can link stories to the masterlist later.

once you posted the masterlist (it's okay if it's incomplete), click on the meatballs for the masterlist post. (again, i'm using a random post here, disregard that)

click on the "copy link" option to obtain the link to that post.

then, find your intro post and click on the meatballs for that!

this time, you're going to click on "edit".

somewhere on your intro post, write up some text that will serve as the source for your fanfiction masterlist post. for this, i used "link to my fanfiction masterlist". then, i highlighted "fanfiction masterlist" to open the additional options menu, and clicked on the chain link to paste the link to my new fanfiction masterlist post! this process of copying links and implementing them into other posts is the foundation of making a masterlist. from here, you can make as many subcategories as you please and link them back to your main masterlist, which is linked to your intro. (or you can just make a few giant masterlists like i do XD)

BONUS LESSON: another fun part of tumblr is the tags! you can invent your own! if you're a writer, you can make your own writing tag. i use "genwrites" because it hasn't been used by anyone else, so anyone who clicks on that tag will only see posts of my writing. you can link tags to your intro post as well! i'll show you how.

creating a tag is as easy as slapping it on a post, even if tumblr doesn't seem to recognize it. that's a good sign. once you've posted something with the tag, it exists on the website. when you click on the tag, it should open up a page like this. it's alright if your tag page is mostly empty, it'll fill up as you create posts with your unique tag! from here, you're going to copy the URL of the entire page.

then, the same way you inserted your fanfiction website and your masterlist, you can link the URL of your tag page to your introduction post! linking things to posts on tumblr helps keep everything connected. you can link individual fanfics from their source site to titles on tumblr, link specific reference posts and analyses, and so much more!

this was a rather lengthy post, so it's totally understandable if you get confused or lost along the way. feel free to reach out and i'll try to help out however i can! i'm no master - i learned all this stuff by trial and error. takes some patience , but i hope this guide is at least a little helpful! ♥ happy writing and creating folks ♥

#tumblr guide #fanfiction #writers on tumblr #new to tumblr

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letsgoletsgetit08 · 11 days ago

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Hello new reader here 👋 love your writings! Especially the ateez soft hours posts. If you don't mind me asking this late, how about questions 3, 17 and 25 for the fic writer asks 💌

Thank you for reading and asking! The soft hour fic is one of my favorites, too. I may or may not have more of those planned 👀

3. How do you feel about your current WIP?

Well which one? I have several in progress at once bc I'm insane. The sci-fi post apocalypse Yeosang-centric multi-chapter fic (first 6 chapters are already published on AO3) has had me in a bit of a writer's block, but that's what gave caused me to write like my last 3-4 fics so I'm grateful for that reason. The other one I'm working on is Mingi-centric, it's probably the most scandalous and drama-filled one I've written yet and I'm pretty excited for it, I'm nearly done with the first chapter. It will also be pretty lengthy.

17. Talk about your writing and editing process

I get an idea and then I usually write the intro immediately because I find starting them to be the hardest part. Past that I'll put some planning notes in separate doc for lines I know I want a character to say or specific plot points I know I want to happen. That's as close to outlining as I get. Most of the content happens as I'm writing it in real time though, and I get my best plot ideas in the shower. I'm very bad about posting chapters as I write them rather than writing the whole thing first. None of my stuff is beta read bc I don't have anyone in my circle who would do that lol but I make myself read it three times through typically before posting unless I'm just too trigger happy and then I'm not above going back to fix grammar mistakes after I've published. Writing process is a bit chaotic tbh but I'm getting more organized! Probably!

25. Besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

I'm an avid reader, I'm in a Horror Book Club through a local bookstore in my town, which is fun and is like half of my personality atp. I write non-fan fic horror short stories and poems, too, and I really want to write a horror/mystery/thriller Ateez fic at some point. I also whined and begged until the some of the people in that book club agreed to start a DnD group (I didn't actually have to beg, it's just hard to wrangle a group of adults with our schedules) and we're on our first real campaign and it's so much fun, it's my - and most of our - first time playing. And since you asked, (no one asked) I'm playing a human bard based on a gender-bent Geoffrey Chaucer as portrayed by Paul Bettany in A Knight's Tale. Aside from that, I like to hike when the weather is nice, which right now, it is not. I'm also a multi-stan (ATZ, SKZ, Enha, TxT, The Rose, & P1H - don't tell Hongjoong) and a big music fan outside of k-pop so my vacation time tends to go towards concerts.

Thank you again for reading and for the asks! This was fun 🥰

#ask me anything #ask #writing #work in progress #ateez #stray kids #fan fiction #fan fic writing #ateez fanfic

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hanafubukki · 1 year ago

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*Quietly gives you a door.* So you won't be cold, also you may want to hide it lol

Also I adore your baby Malleus and Silver being loved on by their papa bat. It's so cute and makes me all warm and giggly 🥰

Hello Syrenkitsune 🌺🌻🌷

A door! Thank you for the lovely gift. 💞💞 Now how to hide it…shall I paint it to look like the wall 🤔 (why did the imagine of Crowley breaking through my roof pop into my head when I thought that 😆😂)

Thank you so much for liking my drabbles with them. The way that idea took hold of me and I just ran with it. I just wanted them to be happy and loved. I’m so happy to see you and others enjoy it. It brings a smile to my face ☺️💞

I actually went and edited my masterlist a bit to make it easier for people to find these posts.

All the Baby Malleus and Silver being raised by Lilia stories can be found under the “Once Upon a Dream Collection” section in this Masterlist.

Additionally, I started uploading it on AO3 as well. If that’s easier for people.

Thank you for sending this in. It always makes my day when I see comments/tags/asks like yours 🥹💞

#answered #🌺skyrenkitsune🌺#once upon a dream au #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #twst silver #silver vanrouge

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thedemigodoracle · 1 year ago

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Please read:

Ok, so as I jokingly said before “I’m back.” - I’m not joking, I am back.

Not entirely yet but here are some things to wait for in the near future.

Before I list it I need to browse fast through the real life stuff first so bear with:

- one of the reasons I did go missing from art and fandoms in general wasn’t just the ammount of books but also family situations, depression, relationships and in the last few years I lost grandma, grandpa and even my mother to a disease they don’t have it diagnosed yet because it was so rare.

Obvsly took a major hit to my mental health and the ability to write and just have energy kinda left me. I’m handling it I’m in therapy. This is all we need to talk about it.

- it’s been over ten years since some of your fave fics have been updated and while both Clichesbullet on ff.net and thatu on DA will be there and won’t be deleted HERE are what’s to expect:

1. My endgame here is reading the books back and forth again, as well as other source

Material for other fandoms I will

Be publishing for.

-updating the old fan mixes and uploading it to Spotify so it’s more accessible and going back (when possible to art).

- I will use AO3 some new aesthetics and user name (though probably just thatu) and edit a lot more to fit what I believe is better not because the world changed in general but because so

Did I.

Some of the racism and homophobia will still be there are these are the characters having flaws whose arcs weren’t complete but lots of it will also be changed because I’m 34 now I also the world is changed and some stuff just wouldn’t fly and I kinda hate it (but the old material is still there available on the old

Accounts).

- I’m not sure technology will be adapted but some references will here and there and I can clearly deliver something better now that I’ve taught English for over half of my life and am taking a masters degree on translation studies.

- real life will get me too busy sometimes so please I hope you’re excited but I know lots

Of you also have jobs or even families. So leave reviews and keep

Me company but also understand I was bad at updating before even with better time

Management this is will be a ride.

- I’m doing this to prove myself I can do and make good things.

- This site as well as the thatu blog will be updated.

- if you were a follower and have deleted your tumblr or changed usernames please leave a reply with who we were because I’ve had an eventful few years. I remember most of you, but I may need a nudge.

- both my writing and art style have developed and so did my world views - stuff will look different but hopefully still bring you comfort. And laughter.

And tears…?

- there will be some one shots posted focusing on stuff like grown up characters and new knowledge

We now have though the characterization will still follow the book ones as that’s how I kinda got used to it.

- I’m back but I’ll be getting back slowly and posting updates here. Tell ur friends who haven’t been here in a while but used to be part of our group of

Weirdos.

- I missed being a fandom person and hopefully now I can find solace in you guys back again.

- some new fandoms will pop up, as will

Some

Ships (see what I did there? Find solace? Will some ships? Hehe).

-Some extra texts will be added to whatever adaptations I make especially regarding transphobia and HP though I do intend to finish my Hannah/Neville story.

- maybe I’ll write original

Stuff too who knows?

Also, I missed you, spread the word. There’s a brand new old me in town. New ships, new views, new one shots, edits, a very different music taste (actually no I just added more stuff) and a lot of improved knowledge of vocabs and world geography.

Please spread this to whoever you think might be interested. It’s not popularity or anything, I’m trying to get back some pieces of me I lost along the way and writing and drawing used to be FUN and help me make FRIENDS.

I’ll keep u posted once everything is at least remotely ready to go.

And omg you’ll finally know what Silena had on clarisse.

Oh and I’m still not for writing smut but there will be more Adult/Mature like material as some ships require it and I am older. No minors having descriptive s*x

Of course but u know it’d feel weird to talk about these huge ass long relationships and not bring it up naturally.

Anyway, reply to this with whatever. Leave a like or something too but mostly leave a reply so we can start this journey together -

New younger fans are also welcome I’ll make my best to keep this space as safe as possible!! I teach kids and teens and I’d kill for u to have a place to be you safely.

Also there will now be additions on author notes for whether a ship is canon or fanon what I adapted and new fandoms new ships and trigger warnings before sensitive chapters that deal with stuff that before I wouldn’t.

Love, I’ve missed this,

thatu.

#calamity clarisse #Percy Jackson and the olympians #PJatO #leu a #clarisse la rue #Chrisse #thatu

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rosebloodcat · 1 year ago

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TTWTWK: Making Lists

Chapter Summary

That you know you'll check twice. Blinky/James tries to figure out what his first steps into the (hopefully) new future will be. Norman suggests making a list.

AN: Finally got the next chunk of this out. At first, I thought it would be much longer, but Blinky/James and Norman weren't working with me on that one. (Neither wanted to pull out a war room plan yet, I suppose.)

So I decided to keep things internal for this and instead have Blinky/James just making a list of things he KNEW he wanted to change or just felt really strongly about making go differently. I know I may have missed a few in-universe events, and people are welcome to point them out and I'll edit the chapter to add them in.

Also, I know I'm not writing his name as Blinky here. But that's because he's still grappling with things a little bit. But he's partially settled into keeping the name James, for now, to keep himself from getting confused while surrounded by humans. Having them suddenly start calling him Blinky or Blinkous would feel strange when his mind only has memories of them calling him James/Jamsie.

Ao3 Link

“So, where do we start?” Norman’s question had been a lot harder to answer than James thought it had any right to be.

He was going to do something (with Norman’s help) to change the future. But he still had no idea what, or where, he should start.

Norman idly shuffled a deck of cards while waiting for him to answer.

(A tarot deck. Someone had gifted it to him a few years back and he enjoyed using them to fidget. A good way to keep his hands busy and, occasionally, it was a good way to give a client a moment to gather their thoughts without feeling pressed. In a way, it worked for this too. James himself was a “client” at the moment.)

James took a slow breath, leaning back in his seat and staring at the ceiling.

“I-I don’t know…” He’d spent several nights ruminating on the issue now, and he still hadn’t figured it out.

So much of his life as a troll, he’d been more reactionary. Always responding to the actions and choices of others rather than taking action on his own. Being the one leading the charge (so to speak) was something new. He’d only started taking initiative upon becoming the new Leader of Trollmarket. And that had only been for a few years while there was a clear goal laid out for him to achieve! He certainly hadn’t held the title long enough to feel qualified for something like this.

How did one go about doing something as nebulous as “Change the Future”?

(But he was certainly going to try.)

Norman started laying out cards on his desk, though whether or not he was actually planning to try a reading was debatable. He let out a hum, tapping a finger on the table then glancing over.

“Maybe a list then? Just to start the planning stages.”

“A list…” he repeated, frowning thoughtfully.

“Eyup.” Norman popped the ‘p’ as he spoke. “Make a list of the things you know are gonna happen, which ones you want to try to change, and then we can work our way back to which ones we can start taking steps towards changing now.”

Yes, that seemed like a good place to start. He tugged his notepad closer, popping the cap of his pen.

Okay, the most obvious “first” thing was…

Stop the Titans

As though that isn’t a tall order on its own, James thought with a small twitch. But, this time around, he knew what the Arcane Order were trying to do, and had over a decade of time to research and (hopefully) figure out a way to stop their plans. This brought up another thing for the list;

Protect Nari

If they had known what Nari was facing sooner and had thought of a more efficient way to cloak her from her fellows, well… A lot of things could have been changed there. No battle in New York. No destruction of Arcadia. Toby and Merlin wouldn’t have…

Yes, finding and providing a better way to hide Nari until a better way to stop the Titans was found. That would go on the list.

Prevent Trollmarket’s Destruction

That felt both important and obvious.

If Trollmarket weren’t destroyed, then the dangerous pilgrimage would have never been needed. They would have been present for the incidents with the Arcadians. (He understood that it had been rather chaotic for all involved, he wished he had been there to help with it.)

Ensure Merlin doesn’t turn Jim into a Troll

Being a troll himself and knowing the edge it had given Jim during the final fight (and being the boy’s father), it seemed contradictory to admit this to himself. But the transformation couldn’t happen this time.

That wouldn’t happen this time around.

He wouldn’t allow it to happen.

He had seen the way the transformation had impacted Jim, mentally and emotionally. Seen the way it had worn Jim away and weighed him down.

The anxiety the boy had every time Merlin was near him.

(And everything from Camalot…)

No. If it was possible to do so, he would prevent the transformation from happening.

Prevent the Eternal Night

There were a lot of steps and routes for that idea. Almost too many things. But which ones would he actually need to take?

Preventing Morgana’s escape and her possession of Claire? Perhaps Norman would be willing to consider an apprenticeship for her? He was fairly skilled in the magical arts, though his “style” was rather different from what James was used to seeing. And Norman was far more trustworthy than Merlin was.

Getting some tool or spell to break or dispel the magic of Gunmar’s blade? There was magic to protect from those kinds of things. (He was fairly certain there was.) Preventing Gunmar from being able to take control of others, either by defending against the magic or getting rid of it entirely, would protect many of their allies from harm outright.

They could also put forward some kind of plan to ensure Gunmar was unable to escape the Darklands in the first place…

Perhaps they could get a hold of some piece of Killahead bridge? Having something other than the amulet in their possession to ensure the bridge could not be completed would be a point in their favor. They could use it as a bargaining chip, at the very least.

But there was also Not Enrique to consider. And the changeling familiars. Fetches were rare, but there was at least one out in the world. If they could get hold of one to use themselves… The ability to bypass the need for the bridge was powerful.

If they could work out a way to rescue the familiars without the risk of releasing Gunmar…

That was another thing they could have at their disposal.

(And… He wanted to save Dictatious. For as damaged as their relationship was, they were still brothers. Still family. He was a headache, but Blinky still cared about him.)

He made a bullet point for each one. This was the first draft list, he could put impossible things down if he wanted to.

Save Draal

That one felt relatively self-explanatory. Draal was a spectacular warrior, loved Trollmarket, and was a dear friend. He deserved so much better than what he’d been dealt before.

Perhaps he could be reasoned with earlier? Redirect his focus from Jim being the new Trollhunter into protecting Trollmarket along with him? After all, there was no actual rule that said that the trollhunter was the only one allowed to protect them all…

Yes, he felt reasonably sure that giving Draal a goal of some kind to focus on instead would be of great help. (Some kind of alternative goal to chase down would also ensure that he couldn’t get himself into trouble whilst there wasn’t anyone to keep an eye on him as well.)

Norman was very good with people and figuring out ways to work around tempers and clashing personalities (despite most everyday humans finding his stature rather intimidating) perhaps he could lend some insight into that idea?

But, that brought up something else…

Prevent Kanjigar’s Death

Maybe- Maybe Norman could help with that? There were spells to conjure clouds if he remembered right. To create a patch of darkness, even in the daylight. If he and Norman could make it to the bridge in time to prevent the sun from taking Kanjigar’s life…

Keeping Jim from having to take the mantle at all… He genuinely didn’t know if that was possible, but it could change so much if it was. He couldn’t even imagine how much could be changed by it.

His eye slid over to Norman, who was turning over cards and humming quietly.

That was another thing he could think of to add to the list.

Save Norman

He didn’t know what had happened to Norman, why he hadn’t been there when Jim had become the trollhunter. Why no one had mentioned him to them? Why Jim hadn’t known about the magic that had been so much of Blinky/James' life and should have been part of Jim’s too?

Something had to have happened to the man. Something that took him away from them all, somehow. It was the only thing that seemed possible with what he (now) knew about the man.

Whatever it was, he would do his best to stop it.

He didn’t want to lose another friend. Not if he could help it.

Prevent return to troll?

This one felt… odd, to be writing down.

But.

He was going to be a father. He was going to be Jim's father. And he wanted to do it right.

He wanted to be there for all the milestones that human children grew through. He wanted to see and help his son grow into the amazing, wonderful young man he knew he would be.

And he couldn't do that if he became a troll and had to retreat to Trollmarket again. (If he forgot again.) He couldn’t become human before he was certain that he had set the world onto a better path.

So, he would have to subvert that fate. Norman would help him find a way. He knew the man would.

James/Blinky set his jaw, ignoring the feeling of guilt in his stomach at the worry he knew he would be causing his friends in Trollmarket. (To poor Arrgh…) But it felt like something he needed to do.

(Perhaps he could find a way to at least send his dear friend a message? Something to assure him that he was still alive, if unable to return yet?)

"Been at that for a while, Jamsie. Think you might have some ideas of where to start now?"

James looked over at Norman, who was watching him silently. (He'd likely seen the change in the scholar's face. The new, determined set of his expression. He knew a decision had been made.)

There were probably more things he would think of for the list later. But for now?

"Yes, I believe I do." Norman watched for a moment longer, then gave a supportive smile.

"Alright then. What's first on the docket?"

For now, he had a start.

#the things we thought we knew au #ttwtwk au #trollhunters au #trollhunters #tales of arcadia #toa #blinkous galadrigal #blinky as jim's dad #blinky as james lake sr #norman polk #ttwtwk norman #rosies writing

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deylightsfictionalcompanion · 1 year ago

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A while ago [see: when Stranger Things season 4 first came out] my friend and I were talking about “what would the gang think about Princess Bride? It came out around Halloween of ‘87, so they absolutely would have seen it.” And thus, the story was born.

I haven’t written a story in years [see: because college] until I just sat down one day and cranked out this 12k thing. I wrote this giant Steve Harrington x F! Reader fanfic like it sustained my whole life (it did, though, in a way).

I’m sharing it on tumblr first (it’ll go on AO3 after some minor grammatical edits) because why not.

More under cut

Fandom: Stranger Things

Genre: xReader (thought I hate Y/N so you’re Dustin’s older sister in this as “Ms. Henderson” mostly)

Word Count: 11.9k

Rating: I’m gonna go with Teen but think more CW Teen than normal Teen.

Synopsis: You’ve known Steve since high school. You’ve been apart of the craziness coming from Hawkins since the beginning. And worst of all: you’ve loved Steve ever since he first took your brother under his wing—but you’ve kept it a secret. Until now. All because of The Princess Bride.

Important info: I’m a lover of pop culture, and there’s so much of that in Stranger Things, I’ve tried to keep that feeling. This is why the bulk of the story revolves around The Princess Bride and Halloween. I’ve tried to keep it within a 1987 time frame too, just because.

Tags: #Steves A Dork #Everyone Lives #Eddie/Chrissy is there because I love them both your honor and they deserve nice things when Steve is too busy being in love with you, the reader #Listen I know there’s some small grammatical issues I’ll fix them later #Copious amounts of 80s product placement #Theres some heavy petting but like. Again, nothing worse than what you’d see on the CW #Also Eddie took Will under his wings and they DM together #Robin plays too cause they let her woo princesses #I tried my best and therefore anyone may constructively criticize me #Oh yeah Robin/Vicki are there too because I say so #this is my first time posting fanfic so like please be gentle at a time like this ;)

As You Wish

By Deylightsfictionalcompainion

Somehow the light always felt brighter after coming out of the movie theater. It wasn’t a surprise, given you went to see a matinee on a Thursday and the movie was less than two hours long, but still. That initial shock of stepping out from a darkened theater to the afternoon sun made it difficult for you to see for a while. You imagined it was the same for everyone in the group.

“Do you think when Peter Faulk said ‘As You Wish’ at the end, he was implying that maybe it was his book? Like, you can actually check it out from the library or something?” Robin asked, her rough-cut voice echoing in the parking lot. She held up a hand to her forehead to block the sun and looked back at the rest of the group.

“I very much doubt that, Robin.” Dustin let out a small chuckle. “I’ve skimmed every part of that library and I have never come across a copy of The Princess Bride by S. Morgenstern, let alone one written by Columbo.”

“Well, it still would be cool if it was an actual book to check out. But I guess I’ll just have to look into more movies directed by that guy that plays Michael Stivie from All In The Family. Personally, I think he’s a better director than actor, but that’s just me.” Robin shrugged her shoulders and grabbed the handle to the passenger door of Steve’s car, placing her weight on one foot as she waited for the rest of you to circle around the car and get in.

You caught up to her in no time and leaned in on the hood, watching as Dustin, Eddie, and Steve slowly made their way around.

You’d picked this Sunday to go because most of the group was off. Nancy and Jonathan insisted on watching it as part of their new attempt at foraging a date night together and Mike, El, Will, Max, and Lucas had already seen it last weekend—they actually convinced everyone else that they had to see it too.

“I’d love to make it into a D&D session,” Will had beamed up at Eddie during the last D&D session they’d had together. Eddie had, upon meeting Will, found it necessary to take the kid in under his wing since he was the only one of the boys that he deemed could carry on his title as DM of Hellfire. Will took an instant shining to him, and in return, started to really take his newfound apprenticeship seriously. “I think I could really work in the part about the Pit of Despair and Dread Pirate Roberts lore. You should see it so you can help me get it set up.”

“Very well,” Eddie responded to him, slouched in his chair that somehow survived Jason’s rampage through the club room. It looked a little out of place sitting in the basement of Steve’s perfectly primmed house—but Eddie had insisted if Hellfire (at least for the summer) was to continue, he’d need his chair. And since Steve was tired of being a taxi service from one end of Hawkins to the next, he’d given up and let the club just meet up in his [empty] house. “I will see The Princess Bride whenever the Henderson’s convince Harrington to take us. See for myself if I can accurately get a feel for how to home brew the storyline into Hellfire’s campaign trail.”

Dustin immediately started to bounce at the thought and turned to look at you. “You gotta convince him.” He said, his eyes shining in the way he knew you couldn’t resist. “I’m all out of favors to ask him this month, and I don’t wanna push my luck asking for another ride.”

You sighed, closing the book you were reading (well, half-reading. Sometimes the campaign they’d play was exciting enough to catch your interest, and you’d tune in to the boys—and Robin, who weirdly got into the game one night when she found out both Will and Eddie would let her seduce princesses—as they’d play). “I’ll ask him next shift. But you owe me chore duty for a week without mom knowing.”

Dustin bounced harder. “Absolutely. It’s a deal.”

Which is how you found yourself leaning over the counter, pleading with Steve the next day.

“Come on, Steve,” you’d said to him as you watched him restock the shelves of Family Video—something you honestly hadn’t expected to still be working at after the events of ’86, yet you, Robin, and Steve all got to come back. “It’s an action-adventure story. Mostly. Just a little bit of romance. And if you watch it now, you’ll be able to recommend it better once it comes to the store. Maybe woo a few hearts with it?

“It’s not the movie, Ms. Henderson,” Steve complained as he shook his head, his hair swaying. He finished putting back the last of his VHS tapes and looked up at you. “Why do I always have to be the one that drives?”

“Not that you don’t make a point,” your words fumbling out of your mouth, still trying to become used to him calling you ‘Ms. Henderson’ after you made a joke one day last week when Janet Jackson’s Nasty came on the radio. “But do you really want me to drive? I already convinced Robin to come along with Dustin and Eddie—so you know they’ll just end up dragging you along regardless—and it would be a shame to have me, the only other licensed driver of this particular bunch, drive. Especially because last time, you compared it to—”

“Max,” he sighed, placing a hand on his hip and closing his eyes. “Never again. You’re as bad as Max.”

“She’s gotten better, you know.”

“Don’t want to.”

“So you’ll drive?” You smiled at him—the one that seemed to always work, since more than once you caught him signing and closing his eyes when you’d break it out.

“Robin and I are off Thursday,” he sighed, closing his eyes.

You bounced—a Henderson trait, it seemed—and leaned farther over the counter to give him a quick hug. “Perfect. It’s a date then, Steve.” You turned around and walked over to the return bin, only half listening to Steve as he mumbled under his breath and walked towards the back of the store.

“So boys,” you said as they each got to the car, opening it and sliding in, your tone curious. “Thoughts?”

Steve started up the engine and turned down the radio. “Loved it.” He took one look in the review mirror at you and smiled before placing the car in reverse and exiting the parking spot.

“I can absolutely see how Will and I could work this into a session or two for Hellfire,” Eddie grinned, shifting in his seat so he faced you and Dustin. “Those ROUS’s would be fun to work with. And the kid was right about the Pit of Despair. God damn title for a campaign if I’ve ever heard of one. Plus I think even our little Robin would enjoy this campaign,” he turned his attention toward the passenger seat, reaching a hand to place on Robin’s shoulder. “Up for saving a princess, Buckley?”

Robin turned back to face Eddie and smirked. “Always down for saving a damsel in distress, Munson. Especially if she’s anything like that Buttercup. Ugh. Talk about Hot. I even enjoyed the romance aspect of the film, believe it or not. And that’s so totally not my thing.”

Eddie leaned back into the seat of the car. “The romance wasn’t so bad. I think I should take Chrissy when she comes home from State. She’d love it, and I’d get a chance to analyze it better.” He flashed a smile for a second before glancing quickly out of the window to hide it.

You smiled at his bashfulness, happy that Eddie and Chrissy had finally started dating after countless hours of flirting back and forth—including when he’d played Master of Puppets in dedication to her, and she, in turn, saved his life when he heroically tried to buy them time with the Demobats. He’d nearly been inconsolable when she’d finally left to attend Indiana State University in the fall, but he’d been so proud of her for getting in he’d put on a brave face until her visits back to Hawkins would come up. “I’m sure she’d appreciate the chance to see it with you,” you said, tapping Eddie’s leg and bringing him back to the present.

“Ah, yeah. Anyway,” Eddie coughed, clearing the air. “What about you? Thoughts?”

“It was sweet. Billy Crystal and Carol Kane were probably my favorite part, though. I’m also strangely craving peanuts now too.”

“Peanuts after Hellfire, please,” Dustin said, looking at you. “Will’s been waiting for us since I told him we were seeing the matinee.”

“God, Henderson, you’re going to make me drive out again to get your club snacks, aren’t you?” Steve glanced into his review mirror, his eyebrows slightly raised. “Why can’t you guys ever just eat what I’ve got at the house?”

“Because dingus,” Robin chimed in, “when you sit in on the game you try to justify every choice that we make, and I’m tired of having to explain how things work to you. It’s fantasy. You’re not supposed to sit there and question how spells work. We have to give you reasons not to bug us every five minutes.”

Steve opened his mouth for a moment before quickly closing it. He fiddled a bit with the driving wheel before quickly flicking his eyes up to the review mirror to look at you. “Fine. But since Ms. Henderson doesn’t play, she’s got to come on snack duty with me. Especially because she’s the one that wants the damn peanuts.”

You look back at him through the mirror. “I suppose that’s only fair. But it’s on your dime, Harrington.”

Steve clenched his eyes in defeat and turned the corner, mumbling under his breath again, his big, brown eyes glancing up at you every so often for the rest of the way back to his place.

…

“And that,” Will said, his voice echoing around the room, “is where we’ll have to leave off for tonight.”

The group around him made a collective of noises, disappointed that their session had ended, once again, on a cliff hanger.

“Lady Applejack could have had time to cast a spell, if you hadn’t stopped there, Byers,” Erica chided, closing her trapper keeper and shoving it under her arm. “She better get first turn next week, or you’re going to suffer for it.”

Will turned to look at Eddie, who was smiling with what looked like pride in his eyes. “You’re DMing next week, that’s on you, Eddie.”

Eddie simply nodded his head from his chair and looked at Erica. “Lady Applejack shall get the first roll next week, don’t you worry, Erica.”

Erica smiled. “Good. Come on, Lucas. Mom said we better not be late for dinner tonight, and I’m not going to be the one to have to deal with her and dad because you can’t say goodbye to your friends fast enough.”

Lucas turned to face the group. “See you all later,” he said, following Erica up the stairs. Mike followed them shortly after, muttering something about going to meet up with El early tomorrow, leaving you, Will, Eddie, Dustin, Robin, and Steve sitting around the basement.

“So,” Will began, turning his chair to face Eddie’s. “What do you think about my idea for a Princess Bride themed session?”

Eddie smiled. “I think we could make something work out.”

Will’s face lit up. “Great! What were your thoughts?”

You put down the book you’d been half-heartly reading and got up from your chair, walking over to the stairs to head up and get a drink while they talked. It wasn’t that you weren’t curious—you were—but you’d been waiting until the session ended to go up and get yourself a refill on the Coke Steve had in his fridge.

“Mind if I join you?” Steve said, following you up the stairs. “Robin refuses to leave this conversation to get herself some snacks. Said she needs to make sure the princess arc in it is challenging enough or something.”

You nodded your head as you continued up and turned to wait for him until you were both off the stairs and in the Harrington kitchen. “I only half listen into their sessions—more for the plot than game play. Plus it’s fun to watch Dustin have fun again. Thanks for letting Hellfire make base here.” You walked over to the fridge and opened it, pulling out a can of Coke for yourself. A quick open, the fizzing noise echoing in the room, and you take a swig before pulling back the bar stool from the kitchen’s island counter and sitting down. “I don’t know if I’ve ever really thanked you for being there for Dustin in a way I couldn’t, really.”

“Henderson’s a good kid. And I know you’re an amazing sister to him. But I get it,” Steve opened up a cupboard and pulled out a bag of microwave popcorn. He walked over to the microwave and popped it in, hitting some buttons until it turned on, and swung around to face you, his hips lightly resting on the edge of the counter. “Not that the little shit gave me much of a choice in the matter, but he really just needed some man-to-man conversations. Pain in my ass, still. But he’s grown on me. All those little shitheads have grown on me. They’re like—”

You take another sip of Coke and smile slightly up at Steve. “Your chicken nuggets?”

The microwave dinged and Steve blinked. “You talked to Nancy, didn’t you?”

You tactically looked around the room, taking yet another sip. “It…may have come up the day we helped Chrissy pack for State.”

Steve lowered his head, carefully turning around to open up the microwave and take out the popcorn, shaking it sadly to make sure all the pieces were covered in the fake butter from the packaging.

“Steve,” you said, your tone shifting into one of sympathetic laughter, “hey. Listen.” You got up from the stool and walked over to him, lightly placing a hand on his shoulder. “I think it’s really great that you want to have a big family. You’re good with them…even if you go around calling them shitheads all the time. You’ve kept them all safe, just like they were you own. You taught them important things, and helped them out when they asked, and most importantly?”

He turned to face you, popcorn bag in hand, his brown eyes wide and looking up at you through his lashes. It catches your breath for a second—enough for you to feel your heart skip a beat—and you have to close your own eyes to finish your sentence. “Y-you never fail to always keep on with that charming Harrington attitude. I know you hate always being the god damn babysitter, but Steve?”

His full attention is on you now, and you can feel yourself getting closer to him; his face inches from yours. “You are a genuine, caring person underneath all that hair.”

“HEY DINGUSES,” Robin’s voice shouted from the bottom of the basement stairs. “I can smell the popcorn! What is taking you so long?”

Steve backed away from you, and you turned around to grab your coke, your cheeks surely as red as they feel hot.

“Coming, your Highness,” Steve yelled out, “Or whatever it is you call yourself.”

“Dame Gaylord, for the record, Steve.” She called up. “Just hurry up with the popcorn, I’m starving down here!”

Steve looked over at you, shrugging his shoulders as he walked back down the stairs, popcorn bag in hand.

You gulp and sit down for a moment back on the stool, cradling your hands in your face.

What was that, you think, staring at the off-white counter. Did…am I going crazy? Or was that—you shake your head.

Your crush on Steve wasn’t new to you, but it had never seemed to be more than one sided. You had painfully made yourself make sure he never noticed it. So why now? Did he notice it now?

It started when you were both still in high school—he was the king of Hawkins high: all smiles, all suave charm, the way he carried himself…you couldn’t help it—but as you grew to know him, especially as he started to interact more with Dustin, taking him under his wing and helping him out; as you watched him time and time again put himself first to protect you and the rest of the gang, never failing to keep a smile on his face even in the most drastic, dangerous situations—your crush developed beyond a schoolgirl trope. You fell hard for Steve Harrington. It was hard at first to keep those feeling in check. Once or twice you had to hide your blush from him and shake it off cleverly, smiling and laughing, or changing the subject to something you know he could talk about for a ridiculous amount of time. You were pretty sure that he had no idea how much you liked him.

That is.

Until now.

The carbonated fizzle from the can of Coke beside you shook you from your thoughts, and you grabbed the can, chugging down half of it before walking back downstairs.

“But what I’m hearing,” Dustin’s voice rang through the basement, “is that you have tomorrow off.”

“I said I would think about calling off tomorrow—” Steve began, his hands planted firmly on his hips.

“Matty owes us time, Steve,” Robin said, tossing popcorn into her mouth. “We haven’t taken a day off since our shifts started back up this summer.”

You walked over to Eddie, who had his legs swung over the arm of his chair. “What exactly did I miss here, Munson?”

Eddie looked at you, a smile spreading across his face. “Midnight ride. Dustin’s trying to book us an overnight stay to finish plotting out Will’s Princess Bride session while the memory is still fresh in our heads. I know you’ve got the day off tomorrow, and I took afternoon shift at Motorwork’s. So, it’s all about convincing Harrington.”

You looked back over at Steve, who was slowly losing the battle against your brother and Robin. You couldn’t help but tilt your head a little bit and smile. He’d cave. He always caved for those two.

“Word has it, Henderson,” Eddie adjusted how he was sitting and leaned in closer to you, his hair brushing against the back of your head. “That all it would take to get him to cave right this minute is a smile from you.”

You snap your head to face Eddie, your brows knit. “On whose authority?” You questioned, your tone coming out angrier than you meant.

“I have eyes, Henderson. Unfortunately,” he leaned back into his chair, crossing his ankles and linking his hands together to support the back of his head. “I also know that sometimes our own eyes fail us at seeing the bigger picture when everyone else already can.”

You stared at him for a moment, your expression unchanging. Eddie was an assortment of flavors—you’d seen him go from being a chaotic punk to screaming child to love sick puppy in under 24 hours—but he never said anything that wasn’t true. And that would also mean that earlier…you weren’t imagining…

“How long,” your voice was quieter as you leaned back towards Eddie. “Have you noticed?”

“For you, darling?” He smirked. “First time I saw you two together. You were worse than I was with Chrissy.”

You bit your lip slightly. “And him?”

“Now, what would be the fun in telling you that?” He brought his arms back down off of his head and rubbed them on his thighs. “All I know is that if I had that kind of power over Harrington—and believe me, I’ve tried—I wouldn’t waste it.”

You blinked. A shiver ran down your spine and something inside your head—a usually very, very quiet voice—rang out. “If you won’t tell me,” you began, your eyes now focused on Steve, who was standing with both hands on his hips, slowly deflating under the weight of Dustin and Robin’s harassment. “Then at least help me figure out how to harness it.”

Eddie’s face lit up. He chuckled as he straightened out on his chair, his feet landing firmly on the floor. “Didn’t you say you wanted peanuts earlier?”

“Steve,” your voice came out louder than you anticipated, “call off tomorrow. It’s a Friday in October and the theater has better options. Matty can handle one night. Besides, you deserve a day off. Not to mention that I still want peanuts, and we’ve yet to go out and get some. We can pick up stuff to make for breakfast while we’re out.”

Steve looked at you, eyebrows raised. His stance softened a little and he tilted his head. “Why are you—”

“Are you seriously questioning my sister right now, Harrington? Go get her the damn peanuts. And pick up some Tang for the morning!” Dustin said, slapping Steve’s back.

You smiled—the one that seemed to always work; the one Eddie had noticed and said something about to you—and you watched. You watched as Steve sighed and closed his eyes.

“Anything else I can get for you assholes here at Harrington’s Bed and Breakfast?”

…

The drive out to the store felt awkward to you, but you did your best to ensure that it didn’t feel like that for Steve. It was hard, though, now that you’d had Eddie confirm Steve clearly had feelings for you to keep your usual calm, playful demeaner you’d worked so hard on the past several years. You’d tried simply keeping the volume up on the radio—you both loved to sing along to it, despite the fact that neither of you were exceptionally good at it—but that only worked until Tiffany’s I Think We’re Alone Now came on, and you couldn’t help but think that whoever was working the radio at the time was playing a cruel, cruel joke on you.

“I thought you loved this song,” Steve said, shifting his head quickly to look at you after you went to change the station. “Why change it?”

He reached over your hand and changed it back, turning it up.

“I think we’re alone now,” he sang at you, loudly. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone around.” He shook his shoulders and tapped the steering wheel in time to the song. “Come on, Ms. Henderson. Don’t even try to deny it. I’ve seen you sing this song into your hairbrush.”

“The beating of our hearts is the only sound.” You sang back at him, the smile returning to your face.

“There she is! That’s my girl,” he chuckled. He turned the volume up louder and you both sang along to the rest of the song until finally you pulled into the Kroger parking lot and he pulled into a spot, killed the engine, and turned to face you.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Steve said, looking at you, his brown eyes darker in the florescent glow of the parking lot lights.

“I am just focused on our task at hand,” you waved your hand at him and reached down to unbuckle your seatbelt. “That’s all.”

“Getting peanuts shouldn’t distract you enough that you change the radio station like that. I know you better, give me a little credit.”

You turned to face him, taking in how he was propped up in his chair; one arm over top the steering wheel, the other linked back around the seat. “I…I,” you had no idea how to bring out the question do you like me like I like you? in any manner that wouldn’t be embarrassing, so you just said the first thing that came out of your mouth instead. “I am just trying to think about how the boys and Robin are going to put The Princess Bride into their campaign.”

Steve blinked back at you. “S-sure.” He said, not quite believing you, you could tell, but also too polite to call you out on what clearly was a lie. “I mean, if they had asked me, I would have told them to focus mainly on the dread pirate Roberts stuff and go from there.”

The look you gave Steve was one you couldn’t stop yourself from making even if you tried. “Have you thought about this? I thought you didn’t understand D&D?”

“Yeah, well, I don’t get how you play that stupid game, but I know how to tell a story, thank you very much.” He said, taking his hand out from behind his seat and turning himself front facing. “I watched the same movie you guys did. In fact,” his tone in voice shifted, one that sounded like it had a bit of pride mixed in with shame. “I’ve seen the movie twice already.”

“When the fuck did you have time to see the movie?” You blurted out, unable to stop yourself.

“First time was on a date with…Stacey? Or maybe Sandy. Can’t remember. Second time was by myself, because Stacey-slash-Sandy was too busy trying to stick her tongue down my throat for me to pay attention to the movie. And I just. Really wanted to pay attention to it. It was a good movie.” He sighed and turned to face you. “That’s why when you asked me to drive you all to the theater, I wasn’t upset about the movie choice.”

You blinked. Fast at first, and then slowly a second time. “Steve Harrington likes a rom com.”

“You make it sound like I’m not allowed to enjoy movies with romance in them.” Steve said, offended.

“No, it’s not that. I just. Never pegged you for someone who would go see a movie like that on your own. The date thing I get. Me and the rest of the gang dragging you to a movie, yes. But on your own?”

“Yeah, well, a lot about me had changed in these last few years, if you hadn’t noticed. Though you should,” he said, his hand coming up to rest on your shoulder. You shivered. “You’ve been there alongside me. Hell, helped me change even. I’ve got a lot to thank you for, Ms. Henderson.”

You smiled at him, soft; warm. “Really?”

“Shit yeah, Henderson. You seem to genuinely care about me and call me out on my bullshit when I need it.” He looked down and smiled, his voice shifting in tone. “You’ve helped pick me back up and sewn me back together after all those times I’ve taken a beating; shown me how to grow and find ways to be part of the solution rather than the problem. I’m really lucky to have you in my life.”

The red in your face burned. But you didn’t care. “Steve, I—”

He cut you off with a single look up through his eyelashes. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now. But I’ve never had the chance to. Until now.” He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he leaned in closer to you. “I’ve had a crush on you for a while now. I just didn’t know how to tell you in case you didn’t feel the same way I did. I didn’t want to ruin what we already have by putting my feelings into the mix. But I have to tell you now. Especially after what almost happened in the kitchen. I’d regret it if I didn’t.”

You stared at him. For several seconds, unsure of what to do. It was like being caught in headlights.

He stared back; tried to lean back to give you your space, his hopeful smile starting to faulter, but you grabbed his hand tightly in yours and squeezed. “Steve, I…” you start, your brain firing off thoughts in different directions and your mouth unable to release any of them.

“Hey,” he said, patting your hand. “It’s okay. I get it if you—”

You pulled him in and lightly placed a kiss to his lips, messy and simple, because it’s all you could think to do to let him know how you feel; that his feelings were reciprocated.

When you pull back, Steve’s eyes were closed, his mouth slightly opened. You stared at him like this, wondering if what you did was the right move when his eyes snapped open and his mouth spread into the biggest grin you’d ever seen.

“I am going to take that as a positive sign,” he said before leaning in closer to you. He grabbed both of your hands and looked down at them, his thumbs rubbing random patterns into your palm. “But I would really, really love it if you’d say something.”

You looked down at your hands, your brain still processing what you’d just done, unable to look at him in the eye yet.

“Hey,” Steve lifted up your chin and brushed your hair carefully behind your ear. “I’m kinda sticking myself out on a limb right now and I could use some good old Henderson comforting I’ve come to love.”

Your brain finally stopped. “I’ve had a crush on you for a while, too.”

“That was what I was hoping you’d say,” he said, bringing his face in closer to yours, inches from your mouth. “There’s just one more thing I’m hoping for, though.”

You looked up from his mouth and into his eyes, confusion swirling in your thoughts.

“There is?” You breathed, so close to him you could hear the beat of his heart and smell his shampoo.

“Tell me that I can finally kiss you.” He whispered. “A real one.”

You smiled—the same one you’ve used so many times before. “Absolutely.”

Steve smiled back. “Have I ever told you that that little smile of yours does things to me that I’m not particularly proud to admit in detail yet?”

“Steve,” you plead, your arm now reached up and carded through his hair.

“Tell me I can kiss you again?” He said, his lips brushing against yours and his nose nudging your cheek.

“For you, Harrington?” you said, bringing him in closer. “You can kiss me any time you want.”

You felt his smile as he kissed you; light and soft at first, quickly turning into something deeper as he slid his hand from the base of your jaw to your ear, slowly combing through your hair as he cupped the back of your head. It was breathless and loving, unlike any kiss you’d had before. You lost yourself within his embrace and it was only when he bit your bottom lip, pulling you closer and tilting your head that you were able to catch your breath. In doing so, you moved your hand to his shoulder and forced yourself to pull apart, deep breaths taking over you both and fogging up the windows surrounding you.

“That was—” you started, your focus still lingering on his mouth.

“Worth the wait,” he finished, resting his forehead on yours. He grinned and leaned back in again to steal two more kisses from your lips before you pushed yourself off of him again, giggling.

“Steve,” you protested as he turned his head and began gently placing kisses along your jawline and down to your neck. “Steve, we’ve still got to go in and get those peanuts or everyone’s going to get suspicious.”

“Who gives a shit about what they think,” Steve said in-between kisses. “We’re alone now. I’ve finally got you all to myself, and I don’t want to waste a second of that.”

You felt a jolt of electricity tingle in your head and it softened your eyes. You could just forget about everything for a while—enjoy they fact that Steve Harrington was here, kissing you after professing his crush. And wouldn’t that be enough?

You grabbed Steve’s head, pulling him up so you could look him soundly in the eyes. His hair was messy, his pupils blown, and his lips plump from kissing you. He looked almost feral—flushed and salacious—but still soft, comforting, gentle. “I promise,” you stroked his cheek with your thumb, doing your best to hold his attention. “I won’t let you waste any second you’re with me. But there will be so much more time for that if we get what we came for and go back to your place. Steve,” you gave him a quick kiss, reminding him you were still there with him, “the quicker we do this, the quicker I can show you just how long I’ve waited for you.”

Steve stared at you, his eyes trained on yours.

“Because there’s only so much I can show you in a car. It’s…a little cramped. I expect your bed will accommodate many more things.”

He pulled himself from your grasp at that, and you watched as your words ignited a fire in him. “Pancakes or French toast for breakfast?” He said, opening up the car door and swinging his leg out. “Come on, Ms. Henderson. Let’s go! Move your ass, we’ve got things to take care of. Mainly…me.”

“As you wish,” you chuckled as you opened the door and stepped out in the cold night air.

…

Halloween was Saturday. The Byers were throwing a party because the kids all complained they were too old for trick-or-treating, and you and Steve had decided to go in on a couples costume as The Princess Bride herself and The Dread Pirate Roberts.

Steve was more excited about it than you—he hadn’t stopped telling everyone about how much he loved the film (even though Robin, sick of hearing him quote the movie endlessly at her, threatened to push him down a hill if he didn’t stop it at work), and he was quick to ask you about doing couples costumes once he stopped prompting make-out sessions.

“I didn’t take Steve Harrington for one wanting to do couples costumes.” You said when he’d asked you.

“What can I say?” He responded, hand on his hip. “I like to surprise people. Plus I’ve been thinking about all the things I used to be—who I was in high school—really wasn’t who I wanted to be. It was all some deliberate attempt to be someone my father wanted me to be. Everything that people say you should care about, it’s all just bullshit. When I’m with you, I feel like I can drop the bullshit and just be myself. And myself is someone who wants to do a couples costume with you from a really good movie.”

You stepped closer to him and grabbed his hand, kissing his cheek and smiling. “That is why I started liking you in the first place. Because I watched you challenge yourself to be the best possible version of you that you could be.”

Steve blushed. “Turns out all I needed was a thump on the head to change my life. And I’m grateful for it every single damn day.”

You cupped his face and rubbed your thumb along his cheek before pulling him into a hug. “I am too.”

“I’ll see you and Dustin after my shift tonight.” He said, breaking away from the hug. “You’re going to have to tell me how you convinced Matty to give you the best shifts when I get there.”

You laughed. “I don’t get the best shifts. I just get lucky. I also don’t spend half of my shift trying to flirt with you, Steve.”

Steve shifted his stance. “You saying you want me to stop, Henderson?”

“No,” you chuckled. “I’m just saying Matty doesn’t do love-sick.” And love-sick was probably the best way to describe Steve ever since last Thursday. It was almost like he couldn’t get his fill of you—stolen glances as you two put movies back on shelves; winks and nods while on lunch; a stealthy grabbing of your hand as he walked you to his car at the end of a shift, a passionate kiss sometimes on the hood that left you both aching for something more.

Those days were the best, because as he drove you back home, anticipatory for intimacy, you’d talk. About your day, about your struggles and excitements and plans for the not-so-distant future dates you’d take. The make-out sessions you’d had in his car were amazing (Steve was an excellent kisser. More importantly, he was good with his hands. The way he’d cup your face, his thumb on your jawline, fingers behind your ear. How it slowly slid back until he held the base of your skull and moved your head so he could get the best angle. How his other hand carefully caressed your back and slid to your hips…or sometimes…sometimes, when the day had been particularly stressful, he’d reach around and lift up the side of your shirt to cup your breast, teasing your nipple in such a way that it would send a wave of pleasure through you and create a small hitch in your breath that always produced a toothy smirk from him. This was, of course, followed by a pull on your lips so forceful it dragged your entire head forward and allowed the kiss to become deeper—his mouth opening yours and his tongue finding its way inside. You’d get him back, though. After the kiss deepened, you’d push him backward and climb on top of him, running your fingers through his ridiculously perfect hair; starting at the base of his neck and grabbing and pulling it slightly once your whole hand had found its way into the feathered layers. Then you’d grind into him a little bit until you could feel the bulge in his pants, give him your own deepened kiss until you could hear him moan, and then…excuse yourself off of him, kiss him one last time—soundly on his cheek or forehead or a peck on the lips—and bid him goodnight, enjoying the dazed and confused look he gave as he watched you walk up to the front door and blow him a kiss before stepping inside) but those conversations before then were something even better. You’d always been close to Steve, but this was new territory. And it felt…right.

“Lucky, sure.” Steve picked up a bunch of VHS tapes and walked over to an aisle. “I’ll see you tonight, Ms. Henderson.”

…

“Hey,” Dustin called through your closed door, knocking once before letting himself in. “I just need a bit of help getting my hair just right.”

You looked him up and down, smiling at your brother’s costume. “Han Solo. I am guessing Suzie is Leia?”

“Yeah. We’re going to be calling each other later tonight to watch Empire Strikes Back together over the phone.” He sighed, sitting down on your vanity chair. “But for now, I’d like some help getting my hair to be less curls, more poof.”

You chuckled and moved towards him to help. “No problem.”

“Are you and Steve going as Princess Buttercup and Westley? Your costume looks spot-on.”

“We are. And thanks, Steve sewed it himself.”

Dustin broke away from your comb and turned to face you. “Steve knows how to sew?”

“He took Home Economics our sophomore year to impress some girls and wound up actually enjoying it. Says it was worth the entire class because now he knows how to hem his pants and cook basic meals—which he also thought doubled his chance at being able to woo women.” You turned Dustin back to face the mirror and started to brush out his curls again, taming them with whatever product you could find so they fanned out around his face.

“I have heard the ladies love a man who knows how to cook,” he said, watching you work in the mirror, a giant grin on his face.

“Ladies love a man that knows how to take care of themselves, Dustin. That’s like…bare minimum qualification. Know how to take care of yourself, which includes being able to ask for help when you need it. And, suffice to say little brother, you’ve got that down.” You applied some hair spray to the top of Dustin’s head and leaned down so your face was right next to his. “Suzie is one lucky lady to have a guy like you.”

“Thanks,” his face turned a light shade of red. “But I feel like I’m the lucky one.” He took one last look in the mirror before he got up and headed toward your door. “I’ll be downstairs with Steve, attempting to calm mom down about us leaving for the night. But don’t take too long. I’m starving, and Argyle is supposed to be bringing pizza. I want to get there before there’s nothing but pineapple left.”

You smiled. “Be down in a minute, then.”

It was time for the final check. You walked over to your mirror to look at your reflection. Buttercup’s head piece was neatly pinned into the cheap wig you’d picked up and her belt was securely wrapped around your waist. The bottom of the bright red dress was hemmed perfectly so that it fell down at your ankles and you smiled in spite of yourself, feeling like an actual princess. You only got to see Steve’s costume once while he was giving you yours, but it wasn’t on him—just casually draped over the back of a chair. In fact, the only part of the ‘costume’ you’d gotten to see at all was the thin little mustache Steve had been growing since you agreed to do the couples costume. It was a good look for him, actually.

A final brush of your dress and you opened your door.

“Dustin said you were almost ready, but to try and convince you to come down faster so he wouldn’t be stuck with pine—wow.” Steve took a step back from your door, glancing at you up and down. “That dress really. It really works for you.”

You grinned and looked down at the dress. “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Steve regained his composure and took a bow. “At your service. M’lady.”

You giggled and pushed past him, heading for the stairs. You could have stayed there, in your doorway, eyeing him up and down in that costume though. His pants were a little tighter than the ones Cary Elwes wore, and the thread that was supposed to lightly fasten the top of his shirt was loose, exposing the top of his chest hair. He’d yet to put on the mask and black cloth around his hair, but that was what made it better. But if you did that, you knew you’d never get to the party on time and Dustin would berate you for missing the non-pineapple pizza for the next three weeks.

“Let’s get going to the party, less Han over here gets stuck with pineapple pizza,” you called out as you descended the staircase. “We’ll be home late tonight, mom. If you desperately need us, call the Byers.”

“Finally!” Dustin threw his hands up and opened up the front door. “Let’s go, Harrington! Get your ass down here so we can leave.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get your panties in a twist, Henderson.” Steve said, trailing out the door and unlocking his car. “We still have to pick up Robin and Vicki.”

You followed them both out, blowing a kiss to your mom before shutting the door behind you and heading towards Steve’s car.

“Why are you always the chauffeur?” Dustin asked, opening up the backseat and sliding in.

“You know, Henderson? I ask myself that same god damn question every single time I get in my car.” The engine roared to life. “If you—either of you—want to tell me how I ended up with this job, I’d really like to know.”

…

Hopper opened up the door, his skin painted green and a brown suit swimming on his body. “Glad you kids could make it!” He said, moving to the side to let you all in. “Argyle’s late with the pizza, but we’ve broken out snacks until he gets here.”

“Thanks, Hopper.” Dustin said, pushing past him. “Good to know I won’t miss out on the good pizza.”

You smiled as you walked past Hopper, your hand holding Steve’s.

“Well, that’s new.” Hooper closed the door and turned back around to face you. “When did this happen?”

“A couple weeks ago,” Steve said, gripping your hand tighter. “But it’s been a long time coming.”

Hopper laughed. “I know the feeling. Joyce is around here somewhere, make sure you tell her the party’s going great. She’s been on edge since this morning about decorations and party games. Even though I told her you kids were probably just going to end up playing that game you guys always play. Or watching whatever monster flick is on the tube tonight.”

“Will do, Herman.” You nodded your head at Hop, letting a single chuckle escape your mouth.

“And here I thought you kids wouldn’t get The Munsters reference.” Hopper smoothed down his jacket, grabbing it by the lapels once done.

You smiled and pulled Steve forward into the living room, where you found everyone else sitting around, talking.

“I see Buttercup and Westley have made their grand entrance, finally.” Eddie said, standing up from his seat to walk over to you. “M’Lady,” he made a swift bow when he reached you, his hair falling down in front of his face and his arm raised behind him. “Glad to see that you could make it with Harrington, in matching costume, no less.”

Steve pushed Eddie back slightly on the shoulder and grinned. “Looks like we’re not the only one in matching costume.” He pointed towards Chrissy, who was busy talking to Nancy.

“Aragorn and Arwen, from Tolkien’s masterpiece, dude.” Eddie grinned, his face going soft when he looked at Chrissy. “I sent her with all the books to read while at State. She’s really gotten into them. She’s the one who suggested we go as Aragorn and Arwen, and I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to dress as the great Strider.”

Steve’s expression turned into one you recognized as confusion. “This is like, related to that Mordor thing, isn’t it?”

“Lord of The Rings, Harrington.” Eddie patted him on the back. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty.”

“Alright!” You clapped your hands, walking farther into the room. “Who’s ready to finally have some fun for once?”

“I know I am,” you turned to see Max approach you, dressed as Freddy Kruger—or, at least you thought that’s what she was going as from the looks of her sweater and hat.

“Bit too much on the nose, don’tcha think, Red?” Eddie sat down next to Chrissy, who beamed up at him, and wrapped his arm around her.

“Thought it was funny. Plus I wanted an excuse to wear a sweater and jeans,” Max said, plopping down on the couch across from where you stood. “Lucas wanted us to do a couples costume this year, but he and I couldn’t agree on one we both liked. So, I chose Freddie Kruger, and he—”

“Decided to go as The Terminator,” Lucas finished, walking into the room wearing a leather jacket and a pair of sunglasses. “I ran out of time at the last minute because someone didn’t want to do The Breakfast Club with me.”

“Sorry Lucas,” Max said. “But I’m no princess. No offense,” she added, looking at you and Chrissy.

“Oh, none taken, Max! Truth be told,” Chrissy said, adjusting her legs so they no longer crossed. “I always hated being shoved into that princess stereotype, so I understand. Before I met you guys, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to break it.”

“With that roundhouse you’ve got,” Eddie beamed, “I never doubted for a second you were anything but a terrifying badass.”

“Yeah Chrissy,” Dustin chimed in. “Who’d a thought you could take out so many demobats with backflips and cheer movies. Most metal thing I’ve ever seen.”

Chrissy blushed, tucking away a strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. “Thanks guys. And also, just for the record, Arwen isn’t a princess. She’s the daughter of Elrond; Lady of Rivendell and later Queen of the Reunited Kingdom.”

Eddie placed a kiss to the side of Chrissy’s head. “That’s my girl.”

You chuckled and shook your head, turning to face Max. “Believe me, Max. I don’t think anyone here is princess material, despite their costumes.”

“I thought about being a princess,” El chimed in, her hair piled in curls on top of her head. “But then Mike and I went to see Alien and I thought I would make a much better Ellen Ripley.”

You turned to get a better look at El and realized she was in a near-perfect replica jumpsuit, complete with a stuffed cat and plastic gun slung around her.

“You make an excellent Ripley, El,” Lucas said, opening up a piece of candy from the table in the middle of the room. “You’d also give her a run for her money. Not that I think you two would fight. But….that might be a cool match to see.”

You leaned over to Steve to let him know you were going to go grab something to drink before walking out of the living room and towards the kitchen. The Byers’ house was a lot bigger now that Hopper and Joyce were living together and you could tell it was slowly becoming well-loved. Pictures hung up in the hallway on your way there: Will smiling as he was painting, Jonathan contemplating in the background; El and Will sitting on the couch reading together; Jonathan and El sitting on the floor of the living room, headphones on and listening to music; Joyce and Hopper smiling and looking at each other, snow on the ground with Christmas lights in the background; all five of the found family laughing around a table covered in pumpkin guts from last year’s Halloween. It was comforting to know that they were able to create a sense of normalcy again after all the trauma they’d endured the past couple of years.

“Princess Buttercup.” Will’s voice, now deeper than it had been just a summer ago, caught you off guard as you entered the kitchen.

“Luke Skywalker.” You took a step back, your head tilted to get a better look at his costume.

Will smiled before pulling down on the black sweater he was wearing. “I’m glad you know who I am.”

“I’m sorry sweetie,” Joyce bent down and put a glass pan that appeared to be full of cheese inside the oven. “I’m sure he’s a wonderful character from that film series you and Jonathan won’t stop talking about. I’m just a little preoccupied at the moment.”

“Mrs. Byers,” you said, as you took a step closer to her, “do you need any help with that?”

“Sweetheart,” she replied, adjusting her long, black wig that had fallen forward on her face. “I’ve told you—all of you kids, actually—Joyce is just fine. Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got it handled!”

“She’s just making some nachos to tide us over until Argyle gets here, whenever that may be.” Will said as he walked over to the kitchen table to put on a belt. “I could use your help with this, though. I couldn’t find a scabbard to wear, but I did manage to construct Luke’s lightsaber and belt just right. I even found a pair of boots at the thrift shop that work. But…I can’t seem to get it on without help.”

“No problem,” you stepped forward and turned Will around to help attach the belt.

“I’m guessing that Steve is dressed as Westley?” Will questioned, his head turning slightly to the side to see your face.

“Yeah. It was his idea too. He’s seen the movie something like three times now and convinced me we’d be the perfect Buttercup and Westley.”

Will let out a small laugh. “I’m glad you guys are going out. It was painfully obvious to everyone else that you two needed to end up together—”

“God, every single time we had Murray over for dinner he wouldn’t stop talking about putting you both in a room rother until you came out a couple.” Joyce called from the pantry, interrupting Mike mid-sentence and causing you to raise your eyebrows. “I knew eventually you two would work it out—like Hop and I did—because god knows Murray doesn’t need to control everyone’s love life around here.”

“I like Murray well enough, but she’s got a point.” Will said, holding his belt up as you gave it one last adjustment before turning him around to face you. “We all knew you’d wind up together one way or another. Except maybe Mike. He still thinks Robin and Vicki are just friends.”

You snorted a laugh. Robin had come out to the group a little after what happened last spring, right before Steve helped her get the courage to ask Vicki out. Everyone took it pretty well—especially Will and Eddie, who hugged her excessively when she was trembling her way through her speech—but Mike had just sort of stood there, unable to grasp what it was Robin was saying. “He’s very dense. Nice, but…”

“Yeah,” Will sighed, stepping back and smoothing out his pants. “Thanks for helping me. Though I’m sure that’s not what you came into the kitchen for in the first place.”

You blink, trying to remember what it was that you came in here for. “Coke.” You finally blurt out, your thoughts distracted by the tone in Will’s voice.

Will turned and headed over to the fridge to pull out a can for you, his arm stretched out as he comes back. You wavered a bit before you decided to reach out and pull him into a hug, your arms clasping around his back, his hand still outstretched, holding a Coke. Everyone had been through a lot over the years, but it was always Will that seemed to need a little more comforting than everyone ese. You knew Jonathan would always be there for him, and since Eddie had met him, he’d made sure Will knew he was accepted into the Hellfire club. But still. Maybe it was just the sister instinct that took over when you were around Will that made you want to comfort him. “Thanks Will.” You pulled back from him and smiled, grabbing the Coke out of his hand. “Make sure Dustin see’s your outfit. I have a feeling he’ll go bananas over it.”

Joyce walked out of the pantry, a bag of tortilla chips in her hand. “Happy again to hear about you and Steve, sweetheart. These nachos should be done in a couple minutes, make sure to let everyone know there’s something here in lieu of pizza.”

“Will do, Mrs. Munster.” You smiled.

“Lily.” Joyce corrected.

You laughed as you walked out of the kitchen and back towards the living room.

“Robin and Vicki did a couples costume! We could have had the whole Breakfast Club!” You heard Lucas shout as you entered the room. You saw in the corner that Robin and Vicki had finally made their way into the Byers house (they opted to stay in the car to get ready, as when you went to pick them up, neither one of them had costumes on), and you couldn’t help but wonder why they were dressed as Ally Sheedy and Molly Ringwald from The Breakfast Club of all things.

“Feel free not to answer,” you said, walking up to the two ladies. “But The Breakfast Club?”

Vicki smiled and placed her hand on Robin’s shoulder. “Your idea, so you explain it to her.”

Robin took a sip from the cup she was holding and closed her eyes. “So,” she began, her voice competing with the sound of the music someone had put on while you were gone, “you’ve seen the movie, right? There’s that scene, in the end, where Molly Ringwald’s character takes Ally Sheedy to the side and completely redoes her make up. Which, first of all, didn’t need to be done. Because she was just fine the way she was. But, more importantly, she did the make up the way she though would make her look better. It was soooo intense. And it just, clicked? You know? They totally could have been a couple. The princess and the oddball. It’s a huge literary trope, so, why couldn’t it be like that with the two of them? Honestly, that whole film could have been the gateway into making gay history. I mean, it’s clearly an undertone of the entire film. It’s subtext—”

“Robin, sweetheart,” Vicki chimed in, placing a hand on Robin’s shoulder. “The film did a pretty good job with the written material, regardless of the subtext. Not that your theory isn’t fascinating. But…I thought Claire’s make-over for Allison was nice. All she did was wash her face and pull her hair up so you could see her eyes. I liked how simple it was.”

“Vicki, Vicki, Vicki,” Robin said, turning to face her girlfriend. “You’re missing the point. We’ve talked over this! It’s—”

Vicki placed a finger on Robin’s lips. “Okay, smartypants. I secede. Why don’t we go and get something to eat? I’ve been smelling nachos for the past five minutes, and I want to grab some before the teenaged boys do and leave nothing left for us.”

Robin smiled. “Yes. I am famished.” She turned back to face you, her hand now captured in Vicki’s. “As for you, don’t think I didn’t notice how you’re dressed up as Buttercup when Steve is Westley. You and I will have a chat about that later! I know I can convince you to have him stop quoting that damn movie all the time!”

Vicki tugged at Robin’s arm and the two headed back to the kitchen.

You went to go and stand next to Steve, who was sitting on the arm of the chair next to Dustin, watching Michael Jackson’s Thriller video on the TV, when the front door opened.

“Happy Halloween, brochacos,” Argyle said, walking through the front door, bringing with him the scent of pizza and weed. “I’ve brought the pizza and Halloween because I think it’s absolutely the right way to go about today.” He set down five pizza boxes on the couch and held up a VHS. “And one of those pies has pineapple, my guys. May I remind you again, try before you deny.”

El smiled. “I enjoy pineapple on my pizza, Argyle. But I do not understand your costume.”

Argyle laughed. “I am Brand from The Goonies, my alien fighting friend.” He snapped at his red head band. “Please tell me someone here has shown her the greatest movie of our time.”

“I’ll make sure she sees it, Argyle.” Will said, walking over towards El. “It’s one of my favorites. It’s about a group of kids that go on a treasure hunt in order to save their home. Mikey’s optimism got me through the worst of the nightmares after last spring. He just. Reminds me of someone I know. I think you’ll really like it.”

“If Will says it’s a good movie,” El said, “then I will be sure to watch it, Argyle. But first…pizza.”

“Second on that,” Nancy said, moving out from her corner and towards the couch, adjusting her sweater and corduroy pants. “Thanks for bringing the pizza, Argyle.”

“Totally no problemo, Nance. Or should I say…?”

“Oh, I’m Carrie Fisher’s character in The Blues Brothers. Jake is around here somewhere.” Nancy said, picking up the gun she’d placed on the floor.

You looked closely at the gun, your eyebrows raising when you realized—

“Excellent prop gun, Nance!” Argyle smiled, his entire face beaming with joy for a moment before his eyebrows crossed. “Right?”

Eddie snickered from the corner. “Guess again, my friend.”

“Can’t be too lenient around here, even if things have quieted down. Had to work this thing into my costume somehow. It was easy enough to dress Jonathan up in a suit, too. Plus,” Nancy walked over to the pizza, opened the box, and took out a slice. “I just like Carrie Fisher.”

“Me too,” Argyle said, his smile returning to his face. “I don’t know if I would have gotten that one right away. Not like Westley and Buttercup over there from the second greatest movie of our time.”

“Thank you!” Steve said dramatically, raising his arms. “I am not the only one here with taste.”

“It’s not that you don’t have taste,” Robin walked over towards the pizza, a can of Coke in her hand from the kitchen. “It’s that you’re annoying about it.”

Steve just stared at her, his mouth slightly open, trying to think of something to say back to her.

“Aw man, just let it go. Best not to argue with Allison Reynolds.” Argyle slapped Steve on the back. “Which. Digging the costume, Robin. I take it Vicki is Claire, because of that whole make-up scene, right?”

“Argyle,” Robin said, opening up the pizza box with pineapple and grabbing a slice. “You have excellent taste.”

“Thanks, dude. Now,” Argyle slapped Steve on the back again, causing him to flinch slightly. “Why don’t you and your princess come grab a slice of pineapple before it’s all gone. My taste extends beyond that of film!”

You grabbed Steve’s hand and walked over to grab a slice of pizza together, enjoying the atmosphere of being surrounded by your friends.

…

“You seem a decent fellow,” Steve said, circling the table in the middle of the living room. “I hate to die.”

You watched as Steve and Dustin continued to circle each other, Steve holding up his plastic sword and Dustin his plastic blaster. Everyone was in various degrees of watching them—Eddie was enthralled by their performance while Robin and Vicki had left the room completely after Steve brought out the movie quotes.

“This is such a boring conversation,” Dustin stopped circling and held up his blaster. “Besides, ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side.”

“There is something I ought to tell you,” Steve said, his sword now in front of his face—which had lost the mask and bandana long ago, giving his hair a wild look to it.

“Oh? As long as it’s not the odds. Never tell me the odds.” Dustin motioned his plastic blaster so it dropped a little.

“Get used to disappointment.” Steve lunged forward at the exact time Dustin began making blaster sounds and ran his sword under Dustin’s arm.

“Laugh,” Dustin choked, dramatically falling to his knees. “It,” he dropped his blaster and looked down at the floor before lying down, the sword still sticking out from his armpit. “Up,” he coughed. “Fuzzball.” Dustin closed his eyes and curled up, faking his death like the dramatic kid he was.

You clapped. “Alright, can we please head out now? Some of us have to work in the morning, you know.”

Steve turned to you, his expression of satisfaction still plastered on his face.

“You’re really not going to mourn the death of your own brother?” Dustin said, looking up at you from the floor.

“I shouldn’t need to mourn. Han Solo doesn’t miss. Maybe you should have dressed as a Stormtrooper,” you joked, watching Dustin’s brow furl. “Kidding. I’m very sad for you, Dustin. But I also really just want to take a shower and get to bed. It’s almost eleven. Half the party is gone, anyway.”

Besides Robin, Vicki, Eddie, and Chrissy, everyone had trickled out of the Byer’s house throughout the night.

“Your sister’s right, Henderson,” Steve said, walking over to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to call Suzie tonight or something?”

Dustin shot up. “She’s gonna kill me if I’m late! Movie’s on at midnight.” He rushed to the door. “Robin! Vicki! Let’s go! Thanks for the party, Mrs. Byers! See you at Hellfire, Will!”

You shook your head and waited for everyone to say their thank you’s and goodbyes before walking out and getting into Steve’s car. You dropped Robin and Vicki off first, then turned the radio on and enjoyed the ambiance of Halloween decorations to Michael Jackson’s Thriller. When you finally pulled into your driveway, Dustin shot out of the car, barely thanking Steve as he ran into the house to call Suzie.

“That kid has it bad,” Steve said, shutting off the engine.

“Suzie’s good for him, I think.” You said, shifting to look at Steve. “I’m glad he’s found someone.”

“I’m glad I found you,” Steve said, pulling you in for a kiss. “Thanks for being my Buttercup tonight and every night.”

You smiled. “I’m glad I found you too, Steve. Thanks for being my Westley, babysitter boy.”

Steve chuckled as you opened up your car door and got out. “I’ll see you later.” You blew him a kiss and headed for your front door, a faint mumble from Steve barely hitting your ears.

…

Turns out, a hot shower after a long night can also wake you up considerably. You were lucky enough to have a bathroom attached to your room; it made the transition of getting out and getting dressed easier.

Or so you thought.

“There’s a shortage of perfect breasts in this world,” Steve said, lying on top of your bed, his arms behind his head. “T’would be a pity to damage yours.”

You stood in the bathroom doorway, robe halfway on, your hair tied up. “Steve?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“What—how—why—HOW did you get into my room?”

“You keep your windows unlocked. I’ve been plotting a route up here for days, ever since you agreed to do Princess Bride costumes. I wanted to surprise you.”

You stared at him, open mouth, not paying attention to your robe as it slowly opened up more. He smiled at you wider, sitting up a little on your bed. “Too much? Too cheesy?”

You shook your head and grasped at your robe, pulling it tighter (causing Steve’s smile to fade a bit). “Steve, I watched as you and Dustin made pew-pew and clanking noises for five minutes. I don’t think it was too cheesy.”

He sat back, relieved.

“Besides,” you walked over to your bed and sat down on the other side. “What I like most about you is your cheesiness.”

Steve quickly turned his head towards you and scoffed. “I am not—”

“Steve. You’re cheesy. Charming. Gallant and almost stoic to a fault. Maybe not the most gracious with words or coordination…but that is why I love you.”

Steve looked at you, his mouth a straight line. “Ms. Henderson,” he began, sitting up once again. “I believe you’ve just said something there is no going back from.”

You blinked. “I did?”

He smirked and scootched closer to you. “You looooooove me.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot—not just because you were embarrassed, but because you hadn’t planned on telling him on accident. There were three options you could go with now. Option one: playfully hit him and deny it. Option two: kiss him to shut him up. Option three: disrobe and distract him completely.

You knew which option it had to be.

You faced him and gently reached up to cup his cheek, pulling him closer to you. “Steve Harrington, I have loved you since the first day you brought Dustin home with a smile on his face. I love your charm, and your determination, and how incredibly stupid you can be, risking your life for everyone in an attempt to always be a better version of yourself.” You kept eye contact with him, watching him as he watched you. “You may act like you don’t care, or that you’re too cool, or that you hate being the babysitter, but I know you Steve. And I love what I see.” You reached up to run your fingers to the back of his head, your eyes flicking between his and his lips. “I love you, Steve Harrington.”

This kiss was different than the ones you’ve had in the past. It was more passionate—more pure; it left all the others behind Steve would quote to you later on—and left you feeling light headed. Slowly, you found yourself crawling up on your knees. He grabbed at your waist and pulled you flush against him, one hand pawing at the small of your back and the other cradling the back of your head, reaching up to loosen your hair so it cascaded down and tickled your ears. You turned your head to deepen the kiss, your hands digging into his hair to keep a semblance of keeping upright. Ultimately this was useless as you found yourself melting into him, sighing unapologetically as he nipped at your bottom lip. He reached his hand up to cup your face and pulled apart for the briefest of seconds before he lightly kissed you once; twice; three times before resting his forehead on yours, his breathing faster in effort to catch his breath.

His eyes remain closed, but yours looked at him gently, your cheeks red and your mouth slightly agape.

“You know, Ms. Henderson,” he opened his eyes finally and flicked them up to match yours, a cheeky smile growing on his puffy lips. “I love you too.”

You leaned in to give him another kiss, soft and gentle, the smile on your face growing wider. “You know,” you said, breaking away from the kiss, much to Steve’s disappointment. “Since you went through all that trouble of recreating the scene where Westley comes to rescue Buttercup…”

Steve gently fixed your hair behind your ear, his eyes only leaving yours for a minute. You reached up to place your hand on top of his before placing it back down across his chest. You smirk. He had less than a second to register as you pushed him down on the bed, straddled him, and reached for the belt of your robe, loosening it. “Why not really give into the scene?”

Steve’s mouth closed shut as his eyes moved up and down on you, watching as you leaned forward and began to kiss him, starting with his forehead and working your way down to the two tiny little moles along his jawline.

“Gently,” he whispered, his hands on your hips.

“At a time like this, that’s all you can think of to say? Gently?” You tuck one hand behind his head and lift him up slightly, grabbing his mouth in yours.

“Gently,” he said again before you released him from your kiss, his head knocking against the headboard of your bed. “Ouch.”

You giggled. “That’s for Robin. Stop quoting the movie to her at work so much.”

Steve took a hand off of you and rubbed at the back of his head. “Fine,” he said, scooting himself down further so his head was at the bottom of the pillow. “I’d much rather hear you quote the movie to me anyway. It’s hot…”

You placed a finger over his mouth and smirked before leaning back down to kiss him again. “As you wish.”

#Stranger Things Fanfic #Steve Harrington x Reader #Harrington x Reader

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clonedadplo · 2 years ago

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My first real post on Tumblr, I have some Obikin fanfic to sacrifice upon this alter of many fandoms. I still can't believe Ashoka and Anakin are only four years apart and that they gave "I-cant-handle-my-feelings-I'm-hyperventilating-and-I-just-stabbed-someone-Anakin" a padawan at the age of 19. Lord.

I may post this on AO3 if I wind up writing more and can get my bro to edit for me:

Black Right Hand

When Obi-Wan had lost his arm to Count Dooku Anakin had lamented that it hadn't been him. Not because of some self sacrificing urge to protect like his master seemed to feel when he swung his saber across the space in front of him and directly in front of Dooku's saber trajectory. That was what is was though, only trajectory, the expected path of travel which would have buried the curved red saber directly into Anakin's chest, or now, into Obi-Wan's green one but things often do not travel their expected path and it instead sailed on to the left and severed most of his master's forearm.

No, at first Anakin had wished he had been the one to lose his arm because Obi-Wan Kenobi was not the kind of man to whom a mechanical limb was conducive. To start he was not all that capable with mechanics, and was absolutely hopeless with electrical engineering. Second he seemed too…human? Too…natural? Anakin could not place a finger on it but neither his master's demeanor nor the soft grace of his soresu saber style seemed to align with having a cybernetic hand.

However nowadays it served quite well to tie Obi-Wan to him. Anakin needed to service the arm at least every four months (which really isn't asking much if he may say so himself) and in reality much more often as it seemed to be damaged frequently with the rising intensity of the war. The complex wiring and special build he had put in place to prevent anyone tampering with a Jedi High General's primary saber wielding appendage, made it nearly impossible for anyone else to perform any type of upkeep on it. There was more to it than that though. Something about seeing the harsh black mechano limb under the soft beige gauze of Obi-Wan's robes seemed to connect them. To bridge the gap between a serene light filled garden on Coruscant and a brutal storm on Sedesia, drawn in unnaturally by the high gravity, gripping the planet's surface and tearing out the dirt and plants to hide them away in space. Or at least it made them look a bit more like they even belonged on the same Republic Cruiser.

Time went on and so did the war, his master had long become comfortable with the arm, given the constant necessity for action there was really no choice. Rex had informed him a few days ago aboard a Venator that a transmission from Cody detailed Obi-Wan's newest damage to his prosthetic and Anakin had been restless ever since awaiting news of their return. At first he had his own mission to busy himself with but after returning to the temple yesterday the nerves began to surface again.

Nonetheless Obi-Wan should be arriving back soon enough, Anakin had felt him reenter the same sector of space recently and he decided he should actually wash up today. He stepped into the sanisteam and considered maybe he'd even give snips the day off, there was hardly a point in training since they'd be deployed again in less than two days.

Yeah maybe today would be a good day for once.

Ashoka had assured a disheveled, grimey, and exhausted master Kenobi that if her master was actually taking his once monthly shower there was no need to wait on him to treat the shorn open finger joint. She could handle it and he'd be off to bed in no time, however barely into popping open the top panel to connect the diagnostic tool the sounds of steam vents shut off and her master came leaning out of his room in record time, robes tied sloppily and hair still askew. The expression on his face could only be described as absolutely scandalized as he stared at her. She fiddled with the code reader and Obi-Wan continued his lackadaisical commentary on their latest mission.

She continued the ruse of swapping stories with her grandmaster when in reality she could only feel the burning stare of her master deciding whether she was capable enough to do the work at hand. Or on hand. On the hand? Either way the scrutiny was burdensome and eventually Obi-Wan coughed mid sentence apparently having reached the limit of ignoring his troublesome Padawan.

"Really Anakin are you going to stand there and stare at her all morning or did you intend to come out and join us at some point?" Anakin's head whipped to the side as if he had been so solely focused on Obi-Wan's arm he had forgotten the man himself was there watching him lean out of his quarters, poorly dressed and ogling. Anakin ducked back into his room shamefaced and emerged again a few minutes later, robes straightened, and unruly waves combed.

After giving a curt good morning to them both he proceeded to storm out the door without awaiting further interaction. Ashoka shrugged and supplied "We must be out of caf. Master is always in a bad mood without his morning caf."

Obi-Wan seemed placated by this and snorted in shared humor. "Indeed. It seems he hasn't changed in that respect."

As the Torgrutan got into actual repairs she began to notice a rather unnecessary amount of gold plating within the actual arm, she looked at the black durasteel and its gold accent rings in question and couldn't resist the urge to ask

"Master Kenobi aren't your robes brown? I know once the war started you started wearing the same black body glove as your troopers under your armor but you don't even wear any other black, did you choose this colour? Surely you could have gotten tan or even skin coloured durasteel?"

Obi-wan just flashed her with a light laugh tilting his head in curiosity like he had never even considered this.

"Only you would deign to consider fashion choices in a war little Padawan. I hardly think it's important, but after we returned to Corusant from the battle on Genosis, Anakin told the Meddroids that he would take care of securing me an appropriate prosthetic for a Jedi. Lord knows where he found it but it works quite well, I don't see why the colour would be an issue."

Ashoka stared into the many tightly bunched groups of minute wires then braided together into larger cords, not only a sign of her master's handiwork but a sign it was a project of interest or a craft of care and not yet another downed fighter's electrical system fixed on the fly in some ungodly weather system of yet another nameless outer-rim hellscape. Her eyes finally focused on the spot she had been oh-so carefully avoiding with her screwdriver, the unique lithographic design that had to be required to print the one of a kind chip serving as a central processor for the hand. As expected at this point, she also found the small, so so small, miniscule spiky huttese A.S. adorning the corner of the chip. The same A.S. she had seen inside C3-P0, R2-D2, various gadgets and the internal kyber crystal housing of her own first lightsaber. She had asked about it one day while she maintenanced artooie, not knowing huttese or why the strange markings on his main two processors matched the inside of her saber.

"Well snips the housing of a light saber is pretty simple but I designed it myself, and I signed it as uhh...I guess a gesture."

A show of affection was left unspoken, this conversation had taken place before they had both slowly began noticing their own individual crawls past the line of Jedi ordership and into the the soggy swamp of confused human with handfuls of friends, a thing strictly forbidden for them. They left that unspoken too though.

"And the signature inside R2?" She had asked, intrigue overwriting the warm but awkward turn of the conversation.

Anakin chuckled in response, "Well I sure do appreciate R2 but no that's...that's an engineer's signature. Fine work like that gets signed." He touted, rocking back on his heels with a satisfied hum.

Ashoka rolled her eyes and went back to tightening tiny oil slick screws, curosity sated.

Now she looked down into the arm's delicately designed inner working and thought this signature probably covered both. And maybe some other third thing if she was foolish enough to stop and consider the implications of her master signing the inside of another living being's arm.

Obi-Wan noticed her long pause and vacant gaze and cleared his throat in concern.

"Uhm, I know all of Anakin's tinkering in there seems to have made it nearly unserviceable by anyone else. If you're not comfortable I can simply wait until he returns."

Ashoka was pulled out of her pondering with a start. "What? Oh no I- Uh well actually that would probably be...." That would probably be for the best she finished in her mind. She should close up this black and gold, hand engraved arm, pretend she was not privvy to her master's design quirks and never lay her fingers or tools on it again. Unfortunately much like Skywalker she loved doing exactly what she shouldn't do.

"That probably won't be necessary. I've seen all my masters strange design choices a hundred times, I can fix you up." Design she said with emphasis. Not just wiring, not just alterations, design you blind Jedi.

"Okay then I leave myself in your capable hands Padawan Tano." Obi-Wan said this with a puckish smile like they were playing a game of dejarik she was about to win not flaying opened his prosthetic arm.

She shook her montrals and set about the slow work of divesting the exposed length of arm of the hundreds of wires blocking her path higher until she could safely remove the outer casing of the hand.

Obi-Wan squirmed as she individually disconnected wire after wire, not daring to risk disturbing her master's painstaking work by pulling out an entire bundle at once. A bit of discomfort seemed reasonable, the power could not simply be switched off for safety reasons but she had started with the bundle that would disconnect the arm's reception of impulses from Obi-Wan's remaining flesh limb and in turn sever feedback to her grandmaster's nervous system. As she began on the next bundle, Obi-Wan continued fidgeting, leg bumping and shoulders twitching despite the lack of sensory feedback as she worked.

"Uncomfortable master Kenobi?" She inquired suppressing a grin.

"No!" Obi-Wan responded quickly, eyes jerking up from his arm, seemingly unaware he was fidgeting in the first place. "It's just I suppose I never thought about it but I've never really been paying attention while someone works on my arm."

Ashoka lifted a dubious eyebrow as he went on, now wearing an expression certainly closer to embarrassment than any she had seen on him before. "It seems everytime Anakin has serviced it we are either aboard a GAR ship or inside some makeshift tent shelter and I'm either too busy with battle plans or speaking with our troops to take notice of my arm. Or…." Obi-Wan faltered now looking into his cup of tea and down at his robes still dirty from his most recent mission because commander Cody had insisted that he needed to get his arm fixed before taking rest. He had failed to mention that this implied Obi-Wan could not shower and change because they both knew he would fall asleep the minute he was clean but had wordlessly accompanied him through the temple, past the call of his own refresher equipped with a real shower (no sanisteam thank you) and taken his leave with a parting salute only when he was sure someone would be looking after his general.

Ashoka waited until her patience gave way and prompted him on, "Oooor?" she was finished disconnecting and parting all the wires at this point and was too focused on the intricate, blind work of seeking out all the internal latches that would remove the hand casing to give notice to Obi-Wan's tight lipped uncomfortable expression

"Or, I…I fall asleep." Ashoka looked up attempting to process then immediately resettled her efforts on attempting not to laugh.

"Every time. Like without fail? You're either riding a battle high or passed out on the table while Skyguy sticks tools in your arm?" Ashoka tried her best to keep from chortling but her wording betrayed her amusement quite clearly regardless.

Ever patient, Obi-Wan simply shrugged his unfettered shoulder and smiled sheepishly,

"I suppose I really am an old man as you two insist. I must find any engineering beyond servicing the fleet fighters on missions so foreign it truly puts me to sleep."

Ashoka's head swam in disbelief as she prodded the first of six internal clips. More like you're being force suggested to sleep! She decided against sharing this rather unnerving deduction and settled on mumbling, "Master you have Crys work on the ships when me and Anakin aren't around."

Obi-Wan gave a warm rich laugh and shifted into a more comfortable position to watch her work, chin propped on his other arm peering down at her poking and praying, still twitching occasionally despite the lack of sensation.

The door slid open with a whoosh of air and Anakin entered looking as stormy as when he left. Obi-Wan tilted his head up and flashed him a smile before looking back down to the sight of his now uncased hand, one finger separated and lying on the table as Ashoka replaced the joints.

Her master bustled into the small cooking space of the main living area and began preparing a cup of caf and a cup of tea. So, not out then.

While her master seemed content to silently stifle them all with his brooding force signature Ashoka was ready to show him exactly why she had forged on in this endeavor despite invoking her master's ire.

"You know master, this is some truly lovely and unique craftsmanship." Ashoka spoke loudly enough he could not pretend not to hear her without looking up. Anakin stilled in the kitchenette, the clinking of his spoon now stilled.

"It's a shame master Kenobi is never awake to admire it. Especially since so much of it was especially handmade." Ashoka went on, smirking to herself as she felt her master's force signature first contort then disappear entirely, hidden the moment it wasn't being purposely projected.

Obi-Wan tilted his head in curiosity, looking up at the brooding man child in a few feet away.

"It's not…it's not all that special, just some alterations on the tried and true designs. Not really Obi-Wan's area of interest is it?" This was probably stated with enough humility to make Obi-Wan suspicious alone but he accepted it with a hum and Ashoka assumed he was probably too tired from a long deployment to probe deeper into the line of questioning.

Anakin's voice in her head came in a hissing rasp,

"We will speak about this later padawan, stop trying to scare Obi-Wan over his prosthetic before he gets rest."

At the same time Obi-Wan's rich level timbre reached her ears from the outside,

"Well whatever alterations you did they work wonderfully so I'm very grateful to you Anakin, I don't-" Obi-Wan's voice was cut off with a yawn before he shook his head to clear it, "Oh excuse me, haven't had a good night's rest in days."

Ashoka answered both at once using full focus to gather all the parts she needed to go weld, answer her master through their training bond, and answer Obi-Wan.

"I hardly think general Kenobi is the one I'm scaring master."

"That's okay master I'll be done soon I just need to go weld these finger pieces back together, we've got the tools lying about somewhere but I don't want to burn the table."

Anakin stepped over and snatched the twisted handkerchief of parts out of her hands. "That's alright snips, I've got a micro torch I'll fix it." He walked into his room only to return with a metal plate and torch and set about the repairs without waiting for anyone in the room to respond.

Obi-Wan shook his head and leaned conspiratorially in towards Ashoka, "To tell you the truth I think he's just possessive of his handiwork. He was like that with the speeders he used to build too. Doesn't like anyone else working on them."

Ashoka put a hand on her hip and nudged a montral behind her back with a shoulder, "Right. His handiwork." Anakin flashed his eyes up at her but continued working in silence.

Sometimes Ashoka remembers her master is still only a petulant twenty year old.

Gif Credit to: @obiwanobi (Ashoka) @gffa (the other two)

#obikin #star wars #the clone wars #fanfic #fan fiction #obi wan star wars #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #sw ahsoka #sw anakin #obi wan kenobi #star wars clone wars #obikin fic

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