#i personally haven't really had the chance to listen a lot ever since i got the job and am on my laptop 9hrs a day

[ladamedusoif]

Rockford, P.I.

Or: the one where Tim Rockford is a ghost hunter

Inspired by the incredible PPCU AU moodboards by @almostfoxglove!

Pairing: Paranormal Investigator!Tim Rockford x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Content notes/warnings: 18+ MDNI; F!Reader; no physical description of Reader; Tim Rockford AU; Reader is Tim’s occasional partner in the business; established working relationship and friendship; friends to lovers; spooky shenanigans; implied smut; fluff; ghosts; references to death; references to alcohol use; references to drug use; strong language; cliches and most likely a lot of stuff that’s not correct about paranormal investigations.

Author's note: I loved @almostfoxglove's PPCU AU moodboards so much and I've been thinking about this story for a while, so when better to finish and post it than Halloween? I know I haven't written in a long time - since the summer, I think - and at the weekend certain discourse made me want to just give up completely and delete every word I'd ever posted. But this was nearly done, and I feel like at least some people might like to see it. So here you are. Happy Halloween, Oíche Shamhna shona daoibh.

And thank you to @mescalpascal for beta-ing this and not letting me get away with just giving up - with writing, fandom, everything.

To find more of my work and get alerts when I post new writing (which will hopefully be more frequently!), follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications.

Ghost divider by @wethairjoel

“Rockford, PI - Tim speaking. How can I be of assistance?”

Tim spins in his battered desk chair, phone tucked against his shoulder and box of leftover takeout still in hand as he listens to the person on the other end of the line, nodding and “uh huh”-ing every so often.

He stops spinning. He puts down the box of cold lo mein. He grabs a pen, and frantically begins taking notes. He asks the caller to send as much information as they can via email.

And then he calls you.

Other little girls at school wanted to be princesses or singers or models or movie stars. You? You wanted to be a Ghostbuster. Forget clean-cut TV stars or the latest cookie-cutter boyband member, your first love was Dr Egon Spengler.

Fast forward a few decades, and your dream had become reality - kind of. Your doctoral thesis on the interplay between reported paranormal activity and its representation in popular culture had produced a few well-received articles and earned you a positive reputation in the admittedly rather specialised world of paranormal and psychical research. It had not, unfortunately, led to a glittering academic career.

Instead, you made a living with a part-time teaching gig at a university combined with a little freelance consultancy work for movies and TV shows, almost all of which ditched your nuanced advice and produced yet another cliched depiction of “ghost hunters” screaming on camera.

And then there was Tim. You’d met a long time back, after a talk you’d given in the city about change and continuity in the concept of the “haunted house”. He was sitting in the front, diligently taking notes and nodding along as you spoke, eyes warm and encouraging - and he immediately made a beeline to ask you for coffee as soon as the Q&A wrapped up. 

Before you parted that evening, he handed you his card.

”Rockford, PI. You’re a private investigator?”

Tim shook his head. “Paranormal investigator. Helps to have most people think it’s the other kind of PI, though.” He called you from time to time, asking for your help on specific cases, sometimes enlisting you as a partner for the duration of an investigation. You always welcomed the extra income, but in truth you helped him out for the sheer love of it - for the chance to feel like a real Ghostbuster, even if Tim worked in business attire instead of boiler suits, and to spend time with one of the few people in the world you felt really got you.

You peer out at the English countryside from the window of the car Tim hired at Heathrow, straining to see something of the allegedly “green and pleasant” land through the miserable grey haze and sheets of rain. The navigation on your phone announces the final turn for your destination. Tim, still getting used to driving on the other side of the road, approaches cautiously and takes the left turn onto the long driveway.

“Whoa.” His voice is awestruck as the car arrives at the enormous country house, now a luxury boutique hotel catering to the rich and famous in search of an exclusive retreat. “We’re a long way from poltergeists in Poughkeepsie.”

You shrug as Tim drives into the small, discreet parking lot to one side of the building. “I’ve done some work on a couple of Gilded Age mansions. This isn’t going to be all that different, right?”

“True,” he muses, climbing out of the car and setting to work unpacking your luggage: a suitcase each, plus several hard-sided cases of vital equipment for conducting the investigation, labelled ‘Scientific Instruments’. “And they did say they think it’s only one manifestation.”

You chuckle as you help him wheel the cases from the car towards the hotel entrance, where a man in elegant livery is already rushing to greet you with a brass luggage trolley. “One manifestation? Please. We got this, Rockford.”

That evening, unpacked, freshened up, and after a dinner meeting with the hotel owner, you and Tim decamp to the library - now a comfortably-appointed lounge with its own bar - to compare notes. The two of you are the only residents, the hotel having temporarily suspended operations in order to deal with the spectral guest.

He hands you a glass of whiskey and settles beside you on the Chesterfield sofa, hair still damp from his earlier shower and his customary attire replaced by a long-sleeved Henley shirt and a pair of jeans. He looks more boyish, the grey patches in his beard notwithstanding, and you find yourself smiling softly at him.

“So: first impressions?”

You take a sip of your drink and reach for your notebook. “First impressions: they must be pretty freaked out to temporarily close down a hotel over one spirit, don’t you think?”

He shrugs. “Maybe? Or maybe it’s unusually troublesome - they mentioned strange things appearing on bedroom walls, guests waking to the sound of a voice shouting for help, weird stuff turning up on TV channels... And they do pride themselves on the whole ‘idyllic rural retreat’ brand, which a ghost doesn’t exactly fit with.” He sips his whiskey and thinks. “Did you find out any more about the death here a couple of years ago?”

”I did - it was weirdly under-reported, given that a celebrity was involved, but I guess people had much bigger things to worry about during the pandemic.” You flip to a different page. “Nothing I found out seemed to contradict the owner’s version of events, though I’m sure they’d be careful to control the narrative if there was anything to hide.”

Tim sucks his cheek, deep in thought, and nods. “I guess we can’t proceed until we see how this thing is manifesting for ourselves. You have everything you need for the surveillance in your room overnight?”

You nod. “And we’ve got the kit set up in the other parts of the hotel the owner mentioned. I think we’re good to go, Timothy.”

He grins, eyes sparkling, and clinks your glass.

Jetlag doesn’t stop you waking as soon as the first rays of sunlight begin to peek around the heavy drapes that adorn the windows of your large bedroom. You’re checking the recordings and readings taken in the room overnight, looking for any indication of paranormal activity, when your phone buzzes with a message from Tim.

Nothing in my room overnight. Anything in yours? 

Not that I can see. You want to check the other equipment before breakfast?

Sure thing. Race you to the Full English.

“Oh, it’s on, Rockford,” you murmur to yourself, reaching for leggings and an old hoodie. You slip on a pair of Crocs, already bracing yourself for Tim’s inevitable comments about your choice of footwear, grab your keycard, and slip out of the room.

It’s quiet in your absence, save for the gentle sound of birds singing outside, the wind occasionally rattling your windows - and the increasingly steady beeping now being emitted from a little device Tim had given you, designed to measure sudden shifts in psychical energy. 

None of the other devices set up elsewhere in the hotel had registered anything out of the ordinary. Tim, typically, is philosophical.

“We just have to wait, do some more research in the meantime, speak to the staff. How’s that breakfast?” He sips his coffee, mug looking comically small in his large hand, and gives you a mischievous look.

“The bacon’s delicious, the mushrooms are great, the eggs are perfect… but I don’t think Cumberland sausages are for me.” You poke at the thick, half-eaten link sausage on the plate. “Not least because ‘Cumberland sausage’ sounds like a fuckin’ euphemism if ever I heard one.”

Tim laughs, the warm sound resonating in the empty dining room. He tops up his coffee and reaches for another slice of toast, and you realise that he seems…different.

“Rockford?” He looks up at you, toast crumbs in his moustache. “What’s going on with you? You aren’t normally this, uh, jolly on a job.”

He swallows his toast and drinks his coffee thoughtfully. “It’s a fascinating case, and I guess I’m just really happy that we’re working together again. Even if you’re wearing those.”

Tim gestures with mock scorn towards your brightly-coloured Crocs, before giving you a sly wink. 

“Are you absolutely sure you want to comment on my sartorial choices, Rockford? Or do you want me to talk about your rotating selection of striped ties from Sears?”

After breakfast, Tim decides to take advantage of the on-site pool and you return to your room for a quick shower before beginning the first round of interviews with hotel staff. The beeping noise is audible before you’ve even reached the door.

You steel yourself and gently enter the room, slowly moving in the direction of the little device on its tripod, various alert lights flashing in sync with the rhythm of its insistent beeps. You transcribe the codes on its screen into your notebook and take a quick video, ready to show Tim as soon as possible. Cross-legged on the floor, you close your eyes for a moment, steadying your breathing.

“I can’t believe they let in someone else wearing Crocs. So much for their fuckin’ dress code.”

Your eyes snap wide open at the sound of the male voice behind you, on the other side of the room. American. West coast, you think. A little…affected? 

In other words: that’s probably not a member of staff.

You get to your feet and turn, slowly, in the direction of the voice.

There, on the other side of the room, sprawled on the sofa, is a man you think must be in his early 40s. His hair is wild, wavy, dark; his eyes obscured by a pair of vintage Ray-Bans. He’s wearing a brown teddy coat, which has slipped open to reveal a shirtless torso and a flash of tummy. A pair of loose grey shorts, wooly socks, and fucking Crocs complete his outfit. 

Definitely not staff.

Though your heart is pounding out of your chest, you find the strength to speak. “Are you a spirit?”

The man slips his glasses down his nose and gives you a withering look. “What the fuck else do you think I am? And while we’re here - why is that…thing making so much noise?”

“It’s to read changes in psychical activity,” you explain. “So it’s probably picking you up.”

The man thinks about this for a couple of moments, as if chewing it over. With a jolt, you realise two things: firstly, that in all your years of working with the paranormal, you’ve never actually seen a ghost, at least not in this form; and secondly, that you recognise this figure.

“So you do know who I am,” he drawls, pushing his glasses back up his nose and lying back on the couch. Shit, he’s more powerful than you suspected - he can pick up on what you’re thinking.

“It’s…it’s you. The dead guest.”

He exhales dramatically and flops his arm over the side of the sofa. “I have a name.”

You rack your brains, afraid to look away to grab your notebook in case he disappears.

“You’re…you’re Dieter Bravo.”

Tim Rockford is on his twentieth lap of the pool when a slow, steady buzzing noise catches his ear, coming from the direction of the tote bag he’d left poolside with towels, a t-shirt, and shorts. He hauls himself out of the water and roughly dries off his face, hair, and hands before rummaging in the bag. “Fuck!”

He’s half-wet and breathless when you open the door to your room, his fist still raised as if ready to continue the frantic hammering that had signalled his arrival. 

“Jesus! You okay?”

He’s turning and twirling around the room, glasses on and fogged up from the residual humidity of his body, holding up one of his own psychical activity detectors. “You…fuck,” Tim hisses as he tries to catch his breath. “You saw it? Where is it?”

“So I’m an it now?”, Dieter drawls, now hovering - literally - in the area of the large bay window. 

“He’s there,” you gesture, calmly, as if being in a room with the spectral manifestation of a dead Hollywood actor was an everyday occurrence. “By the window.”

Tim stares directly at Dieter, but doesn’t register anything. Dieter roars with laughter.

“Oh, babe! Looks like you’re special.”

“I’m special?”

Tim swivels at the sound of your voice, confusion written all over his face. Dieter sidles up to the other man, resting his head on Tim’s shoulder, and you’re struck by a kind of resemblance. Tim shivers.

“He can’t see or hear me. Most people can’t, which makes haunting the fuck out of this place hilarious,” the actor explains. He takes a seat on a vanity table near the window and looks a little wistful. “Annika was the last person who could see and hear me,” he sighs. “Kinda nice to be…” - he wiggles his hands in the air - “visible again.”

“He…he says I’m special because I can see and hear him, and you can’t. Most people can’t. Is this…normal? Am I normal?”

Tim crosses the room and puts a hand on your shoulder, gently caressing it in a gesture of reassurance. “I mean, none of what we do is normal. But yes, this is not unusual.”

Dieter immediately launches into a Tom Jones impersonation, gyrating in exaggerated fashion towards Tim, and you roll your eyes involuntarily. Tim looks hurt.

“Oh! Oh, Tim, no, I was rolling my eyes at him. Not you. Shit, this is going to be confusing, isn’t it?”

The crinkles that form around Tim’s eyes when he smiles make a welcome appearance, and his dark eyes twinkle behind his glasses. “I’m sure we can work out a system for keeping communication clear. Usually, when a manifestation is only visible to one or two people, it means they have some kind of need, or something unfulfilled. And, I guess, they think the witness can give it to them.”

You glance over at Dieter, who is still gyrating. He lowers his sunglasses and grins at you lasciviously.

Over the next couple of days, you and Tim interview hotel staff and examine some of the areas affected by the haunting, to establish a pattern for the manifestation’s - for Dieter’s - behaviour. 

“The random murals appearing overnight aren’t that disturbing, I suppose,” you muse, noting down the details of the artwork Dieter had left in one guest bedroom.

“Depends on what you consider disturbing, though.” Tim rubs a finger against the paint, examining the powdery residue. “I wouldn’t like to wake up to an extra-large rendering of Hieronymus Bosch’s ‘Garden of Earthly Delights’ on my hotel room wall.”

You giggle and nod in agreement. “Well, fair. Though it’s weirdly good, for a ghost.” 

Your psychical activity detectors start to beep in unison and you turn to each other before you spy Dieter, lounging on top of a wardrobe. He’s clad differently, today, this time sporting a green robe, a baggy purple t-shirt, and striped lounge pants. 

And the Crocs.

“I am good. Honestly, if they’d got my heart going again I think I’d have quit Hollywood, y’know? Jacked it all in, got clean, got into art properly. Make sculptures, paint, run a gallery or some shit.”

“He’s talking to me,” you explain to Tim, before turning back to Dieter. “So you’re hanging around here because you didn’t get to make the art you dreamed of?”

“Ugh. I don’t have to explain myself to you people.”

And he’s gone.

In the evenings, the hotel insists on serving you and Tim dinner as if you were ordinary guests, not paranormal investigators tasked with eradicating the ghost of an Oscar-winning Hollywood enfant terrible from the property. The lone waiter serves your five-course meal with the kind of exaggerated formality you had only ever seen in films or TV shows about royalty, respectfully pointing out the various cutlery and accoutrements needed for each course in a low, somewhat fawning voice.

“And voilà, Mr Rockford, your seabass.” He lifts the dome from Tim’s plate and does a little bow. 

Tim is chewing the inside of his cheek and turning pink as the waiter leans closer to his ear.

“A reminder, sir, should you require it, that the fishknife is that delicate little marvel on the right. Bon appétit.”

Tim says nothing as the waiter makes his way across the vast, empty dining room, watching for the door to the kitchens to close properly before he lets out a belly laugh so huge it almost rocks the table you’re seated at. You raise an eyebrow and pour him a fresh glass of water.

“Are you quite well, Tim?”

He’s taken off his glasses and is rubbing tears from his eyes, unable to control his laughter. “Why did he say that about the fishknife? And the fucking dome? I shouldn’t laugh but…”

“You mean you didn’t need to be reminded that the fishknife is a delicate little marvel?” 

Your attempt to replicate the waiter’s tone sets the two of you off this time, and you’re still laughing about it by the time you retreat to the lounge with a gin and tonic each. 

This was the longest you’d ever spent in Tim’s company, you realised one night, sitting with your feet tucked under you on the large leather sofa. There was a lot that you didn’t know about each other, but being stuck in a haunted hotel is nothing if not an ideal opportunity for getting to know someone better. 

You are listening to Tim animatedly telling you about one of his strangest cases. His face lights up when he talks about his work, big hands gesturing for emphasis, eyes bright and focused on you. He listens to you with the same commitment and interest, keenly asking questions and taking in your every word.

When you lean in for a goodnight hug before parting ways, he seems surprised - but pleased, somehow, as he returns your embrace.

Your TV is on when you return to your room. The tell-tale beeping from the psychical activity monitor gives him away immediately.

“Dieter.”

He’s lying on your bed, propped up on one arm, green robe wrapped around him. “Heyyyyyyy. Hope you don’t mind. Wanted some company and I’ve haunted the fuck out of everyone else around here.”

You shake your head and pour yourself a glass of water. “I don’t mind. But if I let you hang out with me you have to answer my questions.”

He groans and flops back onto the bed, though his body makes no indentation in the bedclothes. “FINE. But you have to answer mine.”

“Fair.” You settle beside him on the bed, trying not to overthink the fact that you were literally hanging out with a dead man. “What the fuck are you watching?”

He runs his fingers through his hair in irritation and points at the 90s sitcom he’s watching on some random-ass cable channel. “Allegedly this is a British remake of Who’s The Boss but like, it’s fucking shit. No Danza, no party.”

You pause for a moment. “Speaking of party…can you do drugs, if you’re a ghost? All the evidence would suggest you can’t, but I’ve never actually heard from someone with first-hand experience.”

“I tried.”

“And?”

Dieter grimaces. “I literally threw a couple of tabs of acid through my stupid fuckin�� ghost body, didn’t I. Just…whoosh.” He gestures with his hand. “I feel so real, y’know? All corporeal. But then you try to get high and bam. No can do. I can’t eat or drink, either.”

“You didn’t answer my question earlier.”

He stares at you. “Why do you get to ask two questions in a row? My turn.”

You roll your eyes and take a sip of your water, noticing Dieter staring longingly at the glass.

“Fine.”

He cackles and claps his hands together. They make no sound.

“Are you and Magnum P.I. fucking? You’re fucking, right?”

“Um, no?” You take another sip of water and swallow hard. “No, we are not fucking. We’re colleagues.”

Dieter mimics you, note-perfect, and cackles again. “Bullshit. He’s down so fuckin’ bad for you.”

“Tim is not ‘down bad’ for me, as you put it.”

He sits up, moving into a kind of lotus position. “He is.”

“He’s not.”

“He is, and I know he is because I can literally sense this shit. And I can definitely sense that you’ve got a crush on ol’ Columbo down the hall. Which is fair, I guess. He’s pretty hot.”

You can feel the heat rising to your face, but maintain what you hope is a neutral expression. 

“Oh, Scully is trying so hard not to let her crush on Mulder show.” He smiles a smug, satisfied grin.

“Is he Magnum, Columbo, or Mulder, Dieter?”

“All three, baby.” He hovers about a foot above the bed, pointing at you accusingly. “And you should put him out of his misery. Want me to go check on him for you, see if he’s thinking about you right now?” Dieter wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“If you don’t shut up I’m going to get a ghost trap and put you in it.”

“Like in Ghostbusters?!” Dieter seems unreasonably excited. 

“Do you want to be sealed up in a little trap, or would you prefer to continue having free rein?”

He sighs and descends back to the bed. “Ugh. Okay. I’m sorry. But I’m not wrong.”

Dieter fucking Bravo. He was haunting your brain, as well as this hotel.

His insistence that Tim had a thing for you - and vice versa - now coloured every interaction, every conversation between you and your colleague as you tried to discern any evidence that Dieter was right, or that disproved his theory. To your horror, you began to unconsciously hope that he wasn’t just winding you up.

He quickly got in the habit of appearing in your room just before bedtime: staying for a little chat, dodging any of your questions that veered too close to the essential truth of why he hadn’t completely passed over to the great beyond, and asking repeatedly if you and Tim had “got around to fucking” yet. 

“It would be kinda hard for us to get around to fucking with a fucking ghost in my room, don’t you think?”

He laughs his wheezy rasp of a laugh and crosses his hands over his tummy. “Listen, the more the merrier, babe.”

A few moments pass before you break the silence. “Why are you so obsessed with us, with me and Tim, with us getting together?”

He pouts and stares into the middle distance. “I guess…hmm. I want people to get what they want, love-wise.” Dieter discerns your incredulous glance. “What? I mean it! I’m a big fan of romance and happy endings.”

“You can’t blame me for being sceptical, Dieter.”

Tension crackles in the air. When he speaks again, he’s very quiet. 

“Just because I didn’t get a happy ending in life doesn’t mean I can’t believe in them.”

Dieter’s big, dark eyes - or the spectral impression of his big, dark eyes, now trapped in some in-between place, neither here nor there - look at you with absolute sincerity. 

“Is that why you’re still here?”

He turns away. 

“I don’t know why I can see you, Dieter, or what you need me for, but there’s got to be a reason for it. And I can’t help you until you talk to me.”

He huddles deeper into his green robe, and you exhale. 

“Fine. You’re not wrong. You’re right, in fact.”

He doesn’t move, but you can almost feel his ghostly ears pricking up.

“I’m right?”

You close your eyes and bite your lip. “Fuck it. You’re right, I… I think I do have a crush on him.”

This time, you swear you can hear Dieter smile.

“On who?”

“You know who.”

“Say it.” He chuckles to himself.

“Oh, fuck.” You bury your head in your hands. “Why do I need to say it, when you can sense what I’m thinking?”

Dieter rolls over and props himself up, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Because it’s very fucking satisfying. For me.”

“Fuck you, Dieter Bravo. Fine. I - I have a crush on Tim. Happy?”

He nods, and points in the direction of Tim’s room, down the hall. “Mmm. And now you need to tell Timmy so that he can tell you he has a crush on you and then you can go off and have lots of weirdo paranormal-obsessed babies. If that’s a thing you want, of course.”

“Okay.”

Dieter’s eyes widen. “Okay? So, you’re just gonna tell him?”

“I’ll tell him… but only if you let me help you.”

“No deal. Fuck you two, keep on being idiots.”

“I thought you loved happy endings, romance, all that?”

“Nope.” 

You shift on the mattress to face Dieter, and speak more gently this time. “Do you want to be stuck here forever, Dieter?”

He hesitates. “Nope.”

“So, should we make a deal?”

He talks and talks all night, floating around the room, resting on the vanity, on the armchair, on the bed, and at one point drifting in and out of the bathroom - even with the door closed.

And you listen. You listen like Tim listens to you: engaged, curious, open, kind, even, trying to get to the root of what’s keeping this man trapped in between worlds in a luxury hotel in the English countryside.

Unfinished business is a common explanation for why ghosts hang around, you’ve realised. A desire for vengeance, too. Sometimes spirits just want to stay around their families and friends. Once, a long time ago, a client of Tim’s described the work as being like a kind of doula, for ghosts. 

“You help them get out of the in-between,” the lady had said, after Tim had solved the ongoing hauntings in her family’s ranch house. “They just need someone to hold their hand, I guess. Well, maybe not literally.”

Watching and listening as Dieter talks about his life, his death, his successes, his failures, you become ever more keenly aware of how right she was, and more focused on getting him to where he needs to be. To peace.

He descends gently to the ground in front of the TV set. “I can’t deny that the whole Beetlejuice shtick has been fun, most of the time,” he says, sadly. “But you’re right, I don’t wanna be stuck here for the rest of my life. I mean, the rest of my death. I mean -”

“The rest of your afterlife.”

He grins. “Exactly.”

“Dieter… do you think you might just be afraid?”

“Afraid?” His eyes are wide and frightened, giving you his answer without a word.

“Afraid to let go. Afraid to move to the next stage, whatever that is.”

“But that’s just it.” Dieter stares at his Crocs. “You said it. ‘Whatever that is.’ I don’t know what’s there.”

“No one does, though. And most spirits don’t end up haunting entire hotels, they just…pass through.”

He nods. “I guess I always had to stand out, huh?”

“Nothing wrong with that,” you agree. 

He takes a couple of moments to compose himself. “I… I saw whatever the fuck comes next when my heart stopped. Bright light, all that shit. Fuckin’ near-death experience, except I was actually dead.”

“But you didn’t pass through?”

“I feel like my entire self just went ‘fuck this, I’m not done’. But I couldn’t come back, y’know?” He tugs at an errant curl. “I guess…fuck. I didn’t want to be forgotten. Wanted to know I could live on, maybe.”

“You don’t have to stay in the in-between to live on, Dieter. The work speaks for itself.”

He groans. “Some of it does. Never got to rebuild properly, though. Whole lotta shlock in there and one fuckin’ Oscar.”

You bring yourself to the ground beside the spectre. “That’s one Oscar more than most of us will ever have. And plenty of people who died before their time still live on in their work.”

“If you mention the 27 Club to me I will actually haunt you for the rest of your life.” 

“Noted.” You smile at him, cheered by the sight of a little grin on Dieter’s lips. “But you know it’s true.”

“I just never got the happy ending.”

He looks so sorrowful in that moment that you wish, more than anything, that you could hug him - make him flesh and blood, just for an instant again, so he could know the comfort of a warm embrace.

“Maybe the happy ending is off there in the hereafter.”

Dieter arches an eyebrow. “Do you actually believe that?”

You grin and chuckle. “Honestly? Fuck knows what’s after all this. I think I’d rather not know. But even if it’s just a bright light and bam, that’s it - you’ll live forever, Dieter Bravo.”

Tim is bed-headed and bleary-eyed when he opens his door to you at 6.30am, but he smiles widely when his vision focuses and he recognises your face. 

“Have a seat, have a seat,” he gestures to the bed, before blushing a little. “Or I can move my clothes off the armchair, if you’d prefer.”

You perch on the edge of the mattress and shake your head. “It’s perfect here, thank you. I just wanted to tell you that I think Dieter’s…”

Funny how, in spite of doing this job and researching these phenomena for so many years, some cases just get to you. A sob catches in your throat as you try to find the words.

“I think the haunting problem is solved, I guess.”

Tim’s eyes widen in amazement and he sits beside you on the edge of the bed. “Your doula skills, right?”

You nod, tears still threatening to fall at any moment. His strong arms wrap around you and hold you close, keeping you safe as you cry against his broad chest.

“Please do feel free to stay for the next couple of days, of course.” The hotel manager is effusive and grateful as you wrap up the debriefing session later that morning, standing up to shake your and Tim’s hands in turn. “The rooms are booked, we won’t be reopening to other guests until we can redecorate the affected bedrooms. It’s on us, an extra little thank you for dealing with our, uh, friend.”

After lunch, the two of you walk through the property’s walled gardens and admire the various topiaries and water features. All the while, your promise to Dieter lingers at the forefront of your mind.

You said you would tell Tim how you felt, if Dieter let you help him. And he did. And now…

Fuck. And you wouldn’t put it past Dieter Bravo to somehow find his way back from the hereafter, just to haunt you out of spite.

You look over at Tim, who’s taking a photo of the hotel buildings from the gardens, and feel a surge of affection, mingled with anxiety. What if Dieter had got you right, but Tim wrong?

He catches your eye and grins at you. “Hey, come in for a photo?”

You pose beside an ornamental fountain, Tim concentrating as he sets up the shot. He beckons to you. 

“How about a selfie, maybe?”

His arm snakes around your shoulders as he angles the phone towards the two of you and captures the moment: he, suit on but tie loosened, eyes twinkling; you, smiling broadly into the lens.

He brings you a gin and tonic, settling in beside you on the Chesterfield sofa and clinking his glass of whiskey to yours. In the last few days the ritual has become familiar and comforting; and with a jolt you worry that this might be the last time you enjoy it together.

Tim sips his drink in contented silence, watching the flames of the large, open fire. 

“You’re quiet. Is everything okay?”

His dark eyes meet yours as you turn to face him. “I’m…”

Dieter Bravo is going to haunt you if you don’t do this.

What if this is your happy ending?

A large swig of G&T, to fortify your resolve.

“Um, I’ve really enjoyed this whole case, working with…being with you.”

Tim smiles softly. “Me too. It was nice to get the chance to get to know each other better.”

Another fortifying sip. 

“I was wondering…uh. Shit. Maybe, when we get back, would you -”

Your voice dries up in your throat. The next words are barely more than a whisper.

“Would you maybe like to get a drink or dinner sometime? With me?”

For an instant, you can see that Tim is on the verge of brushing it off, of asking why you're being so strange about this, of saying that you regularly meet for coffee if you’re both free, talking about that diner you sometimes go to.

And then the realisation sinks in, and his face softens into a huge smile.

“I would love to take you for dinner. And drinks. Whenever you want, wherever you want.”

He puts his glass down and moves closer to you. Your fingers reach for the end of his tie as your bodies shift ever closer, until he’s holding your face in his hands and his mouth is on yours, kissing you with warm intent.

You’re about to pull him down to the couch, his hands already snaking up under your blouse, when a stern cough makes the two of you jump.

The hotel’s only waiter casts a disapproving glance in your direction and shakes his head as he processes through the lounge to the main bar. 

Your hand reaches for Tim’s and you lead him towards the hallway and the main staircase leading to the bedrooms.

The morning is grey and dreary, rain already pelting against the windowpanes as the dawn light struggles to break through the dark clouds. You press a kiss to Tim’s bare chest as you slip out of bed to use the bathroom, padding swiftly across the deep-pile carpet so as not to wake him. 

The green robe hanging from the hook on the tiled wall of your bathroom is unmistakable, but even so you have to pause for a moment to be sure it’s real. You run your fingers over the textured weave and fabric, noting how (surprisingly) good it smells - faint whiff of weed notwithstanding.

Tim stirs as you close the bathroom door and walk back to the bed, blinking awake and greeting you with a delighted smile.

“Good morning. Nice robe.”

“A movie star gave it to me,” you explain, shedding the soft green garment and pulling Tim’s naked body to yours before he can ask any further questions.

(Sorry, Dieter. Love you.)

[goquokka00]

Stray Kids on Weed

The Lee Know Strain In which the love of their life smokes the mary jane, and they give it a shot for the first time...

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin Jisung | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

A Few Notes: This is purely just supposed to be funny and a joke. I've also never been high and while I am friends with those who have either tried weed or do weed on the regular, I only know so much. So please just bear with me and have a good laugh, okay? Okay. Love you guys ❤️❤️❤️

So I have this gut feeling that Minho's first experience with weed would be with an edible. Seeing as he loves cooking and all, and is also just scared that he could potentially fuck up his lungs if he did actually smoke, I feel like this would probably be the way that he would combat that.

It's not often that you bring home edibles, but when you do, Minho asks to try it. And surprise surprise, nothing happens at first. Why? Because it's an edible. Minho thought you were scamming him when he didn't feel anything happen in his system, but it all changed about 45 minutes later.

Stupid idiot.

That's what he got for not listening to you when you tried to explain that edibles take longer to kick in since you have to let the food and weed actually digest in your stomach. Maybe next time, he'll learn to listen to you and not claim that he had beaten god.

Now, once this high kicks in, I see Minho doing a complete and total 180 in his mood. He goes from having this cocky, cold, mischievous and honestly just closed off personality to being the most cuddly, happy, giggly, softest best boi you've ever met in your life.

He smiles more than you've ever seen in your entire life, he GIVES hugs instead of tolerating them and plotting your murder once you have him in your arms (Bangchan is lowkey jealous when he hears about that), he talks about how much he loves and appreciates his members, and even states that he cares for Hyunjin a lot more than he usually lets off.

Course, when you told him what he said once he was sober again, he threatened you that if you told anyone he'd air fry you until you were burnt. Ah, he's so in love with you...

I also have this sneaky suspicion that Minho would want to do things that he really shouldn't do when high. Things such as going to the gym, going out in public because he's an idol and if anyone saw him high he could be in a shit ton of trouble, cook, go and practice dance routines...y'know. The typical Minho stuff.

He'd go on and on and try to reassure you that he was fine, and that he wasn't that far gone. In reality, this poor baby can't even figure out how to zip up his coat.

Now do I think Minho would give weed more chances in the future? Maybe on very special occasions like after parties, but I really don't see him using it often. I think him finding out about how he gets really makes him worry about actually admitting to the fact that him and Jisung do, in fact, have a secret relationship and that he's his one true love. That, or the fact that he secretly wants to have a polyamorous relationship with both you and Jisung.

God only knows at this point.

Hey! Firstly, thank you so much for reading this post, and I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, please like, reblog, or comment so I can see how I'm doing with writing and getting feedback! I hope you have a lovely day! Sleep well, stay in good health, and eat something if you haven't! ❤️❤️❤️

Taglist: @miss-daisy04 @kayleefriedchicken @wolfs-archive @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @wolfs-howling @rose-w-00-d

[goldfades]

✮ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐢 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞. 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | prologue jump then fall au

au masterlist! masterlist!

♡ ─ word count | 1.7k

♡ ─ summary | adam was resisting the idea of hiring a nanny despite luca's insistence that paloma needed one. they met with a potential nanny who had good credentials and reviews. they decided that cece may be the right person to care for paloma, even if it would take time for adam to fully trust her.

♡ ─ warnings | mention of a troubled past, the hard time opening up, nothing else really!

♡ ─ taglist | TBD! let me know if you want to be in the JUMP THEN FALL AU!

♡ ─ ev's notes | oh my gosh, i haven't been this excited for an AU in a while. i have been so de-motivated for so long and i'm so happy that i'm finally back on my grind LMAO!! but on another note, thank you v @drysdalesv for helping me with this au, i love you and you're so amazing and creative HEHHEHEH. anyway, enjoy!!!

"Adam, come on." Luca sighed as he leaned his head back in annoyance. "She's two, she can't survive on her own and you can't take her to every practice, or game."

Adam sat on the couch of his brand-new apartment as he listened to his brother trying to convince him to get him a nanny. He's been trying ever since the move and he understood why but he wasn't sure he was ready. "People are weird these days, Luca, I'm not gonna just hire someone off the street-"

"Adam, there are websites, background checks and so much more. You're not gonna hire some random person to take of her, I get it, but what do you expect?"

Adam, torn between his protective instincts and the practicality of the situation, sighed. "I know, Luca, I just… I've never been comfortable with the idea of strangers around Paloma. She's my everything."

Luca leaned forward, his voice gentle but firm. "Look, I get it, man. But we can't do this alone. You've got a career to focus on, and I've got my own life to manage, I can't be driving up here everyday and mom and dad have their work. We both love her, but we can't be with her 24/7."

Adam ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. He knew Luca was right, Paloma was his top priority, and his hockey career demanded a lot of his time. It was his dream but he had to make sacrifices sometimes.

"I know, I know. It's just… What if something happens? What if the nanny isn't right for her?" He's heard the stories of those crazy nannies who abuse their power and doesn't even know what he'd do if anything like that happened to Paloma.

Luca put a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder. "We'll find someone who's perfect for her, someone we can trust. And we'll be there to oversee everything. Paloma deserves a chance to socialize, learn, and grow."

Adam nodded, the corners of his lips lifting slightly as he scoffed playfully. "You always know how to talk me into things, Luca."

Luca grinned happily. "That's what brothers are for, right?"

Adam glanced at his draft photo on the wall, picture of him holding Paloma in his arms, both of them wearing matching smiles on the second best day of his life. It was a simple reminder that Paloma's happiness and well-being were his top priorities. And the more he thought about it he realized that maybe, just maybe, he could find someone who would fit perfectly into their little family.

"Alright, Luca. Let's start looking for a nanny."

──

The air was warm and the scent of flowers filled the outside area of the Cafe Adam had chosen to meet with the new nanny one of his new teammates had told him about. She was around his age, maybe a bit younger, and was currently a student at Ohio State. She seemed like an ideal fit, with a schedule that matched Adam's needs—available Monday through Saturday from 9 am to 2 pm, perfect for morning practices. She also had many positive reviews from previous employers.

Seated outside, Luca observed his brother, who repeatedly checked his phone. Luca couldn't help but let out a soft sigh. "What?"

"She's late," Adam replied, his anxiety evident. He was usually laid back but right now, Luca could tell he was nervous.

"Since when do you care about punctuality? And it's rush hour, she's probably stuck in traffic." Luca replied as he tried to calm the boy down. She was the fifth nanny they'd met with in the span of a few weeks and he still hasn't found a match. Practice was going to start next week and this girl just had to be the right fit or he wouldn't know what else to do.

Adam tried to calm his nerves, playing with his keychain to try and calm his nerves. "Yeah, you're probably right. I just want this to work out, you know? Paloma deserves the best."

With an encouraging smile, Luca affirmed, "And she'll get it, Adam. We'll find the perfect fit for her, someone who'll love her like we do."

Adam nodded, appreciating his brother's reassuring words. He knew Luca was right; they would eventually find the perfect caregiver for Paloma, someone who would care for her as if she were their own.

Just as Adam was about to voice his concerns about the potential nanny's tardiness again, the cafe's entrance door chimed, and a young woman stepped inside. She scanned the outdoor seating area, her gaze locking onto the table where Adam and Luca sat. With a friendly smile, she approached them, her demeanor friendly and sweet.

She was pretty; that was the first thing Adam thought as he looked at her. She had a backpack on and it was obvious she had just come from a lecture, she looked the tiniest bit of tired but Adam thought that made her somewhat more attractive.

"Adam, Luca?" she inquired, her voice warm and welcoming. "I'm so sorry for being a little late, I got stuck in traffic on the way here."

Adam couldn't deny that Cece had a certain charm about her, and he appreciated her honesty. "No worries, Cece," he replied, offering her a warm smile. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Adam, and this is my brother, Luca."

Luca also greeted her with a friendly nod and smile. "Good to meet you, Cece."

Cece settled into the chair across from them, her backpack placed beside her. She seemed at ease, and her friendly demeanor put Adam's initial concerns to rest. It was important that the person they chose to care for Paloma was not only qualified but also someone she could feel comfortable around. The fact that Cece had come straight from a lecture also signaled to Adam that she was hardworking, which he appreciated.

"So, you go to Ohio State?" Luca mumbled playfully as he looked down at his Michigan sweatshirt. Cece let out a soft laugh at that and nodded.

"Yup, buckeye through and through." Cece faked a southern accent which made them both let out a soft chuckle, "Well not really. My entire family has went to Michigan, I'm the first to break the tradition."

As the conversation flowed, Adam couldn't help but steer it towards the topic that mattered most to him—Paloma. He had to know if Cece could connect with his daughter. With a warm smile, he began, "So, Cece, have you worked with toddlers before?"

Cece nodded, "Yeah I have. I worked with a toddler last year but they moved. I also have a little brother and some nieces and nephews.” A smile engulfed her face as she mentioned her family and Adam couldn’t help but be drawn to her genuine warmth. 

"That's wonderful," Adam replied, his own smile growing. "Family means everything to us, and Paloma is like our little princess." 

Luca chimed in, "She's a sweet kid, but she's been through a lot. We want to make sure she's comfortable with whoever takes care of her." Adam couldn’t help but stiffen at the mention of their hardships. He looked down at the table.

Cece sensed the change in the atmosphere as soon as Luca mentioned Paloma's hardships. She couldn’t help but wonder exactly what those were but she wasn’t going to ask anytime soon, it was obvious the wound was still fresh.

"I understand," she said softly, her voice filled with empathy. "Paloma's comfort and happiness will be my top priorities. I'll do my best to create a safe and loving environment for her, so she can heal and thrive."

Adam, still struggling with the memories of the past year, nodded slowly. It was difficult for him to open up about their challenging journey and even Luca still didn’t know the entire story with him and his ex. 

Luca placed a reassuring hand on Adam's shoulder, silently letting him know that they were in this together, and that Cece might just be the right person to help them move forward as a family. 

Adam leaned forward, "That's what we want, someone who can give her love and security. She's the most important thing in my life." Cece could tell how much Adam loves Paloma and she admired that. Her gaze softened as he spoke, it was so heartwarming seeing a father so involved with his daughter. 

Cece met Adam's gaze with sincerity. "I promise you, Adam, Luca, I'll put my heart into making sure Paloma feels loved and safe."

In that moment, as they discussed their shared commitment to Paloma's well-being, Adam felt a sense of hope he hadn't felt in a long time. Cece's warm and genuine personality made him believe that they might have found the perfect person to care for his daughter. Sure, it’d take a while for her to fully gain his trust, (if ever), but he had hope for them.

As their conversation came to a close, Cece, still smiling warmly, glanced at her phone. "I hate to cut it short, but I have to head to my next class soon. Is there anything else you'd like to ask or talk about before I have to leave?"

Adam exchanged a quick look with Luca, silently before nodding. With a smile, he replied, "No, Cece, I think we're good. Thank you for coming to meet with us, and for your willingness to be a part of Paloma's life."

Cece's smile widened, and she stood up, picking up her backpack. "It was my pleasure, Adam. I'm really looking forward to getting to know her better.”

As Cece left the cafe, Luca turned to Adam with a grin. "I think we found our nanny, Adam."

Adam chuckled, a weight lifted off his shoulders. "Yeah, I think so too. She’s good.”

“That’s all you’re gonna say? She’s perfect, Adam.” He chuckled as he picked up the water and took a sip. “And she’s just your type.”

Adam rolled his eyes and groaned at Luca’s insinuation as he laughed. He wasn’t wrong, she is exactly his type and not just on paper, she was sweet and caring and- Adam stopped himself before he got too ahead of himself. “Remember what we both said not even two weeks ago?”

“No girls,” they said in unison and Luca let out a dramatic sigh. They had to focus on family and hockey, their main priorities before getting into any serious relationships. It was mostly Adam, though - after what happened with his ex he felt as if he couldn’t even think about relationships. Hockey and his family, more importantly Paloma, were his top priorities and love was simply a distraction. Right now, at least.  

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[coucouatoi]

we're not who we used to be | h.s.

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Summary: Some letters you've written but never sent to Harry over the years.

Warnings: Angst... so much... there's some fluff, emphasise on the some, there's a hopeful ending tho!

A/N: Sooo this is the childhood friends to strangers fic no one asked for... Hope you all enjoy! This is my writing debut in Harry land :)

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

April 10' 2010

To: Harry Styles From: Your first fan

Hiya Harry,

It's currently 11:29 pm about 10 hours away from your audition. I figured since you told me to stop praising you and boosting your ego, I'm writing down the rest of the things I want to say.

Firstly, I know you're going to smash it! All the judges are going to want you in. There's no chance that they won't see how special you are, how you're the next big thing.

I won't let you back out of it last second! Anne, Gemma and I are ready to drag you onto the stage, we've discussed it thoroughly...

Secondly, I'm already so proud of you. This is a huge step, I know how nervous you are about it. How you think that everything is going to go wrong and that you'll fail. I've got enough hope in you for the both of us. I'll stand by your side the whole time and I'll cheer the loudest.

To finish, you're Harry Styles. You can do anything.

Break a leg superstar!!

Cheering you on already,

Your first-ever fan

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

December 12' 2010

To: Harry Styles From: Your biggest fan

Harry!

You've made it all the way to the finals! It's crazy! I knew you could do it but seeing you go further and further has been surreal.

I hope you and the other boys get along well! We haven't had much chance to really gossip about it all, you seem excited with them!

The finale is set to start in about 2 hours and I had to get some emotions out (my mom was tired of hearing them... rude) Anyway! I remembered that I had written you a letter a few months ago and now I'm back in this notebook.

I'm so nervous, excited and kind of nauseous about watching the last episode tonight. I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now... You must be so scared but incredibly jittery!

I'm counting the days until I get to see you again! I want to hear everything that's happened behind the scenes! You know how nosy I am!

I've already taken up two pages so I'll stop for now.

You can do this!

Talk to you soon,

Your favourite person ever

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

March 7' 2011

To: You From: Me <3

You called me Angel today...

I don't know what to make of that.

I had so many butterflies in my stomach.

Could you call me that again?

You're my favourite person,

Angel

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

November 20' 2011

To: Harry From: Angel

Boo!

You finally let me listen to the full album today! Said you had to be there when I listened to it so you could give me all the secrets. You also wanted to see live how I reacted to every song. You're too cute.

"I Want" is my current favourite.

You did tell me that you'd resonated with a lot of the lyrics you sang on this album. That almost scares me.

How did you relate? Who was going through your mind?

You do have the world at your feet now. I shouldn't feel jealous but I do like having you all to myself. Don't worry I'll get used to sharing...

The Up All Night Tour is starting soon! I'm happy that you've invited me to come to some shows. I'll be there no matter if I have to miss school.

I have to show all these newbies that I'm THE biggest Harry Styles fan out there!

Hopefully, you thought about me while signing.

Because I think about you all the time,

Your favourite fan.

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

April 13' 2012

To: Harry From: Angel

G'Day Mate!

So you're officially all the way in Australia now! That's so exciting I wish that you could have stuffed me into your suitcase... sniff

I bet it's super warm there! Or not wait their seasons aren't the same as ours, are they? I'm not even sure...

Hopefully, you can tan a little while you're there! Don't go near any animals or insects!!

I miss you a lot, maybe I'll send this one (spoiler I definitely won't).

Talk to you soon hopefully.

Go swim in the ocean,

Someone who wants to be in it

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

August 29' 2012

To: Harry From: Angel?

You haven't come to see me since you've been back.

Too busy being a celebrity?

I've been seeing all these tabloids... I'm not allowed to be jealous I know but I miss you.

I hope you've missed me.

I really really wish you were here with me or that I was with you wherever you are now.

I just want to be us.

Have you forgotten your friend from the small town already?

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

January 1' 2013

To: Harry From: Someone You've Hurt

I don't know what to think,

You kissed me. It made me happy.

You said it was a New Year's kiss.

You said you drank too much, it hurt.

You ended up kissing someone else about 20 minutes later.

That hurt even more it almost made me feel used.

I'm happy you were my first kiss.

I don't think you'll even remember it,

Y/N

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

November 27' 2014

To: Harry From: Me

I love the new album, took me a while to finally listen to it. I thought you'd come home and make me listen to it in your presence.

You didn't. The first album that I've listened to alone.

Spaces and Fools Gold are my favourite songs. I wonder how many lyrics you resonate with. How many of them did you write?

Come home?

Only for a day please,

Your first Angel

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

October 21' 2015

To: Harry From: Y/N

It's been a while,

It's your mom's birthday today. Well only for a few more hours...

She invited my family and me to the party, and of course we went. I didn't think you'd be there. I haven't seen you in almost a year.

It was fun.

Catching up about everything that's been going on with you and the band. Your life is so much more interesting than mine now.

I'm just a boring college student... you're this huge star but that's ok there's no one like you for me, you're my safe place. No matter how far away.

You asked about my love life and I told you about the date I had a few days ago. You asked if we had sex, I lied and said yes. I didn't want to embarrass myself by telling you no one's ever been with me like that.

We ended up getting drunk. Too drunk.

We fucked.

You took my virginity and you have no idea... should I tell you? You were so good. So gentle, loving but you fucked with a purpose, you needed to get off. I won't ever see your childhood bedroom the same way.

This was only a few hours ago.

I've felt every emotion about it. Now I'm crying because I know you'll find someone new to share a bed with. I'm just a notch in your headboard.

It meant everything to me.

But I think I regret it...

Y/N

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

May 12' 2017

To: You From: Me

Really?

I hope Only Angel isn't about me.

But I'm overanalysing every single song. Is one about me? Did you think of me while making this album?

We haven't talked since the last time we saw each other. When we fucked again. It wasn't even the second time, after your mom's birthday two years ago we never stopped. It's all we do when we see each other.

It doesn't make me feel all that much better but I feel like if it wasn't for that we wouldn't even know each other anymore.

I'm moving away this year. Got a job offer in Canada and I'm taking it.

Maybe I'll get over you... hopefully.

I can't live my whole life waiting for someone who I don't know anymore.

I'm blocking your number.

I miss who we used to be,

Your first-ever fan

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

December 4' 2019

To: H From: Y/N

Hello,

You've crawled your way back into my life, Harry. This morning, you decided to send me your album. Your new one, Fine Line. Your fans haven't even heard it yet. The public hasn't either.

You didn't write a single thing in your email, the mp3 link was staring me down with your automated signature. Not even a greeting.

I shouldn't have listened to it.

I don't know why you sent it to me. We haven't spoken or crossed paths in over a year. Not since I moved and tried to get rid of every way of contact between us.

I still haven't answered, I don't think I will.

You don't get to know what I feel about it. Not anymore.

I'm sorry Harry.

I've moved on,

Y/N

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

December 13' 2019

To: H From: Y/N

Your new album came out today.

I'm proud of you even if we are strangers now.

You're a superstar.

I always knew you would be,

Y/N

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

March 17' 2020

To: H From: Y/N

I saw that you had to postpone your tour.

You must feel so defeated.

I know I do. Everything's been closed and opened and closed again here in Canada. It's getting exhausting.

I hope the world starts working again soon.

This all sucks...

Crossing my fingers for the tour,

Y/N

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

May 18' 2022

To: Harry From: Y/N

Hi,

You sent me the album before the release again.

This time you did say something: I miss you Angel, Can we meet up?

I didn't think I could feel so many butterflies in my stomach. I felt like a teenager again. And I cried more than once listening to Harry's House.

I'm still considering if I should answer... if I do what should I choose? Should I agree and go into the unknown or forget it happened and keep on going with my life?

I miss you too... the one I knew. Not the one who used me. I guess I used you too... How did we get here?

All I want is to be loved and to be in love.

I'm not sure if I'm ready for the hurt this will bring but maybe I should just be a grown-up about this...

I want you back in my life.

That scares me,

Y/N

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

August 16' 2022

To: Harry From: Y/N

Well,

I'm going to the Love On Tour today and after we are going to "meet". We even have until the 20th because that is when your next show is, after today obviously.

You were so excited when I agreed.

It's almost as if no time has passed when we text (he changed his number in the last few years... no need for an embarrassing unblocking).

My friend, the one who convinced me to agree, helped me pick out an outfit. Thankfully for her, I won't stick out like a sore thumb in the crowd of feather boas and cowboy hats.

I really want this to work.

I want to believe that we can be good again. We can be healthy for one another again but I'll be worried until I see you.

Until we speak.

I won't let myself touch you, I have a feeling that it would be far too easy to fall back into a bed. Maybe a hug would be okay.

I'm excited for the show, to see the Superstar Harry Styles in action. After so many years you have to have evolved so much.

You aren't little Harry from Worcestershire anymore.

I'm not the same person I once was either.

See you tonight.

Break a leg,

Y/N

[andthisisdia]

🫧Hi🫧

Name: call me Dia💎

Age: I was born in 2002 and I'm too lazy to update my age every year💅

Nationality: Italian (English is not my first language so I might make some grammatical errors)

🏳️‍🌈: I'm a bisexual and demisexual/demiromantic girl (I use she/her pronouns)

MBTI: ENTJ (Don't stereotype me. I'm just really into doing things right and I like to have a plan for everything. I always try to find a solution to people's problems)

Something about me: I'm autistic and borderline 🪐 and I'm very extroverted, I like to socialize and meet new people. So if we have any interests in common, feel free to write to me🌌 (Read the continuation to find out more about me and what I post, it's important. Thank you)

(I made this edit using picsart stickers that represent my interests and something about me)

🎮Favorite video games:

•League of Legends (I play on the European server)

•Wildrift

•Valorant (I don't play it that much because I'm not very good)

•Overwatch

•Team Fortress 2 (my hyper fixation, I need to talk to other tf2 fans. I'm going crazy, I don't know who to talk to about it, I'm afraid of appearing boring to my friends who aren't fans😭😭😭)

•Life is strange (this game made me realize I'm not straight)

•Detroit Become Human

•Danganronpa (I discovered this thanks to tik tok during the pandemic. It was very trendy at the time)

•The last of us

•The Sims 3/4 (I never had the chance to play the previous ones)

🍿My favorite TV series are:

•Shameless

•Love, Death & Robots

•Bojack Horseman

•Arcane

•She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

•Ever After High

🎼Singers I like:

•Madison Beer

•Mitski

•Ariana Grande

•Ashnikko

•Kali Uchis

•Girl in Red

•Marina and the diamonds

•KDA ("Akali that girl, 'kali go grr 'Kali don't stop, 'kali don't skrt 'Kali got a job, 'kali go to work 뜨거워 언제나 don't get burnt" 🗣🗣🗣)

•Gorillaz

•Queen

•Molchat Doma

•Arctic Monkeys

•Mother Mother

•Jack Stauber

•Cavetown

•TV girl

•Bo Burnham

I actually listen to a lot of artists but I don't remember them all c:

🫧Things I like:

•Lost media

•Liminal space

•Dreamcore

•Nostalgiacore

•History of cinema (especially animated films)

•Psychology (and all other branches of this science. I also love anthropology and sociology)

•Travel and discover new places

•Everything that has to do with creativity (Drawing, writing stories and fanfiction, creating things like accessories for your clothes and such very cute things. I really admire people who can repaint dolls)

•Having fun (going out with my friends, watching films - if they're trashy films it's even better -, sending each other memes and tik tok videos and things like that)

🪷Hobby:

•Cosplay (Especially cosplaying my comfort characters)

•Drawing (I haven't drawn seriously since 2020. I'm waiting for inspiration)

•Collecting dolls (I love Monster High, Ever After High, Rainbow High and L.O.L O.M.G. I also collect Funko pops and figures from other brands. I also have many books and comics -which I have to finish reading because there are too many-)🧸

•Roleplay (Doing roleplay with me means that I have already organized the whole plot. But I also listen to the other person's ideas)

•Find out about the topics that interest me (Most of the time they have to do with culture. I'm a very curious person and I love to inform myself)

💿What I post on Tumblr:

•Things about my fandom

•Positivity (Especially mental health or pride posts about being a member of the LGBT community. Be yourself🌈Be unique)

•Aesthetics

•Vent

•My posts are tagged "Dia's post"

🦦Other random things:

•My favorite musicals are Heathers and Ride The Cyclone (the name of my blog is a mix between two of these songs)

•I'm terrible with numbers and sometimes I read the wrong words (I have a learning disability -be patient-)

•In my blog there are posts about Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss BUT IT'S NOT A SPECIAL INTEREST OF MINE. I recognize that they are two series with a lot of plot holes and nonsense. But it still reminds me of time spent with my friends. I actually like hearing people analyze and criticize it. I'm fond of the character of Vaggie and I like the ship between Sir Pentious and Cherri Bomb but as I wrote before: it's no longer a special interest of mine. I am neutral towards them

•I'm an atheist

•I am very interested in the meaning (and world) of dreams

‼️ Sometimes I also reposted something related to when I feel down. Unfortunately I have a lot of trauma but I'm trying to move forward and get better‼️

🔞I'm a girl from 2002 so I have young adult maturity‼️I want to talk to people my own age. You can follow me if you like my "aesthetic fandom stuff" but i would like to talk to people my age🔞

🧜‍♀️Comfort characters:

•Jinx (League of legends/Arcane. She is my main and for certain things I see myself in her)

•Seraphine (League of Legends. didn't like her at first but I love her gameplay. And I think she has the best skins -along with Jinx, of course-)

•Evelynn (League of Legends. She's a Goddess)

•Chloe Price (Life is strange. She made me understand that I like women too. I love this punk)

•Sunset Shimmer (Equestria Girls. She is one of the few ENTJs to be a positive character. I really like how her character has evolved)

•Reagan Ridley (Inside Job. We are very similar in certain things)

•Entrapta (She ra. I love this chaotic neutral autistic scientist princess. Again, I see myself in her)

•Kotori Minami (Love Live! When I was in middle school this was my favorite anime)

•Dia Kurosawa (Love Live! Sunshine. Love Live is an anime that accompanied me as I grew up. I'm very fond of it)

❕️I'm looking for young adult people like me (young adult means being over 18 and under 30). I have no problem with NSFW (I prefer artistic nudity) and I have no problem with swearing. I have a certain maturity so I want to interact with people like that.❕️

‼️ This is my safe space🗣 SO DO NOT INTERACT WITH ME IF YOU ARE: racist, homophobic, ableist, transphobic and against the LGBT community, do not interact if you are a pedophile and if you harm animals.Don't fetishize queer people. We are people, not nsfw categories. And don't romanticize the Mafia. Be kind and open-minded. Don't interact if you are against feminism (which I remind you, means gender equality), don't interact if you are people with ideas of hatred and discrimination. No ignorant people about mental health or what is happening in the world, because we are in 2024 and we need to have a minimum of culture. If you think abortion is murder, I would say you can also go elsewhere because I support women's rights and human rights in general. In general, don't interact if you are a person with bad ideas (that kind of bad ideas. Go away)‼️

🌟Talk to me if you are a normal person (and if you're nice and send funny memes. Or if you want to talk about some fandom in common or something. We can also play some video games together or talk about philosophical things like "what's the point of life?" or things like "do aliens exist?")🌟

[impala1967dwinchester]

Dean Winchester- A Promise

Pairing: Dean Winchester x PlatonicFem!Reader

Pov: Dean Winchester

Warnings: Fluff, Angst-ish, Yelling, Cursing, 18+

Summary: When Mary Winchester ruins her relationship with both Dean and Sam. Y/n only wants to help, so she sets something special up for Dean.

A/n- Firefly-graphics for dividers; this is a request from anon.

WC- 1.0k

Dean W. Master List // Main Master List // Requests Master List

Listening to my mother come up with some bullshit excuse was more than I needed in my life at this point. She claims she's not blind to the way the Brits work, but I think that's bullshit. We both think it's bullshit.

Sam had been taken and tortured by these guys, and all the other bullshit they had dragged us into. She was less than understanding of the fake people she was working with. Sam is more than disappointed; he never grew up with Mom. I did, but it's not like four years can make a real change. Mary wasn't the same person I knew so long ago.

"When did you start working for them?" Sam asks he looks so sad, but I can't throw my own anger to support him right now. We had been around a lot of liars, we are liars ourselves. "Since the lake house, it was their case." I stand there dumbfounded that we were somehow having this conversation standing in the bunker.

"You kept that from us." I relive the whole moment, Cass had almost died. Her words just started to mold together. her bullshit lies. A hunter had died, and all for what a better way of doing things. I could never believe that my mother was that type of person. The person who puts herself before others.

"Our whole lives you've been gone. You said that you needed time. No, you said you needed space, so we gave you your space. No, you needed space from us." She stares at me and my younger brother, and I can feel another set of eyes on me. Y/n, a girl we found over eight years ago. She was a young adult, but to me, she was my daughter a daughter that I don't think I'd ever want to walk away from especially not how my mother just did.

"I'm your mother, but I am not just a mom, and you are not a child" My heart nearly jumps out of my chest as I hear the words hit my ears. Not a child, I never got the chance. "I was never a child, so between us and them." Mary desperately tries to back the situation out of the corner it's been driving itself into. "It's not like that Dean." I swallow the words that want to come up, and look over at Sam, "Yeah it is Mary, and you made your choice so there's the door."

I at this point end up just walking away, my heart is broken and the tears burning at the edges of my eyes are hurting more than the anger I'm pushing further down in my chest. My daughter watches as I brush past her and into my room. Slamming the door, that's when the true and real emotion comes falling out of me. The tears fall and the way I just can't catch my breath.

I had just gotten her back, Sam had just started learning about his mother from his mother. All for Mary to go and fuck it all up because she wasn't honest because she lied to both of us. It's hours before I leave my room.

A knock on my door is what had me dragging my ass out of my room. the tears had stopped only a few hours ago, and the only thing that sat in my chest was the burning, boiling anger. I open the door, and there's my daughter Y/n standing with hopeful and sad eyes. "Dean, do you want to maybe come and watch a few movies with me?" She asks her voice cherry and trying.

As much as I would have loved to go out and watch a few western movies with her I just couldn't bare the thought of yelling or screaming at her all because of Mary. Or even worse bumping into her because she hasn't left yet. When I had haven't answered Y/n continued, "I even invited Sam, he's waiting for us." She tires, "Honey, I'm really not in the mood right now, so…" She nods like my anger is something she's used to having to work around.

It burns me, but she smiles, leans in, and kisses my cheek, "That's alright, Dad, you know where we are." With that Y/n is walking away and I shut the door. The way my heart burns in my chest. My daughter and younger brother were trying to get over the yelling and how Mary had burned everyone here in the bunker.

I stare at the shut door, and then at the picture of Mary and I when I was young. I pull out a book, a diary of sorts. I write down everything that happened. All the emotions I wanted to push deep down, all the things that went wrong, and all the things that could have gone right.

My wrist hurts when I smell popcorn being popped in the kitchen. The laughter that's filling the cold and silent bunker. I close the diary and poke my head out of my bedroom door. The laughter grows and it's a mixture of Sams and Y/ns. I can't help but be drawn in by it. I poke my head into my man cave. The lights are all off, the only light coming from the TV. An old western is playing on the screen, and all my favorite treats are on the table in front of the old couch. "Dean?" I hear Sam question, looking away from the TV, "Yeah, it's me." Y/n's eyes light up and she turns a massive smile on her face, she pats the open spot between her and Sam.

"Come sit here and we can restart the movie." She says with cheer in her voice. I can't help but smile in return, "alright" I move quickly, Sam and Y/n are smiling widely up at me. "What made you come out?" Sam whispered, I dig my hand into the bowl of popcorn, "The food Sammy boy." He rolls his eyes, while Y/n curls up into my side. "It will be okay Dad, I promise," Y/n mutters as the movie restarts. I lean down and kiss her forehead, "I hope so honey."

Completed on: 05/08/2023

Posted on: 05/08/2023

Deanie Beanie Girl- @kazsrm67 @deanswaywardgirl @ijustlearnedtolove-beep-bop-boop @mrspeacem1nusone @dilfloverr @akshi8278 @fofisstilinski @band--psycho @doctorlilo @wonderfulworldofwinchester @flamencodiva @samsgirl93 @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27 @fanfic-n-tabulous @silverose365 @winchestersbitch-dm @alexxavicry @gabrielasilva1510

[solitaryearthperson]

I'm Not A Hero

Summary: A mistake on a mission makes you question whether you're a hero and Bruce helps you.

(The reader is gender neutral and uses they/them pronouns. The ethnicity/race is preferably a person of color.)

The sounds of bombs going off and multiple people screaming out was hard to get out of my head, but I tried my hardest to do so. People yelling, crying, and praying in multiple languages was too much for my ears to take. People scattered across everywhere, some on the ground, some in dirt, some in crumbling buildings, bleeding from injuries too severe to heal from was too much for my eyes. I kept seeing them over and over. Even though it had been weeks, almost a month, I couldn't get it out of my head.

"Kid, it's okay. Don't listen to them." Tony patted me on the shoulder and told me this the day after, when it was all over the news.

Every news channel had the same headline: Avengers saves the day, but causes more lives lost. And every one of them had a video of me, the camera zooming in on my figure. They would all pause right at the time my powers went loose and the headlines would change to "Did the Avengers recruit a villain?"

"(Y/N), don't think about it. The news is making it worse than it really is." Natasha told me this when she visited my room the next day, finding me wrapped up in my blanket and watching the news play the video over and over, staring at the image of me on the screen causing so much damage.

"The death toll is in the hundreds now, while the number of injured has reached the thousands," the news caster said.

"Most of those people were already injured or dying before we even got there, (Y/N)," Clint told me, after Natasha left, disappointed that her consoling me didn't help. "You saved a lot of lives. So many people are walking around, breathing, and living because of you."

It didn't matter if that was true or not, it didn't matter that there were people who weren't injured, people who survived and could get back to their regular lives. To me, none of it mattered if the cost of this victory was hundreds, thousands, or even millions of people dying or getting hurt.

I thought I had myself under control. I thought I could handle it. This mission wasn't my first, but it was the first that so many people had died because of me being reckless and overconfident, forgetting the strength of my powers.

"Come to the party, (Y/N)," Steve urged me, with Natasha and Clint beside him. "It'll be fun and we'll see people who are honored and glad that you rescued them."

The party they're referring to is some party/award ceremony being thrown by half the government and half Tony Stark for rescuing so many people. We'll receive awards, and be honored as absolute heroes of the country. I had informed them a few days before that I didn't want to go and instead I would rather stay in my room binge-watch TV, but they insisted, to the point that Nat threatened to kidnap me from my room and force me to attend.

~

"(Y/N)!"

"(Y/N)!"

"(Y/N)!"

Flashes of cameras and reporters calling my name was quite an overwhelming thing that I haven't gotten used to since being on the team. The others told me that it takes time, but if it ever gets too much, it's alright to duck out when I get a chance, and right now, that's exactly how I was feeling.

So many people yelling my name asking what designer I was wearing, what diet I was on, how often did I train, and other questions were still strange to me.

"(Y/N), can you show us some of your powers?"

The question caught me off guard, but I tried to not let it show and responded with a polite smile and said, "Um, maybe some other time. I will give you a great show then." I was fine until I heard the next question.

"Is it because of your last mission?"

The question made me freeze, and I looked around to find if any of the others were around to help me, but suddenly I couldn't find any of them near me. It was like they had suddenly disappeared.

"What do you have to say about the death toll now reaching 1,000?"

"What?" I asked, feeling my heart beat speed up. I hadn't heard about the deaths getting that high.

"Sources say that you have no control over your powers. Is that true?"

"I-I,...um," I didn't know what to say, my tongue suddenly felt numb and I could feel all the hair on my body stand up.

"Why did the Avengers recruit you if you don't have control over yourself?"

"How can the public trust you?"

I wanted to tell them that it was an accident, that it was one slip-up that will never happen again, but I couldn't make myself do it.

"(Y/N)!"

I recognized the voice but I didn't bother looking to see where and who it came from. Before I could hear another question, I quickly walked away from the reporters and left the room. I didn't know where I was going, only that I needed to get as far away from the party as possible.

Before I knew it, I was opening the door of a nearby hallway closet and ran inside, slamming it shut behind me. Not hearing any footsteps behind me, I took a deep breath and stood against the wall, trying to calm my mind and forget the questions, but it was too hard. How did I not know the death toll rose that high? How could I lose control like that? Why did I lose control? Will it happen again?

I could feel my heart beating hard inside me, like it wanted to escape my body, and I could hear it loud in my ears like drums. Why did I come here? I shouldn't have come here! I don't need to be here! I'm not a hero!

I can't breathe! I tried to catch my breath, tried to breathe deeply again, but for some reason I couldn't. The questions from before were now screaming in my head and the images of my blurry figure on the news kept flashing through my mind. I shouldn't be here! I'm not a hero!

"(Y/N)," I heard a voice suddenly say my name through all the noise. I hadn't even realized that I had closed my eyes and I opened them to see Bruce standing before me, closing the closet door, and looking at me with a look of concern on his face.

"Bruce," I asked, trying to breathe, but still failing. "What're you doing here?"

"I saw you rush out and followed you. Are you okay?" He stepped toward me and grabbed me by my shoulders, squeezing them comfortingly.

"I can't breathe," I told him, feeling tears that I had been holding in for the longest begin to run down my face. "I can't be here."

"Hey everything's okay," he tried to tell me.

"I can't go out there! I can't answer any questions! I shouldn't be here after what I did!"

"(Y/N)," his voice was more stern and when I looked into his eyes, I saw nothing but kindness. "Do what I say. Okay?"

I quickly nodded my head.

"Count with me. 1...2...3... Inhale...4...5...6 exhale."

I nodded my head again and looked at him while doing it. "1...2...3," I looked at him before inhaling, seeing him nod, then continued, "4...5...6," then I exhaled slowly.

"Good. Do it again."

We continued to do this for a couple more minutes. He was patient and counted along with me, then inhaled and exhaled with me too. Each time we did it, I began to breathe easier, and my heart beat began to slow down, but the questions and memories of the mission and the video on the news kept running through my mind over and over again. When he finally saw my breathing become normal, that's when he chose to ask the question that I was dreading to hear him ask.

"Why are you in here?"

"I couldn't take being out there anymore. I had to get away."

"Why? What did they ask you?"

Another question I was dreading to hear, but I tried to suck up as much courage and answer him honestly. "They asked about my powers, and what happened on the mission, and," I could hear my voice begin to tremble, but I ignored it and continued speaking, "They told me about the deaths...that it's in the thousands now."

A look of recognition came over his face and he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me into a hug that I was not expecting, but greatfully accepted. Bruce was more shy than everyone else and kept his distance from the others, so this absolutely surprised me.

"I know how you feel, (Y/N)."

"You do?"

"Yeah," he replied with a little laugh. "The hulk had done some damage in the past. For good and bad."

Oh yeah. I had forgotten about the things the hulk has done. So many people are fans of the Avengers now, including Bruce, that I briefly forgot about the damage to New York.

"What do you mean 'you shouldn't be here', (Y/N)?"

Pulling away, I sniffed, and quickly wiped away the tears from my face before answering him, "The others wanted me to come, but I don't think I should be here. I don't feel like a hero. I feel like a-"

"Monster," he finished for me, making me smile a little. "The others don't have powers like ours. We make a small mistake, it can have big consequences."

"How do you deal with it? The death. Destruction. I don't feel like a hero anymore. I feel like a fraud."

"No matter how much that voice in your head tells you differently, you're a hero. You can't save everyone, all the time. There's gonna be lots of victories, but some sadness as well. Try to find ways to distract yourself. "

"How?"

He sighed loudly before replying, "Meditation, yoga, reading, maybe sports. Try to find a hobby that you know will quickly distract you and make you not think for a while."

As Bruce spoke, I couldn't help but be really moved and quite sad. I've never really interacted with him outside of the usual mission, and sometimes forgot he was there. This whole time I never thought about how he has gone through the same thing as I have and more. Realizing this also made me feel a little sympathy as well as I realize that not only has he gone through this before, but he's also had to cope with everything I'm feeling before, only he had to cope by himself.

"So do you wanna try going back out there or stay here a little longer?"

Just the thought of going back out there and knowing that there's a possibility that I'll have to answer anymore questions made me feel sick, so I quickly shook my head.

"I wanna stay here." He nodded his head in understanding and before he could turn, I asked, "Could you stay and keep me company? You don't have to if you don't wanna."

"Sure," he said, then took out his phone and moved to sit on the floor. He looked up at me and patted the spot next to him. "You wanna watch some Netflix till the party's over?"

I smiled and happily sat down next to him, ready to watch whatever just as long as I didn't go back out there.

"What do you think of 'The Witcher'?"

"My favorite," I told him, scooting closer to look down at the phone.

Who knew that me and Dr. Banner had so much in common with each other?!

[fangaminghell]

Brand New Rebornvese Oc Master Post!!! Honestly there's a lot to these ocs but I think it's better to keep it as short as I can do. If you have questions, ask! Without further ado....

Rejuvenation

Imani Ambrose (she/her, 17-18) - An energetic and cheerful gal who wants nothing more than to protect her friends and make people smile! Her hope and determination for a better future knows no bounds! Though it can come at the cost of not listening to her own needs. She’s into fashion and has a bit of a mischievous streak!

Flynn Fujimori (she/her, 18-19) - A student from Axis High that aims to become a doctor….or at the very least, that’s what her parents want. Her parents want a lot of things from her, actually, and while she is good at medicine, she doesn’t really know what she wants for herself. Admires Risa greatly.

Arrow Chalcedony ( they/them, 25-26) - An ex bladestar grunt on the run not from the organization but those that were once close to them. Still with a heart of justice and rage, they can’t help but look out for Imani and Flynn when circumstances bring them together. Maybe then they’ll stop running away from their past, and face it head on.

Devil (he/him, Old, but physically looks like he’s in his 20’s or early 30’s. Haven't decided) - An entity that has been alive since…well the beginning of the universe and can only really be seen by Imani ( at least right now). He is very tight-lipped about his origins, only saying he is here to make sure Imani is on “the right path”. Pretty ironic for someone who names himself Devil. There’s a deep amount of sadness and regret in his eyes…though it seems to lessen whenever he speaks to Imani . Just a bit. He can still be an asshole though.

Will (he/him, 17-18/ 23) - In renegade he was an incredibly reluctant and scared person who followed the wrong lead…until he took matters into his own hands. A reset to everything, a desire to free himself from the role forced upon him, as well as to hope for a better future. In Paragon, he is a simple florist who has a loving partner and hangs out with his best friend Myo. How much does he know about his past life? Who knows.

Myo(sotis) Bluebell (they/them, 17-18/18-19) -  In Renegade, they were a half - servant, and an abrasive one at that. They valued their freedom, and had an incredible hot head. Despite this, they were a softie that valued their friendship with Will, and a love for small, cute things. Not that they would admit that. Their life in Renegade ended in tragedy, but in Paragon, they’re fully human, happier with no recollection of what their past life was like. Most of their worries are struggling to keep a job and accidentally running people over while skateboarding.

Isaodor Arkwright (he/him, 21-22?) - A man who presents himself like a kind, reliable and heroic sort. Underneath that mask is someone who is bitter with blood on his hands. Someone who so desperately wants to be the hero that he would end the world for the slim chance of being the one to “save” it. He got his due diligence though. Stabbed at the chest, and with Will’s wish, he was made to become a guide to whoever holds the interceptor title next. Any trace of who Isador is erased as a result. The world goes on without him.

Theodore "Teddy" Arkwright (he/him, somewhere in his 20’ or early 30’s???/21) A hero twin. The beloved one. Slain by his own brother who he adored, taken up by Spacea and Tiempa to become their perfect little soldier. He believed in them.He truly did. But once they didn’t need him anymore, he was disposed of. All he ever wished for him and his brother to be reunited again. In Paragon he…is an only child. And despite it having been all he has known, he can’t help but feel…lonely. But as always, he smiles and helps where he can. It’s what he's good for, after all.

Reborn

Leo Joshi ( he/him, 19-20) - Formerly a rich asshole, now a runaway to Reborn for a new start, and hopes of becoming a better person. He presents himself as cool and confident, but is constantly grappling with his self-loathing and desire to be seen as good. Still, he tries- even when he’s trusted as the hero of a region, he tries. The amount of cats he collects is a big bonus though. 

Suraya Indu Joshi ( she/her, 22-23) -  Leo’s older sister who followed her missing brother to Reborn. To many on the outside, she’s the perfect older sister, destined for great thing…things that have already been decided for her, as the oldest. And she believed it too but…maybe she can start thinking of herself. But first, she must find Leo. She practically raised him after all.

Blair Winters (xe/xem/they/them, 24-25) - An assassin for hire turned bodyguard after getting hired by Suraya to travel with her around Reborn in search of her brother. Xe are cold as is, more so focused at the task at hand rather than any emotional attachment. They have many demons, as well as a deep hatred for Team Meteor…so maybe xyr heart isn’t frozen over as xe thought.

Lilith Winters( she/they, 12 at death) - Blair’s younger sister and the light of xyr life. She was always an oddball, her bluntness and dislike of lying grew irritable to some. Still, she was ever the optimist, choosing to believe in the good of others time and time again. She’s gone now…..and yet, they can’t help but linger. They don’t like seeing Blair so sad.

Nightingale “Gale” ( they/she, 18-19) - A protagonist of the zekrom route. A wannabe musician that hails from Orre in order to find their long lost older half-brother. They quickly find the man, only to realize he’s part of a terrorist group. So now she has it her personal mission to beat said group to the ground and get their brother some much needed therapy. 

Sasha - A high ranking meteor member that acts as their last line of defense before the big-wigs come to play. He doesn’t act all that menacing though…in fact he’s rather friendly, if not a big flirt. Nor does he seem so jazzed about Team Meteor as a whole. Still, he’s rather secretive, a man who holds his cards close to his chest, and walls are up rather tight. Just who is this guy?

Desolation

Asra Reverie ( they/them, 20) - A goth that carries a parasol around them everywhere. They were known to be calm and collected, someone that people can rely on. And they upheld this fact- someone has to keep everyone grounded. Though they do have a more intense side, with their competitiveness and their deep passion for battling. Overall, they are a pleasant person to be around, especially when chatting over a cup of tea

Lupe Caballero (he/she, 21) - The eldest of two siblings and a pokemon ranger, Cande is an extremely warm force to those that know him. He works hard to not only provide for her family, but also in general, wants to help where she can! This does mean he ends up pushing himself a bit too hard, something that has been a source of arguments between her and her little brother. But! As long as his siblings are happy and healthy - emphasize on the healthy - then she’s happy.

Philomena ( she/her, physically 28) - A strange and mysterious woman that Asra sees frequently throughout their journey. She’s rather carefree, too carefree some might say, and seems to allude to things than can, or has, happened. She seems to know a lot more behind that causal smile of hers but also…nothing at all? What an odd woman indeed.

[toxycodone]

Down bad anon (I was thinking you can call be DB. Like DB Cooper) here and I just got off work and I don't know what you've done to my brain lately but I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. Woke up earlier than my alarm and then I was just. Thinking of you and all day at work I just kept day dreaming about you and aaahdjjdjdd

Just thinking of the what if scenarios. Of you being in my bed or vice versa and cuddling. I'm not a touchy person usually since I haven't had the chances to be touchy (besides those I'm close to) but. I want to be close and touch you (that probably sounds so weird dkdjdjd ) and kiss and hold you. Do mundane things. I'd love to just listen to you ramble about anything on your mind while I lean against you or something. Parallel play. You'd be my silly puppy and I'd be your cat. I'd be the huntress wizard to your Finn hehehdhdb writing this is just making me blush a lot.

Part of me just wants to.. tell you who I am, and there's part of me that also feels like you might know who this is already. But I don't know, it makes me nervous and I don't want to get my hopes up 😔

wooooooooaaaaaaghhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

Sorry I am just. WOAAAAAAAA!!!!!¡¡ I’m not used to people having feelings like this for me zomg this is NEW. This is making me feel all dizzy and my stomach all swirly /pos this is so sweet…

huntress wizard…..Kitty….woooooooooooow. We could chill and hold hands. That would be so cutie….my favorite thing ever is to curl in the blankets and just. Vibe. Honestly. I love to nap too….im lazy

if I can be frank idk if I’m really feeling anything serious rn. I’m like. Very insecure about myself in relationships. 😭 specially online ones. But I am most always down for something casual. I am a free spirit who’s difficult to tie down (even my friends complain about this) but like. I’m willing to commit if things go good.

[hawthorneonarainyday]

Who We Are - Steve Harrington (1)

Prologue | Steve 2 | Eddie | Billy | Ian

The two of them had been friends for twenty-two years now. They'd grown up right next to each other, casually holding hands for all their lives. What neither of them had ever considered, though, was that their relationship could ever be anything else. They were just them, Steve and her. Right? Attention! - This is the second part of 'Grey Overalls and Rainy Days'. Please read that one first if you haven't yet! Information you might need ♥ ~ Word Count: 15.648 3rd Person (She/Her) Flashbacks will be presented in completely cursive to better distinguish between now and then, since tumblr doesn't really have the best typesetting options.

In this chapter you will find: Rain, cursing, a down in the dumps Steve, slow-burn childhood bestfriends to lovers, a lot of physical contact, canon tinkering, flashbacks and a fuck ton of spoilers for the 80s movie 'Beaches'. There will be mentions of food and eating, blood, canon level violence, loss, grief, shock, death, sex, trauma, bad parenting, sexual harrassment (specifically at dates) alcohol and reader having her period so please remain careful, my children! At one point reader will be loosely compared to Molly Ringwald, but to not alienate anyone I'll explicitly say that it is not because reader looks like her. It can be, if you want it to, but it's definitely not required. I point that out loud and clear and Steve will do so too, so please don't feel put out by that.

Enjoy ♥

The days rain still lay in the air, although the drops themselves had stopped – for now. Petrichor was still wafting all around them, now with tiny hints of cool night air. Hawkins population was slowly but surely getting home for the night. Mothers ushered their kids ahead of them, teenage girls locked their bedroom doors but unlocked their windows and most of Hawkins general stores were flipping their signs from ‘OPEN’ to ‘CLOSED’.

That was something she did as well.

Eddie held the door open and she skipped out into the night, glad she decided to not deal with the taxes for now. The metalhead himself was talking about a campaign he would love to throw for the party, but didn’t really have the time to and she was reminded of how good a story teller he was. No wonder the boys still loved to invite him around as a dungeon master whenever they got the chance.

“So, I was thinking I’d add in this really messed up dragon hybrid and he’s g- hey isn’t that Harringtons car?” Blinking at the rather rapid change of subject, she followed his pointing and damn straight. That was the red BMW she’d spent all day cleaning.

“Uh…yeah, actually. It is.” Her brows furrowed as she squinted into the night, trying to make out the familiar lines of Steve’s nose and hair.

And sure enough, there he was. Slumped behind the driver’s seat with his head down, one hand grabbing the steering wheel. “What the…Uhm, Eddie, gimme a minute.”

“Sure, go ahead. I’ll wait in the van?”

“Yeah, thanks.” With one shimmy, she shouldered her bag properly and jogged on over to Steve. He didn’t look up as she came closer, not giving her much choice but to knock at the window. Inside, Steve flinched, his hand letting go of the wheel and grabbing his chest. The shock didn’t last long though, because just a moment later he was rolling the window down.

“Jesus, don’t do that to me. You’ll give me a heart attack.”

“Your fault for not noticing me.” Chuckling, she leaned down to peer into the car, trying to see the mysterious flower shop girl. Why would she be there? Well, it wasn’t the first time Steve made a pit stop on one of his dates just to drive her home real quick. The red BMW, however, was completely empty aside from Steve. “Steve, what are you doing here? I thought you had a date.” The man in question just sighed and let his head fall back against the headrest. There was a slight pout to his face. “Steve?”

“Listen. Wanna cash in those burgers now? We could grab some and then go…I dunno, somewhere.”

“Uhm…I mean, yeah. Sure. Why not. Let me just tell Eddie, okay?”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, he came by earlier and offered to drive me home.”

“Oh. Okay, yeah, go ahead. I’ll wait.”

“But Steve, what about…?”

“Just…forget about that, okay?” The way he said it was more than pleading. Even if she didn’t like it, she nodded and jogged on over to Eddie’s car. He was already inside, the van running and waiting. Unlike Steve, he immediately noticed her getting closer and rolled down the window.

“You’re going with him, I take?”

“Yeah, sorry Eddie. I think…I don’t know, I think he needs some company.”

“It’s fine, Princess, you go check on him. But I demand full intel tomorrow!” She chuckled.

“I’ll see what I can do ‘bout that. Thanks Eddie.”

“See ya, princess!” The van roared to life with a deep growl and she stepped away from the window. It didn’t take long for Eddie to leave the car park behind. She reached Steve’s car just as quickly. A simple pull on the door handle and she plopped into the seat with a content sigh.

Steve’s car just felt… right.

Over the years, she’d spent so much time in that passenger seat that it felt more like home than the single wide she actually called home. Steve next to her watched her buckle herself in before wordlessly putting the car into gear. She didn’t ask where they were going, he didn’t offer any intel on the matter.

They didn’t have to.

Neither of them spoke. Steve veered the car through what Hawkins called ‘evening rush’ with practiced ease while she gazed out of the window next to her. She could see Joyce Byers locking up the door to Melvald’s General Store, still in her uniform. Next door in Radio Shack, there was still light burning. Maybe some last-minute repairs or something. Or maybe the guy working there had forgotten to turn them off. Who knew?

New, fresh rain was starting to dribble down the window, obscuring her view. Within moments, the world outside was turned into a blurry mess of colours and shapes. She could still vaguely tell where they were simply because it was the town she’d lived in for all of her life, but it got harder and harder. Soon, she had to turn her eyes to the windshield, it being the only place that still offered a semi-clear view. The windshield wipers were going left and right in their own rhythm, as if something invisible spurred them on. Well, she knew how they worked. But where was the mystery in that?

Watching the wipers do their job was…hypnotic. Without actively choosing to do so, her eyes were following their path left and right and left and right and she could feel herself get drowsy. Though that was probably less the wipers and more the fact that she’d gotten up early and worked a lot more than expected. Her day was supposed to be mainly office stuff plus the cunninghams car, and yet…

“Tired?” Steve asked, his finger rhythmically tapping against the steering wheel, led by the indicators soft ‘click click click click’. She sighed and sank back further into the seat.

“Yeah.”

“You could’ve said something. I can take you home.”

“It’s fine. It’s just the drive.” Steve hummed lightly.

“Of course it is.”

The boy pulled into the car park of Rosemary’s Diner with ease. If it weren’t so dangerous and irresponsible, she would’ve challenged him to do it with his eyes closed. Honestly, he might actually pull it off. They’d been here often enough. While most people preferred Benny’s Diner, both Steve and her had always chosen Rosemary’s whenever they got a chance. Mostly when it was just the two of them.

Sure, she’d pestered Ian sometimes to go with her. And, far as she was aware, Steve had brought some dates here over the years. Both of them had dragged their little group of misfits with them more than once and while they rarely complained, they both knew that this place never clicked quite as well with the rest of them. Maybe it was the food, maybe it was the atmosphere and maybe it was just the fact that she and Steve had been coming here ever since they were old enough to go to a diner on their own.

Inside, the lights were bright and welcoming, just like always.

Steve held the door for her and she stepped inside, both manoeuvring the etablissement with well-practised ease. Down the checkered tiles to the second to last booth – second to last, never the one before or after that – where both of them dropped down into their favoured seats at the same time. Her back was facing the door, while Steve liked to be able to survey the entire room. Menus were pushed aside; they would order the usual thing anyway. Doreen, their favourite waitress, saw them from afar and nodded towards them. Not to indicate anything, just recognition.

The seats hissed familiarly with every move she made as she drew her legs under her in a position that should be uncomfortable but really wasn’t. Steve was already slouched back into the burgundy leather of his booth, his face…complicated.

That was probably the best thing to call it.

It wasn’t an expression she knew from Steve, which should be impossible after over twenty years together. But then again, one was never done learning. That probably applied to people as well.  

“Hey you guys, nice to have you back!” She raised her head to meet the dark brown eyes of Doreen with a smile. The older waitress was grinning down at them, her braided hair pulled back into a ponytail that made her seem a lot younger than she was. There were some stains on her pale-yellow uniform, likely coffee, but other than that she looked at dewy as ever.

“Hiya Doreen. How’s it going?” She offered while Steve just nodded semi-friendly. Normally, she would have kicked his shins for that, but she accepted it for today. At least he’d greeted her at all. Doreen had noticed too, apparently, because she threw him a knowing glance but kept quiet.

“Ah, you know. Same as always in this old thing. Enough guests to keep it running but never many.” She shrugged. “You’re getting the usual?”

“Sure, we are.”

“Neat-o! So that’d be two cheeseburgers – one without onions – a large basket of fries with mayonnaise and ketchup and two shakes – strawberry and vanilla. Did I miss anything?” She couldn’t help but grin at that.

“Perfect like always, Doreen. Thanks.” Doreen nodded and turned on her heels, and she remembered another thing. “Oh hey, Doreen?”

“Yeah?”

“Add a coffee to that. As strong as you can legally brew it, yeah?”

“Oooh, the order changed. Exciting!” Steve rolled his eyes and she grinned. “Consider it done, sweet thing. Won’t be long.”

“Thanks!” Doreen strolled back over to the kitchen, leaving both her and Steve to themselves. The latter was still quietly staring into the void, his mind clearly somewhere else. Worry dipped her brows as she watched him. She’d seen Steve after bad dates often enough. Sometimes he was annoyed, sometimes he was angry. Sometimes he was sad but tried to act like he wasn’t, fully knowing that she knew, and sometimes he was just plain sad. Those were the things she expected. A ranty, maybe whiny, Steve. A mopey, pouty Steve. Maybe even a sad one.

But he wasn’t any of those things.

On the contrary, behind the complicatedness of it all, he looked…defeated? Reserved? Maybe both. Like a man that had failed. Or better: A man that had given up. She’d seen that face on someone else before, and it hadn’t been a good thing. She didn’t really like seeing it on Steve.

“I’m fine.” He said and she blinked in surprise.

“What?”

“I’m fine.” Steve sighed, kicking her dangling leg softly. “Stop staring holes in my face. And unfurrow your brows, you’ll get wrinkly, old girl.” She scoffed.

“I wouldn’t need to furrow my brows if your soul stopped taking a smoke break, you know?” But her fingers rubbed over the space between her brows anyway. “’Old girl’, really? Tsk.” Steve rolled his eyes and she turned towards the large window to her left. She couldn’t see much with the outside being nearly pitch black and the inside brightly lit. So instead of seeing the car park, she saw her own sorry expression staring back at her.

“Shit.” Edging closer to the window, she surveyed her own appearance with disdain.

She looked horrendous.

Since she came here directly from work, she was still clad in her stupid overalls. She should really start packing a change of clothes…She didn’t have too many nice clothes anyway but the grey work overalls must have been amongst the worst she owned. They were built for practicality and comfort, with a whole bunch of pockets and the loose fit. But they didn’t look great. This one, the one she was wearing today, was especially bad since she hadn’t gotten around to altering it. It was an ill fit in most places and it was stained. Fine for work, not so much for anything else.

And, of course, her hair was a mess as well. It stuck up in weird places and It was extremely greasy after a days’ worth of work. She had a sweaty job, alright? And in front of her boys – and Steve – she didn’t mind. They’d seen her look worse and she’d seen them look worse. But she felt iffy sitting in a diner like that. God, she hadn’t even wiped her face, had she? It was probably greasy as well.

“You could have told me I look like crap.” She muttered, wiping her face with her sleeve before getting to work on her hair. She couldn’t salvage much but she could damn well try.

“You look like you always do.”

…Ouch.

She send the boy a glare and let go of her hair. Not better, but at least differently messy. Oh well, it was what it was. Nothing she could do about it now, was there?

Steve was back to being zoned out. So much so, that he didn’t even notice that Doreen brought their food until she kicked his shins. He flinched, blinked, and looked around confusedly. She rolled her eyes and grappled for his plate. Using just two fingers, she’d picked out the pickles Steve so seemed to detest and replaced them with one of her tomatoes. Sure, he could just have ordered the burger without pickles and with extra tomatoes, but why bother?

Happy with her fixing job, she got to the fries, each one loaded up with mayonnaise, before tackling her burger. The smell alone caused her to feel extremely ravenous, to be perfectly honest, and she nearly melted when her teeth sunk into the goodness that was this burger.

With each bite, she felt the crispy softness of the bun, the crunch of fresh salad and tomatoes as well as the greasy cheese-patty combo. And in combination with the slight tang of Rosemary’s mystery sauce? To die for. Really, in an apocalypse she would likely murder for this burger alone.

Steve didn’t seem to agree, though. At least not today. Usually, the boy inhaled his food much faster than she ever could and she always had to battle him for the fries. Otherwise, he’d eat all of them and leave her high and dry for some oily potato sticks. Likely the reason why she’d started to eat the fries first and her burger last, since Steve did it exactly the other way around.

But today, the Harrington boy picked apart his burger slowly and thoughtfully. Sauce and grease quickly covered his fingers, which he didn’t seem to notice. Only a few bites made it into his mouth each time he looked conscious before he was right back to mindlessly playing with his food. He didn’t say a thing while they ate - and sure, she was more than fine with just existing around him. The two of them were long over the need to always do something together. She couldn’t count the days they had wasted away without talking, lounging around in the same bubble but each doing their own thing. They were masters at just existing in the same space.

In combination with his current mood, however, she felt her patience start to wear thin. It wasn’t even really because of him or his mood, it was because she didn’t know what was going on and thus didn’t know what to do about it. She couldn’t really help Steve if he didn’t open his big gob.

After nearly fourty five minutes of complete silence, spent exclusively watching him pick apart the burger into goddamn atoms, she pulled out her wallet and threw some cash on the table. Enough to pay for the both of them. That, finally, got Steve out of his reverie.

“Hey, we said it’s my treat.”

“Yeah, fuck that, Harrington. You can pay me back later.” Sighing, she fished out some wet wipes from her handbag and wiped his hands. He just let it happen, watching her closely as she wiped remnants of grease and sauce of his phalanges. “Come on. Let’s go somewhere, I need to stretch my legs before I fall asleep sitting up.” He winced.

“Sorry. I can take you home now.”

“Why, trying to get rid of me now, are we?”

“You know that’s never it.”

“Yeah, I know. Come on, up with you.” Not letting go of his hand, she rose from her seat and pulled him up with her. “Bye Doreen!”

“Bye guys!” The older woman waved them goodbye from behind the counter, not even checking if they’d left money. Even if they did forget, they’d be back before it could actually be missed. Not that that ever happened before.

Outside, Steve naturally tried to head towards the car, but her hand in his stopped him. Confused, he turned towards her, keys already in hand and pointing towards his car.

“The car is over there.”

“Sure is. But we’re not going to your car just yet.”

“Huh?” She rolled her eyes.

“I told you. I need to stretch my legs. The ten steps from our booth to your car don’t really do the trick.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Groaning, she let go of his hand only to get behind him and push him along.

“I mean: Move your arse, Harrington, we’re taking a god damn walk.”

“Ugh, but it’s raining.”

“Cry me a river!” She scoffed and pushed on. “You know, you’re no basketballer anymore. Some exercise might actually be good for you, dumbass.”

“I hate walks!”

“Move your god damn legs!” He did, reluctantly so.

At first, he was going annoyingly slow, obviously trying to not get too far away from the car in case she suddenly decided it was enough walking for a day. The more steps they took however, the more he picked up on speed. It took only a few minutes for them to reach a comfortable pace, easily falling into a rhythmic step beside each other.

The sky was still leaking above them, rain coating them in a fine spray of water that would feel incredibly wet the longer they left it there. But, in a way, it was a nice walk anyway. And what did her mum always say?

‘Light exercise is the best way to sort out a muddled mind, pumpkin. And nothing helps more than walking. Back home, I’d often walk the length of a town, just trying to get my brain in order!’

The memory had her throat tighten up for a moment.

One should really thing that four years would take care of grief, but in the end they didn’t do shit. It still felt the same, whenever she thought about her family. That couldn’t be normal, could it? Or maybe it was. Who knew.

Steve’s shoulder bumped against hers, pulling her attention back to him. Once again, he looked lost in thought. Less zoned out, but still not completely here. His brown eyes, nearly black with the absence of light, were pointedly focused on the ground below them and his hands were shoved into the pockets of his jean-jacket.

With another sigh, she looped her arm through his and looked up at him. He barely turned his face towards her, brows raised – a silent half-question. Which, she decided, wasn’t enough right now. She slightly shook his arm, pushing him to give her his full attention. Thankfully, he did.

“Okay, pretty boy. This is where I stop asking and you start talking. Because I’m slowly losing my mind here.”

“Boredom or worry?”

“Half half.” A deep sigh and he looked around for nothing in particular.

“Me saying something like ‘shitty date, is all’ is probably not going to cut it, is it?”

“Yeah, no. Try again.”

“…Shitty date is probably still true.”

“Okay? Why was the date shitty, then?” Steve scoffed.

“Probably because I have shitty taste in girls. Women.” Immediately, she felt herself bristle.

“What did that bitch do?” He rolled his eyes.

“Don’t call her that.”

“What did she do, Steven?” He sighed, using his free hand to ruffle his hair.

“Okay, so… When she asked me out, she was weirdly specific, right?” She nodded, not caring too much about the long story. But if that’s how he wanted to tell it - fine. “She was all like ‘Do you want to go to the cinema with me on Tuesday at seven fourty five?’ and I thought it was kinda weird to ask like that, but hey maybe she’s just one of those…those OCD-types, right? What do I know? Maybe she just feels the need to specify everything or her dad was a vet or whatever. Don’t know, don’t care.” She didn’t point out that seven fourty five wasn’t military time. “So, I agree, knowing I’d likely have to pester Robin into switching with me, which wasn’t easy because it was a Keith shift and who wants to do those? But who cares, it was flower shop girl, right?”

“Right.”

“Yeah. So today, after I left, I got home, got ready and picked her up exactly on time. When she got in I noticed that she was, like, really nervous for some reason.”

“What, because of you?”

“That’s what I wondered. I mean, I bought a gazillion flowers from her and she rents videos regularly, so it’s not like we’re total strangers. And I’m not weird, right? Like, creepy weird. Rapey weird.” She nodded as he threw her a glance and he carried on. “Right, otherwise she probably wouldn’t have asked me. So, I’m, like, extremely confused as to why she’s so skittish.”

“How skittish are we talking?”

“Her voice was an octave or so higher the whole time.”

“Jesus.”

“Exactly.” Steve shook his head. “Anyway, I drive up to the theatre and try to get a conversation going, you know? Drop some funny lines, talk about work, anything. But she barely answers and is all evasive and weird and I’m already like ‘Oh great, this date is going to be fun.’.” Angrily, he kicked something out of the way. A pebble? “But that isn’t even the worst thing. I mean, sure, I really…I was really amped for that date. But bad dates happen, you know? You get annoyed and then you move on or something. I don’t know.”

“I know what you mean, Steve. Carry on.”

“Dude, I’m on it.” He sighed shaking his head. “Anyway. Theatre. We get out of the car and I go to buy the tickets-“

“Why the fuck did you-“

“I don’t know, I just did.”

“She asked you out, Steve! She can pay!”

“But she didn’t okay? Let me finish talking.” She grumbled something under her breath, but let him go on. “So, I go to buy the tickets, she’s waiting by the door. And then we go in and whoosh.” He mimed an explosion with his hands. “She sticks to me like glue. It’s like someone flipped a switch and she went from ‘why am I here?’ to full on date mode. And she’s, like, pulling all the stops. She’s flirting like a mad woman, batting her eyelids super often and talking about how nice I look and how nice it was that I agreed to this date and stuff. And she’s super loud too, right?” Slowly, something dawned in her mind and she didn’t like it one bit. “So, I am like ‘Uhm…what exactly is going on here?’ but she just keeps talking. And then we get to the front of the popcorn line and some dude greets us and he keeps staring at her all wistfully and shit while she finds 87 ways to say the word ‘date’ in a non-committal context.” He stopped, kicking at nothing at she watched him with furrowed brows.

“She wanted to make that guy jealous. And she used you to do it.” He scoffed, his eyes focusing on nothing in particular.

“Yeah. And I was stupid enough to say yes.”

“Steve.”

“She probably noticed that I was literally buying her out of flowers and came to the conclusion that sure, Harrington is hare brained and will never realise what is going on. Why not use him like some sort of accessory, it’s not like he’s got much more going on!”

“Steve, stop that.” She pulled him to a stop, turning him towards her in the process. Steve’s brows were deeply furrowed, nearly touching in the middle, and there was a definite pout to his lips. “Stop trash talking yourself. None of this is because of you.” He tsked.

“Right. Sure, who if not me, then?” She stared at him, incredulously.

“Her. It is because of her, Steve. She asked you out to make another guy jealous because she noticed that you liked her. She used your feelings against you, not the other way around.”

“And why did I have feelings? That her fault too or what?”

“What are you even talking about, Steve?”

“I mean, how often have I actually talked to her? I barely knew her, right? We’re loose acquaintances at best. So why? Why like her so much that I buy a bunch of ugly fucking bouquets every other day? Those fucking things looked like shit because she’s horrible at making them, but I still spend a fortune on them simply so I could watch her talk about flowers for ten minutes. Shit, I’m not even a flower guy to begin with! Do I look like someone who cares that gardenias are considered deer resistant shrubs?” He really seemed to believe that he had any choice in the matter, which had her brows dip further.

“Steve, you can’t actually believe the bullshit you’re spewing right now.” He shrugged, pushing the moist hair from his face.

“Well, I don’t know anymore. I must be doing’ something wrong, seeing as every god damn girl I come close to liking just ends up treating me like shit.” Pinching his nose, he took a step back. “I mean, I’m not exactly a catch. Right. I know that.” He gestured around, more angry than necessary. “I know what they see, okay? Har har Harrington, high school hasbeen that couldn’t get into college and is still working a shitty job at fucking family video. Right, sure, I get it. Oh yeah, add the ugly ass scars I can’t explain – not that anyone even gets close to seeing them lately. But why can’t they just tell me? I mean, they could just tell me to fuck off and I’d be gone.” Swallowing heavily, he quieted for a moment. “I’m so…I’m so sick of growing to like people who don’t like me back. Who don’t even want to get to know me, like actually me. Not ‘Steve Harrington, the family video looser’, but me.”

Her throat felt tight as she watched him rant, rain slipping down his hair and face. Hearing what he thought about himself was always difficult, because, for some reason, Steve literally thought he was the worst person alive. No matter what she said, no matter what she did, his opinion never seemed to change.

Steve Harrington viewed himself as little more than trash.

“How is that your fault, Steve? Any of that?” Hot anger rose in her chest, not at him but for him. “You couldn’t get into college – so what! Who gives a shit? And sure, you work at family video. But at least you work!” She shrugged. “That’s miles better than anything any of them likely ever did. And liking someone is…We can’t choose who we like. You just…you just like who you like.”

“That’s a bullshit answer and you know it.”

“Yeah? Well. It’s yours.”

“What?”

“It’s what you told me. While I was crying over Ian and cursing myself over ever falling for him you said exactly that.” He scoffed, his head falling back.

“I give shit advise.”

“Yeah, but you mean well.” Sighing, she grabbed his hand. “Steve, listen to me. Properly, okay?”

“Fine.”

“That stupid cunt used you. And that is not your fault.”

“But-”

“No, it’s not. You didn’t do anything, Steve! I mean, what would you tell me? If the situation was reversed? Let’s say I…I don’t know, let’s say I’m on a date with, uh, with…Jonathan.”

“Byers?”

“Yeah.”

“Yikes.”

“Stay focused.” She rolled her eyes. “So, I’m on a date with Byers and turns out he just wanted Nancy to get angry or jealous or whatever. And obviously I’m heartbroken because wow, I’m so in love with Byers-“ Steve winced.

“I’m not in love.”

“- that I can barely contain myself. What would you tell me?” Steve looked down at her, his dark eyes raking her face as he thought.

“…Probably the same thing.”

“Which is what?”

“…It’s not your fault. He used you, not the other way around.”

“Right. And?”

“I’d probably try to hit him with my car. That’s long overdue anyway.”

“Yeah, I get it. Flower shop girl just got first place on my shit list. But that’s not what I mean.”

“Then what?”

“Is it my fault that I fell in love with Jonathan Byers?” Steve turned his face towards her, looking just as wet and sorry as he did, and sighed.

“…No.”

“But I could have known better. He’s obsessed with Nancy, so this was totally unavoidable, wasn’t it?” Steve’s brows dipped.

“Yeah, so? It’s not like you wanted to fall in love with Byers, you just did. Maybe that’s dumb, but you can’t choose who-“ he stopped short.

“Yeah?”

“…You can’t choose who you like.”

“Right. You can’t.” She sighed. “You don’t always need to hold yourself up to higher standards than everyone else, you know? You’re…you’re just human, like the rest of us.”

“I know.”

“Do you now? Because sometimes I’m not so sure you do, Steve.” She vividly remembered many times where his perfectionism hat nearly driven him insane. “You always blame yourself for things that aren’t you fault. Always did, ever since we were kids.” It wasn’t hard to guess where he’d got it from. His parents weren’t ever shy about blaming their child for everything wrong with their life. His mum did it passively, with neglect and pejorative remarks while his dad just straight up told him why he was the shittest thing in their collective lives. Steve, apparently, had internalised that knowledge far too deep.  And now it always came back to haunt him.

Like that one time.

It was a day she barely remembered. The memory was fuzzy, either with age or because her mind simply didn’t want her to remember. What was it, a day after Starcourt? Two days? She didn’t even really know. It could have been years or minutes; everything felt the same.

Hopeless.

Hopelessness was winding around her like thin wires, squeezing and pulling at the same time. Wherever the wires touched her, they would dig into her skin, painfully tearing the tender flesh of her body apart. Maybe she should just have done it, set her jaw and bear with it, just like she’d been doing every time she’d gotten hurt that day. Pain was nothing new to her, in the past three years she’d learned how to deal with it but, for some reason she just…she just couldn’t.

When she looked down at her arms, she expected to see blood. And sure, there was blood. But that was old, already drying. She didn’t see any new blood. Nothing was actually ripping her skin apart, and yet she could feel it. She could feel the lines on her skin, the places she was barely keeping together.

Every movement, every breath was painful. So, so painful that she wanted to scream. To her, moving meant pain. And a lot of pain meant that she was dying.

So, she just didn’t move.

She sat there, on the floor in Steve’s bedroom, unmoving, with her legs pulled against her chest. Why Steve’s room or how she’d even gotten there in the first place was something she couldn’t answer. She just knew that she couldn’t move away from that spot, not without falling apart completely. And in that moment, there was no one who could’ve stacked her back together again.

It was uncomfortable.

Her limbs were falling asleep in random moments and the heeled boots she’d been wearing were likely ruining her feet for good. She herself was still bloody, sweaty and disgusting and she could feel the layers of grime on her skin. But she didn’t…couldn’t care.

It was uncomfortable, but it was safe.

As long as she didn’t move, she could pretend it wasn’t real. She could pretend that her dad and brother were at the shop, like always, bickering over the right way to tune up the Hillson’s sedan. She could pretend that she hadn’t seen the giant monster that her family had somehow become part of. Because every time she thought of it, she remembered what Nancy told them. She could hear Steve saying: “But instead of, like, screws and metal, the Mind Flayer made its weapon with melted people…?”

Melted people.

Her father, the kindest man she’d ever known. The man who’d tried his hardest to raise her, to give her anything a daughter could need. The man who’d taught her how to ride a bike and how to replace a rotary arm. The man who’d cooked her favourite food whenever she felt down.

And her brother.

The big brother, who’d gone and beaten-up Tommy Hagan after he cheated on her. The brother who’d read her stories as a kid, who’d carry her around whenever she was too lazy to walk. The very brother who’d told her, just the night before, that all he wanted was for her to be happy. Wherever that might be.

Those two were part of the people Steve and Nancy were talking about. And she’d known, she’d known something was weird with her dad ever since he’d been so moody and snappy. He was never like that, never that aggressive, and both her and her brother had been extremely confused and worried. And yet, with little to no argument, she’d just packed her bag and left the minute her brother told her to.

She’d gone to stay with Steve, lounging around at Scoops Ahoy all day instead of just…just going home. Home, where she actually could’ve done something. Where she could’ve helped them.

But she didn’t. And now they were dead.

Those were the thoughts going through her mind on a loop. Every time she arrived at the conclusion it would go back to the start, like a record that spun endlessly. Nothing seemed to be able to turn it off. It just spun and spun and spun. Not even the blood that covered her shirt and skirt turning sticky and disgusting could change that. Nor could the knowledge that at least half the blood was not hers but Steve’s.

Steve…

Steve, who’d spent the past hours talking to her with endless patience. He’d tried to get her to eat, to move. To just do…something. Anything. He never pushed her too hard, but he didn’t ease up. He sat beside her, talked about anything. He turned on music whenever his voice turned weak and the silence became heavy.

He was always there, like a shadow glued to her side. Drifting along the lines of her periphery in hopes to get a rise out of her.

Looking back, she was surprised he’d kept it together that well. She didn’t know if she could’ve done it. If she could’ve acted like she was okay for his sake.

Because Steve wasn’t okay. Of course, he wasn’t. And one day, she finally noticed it.

As always, he’d left his room. Claiming to go and order some dinner. He left, went downstairs and was gone for a good long while. Too long for a phone call. Maybe she was on her way out of her trance, maybe she was already on the threshold to being fully conscious. Or maybe it was the fact that Steve had forgotten to turn on the music. She didn’t know.

But as she sat, still huddled against the dresser in Steve’s room, she heard something…weird. An odd noise she couldn’t quite place. Like…like a sob. Or something. The Harringtons weren’t home, of course, so it couldn’t have been them. But that only left Steve. Steve who was gleefully making conversation up until a moment ago, seemingly completely unaware of how one sided it actually was.

That uncertainty was what finally caused her to get up and move.

Stiff as a board and with great difficulty she peeled herself off the floor, using the wall to prop herself up. Every step she took hurt like hell, her poor, battered feet burning like embers. But she hobbled on, slow but determined. Thank god everything was carpeted, because otherwise Steve might have heard her come down the steps. And knowing him, he would’ve gone right back to acting.

But he didn’t.

And as she entered the Harringtons kitchen, she didn’t find the Steve she’d seen upstairs. Instead, she found a barely eighteen-year-old boy, who’d been tortured and drugged. A boy, who’d spent too long high on adrenaline and was now watching his best friend wither away right there, in his room. A boy who didn’t know what to do, how to help.

He was sitting below the phone, the receiver dangling carelessly somewhere next to him, and he was sobbing. Desperate, scared little noises that had her stop for a moment.

“Steve?” She’d said, her voice raw and broken by prolonged disuse. But the boy had heard her, flinching as his head snapped towards her. The moment his dark eyes landed on her, standing in the door way, he’d started to cry even harder. Violent sobs started to shake him, a sight that had her feel dizzy.

“It’s you.” Was all he managed to say between all the sobbing, his face buried in his hands. The sobs got louder too, his relieve mixing into the whole mess of emotions he was already facing. Watching that, watching as he broke down with fear, pain and relieve spurred something in her. With just two little steps she made it to his side, where she sank down to her knees. She didn’t know what to do. This Steve was not one she knew, and right then she barely knew herself. Her hands fluttered about unsurely, touching his hair and his shoulders, trying to find a place to start.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He’d muttered, repeating nothing but that again and again while sobs rattled through his body.

“Sorry…?” She didn’t understand. Sorry for what? What had he done that he needed to be sorry for? Nothing came to mind.

“I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault.” Her eyes were shaking as she watched the boy sob on. Her brain was so incredibly slow already, exhausted from little sleep and heightened adrenaline, so she still didn’t understand. She didn’t understand. “Everything is always my fault.”

Everything.

She felt her eyes tear up, sobs clawing their way up her throat as she realised what he was on about.

Steve was blaming himself for this. He was blaming himself for what had happened down in the Russian base as well as what had happened up in the mall. He was blaming himself for her pain as well as his own. The way she knew him, he’d probably been blaming himself for ever becoming her friend, for ever being born.

Because that was Steve Harrington.

Everything was always his fault, even when it wasn’t. He automatically deemed it so and no one, not a single person, ever thought to tell him he was wrong. They all called him ‘ass’ and ‘moron’, called him out for his time as stupid ‘King Steve’, but no one ever took the time to remind him how great he really was.

If her heart hadn’t already been broken, it would have been the moment she truly realised how lonely that boy was. And how scared he must’ve been of losing her, the last person to always be on his side.

“Steve…” She’d sobbed, winding her arms around him to cry into his hair while she held him. She’d just been holding onto him until both their tears ran dry for the time being.

And she did the same thing now.

With one simple movement, she’d wrapped her arms around his midriff and pressed her face into his shoulder. Steve didn’t hesitate to hug her back. He never did. His arms wound around her waist, holding her close. Somewhere above her ear, she could feel his breath fan against her skin.

“You need to stop blaming yourself so much, Steve.” Her voice was muffled by the fabric of his jacket, but she was sure he understood. She knew by the way his breath hitched, by the way is body started to shake. “It isn’t your fault, none of this.” She patted the back of his head comfortingly, carefully. “And I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? You didn’t do anything.” His voice was weak and croaky, poorly repressed feelings seeping out of it with every word.

“No, I didn’t. But I’m still sorry.” She sighed, patting on. “I’m sorry because she isn’t. And I’m sorry because she couldn’t see you the way you did her. I’m sorry that everyone always blames you, even you yourself…” His arms tightened around her waist and she heard him exhale a shaky breath. “I’m sorry for all of that, Steve.”

And just like that night four years ago, she’d held the boy while he shed tears no one else knew about.

Because that was who Steve Harrington actually was.

***

“There! There, do you see that?” Robin hissed, pressed close to her side. “Now that isn’t normal. And at first I was all like ‘oh maybe he’s just confused’ but it’s been week and he’s just been doing that all the time. That’s weird, right? Agh, of course it’s weird!” She blinked, ignoring Robin’s rambling as she watched Steve ring up a customer upfront. The rest of the store lay deserted, the day still too early for most people to think about renting anything.

It was Sunday, a couple of long, exhausting days after Steve’s date with the horticulture-cunt.

The week had been quite the mess so far, so she was thanking every available god that it was finally Sunday and she had the day off. And sure, lounging about Family Video with Steve and Robin was an excellent pastime. ‘Spying’ on Steve from behind a shelf, though? Ugh.

“Look, he’s not flirting, nothing! He’s just-just look!” The girl hissed, her hands clasping her shoulders. She could feel Robins nails scratch her skin, causing her to shiver slightly.

Robin had been calling the repair shop nearly every day, more than once, ranting about how Steve was behaving ‘weirdly’ and how this couldn’t be ‘normal’ and ‘please please come over, okay? I’m losing my mind here!’, so here she was. Badly hidden behind the self-proclaimed chick flick shelf – ooh, was that ‘Beaches’? – staring through a small window Robin had created by removing a couple of tapes.

It was not all too interesting.

Steve just did his job like anyone else would. The whole spiel - ‘Hi there’ ‘beep beep’ ‘your total is…’. That was how this worked, right? Because, sure, she’d never worked anywhere other than the shop, but this looked pretty standard to her. Next to her, Robin was still rambling – something about possession and brainwashing – and Steve was bagging up the tapes. The girl he’d just rung up thanked him overly sweetly – gag – and turned to leave the store. The wind chime above the door announced her exit.

Steve stayed where he was, leaning forward onto the counter, before looking in their direction.

“You idiots do know that I can see you, right? You’re not, like, invisible.” Robin stiffened and cursed under her breath and she patted her back comfortingly.

“You tried, Robs.” Was all she said as she grabbed ‘Beaches’ from the shelf. Why not use this oh-so-golden opportunity to organise some Sunday night entertainment? And she’d been waiting to see this one for forever. She even told Steve, the traitor, to let her know as soon as it was available. Of course, he ‘forgot’ to do that again.

“Yeah, maybe leave some tapes next time so it’s less obvious.” Steve nodded towards the shelf and sure enough. Tapes were missing on both sides, making it pretty obvious that someone wanted to spy on him through the three- or four-inch gap the shelf offered.

“You leave me no choice! And you!” Robin pointed at her, her black-nailed finger wafting accusingly in front of her face. “I called you so you’d side with me!” She chuckled, strolling over to where Steve was still lounging about. Steve’s eyes were on her as she hopped onto the counter next to him, offering up the tape, which he took in turn for a clean picked bag of gummy bears.

“Oh, come on, ‘Beaches’? Really? Ugh.” He shook his head as he started to check it out – under his name, obviously.

“It’s Bette Midler, Steve.” The boy just winced and she started to chow down on the gummy bears. Robin was still rambling.

“Hello?! Are you listening to me!?”

“No.” The two of them said and the girl grumbled, yet still accepting the peace offering of gummy bears. The younger girl glanced at her hand, spotting the exclusively white, orange and yellow variants of the sugary sweets.

“Why do I never get any red or green ones? Those are the best.” Steve nodded while she just winced at the other girl’s statement.

“Steve is in charge of the red and green ones, so pester him about that.”

“Wait, what? ‘In charge’?”

“Yeah. Haven’t you noticed?” She cocked her head, shaking the bag. “He eats all the red and green ones. I get the yellow, orange and white ones.”

“Why would you do that?”

“She doesn’t like red and green. I don’t like white.” Steve handed her the cassette in a small bag before turning and leaning his back against the counter. “So, we eat the ones we like and then trade.”

“But there’s always more red and green, so you’re basically being ripped off!” Robin leaned against the counter next to her as she spoke, holding her hand out for more. She got them, of course.

“Hey, she gets three colours and I only get two!” She could feel Steve’s fingers at the hem of her shirt as he spoke, the boy using the proximity to cover up a sliver of skin that had been exposed since earlier. Paying him no mind, she let him pull down her shirt properly and continued to stuff her face with gummy candy. Robin, however, was watching their interaction with raised eyebrows.

“Your relationship is disgusting, has anyone ever told you that?” Both she and Steve rolled their eyes at that. Because they had, in fact, heard that before. That and anything else people would offer about their relationship. For some reason, people just loved to make unsolicited comments about other people’s business. She couldn’t even count the times, that people had asked her if she and Steve had ever had a ‘thing’ for or done ‘stuff’ with each other – big yikes.

Then there was the usual ‘oh your guys are disgusting’, ‘get a room!’ or ‘you’re like an old married couple’. When they were younger, they used to argue back every time because it wasn’t like that and they were just friends. At some point, though, both of them had gotten tired of the same reaction – eye rolls, amused chuckling and a meaningful ‘For now!’ – so they just rolled their eyes and ignored all the comments to the best of their abilities.

Well, except the ‘stuff’ one because that was a disgusting and invasive thing to ask. Steve took that one just as wordlessly, but she couldn’t. The last guy who’d dared to offer that question had earned himself a broken nose and she would happily pummel anyone who wished to follow in his footsteps.

“Only every person in this goddamn town, Robin.”

“I think I heard a Demodog say it at one point.” Steve said, closing his eyes.

“Yeah? Seems like them. They were a rather chatty bunch, weren’t they?”

“Totally. Especially- uh…wait, what was his name?” His brows furrowed in thought. “Henderson named him after that chocolate bar.”

“Ah, you mean Dart?”

“Dart! Yes, right. Especially Dart.” The two of them grinned at that. It should be all unfortunate and uncomfortable, but honestly? One can only shed so many tears about something. At some point, joking will become easier than sobbing.

“Do I even want to know what you’re talking about?” Robin asked, snagging more gummy bears.

“Just the Demodog Dart and his little herd of friends that nearly mauled us to death.”

“Come on, Dart didn’t. He let us pass, remember?”

“Not really. I was losing a ton of blood, Steve. I don’t even really remember how we got out.”

“Oh, right. You got blood all over my jacket. ”

“Sorry not sorry.” They had bled onto each other often enough, even before the whole upside down bullshit. Although there’s a significant difference between ‘shit, I cut my finger while chopping onions’ and ‘oh my god, that Demodog just rammed it’s claws into my torso’. The scars were really different, too.

“You could’ve just said no, you know?” The girl flicked her forehead before going to do…something. Work. Slack off somewhere else. That left her and Steve behind at the counter. For a moment, they did nothing else. She was fiddling around with the bag in her hands and Steve was slowly flicking through a pamphlet or something. Leaning over, she noticed that it was a pamphlet about…

“Wait, is that for college?” Steve nodded, flicking to the next page. “I thought you gave up on college?” She grabbed the pamphlet from him, ignoring his protests as she read through as quickly as she could. That was made a lot harder by Steve trying to get the thing back. Her eyes were better than his though, so she held it barely out of his reach and read on “No way, nursing? You want to become a nurse?” He scoffed and ripped the thing from her hands.

“Jesus, ever heard of privacy? You’re so nosy, do you know that?” He snapped, stuffing the pamphlet somewhere beneath the counter, effectively out of reach. Not that she cared, she knew all she needed to.

“We don’t do privacy, Steven.” Drawing her leg onto the counter, she turned towards him properly, grinning brightly. “Nurse Steve?” The boy groaned, his shoulders slumping forwards.

“I don’t know, okay? It’s just, like, an idea. Nothing more. I just thought, you know…I’m quite good with blood and all that and I’ve seen worse things than whatever the human body can produce. So why not try to make use of that?” He shrugged. “I researched a bit and heard about this nursing program and I’m…I probably won’t get in anyway, so it’s really not that big a deal, right? It’s just- it’s…Robin will eventually get her degree and then she’ll leave and teach little shit’s their ABC’s or whatever the fuck she does and I can’t…It’s…Anything is better than being stuck here for the rest of my life, rewinding sticky copies of ‘Kinky Business’ and ‘Too good to be true’ while Keith is breathing down my neck.” He finished, his formerly gesticulating arms falling down to his sides as he breathed heavily. She allowed a moment of silence to pass, giving him a second to catch his breath as she just stared at him. But eventually, she felt the corners of her mouth curl upwards.

“You know, you’re saying all that but for some reason I just hear-“ Steve raised his finger threateningly.

“I swear to god, your ass is grass if you say…”

“-Nurse Steve!” The boy groaned and let his head fall against her shoulder as she giggled and patted the back of his head.

“I hate you; you know that?”

“Sure, I do. I love you too, Harrington.” She wiggled her shoulder to get him off. When she did, she leaned forwards to stare into his face. “Nurse Steve, man. Honestly, I see it. You’ve got a nurse face.”

“What, in that hot nurse kinda way?”

“Yikes. No.” She pretend-shivered. “But you look kind and caring.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“As I said: It’s just an idea and I likely won’t get in anyway, so…”

“No, no you will.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do, Steven! I can feel it in my bones. So let me predict your future now, young padawan.” With her thumb and index she squeezed his cheeks, effectively holding him in place – and making him look like stuff-cheeked hamster. “You will apply for this course and you will get in. And within the next couple years, you’re out of this shit hole and can spend your days saving lives as ‘Nurse Steve – Hero in scrubs’.” He opened his mouth to stop her, but she talked onwards. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll meet a pretty patient and you’ll wrap her around those pretty fingers of yours in a heartbeat while helping her stay calm during a shot or whatever.” Steve’s brows drew together, enough to nearly touch in the middle.

“Did you just write fanfiction about me?” Thanks to her still squeezing his face, the words came out all squishy and muddled. He seemed to notice that too, pulling himself from her grasp to rub his cheeks. “Dude, were you trying to bruise my cheek? Jeez, your grip is like iron.”

“Those are a handyman’s fingers, Steven.” Sad but true. She always wanted to have pretty, dainty hands like Nancy or Robin or Max. Colourful long-ish nails, pretty nailbeds, soft pink skin…but that was not something she’d ever have. Thanks to her line of work, her hands and fingers were often dry and rough, even stained by oil and grease. Her nails had to be short, otherwise they’d break – they tended to do that anyway – and although she tried nail polish sometimes, it never lasted long enough to actually bother.

And sure, she took care of them. She used hand cream like a mad woman, lathering up every chance she got, and she tried to do hand masks regularly. In the end, however, her hands were a mirror of her craft. They were formed by work. And while they could get a car up and running, change a leaking pipe and a handful of other things, they would never look pretty.

It shouldn’t bother her much, but it did, sadly. Generally, she liked how she looked. She was satisfied with what the mirror showed her and she knew she looked good. Great even! But every time she saw how pretty other girls’ hands looked, she felt like a…like a grizzly. Like a giant, weathered witch in front of dainty, little fairy princesses – however untrue that comparison may be.

Everyone had their little insecurities.

Suddenly, Steve grabbed her hands, pulling her fingers away from a patch of dry skin and her out of her own thoughts.

“Stop picking your skin, idiot. You always say it hurts after you do that.” Shifting his hold a bit, both hands now clasped in one of his, he started to root around behind the counter, producing a small tube of hand cream. Without hesitation, he squeezed a good dollop of cream onto her hands and used his thumbs to spread it around. It was almost like a massage and she felt herself relax more and more with each stroke.

In lieu of anything else to do, she looked at him while he worked away all tension she’d build over the last week.

Mouth slightly pursed and brows furrowed, he looked extremely focused right then. If she hadn’t quite literally felt his hands on hers, she would’ve wondered what he was thinking about. His hair did its usual thing, flopping into his face that was, and it gave him some sort of…roguish allure.

Here’s to hoping that he’d never find out that she thought something like that. Yikes.

But it was true nonetheless. She cocked her head as she watched him, raking her eyes over the lines of his face. They all looked the same as always, absolutely not different to the Steve she’d seen yesterday and the day before that. And yet…

Steve was handsome.

Sure, right, objectively she’d known that. She’d seen the boy as a tween and damn, that couldn’t be compared, like, at all. But she’d never really thought about it much. Steve was always about as interesting as her right arm. There and definitely appreciated – in fact, she wouldn’t want to live without it – but not something one thought about much. But right then, brows furrowed in concentration as he rubbed her hands, she really noticed how good looking he actually was.

“You’re really pretty, did you know that?” Steve raised his brows and looked up at her, clearly surprised by her statement. But he caught himself rather quickly, the typical Steve reaction already kicking in.

“Twenty-two years and you only notice that now? Damn.” She rolled her eyes, pulling her hands from his grasp.

“You must’ve been ugly for twenty-one of them, then.”

“That’s still a year, which is a lot coming from you.”

“Right, whatever gets you through the night, pretty boy.” He grinned at that.

“You know what? You can just tell me that my awesome hand rub won you over, sweetheart. There’s no shame in that.”

“Oh, riiiight.” She nodded, a smile curling her lips as she leaned back onto the counter. “Totally. You just stole my heart, Harrington.”

“Don’t I know it.” He leaned against the counter next to her. She hummed under her breath, using two fingers to gently guide his hair out of his face. His eyes fluttered shut at her touch, a habit Steve had always had. In one feather light touch, she let her knuckles ghost over the lines of his cheek, causing his honeyed eyes to open up once more.

“I bet you do that to all the girls, don’t you?” He tipped his head back, eyes focused on her face, and hummed softly.

“Hmmh. Works every time.”

“Am I…interrupting something?” A voice intervened, causing both her and Steve to turn. Robin was standing next to the shelf she and the other girl had just been hiding behind. “Because I can, like, totally take my break right now. You know, if you guys want to finish whatever that was.” She popped a cheese puff into her mouth, the bag in her hands crinkling uncomfortably loud.

“Robin…” Steve sounded all annoyed, clearly ready to ‘bicker with Buckley’, so she intervened.

“Not necessary. Join us, Steve was just telling me all about how he uses roofied hand cream to drug poor, unsuspecting girls into liking him.”

“Aaah. That must be why you were gazing up at him like he was made of light, hm? Because of the hand cream. Totally, I believe you.” Robin shrugged as she hopped closer and she felt her brows dip.

“What am I, a moth?”

“I don’t know, you tell me?” She hopped behind Steve, using her hands to turn his face towards her, to which he protested loudly.

“Come on, your fingers are all cheesy!”

“Take it like a man, dingus.” Robin just said, holding on and nodding at her. “And? Do you think sparkly boy is the hottest thing in town?” She rolled her eyes and Steve ducked out of Robins hold.

“Man, you got cheese dust all over me. Disgusting, go clean your hands.” He shoved her off towards the break room while rubbing his cheeks against his uniform. “And the question is rigged, because I totally am the hottest thing in town and we all know it.”

“Right, Dingus, whatever you want to believe. You know, that scene felt oddly familiar. Did I see it in a movie before? God, what was it called again? Maybe-“

“Buckley! Sink! Now!” At his famed babysitter tone, Robin instinctively hopped on off without another word. The two who stayed behind, sighed in unison. “I hate her sometimes.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.”

Another shared sigh and Steve was back to fiddling with the tube of hand cream and she watched him for a minute, before choosing to plunge forwards with their conversation. A normal one, duh, not the one Robin had interrupted.

“Wanna watch ‘Beaches’ with me?”

“No.” He said, tossing the hand cream aside and leaning against the counter, further away from her this time. “I’ll come ‘round after work. Chinese or Pizza?” She smiled.

“Pizza for sure.”

***

Early evening had befallen Hawkins by the time Steve made it to her house. The sky outside was quickly darkening, regretfully announcing the end of her day off. She wished she had something to turn back time. Not even a lot, just a day or so. Tiny day. Go plink plink on that little, uh, time turner, and have another Sunday right after her first one. And that one she would spend right here, on the couch, in a pad so huge it could count as diapers and simply not move. Didn’t that sound glorious? Damn. Next time, Buckley could beg all she wanted. She would spend her Sunday hermited and wrapped up like a burrito.

When his knock finally came, she was already lounging on her sofa, braless and clad in only her finest pair of sweats and a giant t-shirt that came from god knows where. The void, probably. Maybe even the upside down. Didn’t know, didn’t care.

It was comfy anyway.

 “Come it, the door is open!” She called, too lazy to move to open the door for him. Honestly, she didn’t really need to and he didn’t need to knock, he had a key anyway. The door opened and she raised her head, just enough to make sure it was actually Steve that entered and not a crazy serial killer. Well, those probably wouldn’t knock but it didn’t hurt to make sure, right?

But nope, it was Steve in all his hang-night glory.

Her head plopped back down after she analysed his choice of clothes – very similar to hers, in fact – and he tsked at the sight.

“I told you not to leave your door unlocked, idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Not whatever. Dude, you already live in a paper fucking house. At least try to make it hard for someone to murder you, okay?” Not that again. She rolled her eyes at his usual nagging as he kicked off his shoes and hug up his jacket.

“Steve, it’s not that bad, you know? I mean, it’s a house and it’s actually quite spacious since it’s just Tut and me.” Tut was her, very bad tempered, sphinx cat. Well, bad tempered was a stretch. He wasn’t that bad. Tut, actually named Tutanchmeow, just didn’t like strangers all too much. He liked her, he tolerated Steve and that was far more than enough. Right now, for example, he was hogging her one arm chair, snoring loudly and cutely.

“Spacious. Sure. I’m kinda scared I’ll bonk my head if I flinch too hard, but you’re absolutely right.” As if to demonstrate, he stretched out his arms, not leaving too much space on either side. “It’s extremely spacious in this thing.” Steve sighed, dropping a pizza carton on the couch table. “I got us the usual stuff.”

“Perfect.” She sighed, drawing her legs up slowly and carefully. “What do you want to drink?”

“Stay, I’ll get it.” Steve sauntered over into the kitchen and she heard him open up the fridge. He came back with two beers which was fine by her. He’d already opened them and just dropped them onto the table right next to the Pizza before plunking down onto the sofa into the place she’d previously freed for him. Her legs fell right back into place on his lap, which Steve accepted wordlessly. Sighing, she covered her stomach with both hands and looked at him.

“How was the rest of your shift?” Steve just grumbled. “That bad, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“Robin?”

“Obviously.”

“Do I wanna know?”

“Definitely not.” She hummed slightly, taking her time to properly look at him. He looked tired, his eyes drooping already despite him barely sitting down. She poked his side with her foot and he grumbled again.

“People are tiring.” She sighed.

“Damn straight.” He shot back. “And you know I love Robin, I really do. But god, sometimes I wish she would just…stop talking. Just for a minute. I swear, you left the store and her mouth started flapping. I think she was still talking when I went home and it’s just…does she even breathe?” Steve deflated with a sigh, his head falling back to rest against the wall. “I’m a dick for saying, I know, but I wish Robin came with an off-button.”

“You’re not a dick for saying that.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then I am too. Because every day I wish that my boys would just keep their damn traps shut. And I love the lot of them, but god, they’re dicks sometimes.” She shrugged. “That doesn’t make me a dick, though. That makes me…Normal. I’m just a normal person who gets annoyed by other people.” Steve just sighed, saying nothing for a moment.

“Speaking of.” He said instead, obviously trying to change the subject. “How’s Eddie first week been going?” She groaned and closed her eyes.

“God, don’t make me think about that.” It had been a whole mess. A complete and utter mess, and terrifyingly large scale. “How can one guy be so clumsy? I mean, at this point I’m surprised he can walk in a straight line without falling over. Please, remind me to never ever get in his car, no matter what. I’m telling you. On Thursday, he literally tripped over his own feet, tumbled through half the shop, bonked against one of the tire stacks and unleashed this, like, chain reaction that nearly send Riley flying into the popped hood of Hagans car. In under a minute, the whole shop was a mess and he just stood there, clenching his hands like a first grader that did something stupid and knows he’ll get in trouble. And you know my boys are really good natured – well, except Billy – but even they had really reached the end of their tether by Saturday. Riley even started to dub him Eddie ‘Stumblebum’ Munson.” She was wringing her hands, trying to calm herself down. “I hired him to replace Marvin, but at this point I’ll have to hire someone else to replace Marvin and someone tokeep Eddie in check. I feel instead of lessen he just tripled my workload, because not only do I have to do my job, no I’m doing his as well as clean up after him.” Steve sighed and patted her leg comfortingly.

And then the two of them sat up properly, she started the movie and he propped open the pizza carton. It was a thing the two of them always did. Steve couldn’t really eat when he was annoyed or upset, while she tended to overeat when she was. So, every time they got together to eat, they vented first and dined right after.

Well, unless someone asked for a delay just like Steve had done after his ‘date’. Then they just went about the meal as proficiently as they could.

“Like, what is that movie even about?” Steve asked, chowing down on the pizza and she snorted.

“Obviously you would try to keep this movie from me without even knowing what it was about. That’s just so you, Steven.”

“What the fuck is up with all that ‘Steven’ lately?” The words came out all wonky, pushed past a giant bite of pizza. “You sound like my mum, jeez.”

“Well, duh. I am your mum.” Straightening up in her seat, she did a mock-hair flip, and eyed Steve. “Oh Stevie, how wonderful to have you back home tonight, baby. But then again, you’re always here, aren’t you? Hohohoho.” She didn’t even have to concentrate to copy his mum, her strangely sing-songy intonation branded into her brain after too many sleepovers at the Harrington House. “I see you came from-“ here she scrunched her nose in distaste “-work. Or, whatever it is you call…that. Oh, Steven isn’t that your friend Raven?” Steve was even mouthing that part with her, his mum seemingly not able to remember that Robin was, in fact, called Robin. But hey, they were both birds at least. “My my, it’s a pleasure to have you back. I hope you’re staying for dinner, darling, because we just love helping the less fortunate members of our quaint town, don’t we? Richard, darling! I’m getting a headache, let’s go to the Maldives!” Steve flicked her forehead the moment she finished, shaking his head.

“I hated that. And it was scarily accurate, so don’t do that again.”

“I’m your mum, I told you.” He rolled his eyes once more, getting started on his third slice of pizza while she was only just done with her first. That, ladies and gentlemen, was how Steve usually ate - for all those that have been wondering. He was a total boy when it came to food, finishing copious amounts of it in little to no time. “Oh, and the movie is about these two friends. I’m not sure either, because - thanks to someone - I haven’t seen it yet but apparently it’s like an overview over their lives and their friendship throughout.”

“Ugh, who wants to see something like that?” He gestured towards the TV. “I mean, come on. There’s these middle-aged ladies thinking about their friendship and people go crazy over it? Because that movie has been in and out so often, I’m surprised you even managed to get your hands on it.” He shook his head. “Who cares about other people’s friendships, really?”

“Sooo, if someone wanted to make a movie about you and me and our friendship – you wouldn’t watch it?” Steve spluttered, nearly choking on his beer.

“What? About you and me?” She giggled, leaning forward to wipe some beer off his cheek with the back of her hands.

“I mean, sure. We have a lot to tell, haven’t we?”

“Yeah, but…Why would I want to watch that? I was there for all of that.”

“Hmmh, that’s true.”

“And honestly, Hollywood would fuck it up and turn it into one of those fucking rom-com bullshit movies.” He scoffed, taking another sip of his beer. “You’d be played by Molly Ringwald – don’t hit me!” He caught her hand before she could. “It’s not even because you look alike or whatever, it’s because she gets all the chicks into the theatre!” She grumbled under her breath. Molly Ringwald, fuck that. “Anyway, I would totally be played by Tom Cruise. Obviously.”

“Why do you get Tom Cruise but I have to be Molly Ringwald!”

“I don’t make the rules, dude. Molly Ringwald is in every chick flick on this god damn planet.” She scoffed and stuffed her face with more Pizza. “I mean, damn, I wouldn’t be surprised to see her play an African desert princess at this point, simply because it’s her. She would obviously go up in flames because ginger plus sun equals yikes, but you know. Let SPF50 handle that, as long as the entire female teenage population of the united states runs into the cinema because Molly Ringwald!” He rolled his eyes and she scoffed.

“Do not throw all of us into the same pot, Harrington.”

“Ah, so you didn’t drag me into ‘Sixteen Candles’ like a mad woman, huh?” She scoffed.

“Yeah, but that was- it was- Michael Schoeffling, Steve!” The boy just snorted in that annoying ��yeah right’ kind of way. “Tsk. You know what, Steve? You keep your Tom Cruise, because you know who they would cast as Billy and Ian?”

“Why would they be in that movie?”

“Well, Ian is my ex and Billy beat the shit out of you. That seems kinda important.”

“Once again: It’s been six years. Let it rest.”

“Never.” She shrugged, sipping on her beer. “Anyway. Billy would be Rob Lowe, definitely. And Ian would one hundred percent be John Stamos.”

“Rob Lowe and John Stamos? Didn’t you have, like, posters of them in your old room?”

“Yeah, so?”

“You were obsessed with them.” How could she not? Like, General Hospital was a good show but damn. John Stamos made it so much better and he wasn’t even the main event. And Rob Lowe? Man. Those eyes? The thought alone made her want to purr happily. Truth be told, she wasn’t mad that Billy and Ian were both working for her. Not that she was superficial, but a lady was allowed to enjoy someone’s appearance just a little, right? A tiny, selfish glance every now and again should be alright, yes?

“Your point?”

“Are you trying to tell me that Billy and Ian, of all people, are better looking than me?” At that, she could only shrug.

“You said it, not me.” Not that Steve wasn’t handsome – she’d just told him he was earlier today, hadn’t she? But nothing could beat John Stamos or Rob Lowe. Oooh, wait. Maybe that guy from ’21-Jumpstreet’. What was his name again? The guy that played Tom Hanson. That guy was great too.

“Wow. You are a horrible person.”

“Am not.”

“Yes, you are…oh my god.”

“What now?”

“You didn’t date Ian because he looks like John Stamos, did you?” She grinned.

“I did not. But, let’s just say…it definitely didn’t deter me.”

“Tsk. You know, maybe I should…” On screen, Bette Midler was suddenly in quite the hurry. “Woah, what’s she going on about?”

“I think it’s because of that note she just found. See?”

“Well, what does it say?”

“I don’t know, dumbass. Someone kept distracting me by talking all over the movie.”

“Huh…” He leaned back, long done with his Pizza, and eyed the television with furrowed brows. She couldn’t help but smile.

Who would have thought. ‘Beaches’ – the chick flick Steve really didn’t want to see – actually managed to snag his attention – oh wait. She would’ve thought. That was pretty much always the case, by the way. He was all pissing and moaning until the movie actually played. Within the first ten minutes, Steve would always be absolutely invested. He’d be yelling at the screen when the guys fucked up, and get annoyed at every bout of miscommunication.

Because that was who Steve actually was.

A big softie that knew how to enjoy chick flicks.

And very vocally so, too.

“No way. No way are they fucking on the opening night of her musical thing. Like, dude, who does that!? That’s such a bullshit move.” Steve threw a balled-up handkerchief at the TV. “Like, she saw that C.C. liked him. A blind guy could see that. Isn’t there something like a… girl code or whatever? Who needs friends like that! Shit.”

Realistically, couldn’t disagree with that one. It was a shitty move, truly. Who slept with the guy his best friend was into? That was just shitty. Like, technically speaking that would be like her sleeping with Nancy back when Steve was head over heels for the Wheeler princess. God, she would’ve felt horrible. No, no she absolutely agreed with Steve here.

“Yeah, such a dick move, Hillary.” Steve nodded; eyes still trained at the TV.

A better one came later somewhere in the movie. And god, this one would totally make it into her ‘Things to tease Steve with’ treasure chest – because that one? Pure gold.

“Oh my god, why do all the guys in this movie suck?!” He’d suddenly yelled, making her flinch. “Like, one fucks the one friend and then marries the other, only to divorce her couple years later - because boohoo selfish - and the other cheats on his wife! What is the moral of the story here, guys? All men suck? Is that what they’re trying to tell me here?” He finished another beer with a noisy sip before falling back into a more comfortable position. “Shit, I hate men, really, I absolutely fucking hate men.”

That one did it. She burst out laughing, a croaky, choked up laugh that started to hurt her sides really quickly. And Steve, slapping her thigh and glaring at her, really didn’t help much. But oh my god, what the hell – Steve Harrington, recently turned advocate for the ‘anti men’ fraction because someone fake-cheated on Barbara Hershey. Fuck, she needed to tell Robin about that.

The end of the movie, however, quickly beat the laughter out of both of them.

As the credits started to roll, neither of them really said anything. Both of them hanging low in their seats, shoulder to shoulder, trying to stomach the heartbreak the movie threw at them.

“…Well that ending was shit.”

“Yupp.” She nodded, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“I mean, why did she have to die? Bullshit.” Steve pushed back his hair, clearly not agreeing with what he just saw. “Who makes a movie about friendship just to kill one of them off?”

“Right? I mean, was that necessary? God, they could just have hinted at it, but why show it?” At the thought, new tears blurred her sight. “And, I mean, the whole thing with the ‘Hi’ at the end, why make it so casual? Fuck.”

“Yeah, man. I mean, who walks into the hospital, sees their dying friend, and just says ‘Hi’!? What the fuck.” Silence settled once again, both of them staring at the names flying by on the screen.

Honestly, maybe they were just the wrong people for that movie.

Maybe someone else could have seen beauty or love in it. And sure, there certainly was love between those two, maybe even in its purest of forms. C.C. had driven her car through the night, leaving everything behind because of a simple note and spent the entire time reminiscing about her best friend. She’d raced to another town, because her friend was dying and she wanted to be there for her. So yes, there was love, there was beauty in everything.

But it didn’t register with her.

Not with her, not with Steve.

The problem with her and Steve was likely the fact that they’d both feared for each other’s lives before - more than once. It wasn’t a feeling she ever wanted to have to face again, and it wasn’t something she liked to talk or even think about. Because to her it was neither love nor beauty – it was just pain. She could imagine how Steve had felt when that Demodog jumped her in ‘84. That fucking beast had tackled her down, burrowing it’s claws into her sides, and tried to bite her head off or whatever those shit’s do. A well-placed hit with Steve’s bat had saved her, but damn. It’d been dangerously close. And then, back in ’86, when Steve was dragged into lovers’ lake...god. She felt his hand slip out of hers, she saw the panic in his eyes as he was dragged out of sight and for a moment her mind when silent, nothing but one thought prevailing.

Steve was dying.

Needless to say, she’d short circuited and dove into the water – which she absolutely hated – to save him. A tiny part of her wished she wouldn’t have, because hearing his screams and seeing those monsters maul him was…yeah, let’s just say it was the main setting of many of her nightmares. He knew, of course, because she’d told him. Just as he told her about his dreams. How he often dreamed about running towards the trailer she, Dustin and Eddie were supposed to be hiding in only to find the scene changed. Instead of her, hurt and screaming for help while dragging a bleeding, half conscious Eddie Munson towards the trailer he came back to silence. He came to find her lying right next to Eddie, bloody and disfigured. Or maybe he came back to screams all the same, but instead of hers it was Dustin or Eddie screaming while dragging her unmoving body.

“Hey.” Steve used his elbow to snap her out of her mind. As always, he just waited for her eyes to focus on him and for her mind to come back to the here and now. He didn’t ask questions, because he knew what the answers would be.

Once she was fully present again, he nodded towards her midriff. “You keep massaging your stomach. You okay?” Confused, she looked down at her hands. And sure enough, there she was, massaging away.

“Ah, no. I mean, yeah, I’m fine. Just one of those hissy tummy days.” Steve looked less than amused.

“Period or stomach bug?” Stifling a sigh, she let herself fall sideways on the sofa.

“Oh, the woes of womanhood.” Steve winced.

“Period, alright.” Sighing he patted her thigh. “Poor girl. How about, like, a heating pad or something? That helps, right?” He didn’t even wait for her to nod, he just got up and wandered on. “Where do you keep those?”

“I’m out, but I’ve got a hot water bottle in the wardrobe.”

“Shouldn’t you, you know, stock up on that sorta stuff?” Steve wandered into her bedroom like he owned the place, rooting through her drawers without an inkling of hesitation.

“I usually do, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet. This whole week’s been a mess and a half.” The boy just hummed his answer, wandering back into the kitchen to heat up some water.

“Do you need pain meds or something?” She watched him bustle around the kitchen from where she lay, frowning. “Hello?”

“What?”

“Do you need pain meds? Tylenol? Wait, do you take Tylenol for that?” She chuckled softly.

“I usually take Midol, but Tylenol works. But I don’t need any right now, it’s not that bad.” He did that cute thing he sometimes did, where he silently repeated things to himself in order to commit them to memory. She could clearly read his lips, read the word ‘Midol’ and just had to grin.

The kettle was done boiling and Steve went back into the kitchen for a few moments. It didn’t take him long to fill the hot water bottle, let some steam out, squeeze it and carry it over to her. Carefully, he dropped it onto her achy stomach, sending her an analytic glance.

“I’m fine, Steve. I do this every month, remember?” He winced again.

“Yeah, all the more reason someone should spoil you a bit.” He wandered over to the TV, rooting through her meagre collection of tapes. Picking one up, he removed ‘Beaches’ from the player with a disgusted face and changed it for something else. Then he got up, dropped himself back onto the sofa and nodded at the remote. “On with it, sweet girl. Molly Ringwald is waiting for us.”

***

‘The Breakfast Club’ kept running, both of them not really paying attention. Sometimes they’d talk but mostly, they just both got lost in their own thoughts. It was nice, though. Sitting quietly with Steve, not talking and not really doing anything was strangely comforting. The TV filled the quiet with useless chatter and provided them with light in her now entirely dark living room. Tut had at some point left the chair behind to curl himself up on Steve’s lap, where he was now purring away while the boy tiredly ran his fingers over the cat’s skin.

But not only that.

No, his other hand kept rubbing circles into her calf and she felt like purring herself. The gentle stroking was so rhythmical and comforting that she could feel herself drift in and out of sleep, barely able to focus on any coherent thought.

Until Steve started talking, that is.

“Hey, are you awake?” He suddenly asked, quietly and yet way too loudly. A non-committal hum was all she could offer. “Can I ask you something?” Steve’s voice sounded thick with exhaustion, indicating he was likely just as tired as she felt.

“…Shoot.” She mumbled back, the warm, sleepy atmosphere weighing on her heavily. Seriously, she’d probably stopped him from saying anything, had she had half a mind to. Sleepy Steve was a dangerous version of him. He was often too honest and too curious for his own good.

“So, uhm…we were talking about Ian earlier and it got me thinking.”

“…Ian?”

“Yeah.” Steve looked at her, his head tipped back against the couch. “You never really told me why you guys broke up. I mean, one day you guys were all in love and the next you’re crying in front of my door talking about how you needed a place to stay until Ian was gone.”

“Hmmh…” She sighed at the memory. She’d cried so much that night. Poor Steve was likely absolutely overwhelmed, but he’d taken it like a champ. He didn’t ask any questions, he didn’t cuss Ian out, he didn’t do anything but pat her back and let her cry. “Ian…” she started, her voice barely more than a whisper “…you know, he’s a good guy.” He really was. Ian looked like a douchebag with that pretty face of his and those broad shoulders, but he was actually one of the kindest souls she knew. He was caring, warm and soft. Loving. “And because of that, I had to tell him to leave.” Steve frowned.

“Okay, you lost me already. I’m tired, please go easy on me.” She grumbled, getting up only to plop down the other way around, her head against his shoulder. He put his arm around her, accepting her tired form into a loose embrace, while using the other to secure the hot water bottle back against her torso.

“I have nightmares. As you know.” He’d been there for many of them. “I mean, they’re not as bad now but...” Steve nodded, saving her the need of more explanation. “The worst, most frequent ones started back in ’85. And…well, Ian could deal with those. He kinda understood why they were happening, with Starcourt and my dad and brother and everything…or he thought he understood, at least.” She hugged the lukewarm water bottle closer against herself. “They got better the more time passed… which he noticed. And that would’ve been fine, I guess, had it not been for all that ’86 crap.” She focused on the TV in front where Molly Ringwald and Judd Nelson were bickering on. Blegh. “When they got worse again, he started to ask questions.” So many damn questions. “I didn’t want to lie to him… but I could obviously not tell him the truth.” If she closed her eyes, she could clearly remember the hurt on his face, the way his blue eyes turned hard whenever she shot him down. Ian…was an extremely kind man. But he was also someone who hated being shut out. She sighed. “A relationship filled with secrets and lies can’t work. I saw how he stopped trusting me every time I told him that it would be fine. That he didn’t need to know.” She bit her lips at the memory. “And every time he would ask more and more questions. He’d ask about my scars, about my dreams, my fear of dogs and tight spaces and why I wouldn’t just talk to him…And every time I could just look at him and say ‘It’s fine, Ian. It’s okay now’.” Tiredly, she wiped some stray tears from her cheeks. It was so dumb to keep crying about that – it had been a year now and both she and Ian had moved on. That didn’t make it any easier, though. “It hurt him; I know it did. And hurting him hurt me, so I just…”

“Let him go.” She nodded, closing her eyes against the new tears threatening to form. Steve sighed, stroking her arm with gentle fingers. “I know, what’s done is done. But couldn’t you just have… told him the truth?”

“Would you? If it was…I don’t know, anyone really.” Steve sighed again, placing his chin on her hair.

“…Probably not, no.”

“See?” She sighed. “He’s better off without all this. Without me.”

“Don’t say that. That’s not true. Nobody is better off without you, you’re great.” She snorted.

“Yeah…thanks, Steve.”

“You know I really mean that.”

“I do…” But believing it was another thing. Honestly, could she even rant about Steve never listening to her when she told him to stop blaming himself? She wasn’t any better. She hid away from everyone and everything, shut out anyone that wasn’t already involved simply because she feared she would make their lives worse by just existing next to them.

“Is that the reason you stopped dating too? The whole ‘questions you can’t answer’ thing?” She sighed against his neck, shrugging slightly.

“I don’t know…Maybe. Or maybe it was just…”

“Hm?” He looked down at her and she shrugged again.

“I really… really loved Ian. A lot.” If it weren’t so cheesy, she’d go as far as call him her first love. “I did try to move on. I went on dates and I tried really hard to get to know people. And sure, sometimes it was about getting laid, but others were genuine attempts at meeting someone I want to be with. But it just…it wasn’t the same.” He nodded, because that he knew. She’d told him every time, ranting about how the people she’d met were weird or rude. How they commented on her ‘workers hands’ or her body, how they tried to kiss her when she clearly said no. And even if she said yes, they somehow found a way to make her uncomfortable by getting all grabby and forward. Those were the worst kind of dates, the kind that made her feel dirty and used. The ones, where all she wanted to do was take a long, hot shower and forget about it.

Of course, not every date was like that.

There were many decent people around Hawkins if one cared to look for them. But even if it wasn’t that…they just never seemed right. Some dates were objectively nice, especially those that her friends had helped her set up. Steve and the others knew her, they knew who she might click with. Those were the dates where people would hold doors, ask questions and be friendly and polite. They wore nice clothes and the conversations flowed easily and continuously. And yet, even after those dates, the best part was the drive home.

“It just never…” she took a deep breath “…never felt right with anyone else.”

“…Yeah, I get it.” Steve said, shifting his arm to hold her a tiny bit closer. “I keep looking for something special, but it’s…it’s just never there. Maybe I should just, you know, wait and see. Give up the active hunt. Relax more…” Steve ran his fingers over her hair absentmindedly. “I don’t even know what exactly I want, what exactly I’m expecting to find. I just always know that this, whatever this may be, isn’t it.” They sighed in unison at that. “We’re a mess.”

“Fuck yeah we are.”

The two of them chuckled tiredly, huddled together on her small couch in the tiny single wide she called home, while ‘Breakfast Club’ slowly but surely reached its conclusion. Tut was happily snoring away on Steve’s lap, the sound mixing with the chatter of the TV, blending into a calming sea of noise. With every chuckle she felt Steve’s body vibrate softly against hers, a warm pressure, soft but firm at the same time. She could feel his breath against her hairline, he felt her against his neck – soft puffs of warm air that left way to soon.

The whole situation should have been uncomfortable or emotional. It would have been with anyone else. It would’ve been too much skinship, a blatant invasion of personal space. Every word would have been a dance along the lines of too honest and not honest enough, trying to toe around the dreaded overshare but keeping the whole talk genuine and open. Lies would have been told, truths would’ve been omitted in favour of not seeming too weak or too pathetic.

This conversation should’ve been so difficult, admitting their feelings and hopes should’ve been… and yet it wasn’t.

Instead, it was warm and soft, honest and quiet. A mere whisper in the dark. An ear that listened to the soft words of another, not questioning what was shared. It was the two of them, sharing everything while leaving each other room to breathe, to just be. Accepting the things that were said without judgement, without forcing the other person to act like something they weren’t.

It was comfort and ease, the routine of a long, close friendship. A friendship that had been through highs and lows, that had seen the worst parts of each person. A friendship, that persevered when one abandoned the other, when the wrong words were yelled at the wrong time, when promises were broken and forgotten. Time had tested it with girlfriends, mistakes and the supernatural.

Through that, it became a friendship that survived all the hurt thrown at it. It survived, because the two of them knew that, in the end, they would always choose each other again.

It was a friendship, that was like breathing.

Easy and thoughtless.

Because that was what the two of them truly were.

[anonymeqaupdates]

Avatar AU : Goal acquired

Silver was left confused and reeling. This had to be a joke, or a misunderstanding. It couldn't be true and yet Crowley seemed completely sure of himself.

He was the avatar.

"Listen, I understand this is probably a lot for young man to process but it is imperative that you accept this fact as quickly as possible: you are the avatar that had disappeared all those centuries ago. There is no doubt about it."

"But if that's true, then, father... no, Lilia, he took in the son of his enemy!" Silver cried out despite the fact that they were not enough distance from the palace yet. "Not only that, he took in a murderer too!"

Crowley turned around and covered Silver's mouth to silence him before dragging him in the nearby bushes. Silver heard the sound of armored soldiers running by the path they were in just a moment ago. They nearly got caught again. Once the coast was clear, Crowley pulled him back up and freed his mouth.

"Please be more mindful. We are not safe quite yet. And what is this nonsense about you being a murderer?"

"...It's not nonsense. It's the truth." Silver said before turning around towards the path to the palace. "Thank you for trying to free me but I'm going to surrender myself to the Fire Kingdom now."

"Well now I know you're not thinking straight. I will absolutely not let you act on this insanity. It's time for my lashing of love!" Crowley said and suddenly Silver felt ribbons suddenly wrap around him and stopping him from taking another step. Crowley pulled on the ribbons to force him into face him. The expression on his face showed that he wasn't amused with Silver's words and attitude. "Now, since I am so generous I'm willing to listen about why you believe yourself a murderer instead of dismissing this ridiculous notion right away. But make it quick!"

"... Shouldn't you know already? It's pretty obvious what I'm referring to."

"I actually have no idea what you're talking about." Crowley deadpanned. Silver stared at him incredulously and Crowley's frowned deepened. "Well, out with it. You may be okay with the idea of being arrested but if I'm caught things will get really bad really quickly!"

"Princess Maleanore's husband."

"Uh?"

"That's the man I killed. Everyone knows the story. How can you pretend like this had nothing to do with me."

"... Young man, if this is actually what you were taught then I'm sad to tell you that your education system had failed you immensely."

"Stop making jokes about this! Don't you understand? I killed prince consort Revan! Fath- Lilia's best friends, Princess Maleanore's husband, and Mall- no, his highness' father! Because of me he's gone forever!"

Silver felt tears threatening to spill from his eyes. This was just so awful. He was the one responsible for their pain and anguish. Maleanore had been so stricken with grief that he had taken centuries for her to hatch Malleus. The prince had nearly died before even having a real chance at life and it was his fault. And Lilia, not his father but the only other person that had suffered just as much as them because of Silver, had still protected him. Why? He must have hated him so much. Silver sure hated himself a lot right now.

"Do believe me, making light of this matter is the last thing I would want to do. However I always fancy myself as teacher and I have to correct people when they get the facts wrong."

"What do you mean? I heard the story many times and Lilia had confirmed it too."

"Is that so? How strange. You were but a babe when it all happen and yet you want me to believe that you actually to manage to kill a full grown man? The general of the left at that? Now even for the Avatar this is a bit ridiculous don't you think?"

"But it's true! That day prince consort Revan disappeared did he not?"

"AH! You're right about that! He disappeared, but that doesn't mean you killed him. After all did they ever used the word kill when describing what happened?"

"Well, no, they haven't." Silver reluctantly agreed before shaking his head. "But he had disappeared for so long that he has to be dead!"

"Is that so? But you disappeared too and yet here you are in front of me alive and well. And you certainly don't look like you're over 400 years old."

"I'm..." Silver flinched when he started to catch on what Crowley was trying to imply. "I came back."

"You did. Now don't get me wrong, I do not know what happened to you back then. Wether you travelled forward in time or if something else happened it matters very little. What really counts is that you came back and it stands to reason that you did not do so alone."

"But, if that was the case, then why hadn't he resurfaced yet?!"

"Hm, that is troubling. I suppose you'll have to ask him once you'll find him."

"We're going to look for him?"

"No." Crowley shook his head. "You are. Unfortunately I am not in a position where I can keep traveling with you for long. Once I got you out of danger and on the right path I will take my leave. But I do encourage you to look for the missing consort. It may be your best shot at helping Lilia Vanrouge."

"..."

"The princess isn't going to overlook what he did by taking you in. If you want him to escape punishment you'll have to make amends by bringing her husband back. And for that, you'll need to master your abilities."

"..."

"Meaning, for their sakes you cannot be allowed to be captured again. Did I make myself clear this time?" Crowley said as he freed Silver from the ribbon.

"Yes." Silver said with determination.

He now had a goal.

[offlineblues]

When did you first get into yugioh? I hope you're having a nice day! <3

thank you for your well wishes! i too hope you had a pleasant day!

let's see... to answer your question... it's a little bit of a long story, so i'll make a read more! (there is a TLDR at the bottom if you want)

in late 2017, twitch was broadcasting a marathon of Duel Monsters. at that time, my partner, Jamie, was getting really invested into it, since he had mentioned how he liked it when he was younger. for me, i had heard of YGO on TV when i was younger too, but i felt like i couldn't get invested in it, so i never kept track of it. i was vaguely aware of YGO's continued spin-offs, but i never gave it a chance.

so, after a few weeks, his passion about the show and how much he loved Atem made me want to try giving it a shot, too. because of Megumi Ogata's Yugi Mutou, i was interested in starting from the Very Beginning with the Toei season (season 0). i was curious how subbed YGO might be.

so, we watched all of the Toei season together. i came to really love Yugi the most, as he is a very kindhearted protag (my favorite type of protag) as well as Jounouchi and Kaiba. i was surprised at how the story was about our connections with others. i really loved how different it was compared to what i expected or remembered about the series from the past. the focus on games in general as a medium for the story was really good.

i was hooked on it and respected it. i finally understood the appeal. i wanted to jump into Duel Monsters (sub) right away. and we did! we watched it all together, starting in early 2018.

it took several months to watch, and i enjoyed it! i remember feeling shocked and kinda sad that "the shadow realm" wasn't real, lol. i didn't realize it had been a show that was censored like that. we even watched the DSOD movie after. it was really cool... Yugi really is a character i adore!

for about about a year or so after, i was really invested into puzzleshipping. i didn't draw very much at the time because of my severe untreated carpal tunnel though, so there aren't much past works from me, nor did i ever make any ship art.

Jamie got invested into the spin-off YGO and started watching VRAINS while it was airing after seeing a post about Yusaku/Playmaker on here. i gave it a few episodes, and immediately gravitated to liking Ai. but, i was going through a tough time personally and felt a little fatigued (in general) and of YGO because it was such a long series. i didn't think i could do another 150+ anime. so, i dropped it after 3 episodes and did other things for a few years.

he would talk to me about how much he loved how VRAINS was going and about datastormshipping, and i happily listened even though i didn't understand. it was nice to be a support at the time when i felt too tired and stressed to participate. this went on into 2019 as it finished, and well after into 2020. though, it shifted into aiballshipping, but he kept me safe from spoilers.

on a whim, in the middle of 2022, i suggested we watch VRAINS together because i felt up for it again, and i wanted to watch an anime together. i was excited to learn about Ai more, as i saw some vague spoilers here and there about him. i immediately grew to love Yusaku and Ai a whole lot! i was excited every weekend we could watch together. it only took 3 months to watch all 120 episodes because i was that invested. i again felt like a fool for not continuing in the past...

...and you know the rest. it's impacted me a lot. i haven't stopped thinking or talking about them for nearly a year now. i'm even more impacted by their story than the Toei season or DM. i like the characters and story a lot more for VRAINS, so it's my favorite. i even picked up Duel Links because i wanted to learn how to play (i'm kind of bad at it). i'm currently in the middle of ZEXAL now, but i want to check out all the others eventually, too. exciting!

TLDR:

i got into it in 2017 because of my partner's influence. watched season 0, DM, and DSOD and loved it. fell off for personal difficulties in real life and fatigue with long series. picked up VRAINS again in 2022 after dropping it in 2018 after 3 episodes. am now insane (positive) and invested in YGO because it's so fun and good. i'm happy to be here and hope i can be for a long time

[bubblepp0p]

Everlong | Elvis!Vince x Masc!Reader

Summary: You work at a distribution company and as date has it Vince Everett and Peggy need some help with their record. You were always known as a dimwit but this is your chance to prove yourself.

Warnings: Vince is gonna switch up a lot

Word Count: 2.7k

Vince Everett had just created what he thought would be the new best selling song ever. He just needed someone to sign with him to put it out there. This happened well over a week ago.

“Come on, Vince. We can't give up now, there are still companies we haven't been to that could give us offers.” Peggy nagged, trying to get Vince off the couch he had been lazing about on.

“Face it peg, No one wants to sign with us! We should just make our own record company.” Vince whined like a five year old as he resisted from getting up. Peggy sighed and placed her hands on her hips like a tired mother. “I'll give you a free meal if you come with me today.”

A long pause was present meaning Vince was thinking it over. He hadn't eaten yet so that option was sounding good. “Fine. But we eat first.” He stated as he got up and aggressively grabbed his jacket. “Yeah, yeah.” Peggy scoffed out, walking through the door first with Vince tagging along behind very unwillingly.

✦

Your day had started slow as usual. Get up, brush your teeth, put your suit on, and walk next door to your father’s distribution and record company. It was simple. You liked simple. Simply because it was easy. Simple is such a fun word, you thought to yourself. You were never the brightest bulb in the box but your father told you that you never needed to. You were somehow heir to the company anyways. Although you hated that it was a fact, since your father was the CEO, you had many privileges. Including constantly having your ass covered from all the mistakes.

Today though, you felt like you wouldn't make a mistake. You felt that something good would come into the office. A great opportunity. The positive idea gave you a positive attitude. Oh how you loved days like these. Just on time, you walked into the fancy building that would soon be yours in decades time. When you had walked in, you overheard a woman and a man doing their best to convince the staff at the front desk to let them speak to, well, your dad.

You noticed that the man had a growing angry expression so you decided to step in. The staff seemed happy that you did at the moment. The man looked like he could explode at any second. “Excuse me, is there any trouble?” You asked politely, looking at them both with a soft smile. Their anxious demeanors died down at this. The woman spoke up first, “Hello, I'm Peggy Aldan. I'm here to see if the company would like to take part in our record.” She said calmly but all the well enthusiastically. You quickly recognized her name, “Oh! You worked with Mickey Alba!” She grinned at this and smiled.

You glanced at the man next to her, “And you must be the artist?” You question. The man looked to the side, cold faced. Peggy stepped in, “This is Vince, and yes he's the singer.”

Before she could continue, he rudely interrupted, “And who might you be?” Vince towered over you causing Peggy to gently hit his arm. “I'm Y/N L/N. The son of the person who owns this company.” You explained patiently. There was something different about these people, they looked like they had potential on multiple levels.

You hummed, “Alright. What do you say that I'll give this a listen and see what I can do?” You suggested with a cool smile. Their faces lit up at your offer, “Really?” Peggy chirped. “Of course, you both are more than welcome to accompany me to my office.” Your voice was soft as silk, showing them the upmost kindness.

Once you had entered your office, Vince looked awfully suspicious of you. “You ain't gonna steal our record, right?” He asked, dripping with caution. “Steal? Well, that's illegal and my father taught me never to do that.” You said casually, as you popped the record into the vinyl. “It's happened before.” Vince added. “I'm sorry that it did,” You gave him a genuine frown, “I won't do such a thing. You have my word, Mister Vince.” He was shocked at how your kindness never faltered. That you weren't even offended.

Peggy waited anxiously for your reaction as the record began to play. You always loved music and it was the only thing you were sure you were knowledgeable about. Like how most people have an eye for art, you had an ear for music. Carefully, you listened to peace and boy did it sound great. Vince’s voice was like honeydew, he sang with emotion. Passion. Something you can't find too easily nowadays. You stopped the record, giving it one last though. “Well?” Vince asked, impatient.

“Well..” You trailed, “I think it's amazing.” You grinned. Peggy couldn't contain herself, “You see that, Vince? He said it was amazing.” She tugged at his arm. Vince didn't look the slightest bit amused, “Yeah, I heard.”

“Now, since your name isn't known very well I'll have to pull some strings but I don't mind,” You rubbed the back of your neck. “Give me a day or two and I'll call you into the office for a contract.”

“Sounds great. Thank you so much, Mr. L/N.” Peggy grabbed your hand to shake it. “Oh please, Call me Y/N.” You went to shake Vince’s hand. “When everything is done our company usually likes to throw after parties with our clients if it's a success. Make sure to not be late.” You felt Vince squeeze your hand harshly, “Don't screw us over.”

✦

As the days passed, it took hours and hours for you to convince your dad to give them a try. After he had finally listened to the record, he too was left amazed. Vince offered opportunities no other big artist could and he was young too. Finally getting the approval, you dialed Peggy. “The contract is ready, hurry on up.” You informed quickly.

Within minutes, a pair walked into your father’s office. Vince gave you a more trusting stare. “Welcome.” Your father smiled, gesturing to them to sit down as you stood next to his desk. “My boy here bugged me about y'all for days and I gave in last night. It sure did surprise me.” Your father spoke, putting his cigar out. “Not the smartest one out of the bunch?” Vince bluntly put out there, you weren't hurt by it. You were used to being called dumb and what not. Peggy didn't like it one bit though and let out an angry, “Manners.”

“Well, you can say that.” Your father shrugged, “But he made a good decision. I'm trusting him to handle this and if he does then he'll prove himself to me.” He glanced at you and you only nervously looked away. “Oh? So Y/N will be the one handling our business?” Peggy asked. “He will. I'll just supervise.”

“Right. You’ll be signing under my branch and if you want. A partnership for you and vince. Your own record company under my branch.” You chirped in, pointing at a separate contract. Peggy gasped, her hand covering her mouth. “Really.” You answered as if you were reading her mind.

“Don't let me down.” Your father patted your shoulder and you blindly nodded, “Of course.” Vince continued to eye you down. Did he hate men or something? You thought to yourself in confusion. Your father excused himself out of the room for a meeting a second later so you took this moment to get them to sign. “Alright, I'll need both signatures here and here.” You pointed to blank spaces on multiple pages.

Once all the legal stuff was out of the way, you began to organize everything. You made conversation as you did so, “Since we are basically partners now in business, I'll be seeing you two a lot. I hope we can be friends as we go on.” You happily said, placing everything where it needed to be. Peggy nodded in joy, looking at Vince for any type of reaction only to be met with nothing.

“When will our record be released in shop?” Vince leaned back in his seat cooly. “Five work days, precisely. So Thursday.” You answered his question easily. “Come on peg. Let's get out of here.” Vince stood up, not saying goodbye to you and straight up left the room. Peggy apologized to you before quickly following after him.

✦

Your prediction was right. Vince’s record was a massive hit. Everyone had loved it, the teenagers especially. Vince as an artist was basically a goldmine now. A party was now getting thrown for Vince’s and Peggy’s great debut. Peggy had offered to throw it at her parents place since they were on vacation.

The night was young and you were there since the AM helping organize the party. You had a glass of water in your hand as you wandered around the house. People from the company, close friends, and other higher ups attended the party. You knew some of them but never to the point where you could casually conversate. You didn't try too becuase you always ended up as the butt of the joke. Either because you didn't get the joke or you couldn't keep up.

You found yourself wandering into Peggy’s old room, it was quiet and away from the ongoing party. Your curiosity got the best of you as your eyes laid on a vanity. It still had items laying upon it. Makeup. You've never seen before besides in stores on display. You picked up what looked like a pencil, examining it.

“Like makeup?”

You yelped at whoever talked, scaring you from suddenly popping out of nowhere. It turned out to be Vince who had just closed the door behind himself. “That's eyeliner.” He added, unable to hide his smug smile from your reaction at him scaring you. “Huh?” You tilted your head. “The stick in your hand, dummy.”

“Oh- You know about makeup?” You quickly set it down back where you found it. “A bit.” He answered as he walked towards you and sat on the edge of the bed. You leaned against the vanity. “Want me to teach you?” He asked calmly. This was a bit weird. What happened to the bad boy he was a few days ago. You could only nod in response. “Sit in front of me.” Vince looked into your eyes with no malicious intent.

Without a word, you got on your knees in front of him. Vince felt strange at how obedient you were. It made him feel things. He only hummed and reached over to the vanity to grab the makeup. “Stay still, got it?” You were about to nod again but he held your head still by grabbing your chin. “Still.” He repeated. You replied with a soft “Sorry.”

Vince began to work on your face while mumbling what he was doing. “The eyeliner goes on the bottom of your eyes, it can go here too if you want.” He continued on mascara, blush, eyeshadow, then finally your lips. He was using a nude lipstick so it looked like natural makeup. He stared at your lips as he slowly traced it. Your ears began to gain a red color at how intimate it felt.

He had finally pulled away, looking at his final product. “There. Look at the mirror.” He ordered and you did as you were told. Your eyes widened at your reflection. “Pretty…the make up I mean.” You looked back at vince. “Well you're a pretty boy.” He commented as he twirled a lock of your hair in his index finger. You blushed, “You mean handsome.”

“Why not pretty?” He asked. “I'm not supposed to be pretty.” You replied with innocence. “You can be whatever you want, baby.” You blinked at him, it was like Vince was an entirely different person. He treated you so softly in private. “I thought you didn't like me.”

He started to tap his foot, biting the inside of his cheek as if he were contemplating something. “I decided you weren't bad. ‘m sorry for treating you like crap.” Vince came clean. He would usually never do this but you were so goddamn cute in his eyes. You grinned at his apology, “It's okay, I wasn't mad.” You lightly chuckled. Vince gave a small smile, smearing the lipstick with his thumb. It was quite obvious he was attracted to you from his actions but you were too oblivious to notice.

“Whatcha drinkin’ there, doll?” Vince pointed at your sat down glass of water. “Hm? Oh just water.”

“Why not wine? It's on the house tonight.” Vince asked, liking that you were still on your knees for him. His heart felt like it was on fire and quite frankly he didn't care that you were a boy. “I've..I've never drank before. My dad never allowed me to,” embarrassed, you looked at him. “Well 'm allowing you to.” Vince handed you a glass of wine that was originally his. You hesitantly held the cup. “Go on, just try it, honey.” He caressed your cheek.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you gulped down the drink in just two seconds. “Woah! Woah! I said try it, not inhale the whole goddamn thing!” Vince snatched the now empty glass away, wide eyed. You hiccuped in response and made a nasty reaction at the liquid which earned a laugh from Vince. It was the first time you heard him laugh. “You're so silly, honey.” He held his stomach.

Your face burned from the alcohol, wine often worked faster than most liquor. Vince stared down at you, “Hey..thank you for what you did for me and peg. Without you, we would be knocked flat out. But now we're on our feet.” Vince rubbed the back of his neck, his ears turning red. Your voice was slurred, “It's your skill that got you where you are..” You laid your head onto his lap.

“Already drunk?” He mumbled to himself, examining you. “Maybe you should sleep it off.” He said aloud. Peggy had opened the room just then causing a commotion between you and Vince. Not thinking it through, you threw yourself onto the ground, pulling your blazer over your head with your behind in the air. Vince only stood up casting you a glance doing his best not to face palm. “Uh..Is Y/N alright? You didn't hurt him right, Vince?” Peggy asked, walking up.

“Of course not, why would I?” Vince crossed his arms, stepping in front of you so Peggy wouldn't catch a glimpse at your makeup. “Well you weren't too kind to him these past days. Y/N, dear, are you okay?” She peaked over Vince’s shoulder. “Fine! Thank you!” You said, keeping your head covered.

“Now Peg, we were kinda in a conversation,” Vince cleared his throat, “Aw you finally made up with him?”She cooed like she was proud of hun. “Yeah yeah,” Vince rolled his eyes. “Either way, people are asking for you so please join the party soon. Thank you, Vince.” She patted his shoulder before walking and closing the door behind herself.

Vince turned around to look at you. He stood there for a second, waiting for you to get up but you never did. “Y/N, she's gone.” He called placing his hands on his hips. “Oh.” You got up, rubbing your forehead. “Hurt yourself?” He glanced at the red mark on your head. You nodded with a hiccup following afterwards. He gently rubbed the mark, blowing softly on it. “You'll be okay, darling.” He drawled.

“Do you like boys?” You blurted out, the drunk in you removing your fear factor. Vince choked at your sudden question, pulling away. “I-I I mean. I certainly don' dislike them…but I like girls too..” He sounded unsure “Anyways! You need to sleep!” Vince hurriedly pushed you onto the bed and covered you. “But I don' wanna!” You said loudly. “You're gonna, boy.” Vince took your shoes off and grabbed a makeup wipe. “Now stay still like before.” Vince held your chin still and began to wipe his previous work away. It looked too pretty to wipe away but he did so anyway. Before he knew it, you had fell asleep right then and there. He hummed and pushed your hair out of your face.

“See you in the morning.”

[thenotebookwizard]

Bless Your Heart (CageBlade Week 2023 | Day One: Firsts

So. It's been awhile, right? Right. Oops. Maybe I won't forget tumblr exists after this week?

(I mean, we can hope, right?)

So a friend of mine is running a fanfic shipweek, and - despite my decades in fandom, I haven't ever done a fandom event like that. And I want to. And since she kinda got me into the ship...

So I kinda like Mortal Kombat. Martial arts. Supernatural powers. What's not for me to like, right? The characters are surprisingly complex, and there's a lot of room for me to play with things.

So I have.

Notes: I have read some comics. Seen the movies. Seen game play. Never have I ever played the games. (Surprising no one who knows me.) But I have written fics!

TITLE: Bless Your Heart (CageBlade Week 2023 Day One: Firsts) FANDOM: Mortal Kombat - All Media Types; Mortal Kombat (Video Games)

RATING: T

SUMMARY:

He'd been charming. He'd been sweet. He'd even tried to be a little bit Southern. He'd even worn a Texas tuxedo! She'd patted his cheek and said 'bless your heart' then patted Sonya's shoulder. "Well, he's definitely Hollywood. You can keep him, but he needs some manners."* In which Johnny learns he doesn't know what he doesn't know, southern manners, and maybe that he's got a chance at not screwing up after all.

The first time Johnny Cage met Sonya Blade's grandmother he'd flown down to Texas to surprise her at her great uncle's birthday party (and apologize.)

He'd been charming. He'd been sweet. He'd even tried to be a little bit Southern. He'd even worn a Texas tuxedo!

She'd patted his cheek and said 'bless your heart' then patted Sonya's shoulder.

"Well, he's definitely Hollywood. You can keep him, but he needs some manners."

Until that moment, he'd thought 'bless your heart' was a good thing, but Johnny could read a cue and knew it really, really wasn't in that case.

Before they'd flown back across the country, her grandmother had taken him aside. She'd smiled at him, and had him sit down on a cold metal bench in the airport.

She'd rested her purse in her lap and looked at him for a long moment, her dark eyes weighing and measuring him.

"You're not who I would have expected, Johnny. I'd have thought it would be some soldier or some tradesman for her. You're also not what I expected from a Hollywood boy. You tried. Too hard, maybe, but you tried. I appreciate that."

"Umm...thank you?" Johnny would be the first person to admit he wasn't very good at talking about anything serious. He could talk business. He could talk the craft of acting, the power of story, the elements of character all day long.

He could talk about props and advertising and interviews. He could talk about fashion, and he could talk about cars. Or fighting.

He could bullshit better than the best of them.

Sonia Morgan -Sonya’s maternal grandmother - huffed and tilted her head at him. Her long, iron-gray braid fell over her shoulder as she shook her head.

"Thank you, ma'am. Or Mrs. Morgan. Manners, Johnny, manners matter. I know who you are now, and it's a good thing you didn't try to tell me who you were, or I might have thought you a braggart."

Johnny let out a long, slow breath of relief. Sonya had warned him, after all. And he'd listened.

He was going to get better at that. At hearing her when she said things to him. His mind just raced ahead, and he didn't always think to slow down and listen. Not like he should.

Not like she deserved.

"Yes, ma'am." He didn't know what it meant that the word felt odd on his mouth. It wasn't the way he'd been raised. His friends growing up? Their parents had him use their first names.

So did most of his teachers, for that matter.

His own mother had never insisted he call her anything other than 'Mom' - and the less said about his his father, the better. The last time Johnny had seen him was in a court room, when the man had tried to demand Johnny and his mother owed him money since his first movie gig had been as a teenager.

Johnny's highly paid lawyers had thoroughly disabused him of that notion.

The only man Johnny had ever called 'sir' was Master Boyd.

"Better. Much better. Didn't your mother teach you?"

There weren't many things that really got under Johnny's skin these days. Being called a fake. Being told he wasn't good at his job.

Someone saying anything negative about his mother.

But this was Sonya's grandmother. Sonya loved her. Respected her. And Sonya had told him it was her grandmother who had talked her through the emotions of their fight. Helped them achieve the - somewhat stable - place they were at.

So he took a deep breath.

"Ma'am. My mother was the woman who, every morning, told me she loved me. She was proud of me. That as long as I went out into the world with energy and my whole heart, I would become great. Every morning."

For a long time, Johnny had thought it was silly. But there were some mornings, early in his career, he had called his mother first thing in the morning, hoping to hear those words.

She'd always said it before they hung up. As if she'd known why he was calling.

"My mother has always believed in me. She taught me to believe in me. She taught me to work hard. She taught me to play hard and find joy in everything."

To his shock, Sonia Morgan smiled broadly at him. A real, warm smile. She nodded.

"Good! A man who respects his mother and speaks well of her is the right kind of man. I know not all mothers are created equal, and some fail at the job, but you talk about her with love and admiration. I like that. Now, I am going to be the woman to teach you manners. Because from what I saw on the internet, you need them."

Johnny blinked. He was trying very hard not to be offended. "Excuse me, ma'am?"

Sonia sighed and the look she gave him reminded him uncannily of the one Sonya gave him when he was being particularly dense.

"Johnny, the way you act might be fine for Los Angeles and being a movie star. You might be an internet darling today and even tomorrow, and you've done the work to rebuild your career - something that's mighty hard for you Hollywood types, I'm told. But boy, you listen here. If you're serious about my granddaughter, you will be rubbing elbows with men and women in uniform who don't have patience for your guff or your attitude. And one day, you will meet her mother, and I promise you my daughter will have less patience for your lack of manners than I do. I'm old enough to know potential when I see it, but Sonya's mother raised Sonya. Which means she won more arguments than she lost. Do you want to offend her mother, or win over her mother?"

"Oh." Part of Johnny wanted to argue with her. He could be plenty charming already! Except - it hadn't worked with her, had it? And Sonya thought he was rude when he wasn't trying to be.

And the idea of meeting her mother and that going poorly put ice water in his veins.

"Yeah. Okay. I mean, yes ma'am. I get you. So how are you going to..."

"Teach you manners? Easily. You are going to call me before you have your next meeting or interview or what have you. You will tell me about it, and I will tell you what the mannerly thing to do is. You will try to remember it and try to do it. We will keep doing that until you get it right."

She handed him a piece of paper torn from a notebook with her phone number on it.

Johnny snapped a picture of it on his phone, entered it into his phone, and tucked it into his wallet.

He wasn't going to lose this phone number. He wasn't going to mess this up.

He wanted something real with Sonya. They'd fought for the fate of the world together; he'd seen who she really was, and he'd shown her more of who he was than he'd shown anyone else.

He knew he was falling in love with her, and his determination not to screw it up the way he did most of his relationships was what had driven him to fly out to Texas, rent a car, and drive to a small town to apologize face to face when she wouldn't take his calls. Texts. Emails. Or even the bike messenger he'd sent to her office on base.

(He made a mental note to tell her about that before they got back. In his defense, he'd been desperate.)

He took a deep breath. "Ummm...thank you, ma'am. I appreciate it."

She smiled at him again. "It won't be that bad. I promise. You're already learning."

\~ * \~

The first time Johnny called Sonya's grandmother he was nervous.

He knew she was right about needing to learn 'proper' manners to interact with her co-workers and superior officers. He knew he needed to learn proper manners to survive meeting her family without embarrassing them both.

He just didn't want to change who he was. He liked who he was most days. He liked being flippant. Fun. Sarcastic. Even downright off the wall.

But he'd made a promise, and he was going to keep it.

So he sat down on his lounge chair outside, coffee and pop tarts in hand, hours before his first meeting of the day - which was with his agent and the studio representative regarding casting of season two of his hit show. He'd insisted on a role in casting, because he wanted to be very careful and certain with specific roles.

And Warriors of Light was enough of a success because of him that he had the leverage to do it. Especially after he'd told the internet he planned to be.

The phone picked up.

"Morgan residence. Sonia Morgan speaking."

"Hi! Uh...it's Johnny."

There was a pause. "Hmm. Don't you mean, 'good morning, Mrs Morgan?'

Johnny winced. What was he even doing? He knew how to talk on the phone! He was good at talking. He got paid to talk!

"Good morning, Mrs. Morgan. This is Johnny Cage. I'm calling as I promised."

"Much better! Thank you, Johnny. I'm very pleased to hear from you. I don't know about you, but I do have a few things to do today. Why don't you go ahead and tell me about what you have today, and we'll discuss it."

The next hour was the most excruciating conversation Johnny had ever had. He wished he'd taken notes instead of eaten pop tarts (she'd fussed at him for eating on the phone!) and he'd also learned slurping his coffee was bad manners.

She had walked him through more scenarios than he'd even thought about. She'd told him what to say. How to say it. When to say it. How to stand, in some cases. When to sit down! As if that mattered - but apparently, walking in and just flopping into a chair was not just a blatant 'power move,' it was rude.

But Johnny Cage was nothing if not determined, and he was putting his newly discovered listening skills to use. (He'd recently discovered audio books. He'd been listening to a couple on how to listen better. He wasn't sure if they were helping, since he kept tuning out when he was listening to them, but he figured it was better than nothing.)

He told her everything the meeting involved. Everything he wanted to get out of it. Even his secret goal he knew this meeting could accomplish.

By the end of the conversation, he could hear the frustration in Sonia's voice. He was stuck on one piece of advice - be humble. He didn't do humble. He was Johnny Cage. He was a successful actor, a successful fighter. He was good at what he did. The successful show was his idea? Why did he have to pretend not to be good at what he did, proud of what he did?

She finally sighed. "Johnny, you're an actor. Can't you play the role of a man with humility for one meeting, and then call me tonight and tell me how it goes?"

Johnny almost choked on his last gulp of coffee. Why hadn't he thought of that?!

He coughed, clearing his throat. "Yeah, I can...Yes, ma'am. I can do that. What time should I call you?"

There was a soft laugh on the other end of the line. "Eight PM. Sharp. Good luck with your meeting, Johnny. Remember: be gracious. Be humble. Be sincere - unless it would be rude."

\~ * \~

The first time Johnny put Mrs. Morgan's advice to use, he was forced to admit she was on to something.

Johnny had assumed a lot of roles in his time in Hollywood, and he'd always studied for those roles. He knew he hadn't always been the best actor, but he knew he was better than people gave him credit for. He was proud of (most) of the movies he'd done, but he knew he wasn't always given the most complex or well written material to work with. Most of his movies were stunts and involved him in impractical and improbable fight scenes that just looked cool on the silver screen.

His first run at playing a man with humility wasn't easy, but he knew he'd done something right with it.

He waited for the studio rep to sit before he did. He saw her surprise when he made his agent wait to sit. His agent just gave him a look that told him they would be talking about it later.

He thanked the intern who brought them coffee. He'd followed Mrs. Morgan's advice to the letter and he had brought copies of everything he wanted to go over, including the casting sheets for the characters he wanted more creative control of. He knew he wasn't technically the showrunner - that role belonged to an insufferable prick named Albie Markson. Albie thought he was god's gift to writing, and with six cancelled genre shows under his belt, Johnny had a hard time trusting him. So far, Johnny's money and star power had let him override a lot of the decisions Albie made, but not enough of them. Johnny knew the story he wanted to tell.

About deciding to be heroes. About deciding to defend the world, even when no one knew you were doing it. About being called and about accepting the call of destiny, even when you really didn't want to or really didn't think you were the right one for job.

Because there was no one else.

It was not the story Albie wanted to tell.

He knew if he played this meeting right, he might be able to wrest more control from Albie, who was riding the high of his first successful first season and becoming something of a tyrant.

Sarah Waters, the studio rep, tilted her head and nodded at him when he pulled out his folder of papers. They were tucked into a leather folio with a pad of paper he'd never used. He'd had it for years - his Mom had given it to him at some point, and he'd never gotten rid of it.

He even had a working pen. He'd already made the mistake that morning of not taking notes. He wasn't going to make that mistake twice in the same day.

To his shock, Sarah jumped right in to what he'd been planning to slip in sneakily. There was a canny, ambitious glint her eye that both encouraged and worried Johnny, but what was he supposed to do about that?

"All right, Mr. Cage. Level with me. This isn't about casting. This is about creative control of your idea. Why should we give it to you?"

Johnny looked over at his agent, but Daniel just shrugged. Getting Johnny the meeting was his job and he was there to make sure Johnny's interests were protected, but this wasn't a question he'd been prepared for. It wasn't a question Johnny was prepared for.

He took in a deep breath. Play the role. Of himself. With humility and manners. He could do this.

"Yes ma'am. I want more creative control, but I figured I show you I deserve it by going over casting. I know how studios feel about these things, wanting to go with tried-and-true casting choices, but the audience the show is appealing to is a whole different demographic that Albie - Mr. Markson - usually writes for. I want to appeal to the demographic who watches our show and who have come to us online, telling us what they want to see."

If you can call what he does writing.

Johnny thought some of the younger writers in the writing room - chosen to work with Albie because they were young and inexperienced and wouldn't argue with him overmuch - were far, far better writers than Albie was. (Johnny was also aware his show had been given to Albie because no one believed in it like he did, and he was still smug and happy over proving them all wrong.)

Sarah nodded. That glint was back, and this time it seemed like she had a plan.

"Okay. Yeah. I saw the tweets and posts and everything you did, Mr. Cage. I saw it all, and I agree with you in principle. Numbers on the show are good, both on streaming and network. The first season has had a lot of purchases online, and there's a lot of buzz. That's great for you. Good for us. But Albie ran the show last season, and it did well. Why make a change?"

Johnny Cage would tell her it was because Albie was an idiot who blew every chance he'd had, and if it weren't for how good Johnny himself was, he'd have blown off Warriors of Light, too.

So how do I do this? Because it's not a lie. I was right, I made him do it my way, and it worked. It's my show.

He tapped his pen on the paper. "I'm an actor. Not a writer, right? There are some great writers in that room. They're brilliant. When the cast sits with them and we talk character and story, there's a groove. The highest rated eps were the ones where Albie wasn't involved. It was the writers' room and the cast. Actors aren't writers, but show me an actor who doesn't love story and doesn't love character and I'll show you a professional extra. Albie is the only one who doesn't agree with those casting sheets. Albie is the only one who disagrees with our story choices and character choices. Albie is the only one who thinks he is solely responsible for our big break last season. He wants to basically retcon the story each season and redo the story instead of continuing the story, and that's a great thing for comic books or video games, but this is a story. With arcs and growth and change - and we can create a network TV show that appeals..."

He stopped. He shrugged. "I mean, that's it, I guess. That's the pitch."

Sarah pursed her lips. "You are - unexpected, Mr. Cage. Keep talking. Walk me through some of these ideas the cast had, and convince me they're not going to sink a show we stand to make a lot of money on."

Johnny flipped through his papers and found the notes the writers had sent him.

\~ * \~

The first time Johnny admitted to Sonya he was talking to her grandmother was an accident.

He figured he was done for, because it hadn't occurred to him he should tell his girlfriend that her grandmother was mentoring him in being humble and better mannered. In retrospect, he realized it was a stupid oversight on his part. He was good at those.

He also hadn't meant to hide it. It wasn't planned or purposeful, and it wasn't like they'd gotten a huge amount of time together. They texted a lot, talked on the phone and saw each other every couple of weeks - but that was still plenty of time to tell Sonya he'd spend the last three months talking to her grandmother a minimum of twice a day.

They were leaving a military dinner - a promotion ceremony for several soldiers under Sonya's command (and about a hundred others, but Johnny only really paid attention to the soldiers Sonya pinned new ranks on.) It had been a semi-formal dinner and he'd managed to dress well enough for it.

Though, he'd foregone a tie. He hated those damn things. He was a professional martial artists and trained fighter. Who thought it was a good idea to wear a noose?

Sonya was holding his hand in front of her troops, which was a huge step for her. He chose not to tease her about it and just enjoy the moment. Especially since he'd managed to do really well at the ceremony, congratulating the newly promoted soldiers who stopped by their table and making small talk with the officer a couple of ranks above Sonya without making a complete ass of himself.

(He still couldn't help himself; he had to give Jax shit. It was a compulsion, almost, but the man gave him at least as good as he got and seemed mostly okay with having Johnny attached to Sonya these days.)

But he decided to follow other advice he'd gotten instead of teasing Sonya. Advice that, ironically, came from Stephanie Grey, the woman playing Sonya - well ‘Sasha Steel’ - in Warriors of Light.

"Tell her when she does something that makes you proud or happy, doofus. Don't just tease her about it. Women like that."

He took in a deep breath. He always had to brace himself when he tried things like that.

Whether it was the manners and humility Mrs. Morgan was drilling into his head or the 'active listening' he was teaching himself, or just trying to be a better partner to the amazing woman who was putting up with him.

"You looked good up there." He swallowed. Why was it so much harder to say these things instead of just teasing her or flirting? What was wrong with him? People did this sort of thing all the time, right? "Those guys you promoted. It really meant something to them, you being there. And, you know, it was awesome seeing you like that. Doing that part of your job. Thanks for, well, letting me be here for it, I guess."

Oh yeah, Johnny. Great job. Brilliant delivery.

Sonya bumped his shoulder with hers, which was as close to serious affection as she got on base - holding his hand right then notwithstanding.

"You know half those ‘guys’ were women, right? But," Sonya also took a deep breath, which Johnny decided not to read too much into. "Thank you. I'm glad you were here for it."

Johnny felt a surge of warmth through him. They were both trying to do better, and even though they didn't see each other as much as they wanted to, when they were together, things were - better. Not always easier, not yet, but more honest. More - intimate. He liked it. A lot.

He bounced on his toes a little, excited he hadn't fucked it up after all.

"And I wasn't a complete, ass was I? I'm doing better not - embarrassing you?"

Sonya laughed and Johnny felt that surge of warmth again, because it was a genuine laugh. A happy sound. A relaxed sound.

"You know what? I almost forgot you were you for a few minutes there, until you asked Jax if he knew how to say 'please' or 'thank you' to anyone who didn't outrank him."

Johnny shrugged. "What can I say? He brings out the best in me. But I'm glad I didn't screw it up for you tonight." Another deep breath. "That was important to me, you know?"

Sonya might have rolled her eyes. He knew that little twitch of her head all too well, but she was still smiling, so he took the win. "Look at you. Learning not everything is about you." She took her own deep breath and bumped his shoulder again. "And...thank you for taking it seriously. It meant a lot to me, sure, but also the soldiers who got promoted."

Johnny grinned. "Hey, I'm trying! In so many ways! Man, when I call your grandma tomorrow and tell her I actually made it through an entire dinner without pissing off anyone but Jax, she might actually admit I'm learning!"

Sonya froze.

Slowly turned to face him - but she didn't drop his hand. He was going to cling to that - literally and metaphorically as it suddenly hit him he hadn't told Sonya about his ongoing conversations with her grandmother.

Oh. Fuck.

"My grandmother? As in, Sonia Morgan, my grandmother?"

Johnny's mouth was suddenly really dry, and he found swallowing harder. Unfortunate, because he'd just stuck his foot in his mouth and was about to have to swallow his pride and his stupidity and beg forgiveness.

"Uh...yeah. Great lady. She's got a lot of good advice." His free hand rubbed the back of his head as he frantically searched for a way to dig his way out of the hole he suddenly found himself in.

Sonya put her free hand on her hip and raised her eyebrows at him. "You have some explaining to do, Johnny Cage."

He took a gamble. A risk. A complete abandonment of good sense, propriety, and self-preservation and stepped a little closer to her. He wasn't going to say any of it loud enough for anyone else to hear, and finding excuses to be physically closer to Sonya was a hobby of his.

If he was going to fuck this up, he'd at least do it as close to her as he could get.

"She's...well, she gave her number at the airport in Texas and told me to call her and she was going to teach me manners, and she didn't sound like she was taking no for an answer! But it's good, right, because she actually has been teaching me stuff, and has me call her before meetings or events and whatnot and now I kinda just call her to talk sometimes and..."

He trailed off. He sounded like an idiot, but at least he was being an honest idiot. That was better, right?

Sonya was glaring at him. "You could have mentioned that to me. Told me about it, maybe? My grandmother giving you secret lessons in what - how not to be an ass? For almost* four months*!"

Johnny resisted the urge to groan. "Yeah, I guess. It's more - I don't know, okay? She told me to call and I did. She's - teaching me, yeah. I'm still an ass, Sonya, and I like some of those parts of me. I'm proud of what I do and what I'm good at, but maybe I need to learn to show it differently. She's teaching me what you learned growing up, teaching me how not to piss off everyone I meet. I'm the showrunner now, and that happened because she told me how to work the meeting. I need the help sometimes if I want to make my career more than what it was. I'm sorry. I should have told you and I didn't mean to keep it a secret - I just didn't say anything. It's...fuck me, it's embarrassing, okay?"

All the air and fight rushed out of him as he finally figured it out. Why he'd never told anyone about his conversations with Mrs. Morgan.

The conversations had gone well beyond teaching him manners, too. He sometimes called her just to talk. Just to vent. (She called him to do the same, sometimes, too. He always took her calls.) She listened. She gave great advice, and some of her commentary about the people he dealt with was hilarious - and incredibly validating. Her scathing commentary on Albie's passive aggressive flounce from the writers' room was the stuff of legend. (And there was at least one younger man back in Exeter Johnny had plans to find a way to ruin, because he kept treating Mrs. Morgan like a doddering old fool, and Johnny was not okay with that.)

She never failed to tell him like it was. Tell him he was wrong. Or give him support when he needed it, even when he was wrong. She was as sharp edged and stern as any of his martial arts teachers and wiser than just about anyone he knew.

He'd even gotten her to start messaging him.

And now he had to admit to Sonya he had a secret friendship with her grandmother. Why he hated how much he needed Mrs. Morgan.

He refused to let go of Sonya's hand. Refused to step back. Refused to give up any of his connection to her, however small. He felt a lump in his throat he savagely ignored.

"It's humiliating." He couldn't look her in the eyes anymore, and his head dropped. "I'm Johnny Cage. I'm successful. I'm good at what I do and I've only gotten better. I'm a showrunner. I've made a fucking miracle comeback, but I could have thrown it all down the drain because I didn't learn how to fucking talk to people. I spent my whole life being larger than life, pushing through every wall and every obstacle by force of personality until I couldn't anymore. Now I'm having to to be taught what other people learned as fucking kids, Sonya. Unlearn what my father taught me, learn the shit most kids learn at their goddamn dinner table. Admitting that? To you? That your grandmother is the one having to take me by the hand like I'm some kid again and teach me to use my fucking manners?"

His eyes stung. He wasn't going to talk about that. Or think about it. Or admit it. He'd admitted enough for one night, hadn't he?

Sonya tapped his chin. "Look at me, Johnny Cage."

Her voice wasn't hard anymore. The anger seemed - gone. He lifted his head slowly, and her hand cupped his cheek. He didn't care and just let himself lean into it.

"I knew."

His breath whuffed out in a rush. "You knew?"

She nodded. "I knew. She told me what she did in the airport and she told me when you called. She never told me what you talked about, and I admit - I was mad at you that you never told me. I talk to grandma once a week since Texas, because I realized I didn't talk to her enough. And I kept hearing 'Johnny said this' or 'Johnny said that' or 'did you see Johnny's interview.' I even told her I was going to light into you for it and she told me not to. She told me never to shame anyone for learning new things and - well, look. I'm not mad anymore, okay? I just wish you had told me, but I think I get why you didn't."

Johnny just nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak yet, and he wasn't sure what to do with that. He felt like he was going to cry, and that was not something Johnny Cage did in a parking lot on a military base. Where people could see.

Sonya pressed her forehead against his, her hand threading through the hair on the back of his head.

"Part of me wants to thank you. Grandma is - lonely, I think. Most of her close friends are gone and she just won't move out of Exeter to Austin to be near Mom, and Mom will never move back to Exeter. Ever. You calling and messaging all the time means a lot to her, and she sounds happier. Just...no shame, okay? It takes a strong person to admit they need to learn something new and grow. A really strong person to take advice they don't want just because it's right and..." she drew in a deep breath. "I'm not good at this, but I think I'm trying to say, I'm proud of you, Johnny Cage."

Johnny put his free hand on her hip. He wanted to say something flippant, but he wasn't going to dismiss the moment, he wasn't going to dismiss Sonya reaching out that way.

Or dismiss how much he liked hearing that from her.

"Thank you." The words came hard, pushing past the lump in his throat. "I should have told you, I just...it feels bad. Needing to learn something simple."

Sonya laughed and both of her arms were around his neck. Johnny slid his arms around her waist, soaking in the closeness. The smell of her hair and the warmth of her cheek against his. He felt the tension drain out of him.

"Silly boy. Southern manners are never simple. Sounds like you still need more lessons."

Johnny decided he could be proud of himself for resisting the urge to nibble on her ear and settled for just running his fingers along her lower back.

"Yeah, well, nothing worth it is really ever simple."

Like being with you.

[purplesurveys]

1973

Will you answer these questions as personally as you can?  Sure! That's why I keep this blog anyway.

Why are you happy?  I'm happy in every aspect outside of work because I live comfortably and am in relatively a privileged position where all my basics needs can be taken care of. I'm also satisfied in my own skin and have established a small but tight circle of friends who has my back no matter what.

I *am* miserable at work due to the massive culture change that's been seeping its way in the last few months, but I just try to put a positive spin on it and remember that it pays for my hobbies and the lifestyle I want to live. As long as I can mind my own business there, I can remember to be happy.

Who’s the last person you hugged? My cousins when we saw each other at our uncle's 50th birthday party yesterday.

Would you pay someone to kill the person who hurt you a lot?  Waste of time and money. Plus I know it'd haunt me for the rest of my life, so no thanks.

Do you like the song ‘Sick Little Games’ by All Time Low? we're ALL!!!!!!! part of the SAME!!!! SICK LITTLE GAAAAAAMES and I need a getaway, getawaaaay~ I'm wasting my daaaays I throw them awaaay losing it all on these sick little games ooOOooOoOoOooOoo

Yeah, I did. The whole Nothing Personal album is pretty great.

Last night you felt?  Unsatisfied would be apt, I guess? I had leftover rice for dinner and it was so tough to chew regardless of how many times I put it in the microwave. In the end it felt more of a chore eating my meal and I didn't really enjoy it.

How are you feeling right now?  A little bad that I'm on leave again tomorrow and leaving everybody to deal with work, so I need to keep reminding myself that this is revenge for 1) being the only person in the team who didn't file a week-long leave back in December, leaving me to pick up after them; and 2) being the only person in the team NOT part of the extended Japan vacation that the rest of them planned for and had together, after our company trip proper. They don't care for me so I should really learn to be ok with extending the same (lack of) energy lol.

Are you drifting away from someone you were close with?  I wouldn't say I was close to her but I definitely don't talk to Bea as much anymore. Part of that is because I've gone silent on socials and stopped checking on people beyond my closest friends, but yeah.

Is there someone you’d like to fix things with?  No.

Have you ever liked someone that treated you like crap?  Yes.

What are you listening to?  Just a YouTube autoplay of Bigbang's older performances.

Have you ever stayed in a hotel?  Yeah, fairly frequently.

What is in your pocket?  I currently don't have anything in them.

Have a best friend? Yes.

Does it bother you when your best friend does stuff without you?  Not at all! She has a fiancé - she should be doing stuff with him, lol. Seriously though, we have our own lives and at (the dawn of) 27 I really shouldn't be overanalyzing this sort of thing anymore.

Do you keep any secrets from your best friend?  I don't think I purposely keep anything a secret from them. I'm sure there's things that just haven't come up that they wouldn't know, but I don't go out of my way to be secretive. I'm very much an open book. < How perfectly put :) I'm the exact same.

What were you doing 60 minutes ago?  I think I took a quick break from this survey to watch BSS on Daesung's show.

Is there a secret you’ve never told your parents?  A lot. I wouldn't call myself an open book with regard to my parents. They broke my trust years ago and I never got to move past that.

What’s something that can always make you feel better?  My pets. Or any chance to interact with dogs and cats!

What do you want right now?  Finish this and take another one. I haven't been doing these as often as I would like to for a couple of months now and I want to catch up, heh.

What would you name your future son?  Stopped thinking about this since I know I'd never have kids. My favorites used to be Mason and Liam, though.

If you had to eat 1 thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?  Probably pizza since it's super customizable + practicality-wise, it's handheld yet it has everything so it's a really convenient eat for me.

How’s your life lately?  The existential crisis has been hanging out for a while now, that's as much as I can share. I really want to make a big jump to somewhere new and unfamiliar, but I genuinely don't know what that is! I want so badly to feel excited again but I don't know where to start. I don't even know what my goal is – I got promoted so fast that I never had time to think about my goals, because I achieved everything I wanted to reach in just 3 years. Just...I wish I had more time to build up toward things.

I'm very lucky to have a good job that can let me simply float through life if that's all I wanted, but I'm not the kind of person who can stay static...so I'm feeling very restless and I hate that I don't really know what to do about it.

Last person to send you a text?  Idk I never check my texts because it's always bombarded with work work work work work work work

What were you doing at 8:00 this morning?  I was watching the Rumble and waiting patiently for AJ Lee to come out (she didn't) (I'm very disheartened) (IT'S BEEN 10 YEARS)

Did you have a good birthday this year?  I'm not having it til April!

Have you done anything embarrassing lately? I accidentally let a Gen Z slang slip while talking to a client last week and my brain has been doing a swell job reminding me of it before going to bed because intrusive thoughts always win apparently hahaha BOOOOOOOOOOOO

Do you trust easily?  No.

Do you like cookies n’ cream ice cream?  It's my favorite flavor :)

How often do you raise your hand in class and answer a question?  Oh, I never recited. It's why, while my test scores were always between above average to excellent, my grades always took a fall when computing for the average because my recitation record was always at a 0.

I'm fine with public speaking because at least I know it's my turn to talk – but if it's something like volunteering to raise my hand, I'm shy about it because it's always felt like volunteering to hog the spotlight. Idk if that even makes sense, but that's how I've always felt.

Ever been mistaken for someone else, and took it as an insult?  I don't think so, no.

What color shirt are you wearing?  Black.

Is there a boy that would do absolutely everything for you?  I don't think so.

Did you ever think you had the Swine flu? No. Classes were suspended when the flu was at its peak so I had always felt safe.

Who was the last person to smoke a cigarette in your presence?  The production crew at the Tiktok livestream shoot we did for a client last December. Prod/film/advertising people are consistently the biggest fucking chainsmokers I know so it was barely a surprise at that point, lmfao.

Who was the last person you talked to before you went to bed last night?  I wasn't talking to anybody.

Are you a mean person?  No. I'm firm and uptight, but not actively mean. I could turn mean if provoked, though.

Does anyone hate you?  Very much a possibility, yeah.

Do you usually tell people when you’re mad at them? I'd express it in other ways, and never directly in these words. Filipinos by culture aren't the most direct people, hehe.

This time last year, can you remember who you liked?  Nobody.

Will this weekend be a good one?  Probably not because I will have weekend work, both days.

Have you ever liked someone older than you?  Nope.

Are you mad at someone right now? No.

[le-venter]

OMG HI TUMBLR I AM DESPERATE NOW I THINK

I can't believe I'm doing this, but I guess this is a call for help and advice more than it is to vent. Here we go...

I graduated with a BFA in 2D animation almost two years ago at this point. My plan ever since I was really young was to get an animation degree and learn pre-production, get a job abroad and figure it out from there. It was a plan that was doable and straightforward and I'd been working towards it since I was 15.

I was in my final (nightmare) semester when the layoffs began, and it hasn't been any better since then.

A lot of personal tragedies happened in my life that affected me and my family deeply. I was alone again since all my friends had left the city after college. I started going to therapy and got diagnosed with depression and ADHD, both of which I have been dealing with ever since (got on ADHD meds recently! I hope they work). I only just got a proper handle on my grief and am managing to now somehow move forward.

I've been job hunting for a year and a half, all applications coming back as rejections, since I'm a fresher with no experience. There are barely any jobs in my field to begin with where I live, forget the US and the rest of the world. They all don't pay much, and they definitely don't pay enough for me to move out. Illustration jobs haven't been any better.

Generative AI has been actively making things worse. I have a lot of not very nice words to say about it, but I'm trying my best to stay on topic. All the jobs that I ever worked towards and made plans for have begun to disappear and be replaced by AI, making my life even harder than it already was.

I see a LOT of graphic design jobs, but I don't know heads or tails about it even , and I have a fear that if I take those jobs, I'll get stuck in that loop and never escape. I've met older artists that this has happened to and who have been trying to break out of that field ever since. It scares me deeply.

It sucks that my skill set is all creative work, and all of that is being shut down because of AI.

Networking isn't something I'm particularly comfortable with, but I've been trying to actively go for any art, comic and animation events to try to meet people and try to make connections while meeting artists. Nothing has come from it so far.

Posting online currently is a NIGHTMARE, and as someone who never had any interest in creating an online following and has basically no audience, it's even worse since I have to start from scratch. With an AI scraping my work if I don't nightshade it. It feels like a really awful time for artists online in general right now too, and makes me want to post even LESS than I already do.

I've never wanted to be an entrepreneur or business owner, I just wanted to be an artist. I've never seen myself going into total self employment; it's terrifying and stressful for someone like me who can barely focus most of the time.

I have no interest anymore in getting into animation in the country where I live; it's treated like cheap labour at every turn, and even the people passionate about it who start companies/collectives try to keep it really closed off and exclusive. Applying to them never gets any replies and I've even had professors tell me not even bother with those studios since they're not interested in hiring, unless you're a prodigy or something.

My worst experience so far was with a director of one of these bigger studios whom I met at an event a few months ago. After waiting for hours and FINALLY getting a chance with talk to him one-on-one, I tried to ask him for advice and showed him some of my comic work. He didn't even bother to listen to anything I had to say; he just told me that my work wasn't the "cream of the crop" and that I clearly "didn't want it enough", and so he would never hire me. He ignored me for the rest of the time I was there. His head artist (who got in through connections, as she had proudly stated earlier) told me not to feel bad, and that maybe a different studio, 'studio-that-is-known-to-exploit-workers', MIGHT take me if I worked harder.

I've been disillusioned and uninterested in trying ever since.

The only reason my parents ever even let me follow my dreams in the first place is because I worked my ass off and proved to them that there IS employment and there ARE opportunities in this field. That I knew what I was doing.

I knew what I was doing for the longest time.

But now?

Every plan I ever made has been shattered. Every alternative I've tried has ended badly. All my dreams feel like they've been smashed to pieces.

I've been floating almost aimlessly for a while now.

The only option that I feel like I have at this point is to pursue a master's degree, which my mom is thrilled about. B it means going abroad, most probably to the US, which I think is pretty unsafe for me (and most people, oof) right now.

And it means scholarships. My last semester basically tanked my entire GPA since the professor wasn't interested in me or my work, and would tell me quite awful things and pass them off as jokes while grading me poorly on the side. The worst thing they told me, for context, is that I had "predicted" the passing of my close relative with my semester project. It had been 3 days since they had passed at that point.

I don't actually WANT to get a master's degree, especially right now (I always wanted to do it after I worked for a few years and on my own dime), but everyone seems so excited for it and I don't know what to do. I suppose that worst case it could delay my problems for another 2 years or so, but it's REALLY expensive and I shouldn't do it if my heart isn't in it.

But I feel like don't have any other options. My dad tells me to start my own business. My mom wants me to do my master's. I feel like a failure and everyone else I know seems to be thriving, getting jobs and doing well with masters.

I genuinely don't know what to do. I've been trying to figure out a solution for MONTHS now, and everyone I turn to has neither had an answer nor any helpful advice. It's like life is trying to get me to quit, and is making things worse and worse.

TL, DR - I got an animation degree and haven't gotten any jobs since I graduated, and now I don't see any options besides getting a master's, which I don't actually want to do.

Any and all genuine advice is great. I don't know if anyone is going to see this, but I'd be grateful for any words at all right now. Thank you.