#just trying to make use of the tags for collection's sake again

[ohyafumi]

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Short Story: Ángel

Santiago Reyes, the 34 year old serial killer x GN Reader

Santiago Reyes was obsessed with a coffee barista named (your name)… and it all started with a random act of kindness. He was a serial killer for goodness sake and here he was head over heels for some random civilian… he was supposed to be killing corrupt politicians and criminals who escaped their corporal punishments, not follow (your name) home and eliminate anyone who made them even slightly uncomfortable… it was against his code of honor! Yet Santiago was in love! An emotion he never thought he’d have!

It all started when (your name) simply gave him a coffee on the house because he looked ‘down’ half a year ago. Their soft fingers brushed against his and the Latin man swore his heart almost leaped out of his chest when he realized how pretty they are…

Santiago had a crush on them ever since. He memorized the name on the name tag. (Your name)? What a darling name... Santiago was so pathetic.

Every time he has a bit of free time, he’s in that cafe just to see (your name). They’d always smile at him and initiate pleasant small talk. (Your name) never failed to make Santiago feel normal… like he belonged somewhere. And that feeling was the most addictive drug he’s ever had. Santiago was addicted to (your name) more than he was addicted to his ‘justice’ killings.

His small crush grew more and more until he realized that it bordered on obsession. Santiago only realized it when he began to secretly follow them home to make sure they were safe. He even subconsciously collected small trinkets they’d leave behind like a used spoon or a chapstick… Santiago felt vile.

Santiago no longer just targeted corrupt politicians but he’d kill men who harassed (your name) at the coffee shop. Santiago simply wanted to keep his darling safe… or that’s at least what he told himself to try to justify the murder of (your name)’s work snitch. The older woman upset you to the point of tears so she had to be dealt with. Santiago couldn’t stand seeing his beloved cry…

It was when (your name) briefly mentioned their desire to be in a relationship that finally had him ask them out.

“I just don’t think I’ll ever have a boyfriend, Santi.” (Your name) sighed as they rested their jaw on their hand. Their eyes flit over to Santiago who ran an olive hand through his long, black curls. “I haven’t met a man who would want to be with me…”

“Well then it’s your lucky day, mi ángel.” Santiago sat up straight in his chair. He scooped up (your name)’s right hand and pressed a tender kiss to their knuckles. “I’d love to date you. Won’t you give me a chance?”

(Your name)’s cheeks turned a bright red as they looked away. Santiago liked them? But he was so handsome… what on earth did he see in them?

Santiago clicked his tongue, his hand reached up to turn their face back towards him. “You better not be belittling yourself in your head again. I’m serious about you, ángel.”

“So what do you say? Yes…” Santiago brought his face so close to (your name)’s, that their breath mingled. They could smell cinnamon on his breath… “or yes?”

[keiffeine]

look at me, not him

coriolanus snow x gender-neutral reader

tags: slightly possessive! + jealous!coriolanus

author’s note: sorry this was so delayed 💀 i wanted to write it less bulletpoint-y like how i normally do with headcanons bc i wanted it to be more like a fic. hopefully you enjoy 🩷 it’s a little rushed esp towards the ending lol

word count: 1,036

reposting, plagiarizing, modifying, and translating is not allowed.

coriolanus never married you with the intention of loving you or actually caring about you. rather, his intention was purely for his own self-benefit. as he rose to success as a young politician, basking within the spotlight the capitol so graciously dawned on him, it only made sense that a man with this much power to his name alone would marry someone who was, at the very least, equal to him.

you were perfect for him. your family was one of the most successful families within the capitol, holding generations-worth of wealth and status—which he needed for himself.

after marriage, coriolanus was very content with how his life was. he wasn’t really obligated to spend time with you or anything of the sort—he viewed it as something more…optional. he had already gotten what he wanted; access to your wealth and the mere status to your name, so everything after that came second. meals together consisted of little to no conversation, and even though you shared a room and a bed, you slept with your backs facing each other.

you were simply just his spouse, someone he could ultimately leech off of to power his personal gain. nothing but an accessory on his arm to make him look good in public. the most affectionate you’ve ever seen him was whenever there were news reporters and cameras around; he’d plant seemingly-loving kisses to your lips or hold you close for no other purpose other than for a good public appearance.

you were never much of a priority in his mind, up until he sees you talking with some man at an event that was hosting some the richest and most influential capitol citizens. whoever this was, he was making you laugh and smile, which felt like such a rarity of a sight in coriolanus’ eyes. you always looked so solemn when you were together, but right now, your face shined so bright, with the most genuine smile he’s ever seen. it wasn’t out of politeness for the sake of etiquette, but a real smile.

it made his blood boil, to say the least. that man was so obviously flirting with you; the way he was standing so close to you, gaze flitting from your eyes then to your lips then back again. coriolanus couldn’t help but wonder: were you seriously this oblivious, or were you trying to make him jealous on purpose?

coriolanus couldn’t help but scowl, watching you conversing with this stranger. who even was he? what could you possibly be talking about that made you look so entertained? you’d been talking for…what, the past…fifteen…twenty minutes already? surely you were bored at this point, right? he wasn’t even worth an ounce of your time. when were you going to stop talking to him and walk away?

coriolanus hated everything about this, weirdly enough. normally, at events like these, he could care less about who you talked to, but the more coriolanus continued to watch you talk to him, the more he wanted to drag you away himself.

as soon as he decided he’d had enough, coriolanus walked over to you, pulling on a tight and forced smile as he snaked an arm around your waist.

“i’m sorry to interrupt,” coriolanus said in a calm, collected voice, looking down at you before turning his head to whoever you’d been speaking to, “but i must speak to my spouse about something. please, excuse us for a moment.” with that, he led you away, bringing you to a secluded spot to ensure your privacy.

“what the hell was that?” coriolanus asked, furrowing his eyes as he kept his eyes down at you, feeling furious but relieved that he finally had you alone. relieved that your attention was on him now. “were you flirting with him?”

you scoffed, baffled that you’d be accused of something like that. “flirting, coriolanus? seriously…” you said with a sigh, seeming equally frustrated and confused.

coriolanus rolled his eyes, then moved a step closer, keeping you against the wall. “don’t play dumb, y/n, that man was clearly flirting with you,” he mumbled, placing his hand on the wall, right beside your head.

“we were just talking, coriolanus, my god.” you folded your arms, tilting your head up and meeting his eyes. “besides, i wouldn’t understand why you would care.”

coriolanus swallowed, not daring to look away from you. he held your gaze, pressing closer and completely aware of the very little distance between the both of you.

“why i care? you wouldn’t understand why i care?” coriolanus whispered, his voice dropping to a low tone that sent a shiver down your spine. “i care because you are my spouse, y/n. my spouse. you’re mine, understand?” he watched your face, noting the slight color that tinted your cheeks as he spoke to you.

“i just want you to look at me the way you were looking at him,” coriolanus confessed after a beat of silence. he bit his lip, cheeks growing warm at his own words. “is that so hard to ask for?”

he leaned in a little closer. his face was so close to yours. still, you made no effort to push him away.

coriolanus blinked slowly before glancing down at your lips; they looked so…perfect, parted just slightly and just inches from his own—so close to just kiss.

he swallowed thickly and bit the inside of his cheek. the longer he stared down at you, the more he restrained himself from pressing his lips onto yours. the thought was too tempting.

it was strange to see coriolanus like this; he never really paid you any mind and hardly ever acknowledged you as his spouse privately, but…it felt weirdly endearing to hear it from his own mouth, and the way he audibly confessed that he was pining for your attention. since when?

“just…” coriolanus cleared his throat and took a step away from you, to physically restrain himself from his own desires. he looked away, taking a moment to breath as color faded into his cheeks. the air in the room suddenly felt so heavy and oddly tense. “please stay by my side from now on, okay?” he requested sheepishly, all of his thoughts dissipating into the air as he took your hand, leading you back to the crowd.

misc. character masterlist

navigation

[malavera]

Dad's Best Friend, pt. ii (m) | Tom Cruise

Tom Cruise is your Dad's Best friend. Your dad is a businessman in Hollywood, and he happens to be friends with your teenage year crush. You're legal now, what happens when you can finally live out your desires?

Summary: Tom made an appearance at your dad's birthday party. It's been 3 days since you had that one sinful dream, how could you recover from it? By ignoring him or tell him about that dream?

Tags: 18+, allusions to smut, dirty talk, agegap (reader is 26, tom is 59)

tagging: @call-sign-shark @deanscroissant @helloitstsyu @moondustfairies ✨

creds for tomcruisebrasil on ig for the vid! just turned em into a gif using tumblr ‘s all. x.

check out the series!

“Don’t get him another watch! He’s got tons of that! Get him something that he hasn’t owned yet.” Your mother's judgemental tone, hissed through the phone causing you to roll your eyes.

The sun is high and beaming down to the streets of beverly hills. You cursed to yourself on why you didn't bring your sunglasses as it is difficult to navigate through the path that it caused you to squint and scrunched your eyebrows. You’re trying to figure out what present to get for your dad. He’s turning 61 today, and you don’t know what to get for a man who’s turning 61 years old other than a bottle as old as him, or something expensive to get in his collections of luxury things.

“Yeah? Like what?” You muttered, a challenge laced in your tone. You grumbled feeling your heels killing your feet since you've been walking for almost 20 minutes and still got nothing.

“Like grand babies for instance.” Yet again, You grumbled in your breath. You’ve expected hearing this coming out from your mother’s mouth. It’s not that you don’t want to have babies, or even get married. It’s just that, no men has met your qualifications and expectations. You’ve always been picky when it comes to dating men, because you don’t want anything that has happened in the past repeated itself.

You heard your phone gave out a beeping sound, means another incoming call wants to get through. You told your mom that you have to take this call as it is important because it’s your assistant.

“What, Glinda? I’m kind of busy right now.” You said as you stopped in front of a store, scanning the products from the window.

“I’m sorry, Miss. But, it’s really important. Maya needs you at the warehouse. Do you think you can stop by?” You fingers went up to massage your scrunched forehead.

Another packaging meltdown.

You’re a businesswoman in a Beauty industry. The business has been running for about 3 years, and it’s been going really well than you’ve expected it to be. It’s going so well that it became your baby, you couldn’t even leave her alone for just a 3 minute walk to the bathroom, hence why you don’t have time for romance and family.

“Ask Roy to take care of it! I hired him for a reason, he’s our manager for god sakes.” You commanded, turning your back as you’re facing towards the streets, watching cars passing by.

“Roy’s not available, Miss.” That idiot, I am so firing him once I get back to the office, you thought.

“Fine. I’ll be there in 10.”

*****

“Happy Birthday, Dad!” You exclaimed once you walked into the party room where your dad’s friends and your family be. Everyone cheered for your entrance, clapping of hands sounded through the air in the room as you approach him while holding his favorite vanilla cake.

Your dad laughed and smiled before he approaches you with opened hands, “Make a wish then blow the candles!”

He sighs lovingly before he closes his eyes before he bend his knees slightly to reach your level then blew the candles. Everyone cheered again as your mom takes away your cake in a hurry as she understands how her husband gets very excited about this moment, cue your dad engulfed you in a big hug.

“Urgh! My little one, thank you. I love you.” He lifted you up and slightly twirled both of you then set you back to the ground.

“I love you too, Dad.” You patted softly patted his back before he released you.

“You’re gonna have to wait for your birthday present in… Probably around 3 weeks?” You look at him with squinted eyes and gritted teeth as he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“I don’t care. All I care is having you here! 3 Days ago was such a short time and before that, it has been like what? 5 months since I last saw you and I only get to be around you for 5 hours.” The way he explained it to you sounded like a rolling eyes in his tone. You chuckled nervously, of course your mind had to remember what happened 3 days ago.

You were supposed to be spending your time with your Dad, but once you arrived, He had to leave as he had a couple of errands to run. He told you to wait, and you did, but you fell asleep and had that dream.

How could you even explain it to your own self?

How can you even have that dream in the first place?

Was it because it was the week of Top Gun: Maverick premiere and you’ve seen the news of him being in Mexico and thought he was so hot during that premiere. You’d never admitted this ever, to anyone, not even yourself, that you started having wet dreams of your Dad’s best friend, the Mister Tom Cruise, when you were 19 years old.

Yes, you feel sick to your stomach.

How could a 19 year old girl thirst over a man who’s as old as her dad?

You blame your girlfriend’s in college for forcing you to watch Risky Business and Top Gun 1986 then started to realize what a hot uncle you have.

Well, he’s technically not your uncle we all know that.

But, he’s been around for so long, you were really closed with him when you were young but when you hit puberty and all those teenage years, it’s normal to say that, those were the phases where you distant yourself from your family.

Speaking of Tom Cruise, everyone seemed to turned their heads towards the entrance as he walks inside the room with a big smile on his face. You watched your dad made his way towards him before he engulfed him in a big hug also. Suddenly it felt like the air around you seemed to have gone away, your chest heavy, your palms sweating. A waiter holding a tray of champagnes came in your presence as you grab a glass before you took a sip of it and decided to leave the room.

Your head was heavy. Your mind couldn’t stop teasing you how good he looked today, it’s even encouraging you to take actions that you know it’s going to risk it all. Your feet dragging you away from the crowd, your hand placed on top of your head as you squeeze your eyes shut to stop thinking about some kind of evil plan that your own mind formed.

A gasp escaped from your lips when you felt a hard bump against your chest, resulting your glass of champagne spilled to your dark blue dress.

Aw, great, it looks like someone peed on your chest.

“Sshoot! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!” You recognized that voice, the eyelids of your eyes slowly fluttered unfold to reveal Tom Cruise wearing that sexy black suit, a couple of his buttons undone. He’s very sexy, you thought.

“Y/N… I’m so sorry, dear. Let me ask your mother if she-” You immediately shook your head no.

“It’s nothing, sir.” Tom looked bewildered.

You never call him Sir, he’s always go by the name Tommy, Uncle Tommy, or Unky. You stepped away from him as you set the empty glass on the nearest table. Tom watched you practically sprinting off down the hallway. The top of his teeth pulled on his bottom lip slightly. It was a brief moment but nonetheless, Tom’s got a good look on your presence.

You’ve grown into such a mature woman.

You’re no longer had bangs that he find it very cute.

You used to have chubby cheeks and slightly chubby arms but he knew how that went away. He knew all about you more than you know about yourself. He knew all about the toxic relationship that you had with your boyfriend who were 3 years older than you. He had told your father how he shouldn’t have approved the relationship that you had, should’ve encouraged him to convince you to break up with the douchebag. But, eventually you finally got the light and you did break things off with him.

You’ve grown ever since then.

You seemed to be more aware of yourself. You started taking care of your body, eating healthy foods, exercises 4 days a week, and now here you are. Almost looking like a woman, that Mr. Tom Cruise himself didn’t recognize.

Pushing down the door handle to your room, you stepped in as you give yourself a second to take in the atmosphere of your old room. Not one single thing had moved from it’s original position. It had been left, just like that. You sighed to yourself, closing the door behind you and opened a door to your closet.

Your old clothes are still there. You moved out of the house around 2 years ago, when your business came up and running. You decided to have a place of your own because when you live under your dad’s roof, you’d live under his rules and it’s no time for that. You rummaged through a couple of dresses, mentally cursing to yourself for having more sweatshirts than dresses honestly. You sighed, you didn’t find anything that you could wear.

You jumped when you heard a knock on your door, “Y/N, It’s me. Your mother told me to give you this, may I?” It’s him.

Cracking your knuckles anxiously, your knees popping slightly. Shit, why is he here instead of my mom? You thought. You licked your bottom lip, straighten your posture and rub your slightly sweaty palm of your hands on your dress.

"Hi," You breathed when you pull the door open to reveal Tom plastered with a sweet smile on his face, holding a what seem to be a dress that your mom was about to go upstairs and give it to you but Tom insisted saying it was his fault so he wanted to be the one giving it to you instead.

"Your mom told me to give this to you." Tom stated, his arm extended to you.

"Right, thanks." You breathed yet again, you seemed to be out of breath are you okay in there? Tom thought. You took the hanger off from his grip in a quick motion and as you were about to close the door on his face, Tom stopped you from doing so.

"Can we talk? You seemed to be ignoring me, is there something wrong?" Tom questioned, his eyes were on you before they drifted their focus onto your room behind you. Tom pushed the door softly before entering in, without realizing you're following his movements as you backed away with the door.

"Your room hasn't changed much huh." Tom stated as he chuckled to himself, dragging his fingertips across the wooden bedpost. "I remember how you used to talk to me about boys and that was, I think, when you were about 14 years old?" Tom turned to you with a smile as he chuckles a little bit.

"Aha, right." You couldn't help but chuckled awkwardly. Tom stands firmly on his ground, with his hands on the pocket of his dress pants, mouth slightly agape in confusion.

"Y/N seriously, is there something wrong? You know, you can still tell me anything. About your life, you work, whatever it is," Tom murmured while he approaches you slowly, step by step. Your fingers played with each other, your knees bouncing anxiously, biting your bottom lip.

"I really wanna know, because I care about you." Tom ended softly, his hands now placed on top of your shoulders as you look at one before looking back at him.

Care? In what way?

In you're my best friend's daughter care?

Or actually, really cares?

Well, he said I can tell him anything right? You thought. But your other conscious on the other hand said, No it's embarrassing Y/N and it's fucking weird that you had dreams about him fucking you.

"I-.. Actually.. Have s-something to t-tell you?" You stuttered, and that sentence came out like a question instead of a statement. Tom's eyes are on you as he nod his head slowly and guide him and you to sit on the edge of your bed.

"Okay.. Sweetheart, do tell me." Tom acknowledged. You swallowed down your saliva, gripping on the hanger of your dress that is laying on top of your lap. You chose to risk it all.

"I... Had a dream."

"Uh.. Huh.."

"It's um-"

"Y/N, Honey... Your hands are shaking," Tom pointed that you yourself didn't even realize that, not just your hands but, your whole body trembles.

Okay, Y/N just drop the ball! Your mind shouted before you push yourself off from the edge of your bed and tossed the dress to his side.

"I had a sex dream about you!" You exclaimed with your eyes closed. When you open them, it revealed Tom's bewildered expression. You shrieked to yourself, hands went up to clasp your mouth.

"Okay.." You peeked one eye, his eyes are still on you. Tom's hands then extended to reach your figure, placing them on your hips softly, before he pulls you in just a tad closer.

"Do you mind telling me about this dream?" Tom muttered.

What?

"Huh..?"

"What were we doing in there?" Tom questioned while he stood up from the bed and tower his frame over you. He moved his hands from your hips to your arms, as they wandered upwards softly towards your shoulders, his thumbs grazing over your collarbone before they both went towards your neck. His fingers resting against the nape of your neck. His eyes swimming in yours, searching, waiting for answers.

"Did you kiss me?" His question made you drew the bottom of your lip to your teeth. He took that as a yes when you didn't answer him. His thumb grazed over your bottom lip to release 'em from the grip of your teeth.

Tom's jaw clenched, he leaned his face to your neck, his hot breath fanned against your skin. A whimper escaped from your lips, Tom's aware of the effect he has on you. His lips went up to your ear, you feel more of his hot breath, your hands balled into a fist in your side.

"Did you cum hard in there?" He whispered. Your eyes widened and a small gasp left from your mouth. When you felt his lips connect to the skin of your neck, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. His hand went down to your side, gripping your hip before pulling you closer. Your chest and his now pressed against each other. His hand went up to grope your breast, a moan escaped your lips.

All dreams must cum to an end, as he was about to press his lips to yours, your phone rang. You mentally cursed to yourself, fuckkk!

The ringing from your phone must've snapped something out from both of you as Tom immediately let go of his grip from your lips. You were panting, as you tried to find your phone. Tom found it before he gave the device to you. You turned your back to him before you click on the green button on the screen.

"Yes, Roy." You slightly snapped.

You listen to the complaint from Roy with your head on your hand. Tom watched you, chewing on his bottom lip. A smile crept on his face.

He liked it, he liked kissing your neck. He liked the effect that he has on you. The way your whole body instantly succumbed to him. He didn't care that you're his best friend's daughter, in fact, the excitement of getting caught gave some kind of adrenaline to his body as his head turned towards the opened door of your bedroom. The thought of taking care of your sexual needs, hands wandering on your body, seem to never stop running from his mind since now.

"Fine, fine, I'll come. I'll be there in 15." Sighed another work problems. You turn to Tom to find him standing there, holding your dress.

"Change, I'll drive you."

You gulped, will this be a good idea?

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

a/n: i might turn this into a series 👀

[obaewankenope]

I have some sad news and need help as a result

So, to those who follow me and were aware, I fostered two dogs back in August this year with my mother. One of them, my mother adopted (rip me). The other got adopted.

Her name is Lady.

Lady went missing for a week literally minutes after being adopted. She found the one bit of fencing that she could scramble up and over of her adopters home. For five days, she hid in woods and streets surviving as best she could, using her experience as a street dog for two years in Bosnia.

We eventually found her and she came to me because she recognised my voice and the song I sang to her. This was both miraculous and unsurprising. She knew my mother and I and had bonded with us in her month with us in our home. Prior to being with us, she had been in kennels and on the streets.

Her adopters have had to make the difficult decision to return her to the rescue due to a number of reasons, none of which are in their control. Their current dog is very big and young. He wants to play and be around her all the time. Lady does not. Before she went missing for a week, she was much better situated for such a reality. After a week of being alone and reverting back to survival instincts, she isn't.

My mother and I can't afford to have another dog. Financially and also mentally for me from the stress. Regardless, we're going to foster her again because she's most comfortable with us and Marley and Troy.

It's going to be hard.

I'm going to make a wishlist of things that we'll need for her (and the other dogs, since I don't doubt that they will also use and attach themselves to her) as well as try to give updates as regularly as I can. I'll add the wishlist link to a reblog when I've made it. It will likely be on amazon, unfortunately, since its the best for this.

Right now, however, our main issue to travelling to collect Lady. We just don't have the fuel to do so at this moment. I always hate asking for help with anything but this, right now, is something I need to do for Lady's sake. I will do anything I need to for an animal.

If you have anything to spare that can help us get fuel, food for her, a bed etc, it will be Greatly Appreciated [first link is my PayPal, second is my Ko-Fi].

If you don't and can't safely spare anything (do not put yourself out, that won't help you and I don't want you to suffer please), then reblogging this post and tagging it is fine.

It is all appreciated. No matter what.

Her adopters are willing to have her back again if her trauma is lessened and she can interact better with their dog but, as always, what's best for Lady and avoiding any conflict between her and their dog is the priority. They're not confident they can help her when she's had so much trauma in her life. At least with us, she's familiar with Troy and Marley and trusts my mother and I. That puts us in a better position to help Lady and rehabilitate her.

This is all just an unfortunate situation and no one is to blame here. The focus is on what's best for Lady.

[blindtaleteller]

MCU Asgard Canon Observation Research [Part 1]

Firstly and before I even start in on the subject, keep in mind that this is what it says: a collection of research into actual Canon Lore from the Marvel Cinematic Universe: not the comics, or the Nordic lore twice removed from it.

Secondly and alongside that, also keep in mind that even back at the start of the MCU as a long term project, while the MCU is based on the Marvel comics universe: the creators made a point of making it a completely different universe: for many varying reasons, including the spaces lacking continuity in the comics over the years that the MCU as a project wanted to pursue from it's first conception.

This is a large part of why there are phases and why they were numbered from it's creation. (And yes also why my tags recently mentioning counting phases are what they are elsewhere, but that's a whole other post.. or set of them.)

These are important to remember because, I would like to avoid previous iterations of people wasting their time trying to insert comics-universe lore and more excessively into or onto this requested post purely for the sake of, well; being argumentative or just trolling:as much as possible. I do try to take some time to respond to comments and reblogs as much as possible, but I can and will ignore or yes, at times point out people unable to manage these things.. and respond as necessary.

I normally wouldn't bother to mention this except yes, that has happened before so: consider this your disclaimer.. I ain't dealin' with you if you're gonna be a trolly shit disrespectful enough of the time effort and willingness to share what research and observations I have, by shitting on it or me in your pursuit of whatever flimsy excuses might be given for any inhuman reactions posted passive aggressive or worse.

More frankly: be respectful on my posts or get lost. I don't tolerate harassment on my blog whether it's aimed at me or others. Passive aggressive or otherwise. I'll discuss stuff, am happy to have any valid references I might miss added to and pointed out. Just don't be an asshat about it, and you'll get the same from me. That's how basic-bitch Karma, and I; both work: you'll get what you give along those lines, while in my space.

The necessary now out of the way... Next!

More as a side note with that mentioned; while I may mention some meta/theory in the form of the most probable (as that's how my meta in particular is formed) it is again: based on the facts of the canon lore and contexts confirmed presented in it; visually, in dialogue, and out of the mouths of the very people who made all that themselves, at the time that lore was given to us on screen: and will be mentioned as the theory and supposition that is 'meta' rather than 'canon'. I have gone out of my way as a fan of world, universe, and character building as a part of the creative process in particular: to watch, rewatch, rewatch again and again, and hunt down all this stuff (often lol purely out of my own curiosity.) All in all Meta is theory, Canon is story/film-established fact; and I do try to keep a clear line between the two of them. The early world and character building in the MCU has always been interesting enough to me alone, to do all that with my free time.

And that's especially true with Asgard in particular, as a main story driving force in one form or another as far back as 2010 when both Thor and CA: tFA's scripts were being filmed and their sets/settings picked out and created.

Final few bits before we get into it..? As Asgard lore (and even a lack of it's presence at times) is directly and appropriately attached and or in relation to the lore of several races, species, and massive events in the entirety of the MCU's first three phases.. I will be touching some of those cultures and places too, where important. Probably not in this particular part, but yeah. It's gonna happen.

As with the research post into Loki and his year of absence prior to Avengers 2012: (yes that's a link to an ask that contains a good chunk of info and years of interviews on that particular subject) this might not be an entirely complete compilation: for the same reasons. As I said, i didn't just watch, I rewatched repeatedly from differing personal mental angles: not just three or four times, but and as I wrote my own fanfiction.. I would also re-watch once or twice just prior to fleshing out an outlined story of my own to refresh my memory, seek out interviews official and otherwise from the creators and actors who made that lore and put it on screen for us to enjoy as part of the stories we enjoyed (or not, depending lol) and well.. the resulting organization of the whole outside of this post is less than comprehensive for anyone else. You can see the explanation for how that happens in the foreword of that thread if you're curious.

As a result, I may or may not exclude the actual interviews if this gets too long. Much of the visual in this first part especially are pretty self explanatory, as I did find some of my dissection pics too.

All said (I think? Gods I hope so that was a lot wasn't it? XD) and as suggested/requested recently in discord?

This one is gonna be expansive.. and hellaciously so: so grab your drinks and your snacks and still be prepared for this series of posts to be going for while (not kidding, may be compiling this properly between jobs for weeks) so yeah..

Here we go again!

The major forgotten fact of Asgard's depiction in the MCU is this:

We the audience are only shown a very tiny fragment of Asgard as another separate planet in space, and: they do show us we're missing as much, from the very first film.

That gif directly from the movie I used at the top? I'm using it again, because...

..look at that.

With topography, perspective and size in mind.

That tiny golden triangle in the middle is the Palace at the center. The little golden bar along that tiny portion to either side? Is the city attached to it proper, with the Bifrost, and as far as we've seen the 'Heroes Road' (as soem are calling it) and city walls cupping the Bifrost Bay directly facing the camera.

This is a space shot (of course,) and that tiny itty bitty moving spec that is still shrinking as it gets further from our perspective and closer to Asgard at the bottom, is the Bifrost in use.

And, they do give us a few views of that as early as five to six minutes into the first movie in 2011, as seen in the first clip below. I've set it to share at the first view of Asgard itself.

Hopefully that works. If not, the timestamp you're looking for is 2:04.

I recommend shutting off the audio, as it's a bit distracting. Trust me, we will get back to the very interesting audio from a world builder's perspective, when we get to the History and Relations section of Asgard's break down.. there are several tons, of that and in that opener alone, to examine later.

IMPORTANT!! When looking at any of these images or videos, keep in mind and look at the scale. Not just in the scene on screen at that moment, but also in reference to previous shots. Distance is a thing. The size of trees and people are a thing. This place in the MCU is much more massive than where it's very cloistered story parts take place.

This is not a city-planet like and for comparison: Coruscant, from Star Wars... though I am very aware that some people will throw out Asgard's concept art to try and 'debunk' that (yes its' been done and proven pointless in other threads).. that does also bring us to another couple of facts that slip by in their context.

In fact, you know what? I'll throw it in here right now myself:

This concept art: does still apply, if slightly adjusted with the topography and likely under ground portions taken into account.. because Asgard is the name of both the planet AND the city as separate entities of the same locale.

In other words, the concept art is VERY valid as a map of the city itself: but not the outlying locations outside of Asgard as a Capital City Proper, of Asgard as a disk planet.

And again.. they do show us this, and not just in the first film: although that first shot going into the city says as much too, being that..

A. Asgard is established as a society greatly more advanced than Earth and most others, and;

B. there are whole swaths of land (and especially mountain they like to build into) without structure between the edge panned through and the City itself. (see still image below: not the best quality but it's also in the video.)

Which.. we'll touch again a little more in a bit (and probably the biggest lol) part of this breakdown set; digging at History, Culture, and Relations.. as the fact they do prefer to build INTO their environment much more than on top of it is also shown in the shot of the canyons and canals on which not only that city is built, but even what buildings are shown outside of it on that panning-in shot.

We can see in the one above though: that while they did redirect some of the water through canals in the lower shot; they also kept and built into the natural(?*) lay of the river canyons below.

This theme is kept even before we get into the city though with the first part of the shot above the water.

Want a more visual view of the breakdowns as I do them?

Here you go, here's one example from out of my crazy folders and docs, that I made in paint back in 2013 (LOL yes I know. XD) while once again re-watching that same scene.

I would highly suggest clicking on it, as tumblr does downsize images making text on them hard to read otherwise. Crappy in-motion quality screen cap but, it was made more for breaking down the visual elements on screen for what it told us about the land, and more; on it.

----[?*] As a set of side/foot notes to that last bit and the image..

A. the top left corner yes: does reference some of where I use certain observations of canon in my own fics; and how they would have grown or evolved depending on that story. In this case, and at the time: the pink text is making note to utilize those observations in outlining Hvedrungr (Loki from Uni 0) and Flykra's (Loki from Vesti1 Uni 14) universes in particular: both of which return to Asgard at VERY different times and in different situations: while the history and culture I've been able to glean and expand on in some cases is still part of their and the location's background. As I don't have the patience to remove the text from an old paint shop cut.. I thought I would at least explain it's presence left there. These things are, ultimately connected by the culture that originated on and created them on that planet after all.. and why there's an entire section dedicated to the varied aspects of Asgard's presented Cultural, Relations, and History lore. B. The '?' at the 'natural' mention in parenthesis above, also takes into account that Asgard is much older than Earth's culture and has to be: if only because as only three generations have come and gone over the passage of what to us is five thousand years! (see the next installment Thor the Dark World: Bor and Darkalfheim, or just watch the movie with info gathering in mind.) In other words, between Bor's War, and Odin's Asgardian Great Wars: we cannot be certain whether or not 1. those canyons are actually natural or the now aged result of one of many previous interplanetary wars, or 2. whether Asgard at this stage of it's showing timed at 2011 more than a millennia later, has even always been this size, given their advancement in technology and study of magic as presented OR left in question, either. For my part, as there's no conclusive dialogue from that era to state otherwise in the MCU or it's interviews that I know of, and knowing the context of Malekith and Darkalfheim's familiarity with Asgard itself during their raid to reclaim the infinity stone: I tend to veer towards a mixture of the two. While it's very likely at least some of the canyons are indeed natural; the great age of the culture and planet both, along with the nature of Bor and Odin's rules alone as we've seen them: leaves a HUGE and LONG period of time and opportunities for some of those nasty fights to come directly to them... or even their predecessors. Which would also explain why they had that shield for the palace too. You don't build and more importantly upkeep something like that without a very good set of reasons or examples experienced, to do so after all. Much of that is meta though, however based on canon fact it may be: and as many of the creators were not asked publicly during that era, and have been dismissed or moved on to other projects since.. it's hard to know if we'll ever see a *genuine* answer from the people who actually made it all starting sixteen years ago.

Anyway, let's look at a few more shots of Asgard with that breakdown going. Some of these are all old, from as far back as about ten years ago when I first started writing outlines for the varied universes in my Lokiverse Project: but they do still hold up. theer are some from TDW in this bunch too. I heavily dissected these scenes knowing I was going to do whole chapters in multiple differing universes, and wanted to have the presented layout and feel laid out in my head, before I started adding in locations on the planet not yet shown on film. And given my first Book was already going to be DREAMS.. where Asgard has been blown to bits post Endgame? I really wanted to get it right so I could deconstruct it as many times as I and the muses wanted to. Laufeyson (Universe 10 Loki) was pretty insistent too with the opening chapters on his end focusing partially on that chase with Abell through Asgard's blown apart ruin

Sorry for the ramble of an explanation, but that's how it is and how it works over here...? XD

..uhmmmm. Yeah lol! When I said I watch and re-watch from differing mental perspectives..? That's what I mean. I don't usually share those at all... only the unedited pics. Genrally I will take caps or take existing raw caps and pick out piece that catch my eye. I've been told they do help put your brain in the right mode for those who have difficulty processing them in that way, like I do when in that mode. Also yes, trees and fish ...bruh. lol!

It's there, has been for years in some cases; and I'm not messing with it now.

That basic bit out of the way (doesn't sound so basic does it.) Let's backtrack a bit, specifically to Asgard's shape and the placement of it's location and the locations on it.

As I first write this, I don't have the talks I had with a few wild meteorologists and geologists back then directly on hand (as this is a part I still don't focus on too much; but:) shaped as it is, those I did talk to theorized that between the shape and placement of planets as well as the nebula they're partially inside, that Asgard may be shaped and in rotation as it is because of its' placement in it's system: or because of late interference by Asgard's inhabitants to keep it stable.

^ That one scene in particular from Thor 2011 really made my eyes pop. Not because of what's going on in it so much as trying to answer the whys and hows and what the actual fricks man: because..

Can you imagine, the conversation: trying to pitch that spinning death ball to the King there OR anywhere else on the planet before Bor or even his great grandfather?

Or, trying to talk the royalty down from the idea of putting it anywhere NEAR the palace, or other people's homes?

How about testing that house sized death-by-velocity-alone gilded mess? (Yes I still laugh thinking about that. Some poor scholar/engineer type trying to dissuade Bor's grand-daddy from building what would definitely become a giant pinball of death in the canyons and canals, if that thing ever came off it's anchors even once in the city. Good gods! lol!) Who knows; maybe that was when people started moving to Vanaheim... XD! Just (mostly) kidding.

Cray-cray thoughts of high velocity gilded pinball hell that was probably somewhere way back in the Bifrost's likely development and evolution as tech/normie science boosted by magic, and or vice versa, aside:

You probably notice I've mentioned the nebulae and the planets in their rotation more than once. And with good reason.

Backing up a bit; Asgard is interesting well before you hit her shores.

Not only is she a top-shaped disk-planet: but with the way the sky is shown: Asgard has a very interesting rotation if she has any left at all. There's very little we know, but what we do know is she is not alone in her systematic rotation either way.

(Asgard's sky from Thor's personal Hall in Thor: the Dark World)

In fact and as seen in the screen caps above: Asgard has an incredibly close relation to at least three planets in her nebulous solar system. At least one of which is absolutely massive: massive enough that it's close proximity is theorized as being pretty likely to be the only way Asgard experiences night cycles as seen in Thor: the Dark World... mainly through eclipsing the nebulous sun by passing between it and Asgard as a planet.

Which is both cool -and- scary when you take things like degrading orbits, space debris and projectiles like comets and other space science into account.. but also very, very interesting.

It also begs the question either way: why didn't Asgard at their earlier establishment of a greater technological level, colonize or move to those planets sooner? Of course.. the first obvious answer is.. they probably couldn't, at first. And even more probably were past trying by the time the Bifrost was built, prior to Bor's time (I say prior because we have seen Bor use it in Thor the Dark World: and on a massive scale moving whole armies, the same as his son Odin. See some of the scenes from Bor's seizure of the Aether below.)

But yeah, Asgard is a pretty unique place even before you get to the water fall's edge: or questioning what kind of condensed mass it has to retain gravity at it's very small size.

Or, whether that gravity and the shape is in fact generated in some form or another after millennia upon millennia of just the Wars we do know about in their history.

(At current we know about Darkalfheim and the series of Wars including Jotunheim and Muspelheim that they call the Great Wars. While they are definitely aware of the extensive millennia of intergalactic war between the Xandarian based Nova Corps and the Kree Empire put front and center in GotG.. there hasn't been any actual confirmation as to whether Asgardians fought in that war on either side: only that they are at that stage at least loosely allied with Asgard.. if not a more separated protectorate being considered among the nine realms in the MCU.)

Why do I keep pointing out trees, and perspective; or teh size of the city in that first little gif again?

Because.. that is our repeated visual evidence of just how much of Asgard as a planet; the story did not take place in.. huge parts of the place we haven't seen. And that makes sense.

Power plants or generators, smithys, and even schools can be easily placed in the city proper, at this stage.

But what about BEFORE, they got to this stage.. because that is a thing in the MCU in regards to Asgard: and a major plot point for three movies of script running, from 2010 all the way to 2015 when Taika Waititi was hired (unfortunately, for those of us who know the root of what happened there.)

What about food, for thousands of 5000 year lifespans and their kids. And their grandkids. And.. the food for the livestock, or the wild game

Or the bilgesnipes and dragons--well we can guess what happened to the dragons of Asgard in particular actually. If they were anything like Muspelheim's; and on a planet that size..? It doesn't take much to figure out Odin, Bor and their predecessors probably couldn't excuse not hunting a predator big enough to swallow people to extinction: not for much longer than they absolutely had to anyway.

What about fibers and leather for clothes.

How about waste management, for both the city and suburban areas? Sewers? Water filtration? Factories or slaughterhouses to process it all, and the means to support those things. Everything man made, is grown, processed or made somewhere.

We know they have these things, because we know they have and make their own alcohol (fermentation of grains, fruits, and more); as well as other things to eat: displayed in both T1 and TDW.

(The top image is from Thor's table flip scene in Thor 2011; while the one below it is from the tavern scene in the beginning of Thor: the Dark World.)

Meat, vegetables, fruit, grain, herbs, and seasonings are all represented on the tables above. While some might be imported (I really do wonder about the platters of golden apples myself:) it's not very likely all of them are. And it wouldn't make sense for them to have been imported from off world throughout their species development either. After all and again: they would have had to have survived and developed enough to GET TO, that stage in the first place.

You're also looking at Varnish in the shine of that table; smithing and metal working and ceramics in their table ware. Weaving either plant or animal fibers in their clothes, as well as the likely production of tannin (or it's equivalent) and leather working in every leather piece on screen. Candles can be made from varied sources, whether that's actual wax of some form, or condensed animal fat.

Oh, and if you find the enlarged version of those images: you'll also notice things like fine engraving and metal sculpture to the goblets and platters on the Thor 2011 table in particular.

Either way, the images above show us directly that unsurprisingly, they have come to understand whole other sub-levels of production: before you even get to the high-tech and magic ends of any of that to be able to reproduce it in that modern era.

As another side note related to that: the booze alone is pretty telling as to how far off the "Loki" series is on this mark, as well. Creators of current content 'conveniently forgot' that this is supposed to be a space faring, technologically advanced society (even if they're the social equivalent of medieval imperialist thugs .. lol sorry not sorry! That's literally how they're depicted... and honestly that really weird twist IS some of Asgard's most interesting and strange development) whose friends, allies and other examples of places visited DO and HAVE included Earth, Xandar, and six other 'realms' as their etymology names them: for literal millennia. Even taking the other, long established cultural influences and visitations aside? For a society who 5000 years ago was still porting whole armies to other planets to kick peoples asses? The idea they never discovered honey; or sugar especially even on the inside of a fermentation barrel for wine; OR how to process it into something like candy? Is more than just a -little- dumb in the stretch. Sugar often naturally starts to separate and crystallize during the fermentation process. Ask a vintner, or look it up if you don't believe me. Just sayin'.. just on Earth alone, we know sweets were discovered more than 8000 years ago. Eight thousand. And the only reason we haven't been able to confirm people older than that finding things like bee's hives?? Is because well.. that kind of thing rarely survives even that length of time at all, to be found in archeology in order to tell us more. I'll touch that and how it's pretty damned near impossible that 'Loki doesn't know wtf candy is' being 1k+ years himself, and a guy raised as an Asgardian prince & spymaster to boot later into the culture section I think, but mmm.. that whole bit still reeks of stupid, to me And more so after their own DB Cooper scene. Gonna say candy wasn't a snack in that era either? Cause if so; I got big shocking news, for those who think so... XD

In closing.. for this part?

As far as the world of Asgard goes, we have only been allowed to see a very small part of it: and even then? It is still undoubtedly massively larger than even what's implied: and definitely capable of supporting it's comparatively small base population of less than 10k people.

(Odin's subterranean vault reference: exterior)

The only reason we don't see even more of it; is the fact that films have a limited time to give you everything, and the story focuses on the royal family from the get go. And they live, in the heart of Asgard's capital city... so we largely don't see as much of that as weirdo world building fans like me would absolutely love to see in the process... and frankly; they gave plenty enough to start us off with.

The films would have suffered for having too much more of that, rather than the stories they were trying to tell.

The same.. I would love to know more: and I do wish the current teams paid the previous ones more respect by using what was already there and expanding on it: instead of making mismatched new things up, as they went.

The early creative teams really knew what they were doing back then.

(Asgard's defensive cannons defending against the Darkalfheim air raid in Thor the Dark World.)

And no, this isn't all they showed us, in the show and tell they did manage to give us over the course of years of work... far from it.

Hope you enjoyed part one! Maybe you learned or saw something you missed.. or have been inspired to watch the older films again..?

I know I often am.

[hawkinsindiana]

okay. deal.

ALMOST PARADISE: PART FOUR - CHAPTER SIX OF NINE

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 13.5k (THE MOTHERLOAD)

a/n: holy fucking fuck. literally the most ridiculous chapter i have ever written. INSANITY. can’t believe i’m about to say this but... this chapter is rated 18+. while there’s no actual smut, the scene is sexually charged, so for the sake of being safe, that’s why i’m using the ranking and the tags i am. also warning for intense and graphic descriptions of medical treatments and just genuine horrible angst bc you know me. OKAY I THINK THAT’S ENOUGH but huge quick shoutout to ms. ruby for helpin me make this steamy :). y’all know where to find the masterlist! ENJOY HEHEHE.

“Max? I need those bandages!”

“Here, sorry. Didn’t know what size you needed so… I brought all of them.”

Max quickly shoves the collection of bandages into Steve’s hands. He thanks her quickly; he’s trying to run through the check list in his head.

“Do you have, what the hell is it, that peroxide stuff?”

After a moment of thinking, Max’s face scrunches up with regret, “Shit, no I don’t. I ran out a couple weeks ago. Nasty fall off some stairs downtown.”

Steve curses under his breath — that’s what he needs the most. A lightbulb goes off in Max’s head, the idea propelling her through the living room and into the kitchen. She appears a few seconds later with a bottle clasped in her fist, amber liquid sloshing around inside the glass.

“I guess this is the one time Mom’s drinking will be beneficial.”

Steve sighs; it’ll have to do. He extends his free hand and wraps his fingers around the neck of the bottle to take it from her. As soon as his grip is firm, he spins to return to the bathroom — his heart is starting to ache, he’s been away from you for too long. It’s maybe been five minutes, but with you in this state, it feels like it’s been much longer.

Robin is crowded inside the small room with you. The girl is nervously running her palm down your arm, attempting to comfort you until Steve arrives with the rest of the medical supplies. It’s not working too well — Robin’s notoriously bad at reassurance during stressful situations. On the other hand, Robin’s smart enough to know that your brother shouldn’t see too much of you like this. Dustin and Lucas are in the doorway, her body angled just right to prevent either of them from seeing more than a sliver of your face.

Sweat drips down your skin, coating you in a light sheen despite the grime that also sticks to you like glue. Crumpled on the floor, your limbs tremble and shiver without Eddie’s jacket to keep you warm anymore. The second Steve deposited you here, he returned it back to the other boy in preparation. Stabilizing you became his top priority the moment you crossed over into Hawkins once again.

Thankfully, it’s not blood loss that’s got you reacting this way — it’s pain, continuing to radiate from the wounds on your back and shoulder, the pounding in your head worsening now that there’s light surrounding you. The exertion from the back leg of your journey through the Upside Down exhausted what little energy you still had left; the events from the past couple hours all combined into an awful cocktail inside your veins. 

Steve pushes past Lucas and Dustin without much thought, his mind purely dedicated to returning to you. Max follows behind and hovers near the other boys in the doorframe.

“Hey sweetheart, I’m back. I’m here, okay?” He speaks quietly, setting the assorted items into the sink before reaching out to you. The skin of your cheek is clammy against the back of his index finger; the soft touch brings you out of your agony, even for just a split second. Steve’s crouched beside you, desperately trying not to let his overwhelming despair show on his face.

He turns away for a moment to snatch the Tylenol off the counter — four pills into his palm before he’s grabbing one of your wrists. Steve doesn’t particularly care what the warning label says, he needs to get a buffer for this pain in your system. Instinctively, you unfurl your fist before he easily passes the painkillers to you; a gulp of lukewarm water from Dustin’s plastic bottle sends it to your stomach.

“I’m gonna move you now, yeah?” Steve mumbles, shifting to weasel an arm around your back, “I know. I know baby, I’m sorry. You gotta- there you go.”

Whimpers spill from you as he scoots your body further from the wall, giving him more space to work with. Your eyes pinch shut until you’re settled, or until Steve can’t stand the pained sounds anymore — it’s hard to tell which comes first.

“Do you, uh, want any help?” Robin offers hesitantly. Not because she thinks she’d be of much use, but because she can already tell that this has taken a toll on Steve — seeing you so weak and desperate for relief. He shouldn’t have to do this on his own. 

Steve genuinely considers Robin’s assistance for a moment; having an extra set of hands could make this process significantly easier. But this… this isn’t like you’ve gotten a scratch on your knee; it’ll be painful for anyone who watches. She shouldn’t have to see this.

Besides, Steve’s pretty sure he’s the only one he trusts enough to take proper care of you. He might not be as adept as you at this sort of thing, but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable. He knows what to do, which order to apply everything in; he helped you recover from your gunshot wound last summer. He can do this.

There’s no one else you would want to help you through this. You trust him enough to allow him to hurt you.

“Thanks Robin, but I think it’s best if it’s just me,” Steve finally answers. He makes the mistake of glancing over towards the door, meeting the eyes of three dejected teens. Dustin’s gaze is glued to the small bit of you he can see, face contorted in a mixture of sadness and guilt; he never should have let you get on that boat. It’s a little easier for Lucas and Max to hide their concern, but there’s still a glint of it in their eyes, furrowed brows giving it away. Steve gets a major case of déjà vu. 

With a final pat on your arm, Robin gets up from the ground and ushers the teens away from the door. They don’t even try to fight her — that argument’s already been had. Steve would never dare to let any of them help, even though they desperately want to. Dustin takes one last glance before letting Robin lead him away with a comforting hand on his shoulder as even more sadness creeps in.

When she latches the door, Steve gets to work.

He doesn’t think you have the energy or strength to stand, although that’d be ideal, so the floor will have to do. As quickly as he can, he collects everything Max had given to him and begins placing it onto the tile, unpeeling wrappers and loosening caps as he goes. You taught him that — it’s significantly easier to do this sort of work when everything’s already opened. He washes his hands and finally settles on the ground behind you, face to face with your wounds. You can’t sense much of his presence behind you, but knowing he’s there is enough of a comfort.

Steve sighs. He has to resist the urge to bury his face in his palms before he begins. As much as he’d rather attempt to hug you better, or just press an endless number of kisses to your skin, he knows what has to come first. There’s a significant chance that this is the hardest thing he’ll ever have to do — hurt you in order to help you. 

Much to Steve’s surprise, you don’t make too much noise as he removes the makeshift bandage. Maybe you’re too far gone to care. The sting doesn’t cross your mind when the true pain lies even deeper beneath your skin — aches that will take more than Tylenol to quell. He reaches up to discard the piece of Robin’s shirt into the sink, desperately trying not to think about how much of your blood has soaked into the fabric.

Steve’s lucky Max has a decent selection of medical supplies to choose from. The problem is that he’s trying to work fast and put you through as little as possible. If you weren’t already reeling from searing pain, he’d take his time and give you as many breaks as he could. He’s more focused on preventing infection than doing a truly thorough job — that can come later. 

Cleansing the claw marks earns him nothing more than a few hisses from your lips; it’s uncomfortable but a mere fraction in comparison to what you’re currently feeling or have experienced before. The scratches are the easy part. It’s the bite that’s going to be far, far worse. 

Steve can’t help himself — even though it’ll make his job significantly more difficult, he has to offer one of his hands, sliding it through the gap between your arm and waist. A moment passes before you finally take it between yours, like you had to summon the small amount of energy it would take to move. Your grasp is weak, fingers barely clinging to him, but it’s enough. The minuscule comfort calms both of you, the weight of the conjoined hands on the muscle of your thigh serving as a solace. 

Max’s dining room is filled with the dread of a hospital, relatives and loved ones crowded together waiting impatiently for a scrap of news. You and Steve do a fairly decent job of keeping your heads in the midst of chaos; an unfortunate skill you’ve had to learn. But seeing how hurt you were, how delicately Steve led you from the gate, and how beside himself he was through it all — the others are left reeling. Steve’s never been this upset. You’ve never been this fragile. The rest of the group almost feels lost. If you two can’t keep it together, how are they supposed to? 

Not much sound has echoed from behind the closed door of the bathroom; inflections of Steve’s voice coaxing you or a rare response from you, mixed with an occasional sniffle or two, has been the extent of it. So when you finally cry out in pain, a sign that the worst of it has begun, they’re thankful for Steve’s original stubbornness. The sound makes Robin clasp her hands over her ears. Dustin’s face pinches, cringing intensely at how you immediately begin to cry. Lucas has to get up from his place at the kitchen table and start pacing slowly. Max’s grip on her arms tightens. 

Your lip is quivering uncontrollably, tears now rolling down your cheeks in addition to everything else. You didn’t think the pain could get worse, but it exponentially does as Steve dabs the bite with an alcohol soaked cloth. The hold on his hand is of bruising strength despite sweat clinging to your skin, making it tough to keep a firm grip. A sob crawls out of your throat, words deciding to materialize. 

“Steve, I can’t… I can’t do it. It hurts too much.”

“I know. I know, baby,” He mumbles back to you, trying to force back the tears at his lash line from the sight of you in such pain, “I gotta clean it, okay? I know it hurts but it’ll get worse if I don’t. Just hold on for me, yeah? A little while longer.”

Heartbreakingly, the semblance of a nod dips your chin down to your chest. You punctuate it with a whisper, “Okay.”

Steve nearly breaks right then and there. He’s taking care of you, he reminds himself. This has to be done.

While he wants to finish this task as soon as possible, he has to pause for a second. A trail of blood has begun to drip from the wound; Steve switches to a clean rag to wipe it away. The whiskey sloshes inside the glass bottle as he takes this opportunity to refresh the alcohol on the other. His hold on your hand remains unwavering.

You let out a particularly agonizing shout when he, as gently as he can, forces the cloth a little bit deeper into the muscle. Your head pounds, fuzzy and ears buzzing, eyes pinched shut as he continues. You’ve probably got two minutes before you black out from the pain. 

Steve swallows harshly. His thoughts are scrambled, only thinking of how much he wishes he didn’t have to do this. In a moment of clarity, he stops mumbling assurances and asks you a question instead. 

“What’s the apartment like? Tell me about our home. Big windows? The kind that let the sun into the living room during the evenings? C’mon sweetheart, talk to me. Tell me everything.”

Something else to focus on. You squeeze your eyes even tighter, as if you’re trying to visualize it in front of you. It works — the front door, a deep maroon, appears in your mind.

“The a-apartment,” You stutter, huge gasps of air filling your lungs in between your sobs, “The kit-kitchen has a green oven and… and wooden cabinets.” 

You stumble over your words, pain forcing its way out your mouth as Steve swiftly continues his work. Faintly you can hear him repeating it from behind you, sharing his thoughts but you don’t have the mind to take it in. 

“The bedroom,” You mumble next, trying to hold onto that image in your head. Your bedroom, where you’ll come back to each other every day. Your bed, the first one that will belong to both of you, piled high with pillows and blankets despite always using each other to keep warm. You won’t have to wait to see your love on the weekends, you’ll get to return home to him every single day.

“There’s a balcony. It’s tiny but… but…” 

The thought dissolves as your resolve crumbles, your shoulders curling into your chest, your head starting to tip forwards. A terrible whimper sounds from your throat as you feel pain begin to overtake your consciousness, darkness creeping in from your periphery. When Steve feels your grip go slack in his hand, he stops immediately, dropping the cloth to loop his arm across the front of your stomach. 

Regretfully he removes his other hand from yours to grasp your bicep, preventing you from falling, “Hey. Hey, stay with me, okay? I’m done, we’re done. No more pain, I promise.”

You nod sluggishly, the relief of knowing it’s over is enough to keep you from completely passing out. Although his work isn’t finished, there’s no way Steve’s putting you through anymore of that. His skin aches as he removes his hands from you — like they were meant to be there — and makes quick work of the large bandage Max provided. You wince slightly as he lays it over the bite wound; exhaustion prevents you from reacting any further. Additionally, Steve dresses you in a dark tank also borrowed from Max. It’s a bit small, but now you get to protect more of your modesty without Steve having to see you in Eddie’s clothes. A necessary step in his mind.

The moment the fabric’s settled over your abdomen, he’s ushering you into his lap, finally able to comfort you in the way he prefers. Your arms loosely wrap around his ribs — even in this haze of pain, you’re still hyper aware of his own injuries, desperate not to touch his bandages. As you slump, falling straight into Steve’s chest, it’s like the sky inside you opens up. You sob.

You’re tired, so fucking tired. Tired of this life you lead, tired of the trauma that haunts your every step, tired that something else has come between you and a normal life once again. You’ve suffered so much more than you deserve, Steve has suffered so much more than he deserves. The apartment, the symbol of domesticity for the pair of you, seems further and further away. You’ll never get it in the same way others do, even if the day finally comes. You and Steve will always be tortured by this and what’s happened to you, no matter how hard you try to forget. That fact feels so ridiculously, absurdly, disgustingly unfair. You two deserve that too.

There’s nothing Steve can do except sit here crumpled on the bathroom floor with you. He whispers assurances, apologies, literally anything he can think of to try and make this better. He understands the feeling far too well to try and stop you from crying; Steve doesn’t dare interrupt.

Once you’ve gone quiet and your hiccups and gasps for air have stopped, he waits for you to move first. When that moment doesn’t come after several minutes, Steve glances down to gauge how you’re feeling. What he finds is far from what he expects — you’re fast asleep.

Steve has a rule never to wake you. With your nightmares and everything in between, he knows how tired your body can grow when you’re forced to neglect your sleep. He’s seen it far too often; you fall asleep when you’re with him half the time. He likes to think that’s because he makes you feel safe. Whether it’s on top of him, beside him, or on the opposite side of the bed, Steve will never rouse you. You’re a rather light sleeper now; the fear of something occurring while you’re dreaming has created this habit in you. A small touch to your skin or a shift beneath you can bring you out of slumber with ease. 

So when Steve’s arms instinctively tighten around you and there’s nothing but a flutter of your eyelashes in response, it speaks to the depth of your exhaustion. He runs his thumb along the swell of your cheek; this rest is well deserved.

It’s gone far too quiet. The others have resorted to glancing between each other as they continue to wait; Eddie and Lucas have taken seats next to Dustin on the couch, hoping their presence is enough to comfort your brother. Nancy remains outside, where she retreated after her horrifying experience with Vecna; it’ll take a couple hours to process everything he showed her before sharing with the group. The girls have taken over the dining table — Robin and Erica sat beside each other, Max on the opposite side.

Dustin’s a minute away from throwing the bathroom door open to see what’s happening now, but it swings in on its hinges before he can. A few of their faces go ashy at the sight of you limp in Steve’s arms, one slung across your back with the other tucked under your legs. He quickly reassures them, voice hushed, “S’okay. Just sleeping.”

Heartbroken doesn’t even begin to describe the feeling that washes over the group, but especially the teens. You’ve always been strong, even before Will disappeared; seeing you like this is new. 

Dustin and Erica were with you as you led the rescue attempt for Robin and Steve. Not even a bullet wound could slow you down. Then in the fall of ‘84 when a broken hand and a concussion didn’t stop you from helping the others distract the Mind Flayer. Vecna finally broke you. 

“Is there, uh, somewhere I can-”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course,” Max interrupts Steve and silently beckons for him to follow to her bedroom. It’s a bit messy, but that doesn’t matter to him; he just wants somewhere quiet for you to rest.

As gingerly as he can, Steve places you onto the mattress laying on your side, praying that you won’t attempt to roll over during your slumber. He pulls up a blanket at the foot of the bed and tucks it around your neck to keep you warm. You don’t move an inch through the whole process, your soft breaths continuing despite the movement. 

Before he leaves, Steve brushes a few strands of hair away from your forehead and places a kiss to the skin. It lingers for a moment, like he’s wishing it’ll heal you instantly. Regretfully, an ounce of happiness blooms in him; he never gets to dish out affection while you’re asleep for fear of waking you. Doing something so simple as pressing his lips to your forehead while you dream shouldn’t be something that brings him joy. Especially with these circumstances.

When Steve turns, he’s met with the kids crowded in the doorframe. Well, they’re not kids anymore, but he swears he sees the same puny assholes they used to be, clad in frowns and sad worried eyes. It reminds him how long he’s been doing this — long enough to see them grow up right before his very eyes. His chest aches.

Quietly, he ushers them away and back into the hall. None of them protest, although they want to be with you right now. But before Dustin can move, Steve places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t need to speak for your brother to instantly understand. All Dustin can manage is a nod and a grateful smile in the hopes his tears don’t start again; his eyes are puffy and red around the edges. Silently, he enters Max’s bedroom while Steve briefly returns to the bathroom.

He’s pretty sure he could throw up, just vomit all over the sink. Some of your blood is on his hands, smeared and scarlett against his skin. He hates the sight. With a deep sigh and lips firmly pressed in a line, Steve washes it from his palms; he’s thankful it scrubs off easy. Unfortunately, something tells him this won’t be the last time he’s forced to patch you up. He wishes it didn’t have to be him.

Steve makes quick work of cleaning up after himself, discarding wrappers and soiled cloth into the trash can under the sink. He swallows two of the painkillers for himself — his wounds ache profusely, but he thinks he’ll be alright for a little while. What he wants to do more than anything is rest beside you. His chest burns once again at the thought; it’s been too long.

An absurd amount of worry and adoration sparks inside Steve when he shuts the door to Max’s room; Dustin’s taken the spot beside you on her mattress, sitting up against the headboard. He doesn’t feel like sleeping. Your brother’s face is wrought with concern and a smattering of other emotions, all of which Steve also feels brewing inside him. There’s nothing he thinks he could say to make this better — ‘she’s gonna be okay’ seems condescending and weightless. The truth is that yes, physically you’re probably going to be fine. Your body has healed before. Mentally… this could take quite a toll.

Steve drops to the ground and leans back against the nightstand, his arms balancing on top of his knees. From here, it’s easy for him to spot you out of the corner of his eye; with a slight turn of the head, he can see all of you. Aside from some mutters that echo from the room beyond, it’s completely silent. He can hear his own heartbeat growing slower and slower, adrenaline and shaky hands starting to melt away as he begins to relax; Steve clenches his fists once to steady them. 

A rather deep exhale from you has his eyes darting to your sleeping form. As his gaze roves over your face, Demobat blood and dust splotched across your skin, the tempting allure of rest creeps up on him. 

—

Steve doesn’t remember falling asleep. One moment he was watching over you and then the next Dustin’s hunched over him, poking him in the arm until he wakes. He blinks a couple times as he gains his bearings, mouth strangely dry, as Dustin informs him of what’s happening — Nancy’s ready to talk.

Under normal circumstances, Steve would let you rest and fill you in later; he has a feeling that whatever it is that’s been keeping Nancy preoccupied for the last few hours is crucial to the next step the group makes. Which unfortunately means he has to wake you.

Steve wants to be gentle so you’re not startled, but you need to get up. He sits down beside you and his hand grips where your hip is beneath the blanket — you haven’t moved since he placed you here. Your body only stirs a bit when he mumbles your name, so regrettably, he has to shake you slightly. A small whine leaves your throat as your eyes peel open; Steve crumbles at the sound. He moves his hand to your face, thumb gliding across your cheekbone as a comfort.

“I know, m’sorry, sweetheart,” He mutters before your irises lock onto him, “Nancy’s ready to tell us what she saw.”

As Steve helps you stand with an arm wrapped firmly around your waist, your focus is brought to the makeshift bandage around his abdomen; blood has started to seep through the fabric — shades of maroon and red nearly stop you in your tracks. The promise you made to him pops into your mind.

“Didn’t get to clean yours.”

He nearly laughs because of course you’re more worried about him than yourself. He opts for a small smile instead, choking back a groan as he straightens, “S’alright. It’s not that bad anymore.”

But Steve was right earlier; cleaning the injury has helped in the long run. While there’s still an ache in your muscles and the wound shoots with sharp pain if you move your shoulder too much, it’s not nearly as bad as it was before. The short nap has helped as well, your body less exhausted although you feel like you could still sleep for hours. You want him to have the same relief, especially as you notice his face pinch as the pair of you begin to move. He’s lying to you. You visibly pout at the thought.

Steve sighs. He does adore how much you love taking care of him. He gives in.

“I’ll let you take a look later, okay? I promise. Let’s hear what Nancy has to say, yeah?”

With arms linked together as you sit on the couch, your hands clasped over the crook in his elbow, you receive the worst news you’ve ever heard. 

You’re no longer fighting for your own lives, but for the lives of the entire town. Perhaps the world. Vecna plans to merge Hawkins and the Upside Down — a foreboding and tense feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. This is far more than you ever signed up for. Fighting a monster or two? Fine. Saving the town from complete and total destruction? You’re not even sure how to do that. But you do know one thing; Vecna has to be killed. You have to go back in.

It’s an awful idea — a sure fire way to get yourself and everyone you love slaughtered. But you think you’d hate yourself for the rest of your life if you didn’t try. You and this band of misfits are the only ones who can stop this, which is why you’re now helping Eddie Munson hotwire a Winnebago. Add that to the list of things you never thought you’d do. Sneaking into this poor unsuspecting couple’s trailer is incredibly sobering; with a new burst of adrenaline, you almost feel back to normal.

Eddie could probably do it himself, but considering the time crunch and the soon to be angry hicks outside, a little help wouldn’t hurt. To his surprise, you manage to strip your wire slightly faster than him; all that tinkering with your brother has paid off. It’s enough to impress.

“Shit, you’re pretty good with your hands, Henderson. Is that a uh-” 

Eddie clears his throat, smirking since he knows what he’ll be walking into — your boyfriend is looking over both your shoulders. He can’t help himself. Seeing Steve Harrington squirm and bunch up with jealousy is sort of hilarious.

“That a transferable skill or…?”

Before Steve can say anything, you’re laughing as you hand the wire back to him, “Oh I don’t know, why don’t you ask Stevie?”

Steve would be kind of mad that you so openly flirted with Munson in front of him if he wasn’t a bit shocked by the fact that he liked it.

“Stevie, huh? That’s cute,” Eddie immediately answers, forcing Steve’s brow to lift just slightly higher; he liked that more than he was expecting too. Robin watches on in disgust and confusion, her cheeks pinched as her gaze darts between the three of you.

The moment’s short lived as Eddie starts up the RV, the engine igniting and shaking your surroundings. Steve is forced to quell the raging blush that’s beginning to rise up his neck and practically throws himself into the driver’s seat; Robin and Eddie retreat back to the others while you take the passenger’s. You have to resist the urge to spit out directions as you speed away from the trailer park, Steve’s foot firmly on the gas.

The panic doesn’t wear off until Steve chuckles in disbelief to your left, head shaking slightly as he drives further from the scene of the crime.

“Now that’s the stupidest thing we’ve ever done.” 

You laugh along with him in agreement, nodding profusely, “I can’t believe you’re driving someone’s house right now.”

“Y’know it’s not so different from the BMW, Henderson,” He replies smartly. Knowing it’ll get a reaction out of you, he glances over briefly before he has to refocus on the road; his tone and the mention of his rich boy car earns him a small scoff and a roll of the eyes.

“Well if you ever want a break, I can take over for a bit,” You add after a pause, casting your gaze out the window, “Just let me know.”

Steve’s chest warms at your offer; it’s stupid how much he loves you.

“Thanks baby, but I got it,” He spares another couple seconds to look at you again, fully curled up against the fabric seat with your arms wrapped around your knees. Steve couldn’t dare ask you to unfurl from yourself; you look genuinely relaxed like this.

“I’ve kind of always wanted to drive one of these things around anyways,” He continues immediately, removing one of his hands from the wheel to wave his fingers through the air. 

You tilt your head back over towards him, shifting in your seat to turn a bit closer. The sun is streaking through the trees, casting the shadows of leaves onto your cheekbones as he drives. The dark splotches glide over your skin before the RV rolls across a brief patch of pasture; the sun bounces through your irises, now intently focused on him, the color highlighted perfectly.

Steve swallows, forcing his eyes back to the expanse of road in front of him. Fuck.

Your voice is light, a little teasing, “Is it everything you hoped for?”

“Eh, different circumstances, but…” He trails off, his tone matching yours, “It’s not so bad.”

“What do you wanna drive an RV around for? Are we going to a tailgate or something? Camping?”

Your humoring gets a small chuckle out of him, his eyes checking the rear view mirror — he adjusts it momentarily, “Sure, if you want, but I’ve always wanted to go on a road trip.”

Steve sees your face brighten slightly in his periphery, a smile growing at the thought. Touring the states in a Winnebago is so American and cliché it’s adorable. You don’t speak; you can tell he has more to say.

“It’s always been a, uh, dream of mine to do this with…”

He pauses for a second, nearly shrinking in his seat. He’s never told you this before. He doesn’t know why he suddenly finds it a touch embarrassing. 

Steve licks his lips, brow furrowed for a moment as he collects himself. His voice is softer than before — nostalgic or sheepish, you can’t tell.

“To do it with a big family or something, I guess. A few kids probably.”

Your face creases a bit in shock. You don’t know why it surprises you, “Really?”

Now smiling at the thought, Steve nods. His excitement picks up with your interest; the words flow out of him much easier. 

“Oh yeah, like a whole brood of Harringtons runnin’ around. A few lil’ nuggets, like five or six kids-”

“SIX?” You can’t help but sputter, eyes widening in pure shock. He laughs a bit at your outburst, darting his focus back to you for a second, “What’s so wrong with that?”

“Steve, my uterus hurts just thinking about it! Oh my g-”

You abruptly cut yourself off; you assumed he’d be talking about you.

You and Steve haven’t discussed the future at all, outside maybe a couple of months in advance. With your college education being a factor to consider, the most you two ever discussed were weekend getaways or plans for the holidays. Even with him now moving in with you, it was about getting to spend more time together, not necessarily promising a future. The decision was a natural progression for your relationship — you like it in the city, Steve hates it in Hawkins when you’re not there. Why not come with?

There never seemed to be anything wrong with that. You started dating in high school, when you were teenagers — the big picture wasn’t something to worry about, not when you’re young. You’re not much older now, but your lives are different. There’s more responsibility you have to consider, and in turn it has made both of you more mature. This is uncharted territory. 

Early on in your relationship, Steve had decided not to think too far ahead. With Nancy, he had gotten the better of himself and pictured their life together years in advance, wondering what it’d be like when things were allowed to be normal for once. In the end, that was one of the most detrimental aspects of their relationship. Enough so that when it came time for you, Steve forced himself into the present. He forced himself to take everything one day at a time, worried that he’d get carried away again and ruin what you two have. He learned to meet trauma head on instead of hiding from it, which actually wasn’t a difficult change to make — especially when it helps you more than you can articulate.

Suddenly, Steve goes several shades of red. In all the years he’s dreamed of himself having kids, he doesn't know how he never pictured that it’d be with you. You… the mother of his children. That image, the mere thought, has him swallowing harshly. 

The way you interact with the teens should’ve been a dead giveaway. You’d be an amazing mom.

His hands tighten around the steering wheel. Of course it’d be you. He doesn’t… he doesn’t think he wants to do it with anyone else.

Steve desperately tries to forget about the flush in his cheeks and the thought of sharing a family with you, but he can’t help but get lost in the daydream for a moment.

They’d have his warm eyes and your brilliant smile, the classic Henderson curiosity lighting a fire beneath their tousled curls. They’d be wicked smart, just like you. Perfect mixtures of you and Steve — the best parts. But most importantly, they’d be protected from all of this, kept so far away from the horrors you two have experienced that it’d be like none of it ever happened at all. 

It takes another second for either of you to speak again. 

Steve clears his throat, unable to summon the courage to look over at you. His grip on the wheel tightens even further, “But uh, I-I figured all of us Harringtons would rent somethin’ like this and just… go see the country. All of us, just for a couple weeks in the summer.”

“Take them to see the Rockies or that big geyser thing. Or Yellowstone maybe. The Space Needle? I don’t know… whatever they want. We’d go to all of it. End up parked on some beach in California, maybe learn how to surf or something.”

He almost feels guilty imagining doing this with you. He doesn’t even know if you’d want that with him — a family. After all, you’re the one in college. You’re going to be searching for a career in a couple of years. It’s silly to be thinking about something so serious as having kids when you have the rest of your lives ahead of you. Well, granted you survive the next couple of days.

Steve’s right, it is silly. But there’s also a huge chance that you don’t make it out of this alive. You think you want to have something to fight for, something more than just an apartment with him in the city. You’ve never really thought about what would come next, but you suppose-

“That does sound nice.”

The words spill from you before you can think. But it’s not a lie. You think you want a life with him. The idea of you and Steve pouring an abundance of love into some children — your children — living proof of your pure devotion to one another… you should be combusting due to how quickly your face heats. 

Steve can’t help it. He has to look over at you. He meets your gaze instantly, drawn to you like moths to a flame, like his soul is tethered to yours. He’s searching your eyes for something, although he’s not quite sure what. Maybe honesty, perhaps excitement. He’s a tad too overwhelmed at the concept of having children with you to think properly.

“You think so?”

You nod — a silent promise. You want to do it with him. 

“Yeah, I do.”

Steve blinks. You do too. He feels delicate despite the raging thoughts swarming through his mind. Everything around him seems trivial with your eyes locked like this, two colors that could be passed onto mini versions of yourselves. It’s unfair he has to look away. It’s unfair he can’t reach you from here. It’s unfair that all this could be is just a stupid dream, something to keep you moving until you’re cut down and bleeding out. It’s unfair that it might never happen.

Even though this is something you’ve wanted for only about thirty seconds, your heart aches at the possibility of getting to do it — getting to raise kids with your love and be the family both of you deserved but never got. God, you want it so bad. You didn’t think you could want something this much. You want to give Steve the chance to do something more with himself, be a father and nurture. He’d be so good at it too; it’s almost like he was made for it. Made to give love like it’s easy, like it’s a fierce instinct inside him he’s pushed down for far too long. You never want him to have to do that ever again. Not while you have him.

“Except… maybe two,” You say, shyly breaking the silence that crawled between you. You keep your voice low to ensure it stays between the both of you, “Two kids, I mean.”

Another smile starts to pull at Steve’s lip, far more gentle than anything else as he continues to stare at the highway in front of him, “Two, huh?”

You shrug slightly as you find yourself drifting further into this dream, joy filling your every limb, “Yeah. And maybe a cat or something.”

“What if I want a fish?”

“A fish? Wha-” 

You can’t help but laugh in surprise; Steve looks over once again. After a few moments of falsely pondering in thought, as if you wouldn’t give him anything he asked, you answer, “Okay, fine. We can do both.”

We. He doesn’t know if you meant to say it, but it makes his heart do something funny inside his chest. 

He exhales as his hands shift on the steering wheel, “Two kids, a cat, and a fish.”

Steve repeats it like he’s speaking it into the universe, manifesting it to occur in a few years — one of these times, something good’s going to happen to you. The idea of your little family indents itself into his brain, tattooed in golden ink. Steve won’t give up until he gets it with you. 

You nod in agreement, “Yeah, that sounds…” 

Amazing. Perfect, even. 

“Reasonable.”

Steve huffs and shakes his head at your word choice, rolling his eyes just enough to get a giggle out of you. His grin grows impossibly wider as he thinks about it for a second. Anything, literally any type of future with you sounds like the best thing he’s ever heard. 

He nods too, “Okay. Deal.”

A beaming smile, the kind that’s hard to hide, curves your lips in record time. You have to drop your chin and turn away before you can begin to smother it, the pads of your fingers ghosting over your face as you come to a startling conclusion: you and Steve want a future together.

—

The War Zone parking lot is packed to the brim. You don’t know why you’re surprised — with tensions rising in Hawkins due to Eddie’s disappearance and rumors of a demonic cult, it makes sense that the surrounding citizens would flock to arm themselves. You’re also in rural Indiana, which also means it could be busy just because.

Steve doesn’t like the idea of you staying in the RV with the Hellfire Club members while he goes in with the others — he can’t really stand the thought of leaving you right now. But Dustin’s right; if the basketball team’s looking for him, there’s a decent chance you’re on their list too. It’s not worth the risk.

“Get me some good stuff, yeah?” You say quietly, your fingers dancing across the skin of his forearm. Steve’s crouched beside the passenger seat with his palm smoothing over your calf, your legs still bunched up into your chest. He only lets a hint of his worry show on his face, his brows slightly furrowed with a small frown; he really really doesn’t want to leave you. He’d rather just crawl onto the seat and bury his head into your shoulder.

Steve scoots a bit closer, his hand hooking around the back of your knee as if it’ll keep him near you forever, “I’ll be right back, okay?”

You melt at the desperation in his voice; you can hear how much this pains him, even though you won’t be far for very long. You nod softly, the press of your fingers engraving the texture of your skin onto his. With your free hand, you reach over to brush a chunk of hair away from his cheek, “I know, Steve.”

Steve’s lucky Robin is in the middle of distracting the others with her rambling when he leans over to kiss you; his palms rise to caress your head between his hands, a firm but careful grip. It doesn’t last long, but you’re still breathless when he pulls away — everything the pair of you have been feeling over the last few hours is exchanged between your lips. You spy it in his eyes as well, a familiar intensity blooming in his pupils that’s mirrored in yours as well. Your gaze darts down to his cupid’s bow for a moment, half expecting him to kiss you once more but it never comes. Instead, Steve clenches his jaw as he tries to banish the influx of thoughts and urges that invade his mind. 

It’s tough to resist but he’s helped by Robin calling for him; you don’t breathe again until Steve’s touch leaves you. Something about that felt different than it used to, like there’s words still left unsaid and feelings still unprocessed. Maybe you’re just craving the closeness and his skin on yours — it has been a few days since you had time strictly to yourselves. But whatever it is, it makes you feel like you’re burning. 

Several minutes after Steve exits with the other girls, Eddie saddles up beside you. Although you’re parked on the side of the building and out of view from most patrons, he makes an effort to stay below the base of the windshield. He tosses an elbow over the armrest connected to the driver’s seat.

Eddie gestures blankly in the air between you, “Are you… alright?”

“Yeah, I’m a bit better now, thanks,” You reply, shifting your focus from out the window to him. His hair’s a little wild — wilder than usual — due to the lake water and from him fiddling with it. A few strands are twisted together, almost like he tried and failed to braid them.

“How about with the, um…” 

Eddie doesn’t really know how to bring up the topic, so he’s lucky you’re smart enough to understand what he means; the realization flickers across your face.

“Right, uh, not gonna lie I kind of forgot about that,” You answer with a light laugh in your tone, “Considering what’s happened in the past few hours, that seems like the least important thing I should be worrying about.”

Eddie scoffs to himself — it should be obvious to him that you’re barely thinking about that. You’ve been through a lot since your conversation with him in the woods. He feels a little stupid for bringing it up now.

“Of course, yeah. I just…” He trails off, a clink of his rings echoing through the air as he brings his hands together, “Just wanted to make sure we were cool after that. Pretty sure Harrington wants to kill me now.”

That gets a proper laugh out of you. At the thought of your love, you instantly cast your eyes out to the sprawling concrete like it’ll cause him to appear in front of you. You miss him.

“Steve’s really protective of those he loves,” You smile, feeling beyond overwhelmed that you get to include yourself in that group of people, “Trust me, you’re not the one he’s holding a grudge for.”

Instinctively, you trace your thumb along the back of your left hand. It falls into a small divot below one of your knuckles — a section of your skin that never grew back quite right. There’s not a day that goes by where you don’t regret him. All it brought you was anger and sleepless nights, terrifying dreams and painful memories you still haven’t healed from, like an unclosed tomb that won’t let you mourn what you lost.

Eddie might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he can read through the lines when he has to. He remembers the brace on your hand and the bruises on Harrington’s face. It was obvious that Billy had been the cause of the boy’s injuries, especially when he practically bragged about it, but he never figured Hargrove could’ve been responsible for yours as well. Suddenly it hits him — Billy Hargrove did a lot more damage to you than spreading a few rumors.

Before either of you has the opportunity to speak again, the door to the RV bursts open and the rest of your group piles in, plastic bags filled to the brim with all manner of supplies. It’s ridiculous how warm you feel when Steve takes his place in the seat beside yours; all he’s able to offer you as a greeting is a loving smile before he’s changing the gears and speeding off in a hurry. He shouts something back to your brother in argument as you start to peek through the bags placed by your side.

There’s a larger selection of medical supplies, meant for use in the event of any more injuries and to tend to those previously sustained. One is filled with bundles of thick clothes, another with a smattering of assorted items to make molotovs — gasoline cans, liquor bottles, and cheap t-shirts to slice up. Bullets knock against each other as you search a fourth bag and you instantly grow tense; you can spot Nancy’s shotgun out of the corner of your eye, making you worried what they could’ve gotten you in your absence.

Steve watches as the anxiety creeps up behind you like a shadow. He runs the back of his hand along his jaw, a light wash of stubble beginning to coat his skin, “Robin has your stuff. She insisted on finding you an outfit.”

Instantly, Robin materializes behind you, as if she was just waiting for someone to bring it up. As bubbly as ever, she pulls out a military green flight suit and a thick protective vest to be worn on top. She also hands you a thigh sheath, already containing a decently sized hunting knife, before passing over a much larger one. It’s a large machete bound in a brown leather sling with a wooden grip; it’s a bit too big for your hand but you’ll manage. As if she already thought of this, Robin finally reveals a set of fingerless gloves to assist with your grip on the weapon.

“Nance wanted to get you a handgun but I… figured this was probably a better idea,” Steve says as Robin returns back to the others. Your eyes dart over to him and you’re now able to properly take in his outfit change. It’s stupid how hazy it makes you feel — the sight of your boyfriend clad in the warm browns and greens of leather and camouflage. He looks strong, tough for the journey ahead. The contrast of his exterior with the soft vulnerability you know lies within has you swallowing harshly; it doesn’t help that Steve understood what you needed and pushed for another way for you to defend yourself. To say you’re overwhelmed would be an understatement.

“Thank you,” You whisper as you outstretch your hand to him with a grateful grin spreading across your face. Steve takes it immediately, his warm fingers curling around the side of your palm. As a response, he smiles too and leans over to press a kiss to the mark on the back of your palm. Your cheeks heat from the gesture.

After nearly thirty minutes of driving, Steve parks the RV off a deserted stretch of highway; the next exit isn't for another few miles, no one should find you all the way out here. As the group begins to stir, grabbing the supplies they’ve acquired, you stop Steve with a hand to his arm.

“Can I patch you up now?”

Right — Steve nearly forgot the promise he made to you. He nods once before lifting the bags he holds, “Yeah, of course. Just lemme drop these off outside.”

You’re taking stock of the contents below the sink when he enters a couple minutes later and shuts the door behind him. You’ve found a half-used roll of paper towels and some spare rags that seem clean enough. As you start to wash your hands, Steve peels off the jacket with ease and drapes it over the small booth.

“Alright, Henderson,” He says before yanking the shirt off by the back of the collar, “Where do you want me?”

You sweat your brain short circuits. Luckily, you gain your thoughts back to reply fairly quickly, but Steve knows you better than he knows himself. The miniscule drop of your jaw, slight pause of your hands beneath the water, and the pass of your eyes across his chest did not go unnoticed. 

“The couch is fine,” You answer as you try to forget about the warmth in your stomach. You’re unsuccessful — you have to push out a deep exhale while drying your hands. The tension’s building inside your body with nowhere to go.

You’re almost jealous Steve gets to relax against the back of the cushions while you tend to him, but all you want is for him to be comfortable through this. Using a foldable beach chair Robin found stashed beneath the bench, you situate yourself in front of him, one of his legs between both of yours. You instruct him to grip your knee if he has to, which he does instantly, his fingers a tantalizing pressure as you continue to prepare. Steve watches you patiently.

You sigh and glance up to his eyes, which pinch shut in anticipation as you begin to untie the fabric around his wounds. Steve gulps as the final layer is peeled away, exposing the bites to the air for the first time in hours. You have to push away the instinct to tear up at the sight of his stomach smeared with his blood and littered with injuries. Rather than dwell on it for too long, you get to work.

It doesn’t take long to wipe away the blood on his skin, thankfully — Steve doesn’t react much other than a short grimace when the damp cloth passes over a rather sensitive spot. As you soak a gauze pad in the disinfectant, you finally speak again.

“This is gonna hurt,” You mutter, moving to re-adjust closer to him, your hand hovering over one of the bites, “I should know.”

Steve lets out a noise similar to a strained chuckle, his neck tensing as he anticipates the pain to begin; he realizes you’re waiting for him to give the okay. He nods, “Just do it.”

As soon as the alcohol is pressed to his torn skin, Steve winces, his jaw clenching immediately. You watch his reactions intently, ready to stop at a moment’s notice. Your free hand tapping his leg forces his head up from the back of the couch, “Don’t bite down on your teeth like that, baby. You’ll break ‘em.”

A whimper of pain leaks into his sigh as you continue to dab the gauze around the edge of the wound. Steve runs both his hands over his face in exasperation, trying to remember and focus on your words, “Right, right. Sorry.”

You laugh a bit at his apology. When he lets out a particularly restrained curse, brows tightly creased, you know that it’s time for a break.

Even though you’ve paused, his stomach continues to clench, the waves of pain still rolling through his body. When Steve drops one hand from his face, you grab it instinctively; it’s already warm and sweaty, another indication of the state he’s in. 

“We’re gonna take as many breaks as you need, okay?” You assure him, tightening your grip on his hand as if it reinforces your words, “Anytime you need.”

You squeeze his fingers once more before preparing to continue the tedious work in front of you. This time, a choked whimper escapes Steve’s lips at the contact, his hand immediately back on your knee. You’re mumbling praises and comforts, not wanting to keep him in too much silence; Steve cuts you off, face still contorted in pain.

“Can…” He breathes through his gritted teeth, releasing them as he remembers your words, “Tell me about the apartment again. P-Please.”

You can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks at his request. Given his current condition, you almost feel bad for being so giddy that he wants to know more about it. But you oblige, humming for a second as you think, tossing soiled gauze in the plastic bag.

“The walls in the bathroom are light blue, like the color of the sky today,” You say as you prepare another one, “The shower has a bathtub, which is very exciting and rare to find in the city.”

Steve can feel your words calming him down as he pictures every little detail you tell him. The cleaning goes quicker with your words with him seemingly distracted enough that you can work for longer before he needs a break. You save the details of the apartment for when you’re cleaning, and every break is the same; a rush of kisses to his hand, telling him how well he’s doing.

“There’s big windows, just like you said,” You add, a hint of a smile spreading on your face as you remember your first visit and switch your focus to the other bite, “You can see the park, and the sun comes into the kitchen in the afternoon.”

“The kitchen isn’t the biggest,” Your words continue, chewing your lip as you try to spring all the details back to your brain. 

“Gr-green oven?” Steve asks, voice mostly breath.

“That’s the one. There might be room for some dancing maybe,” You grin up at him, referring to the many times Steve has swept you into his arms while waiting for the oven to ding, insisting on a waltz. His hand squeezes your knee — not in pain this time.

Steve can’t tell how long it’s been, his muscles aching from how they’ve been tensed for so long. While you’ve stopped using the disinfectant, you’re still working away at his stomach, fingers setting him alight when you graze his skin; it’s a type of fire he doesn’t mind. He shivers.

“Are you cold?” You speak up as you wrap his abdomen in a fresh layer of gauze. You must have felt his shudder. Steve shakes his head, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He’s having a tough time breathing with you taking care of him like this.

Steve feels his body relax in relief when you tape the bandage down, going a bit limp against the cushions, but the expression you carry stops him; you don’t seem finished.

“What? What is it?”

Your eyes rove over his skin before landing on his neck. You gesture to your own as you reply, “Your throat. I’m just gonna clean it up quickly.”

With the couch as deep as it is, you can’t reach him from here. An idea pops into your head that makes your heart beat a bit harder inside your chest. You sigh in defeat, knowing what you’re getting yourself into by doing this, before getting out of the chair.

Steve’s brow furrows in confusion until you throw one of your legs over his thighs. While you’re planning on hovering over him, his large hands instinctively reach for you and gently tug you down to rest on top of him. Both of you feel flustered by the proximity, regardless of how long you’ve been together. Your breath hitches with his fingers now pressing into your waist. Steve’s jaw slacks — he’s known for getting overwhelmed when you’re above him like this. Regardless, a boyish, proud grin pulls at his lips.

“You’re blushing.”

You scoff as the alcohol soaked gauze makes contact with the skin above his collarbone. You shake your head slightly as you tease, “Yeah, yeah. Be quiet.”

The way you’re taking care of him — almost in a controlling way — absolutely wrecks the man beneath you. He’s got no say in the matter, forced to let you tend to his wounds with nothing but love and care. God, if Steve doesn’t adore knowing how much you love him. But then again, you’re also nervous at the closeness, displaying the softer and shyer feelings you hold for him. He gets both from you at the same time?

“Stop that,” You mumble.

“What?”

When you glance down to him, you’re met with his loving eyes, the same ones you know you can never refuse. You have to swallow harshly to try and keep yourself in check.

“Stop looking at me like that,” You respond, remembering to swipe the gauze across his neck, “You’re distracting me.”

Steve’s brows raise, his grin growing once again, “Oh, I’m distracting? You got on top of me, y’know.”

You decide to bite your tongue, opting to continue working with nothing but a small smirk tossed his way. Steve doesn’t have the same thought — he clamps down on his lip for a moment before speaking, his voice low.

“Could use a distraction.”

His fingers move to the sides of your hips before dipping under your shirt to graze your skin. His chest burns delightfully as your expression falters, but you do your best to stay focused. The hand on his neck has paused, just for a moment before you steady yourself and continue despite his teasing touches.

Steve is glad the bruises on his neck don’t hurt nearly as much, but he was right — you provide the perfect distraction either way. His hands skim up, his nails scratching your ribcage. You inhale sharply. 

“Steve…”

It’s supposed to be a warning. From the slight widening of his eyes, it definitely doesn’t come off that way.

The air is thick. It’s almost like you’re suffocating, throat closing up the longer you and Steve spend teasing each other with no crescendo. You’re not as strong as you thought — you drop your head a bit, your nose dangerously close to brushing against his. You need to kiss him, your eyes drifting closed.

After the day you’ve had, you feel this intense draw to each other, unlike any you have had before. Something’s different now, like your relationship’s shifted somehow. Maybe it’s the thought of making him the father of your children. Maybe it’s desperation after nothing more than a kiss or two for the last few days. Or even maybe it’s the fact you crawled out of an alternate dimension together, a place you could’ve lost each other to.

You’re both hesitating, no matter how badly you want this. If you start something… it could be difficult to stop. 

Steve’s brain reminds him of something. His pupils are almost fully blown out as he stares up at you, “I locked the door behind you.”

The dam breaks — your lips are on Steve’s in a millisecond; he’s almost caught off guard by how quickly it happens. He snaps just as quickly and is kissing you back instantly. You’re discarding the paper towel, or cotton swab, or… whatever it was you previously held; your mind is far, far too fuzzy to remember. Your top priority is freeing both your hands, which settle down onto his bare shoulders. 

Your breaths swirl together as one of his palms is removed from your back to cradle the nape of your neck. In a moment of courage, you tug slightly on his skin, a silent signal that you’d like to pull him up. He immediately understands, following you into a sitting position. The pain in his stomach doesn’t even cross his mind.

No, the only thing on Steve’s mind is your lips on his and your greedy hands, fingers digging into his shoulders in an attempt to bring him closer. He feels feverish — these kisses are hot and fast as opposed to the soft and slow ones that you usually share together. Both of you are spurring each other on, but not an ounce of passion is lost.

Steve’s hand on your waist grips you tighter, pulls you closer, and it forces another breath from you. The beginning of a whimper forms in your throat, your cheeks blazing as the sound escapes. His fingers slide into the hair at the base of your scalp as he moves his lips south, the warm press of his mouth finding its way under your jaw. 

Anger surges beneath the desire that pools in his stomach. Steve thinks that he finally understands the foreign, sudden jealousy he’s been experiencing. As he sits here with your chest arching into him and his lips on your neck, the thought of literally anyone else, but especially Eddie Munson, getting to touch you the way he does makes him feel incredibly possessive. 

To be quite honest, Steve’s not entirely sure how he feels about Eddie right now — there’s a lot of confusing thoughts running through his mind regarding that topic. But there’s one thing that he does know for certain. 

You’re his. Steve only wants to be yours. 

He only wants your wandering hands gliding across his skin, gripping tightly onto him when he pulls those beautiful sounds from you night after night. He only wants to hear your laugh in response to his terrible jokes, head thrown back in pure joy. He only wants your eyes to meet his from across the kitchen table, fully enamored with the domesticity of sharing a home-cooked meal together. He only wants your voice calming him from his horrific nightmares, tone full of understanding as you mumble gentle assurances. He only wants your lips brushing against his, smiling into his loving kiss. 

Steve only wants you. 

Instinctively, you tilt your head back for him; he knows where to go, which places to run his tongue and teeth along to earn those delicious mewls from your throat. Your hold on Steve tightens even further, hanging onto him as his mouth finds the spot on the side of your neck, almost close enough to reach your collarbone. 

He mumbles something incoherent to you against your skin, his fingers on your head supporting you as you whine, Steve beginning to leave his mark on the expansive skin of your throat. Your hands grasp at his shoulders even more, fingernails embedding themselves in the muscles there. It’s getting to be too much.

Steve thinks he could do this all day, just to listen to the sounds you make when he brushes his tongue and teeth along your skin. Your entire neck is flushed, warm to the touch and he relishes in the darkening mark he’s left behind as he finally pulls back. 

You’re his. 

Your chest rises as you pant to get in some oxygen, head a little dizzy from the sensations you just experienced. Steve observes you with a proud grin, lips wet and eyes shining as he plants another kiss on your neck, then your jaw. You meet him in the middle, mouths melting into each other. 

You still can’t get enough, drinking in the curve of his chapped bottom lip, the heat of his tongue — you pull back, trying to restrain from kissing him again when Steve chases your mouth.

“S’my turn,” You breathe, tilting your chin to gesture to his neck before you start littering your kisses along his jaw instead. 

Steve swallows harshly as your lips descend further, his breaths beginning to quicken and you’ve barely begun. This — your teeth and mouth on his throat — is one of his favorite things. There’s no particular spot you have to search for because Steve likes everything. Wherever gets you the prettiest sound is where you’ll go to work. His hands are flexing and clenching in an attempt to control himself as you kiss along his neck, carefully avoiding any injuries. 

It’s not until you reach a spot beneath his ear that you get the first groan, low and husky, and you can’t help but grin against him. A flare of pride sets you alight. You begin to suck on the skin, lips hot and soft. Steve curses, trying to restrain the noises building in his throat — there are some that could overhear after all. You’ll have to settle for whispers.

“Don’t stop,” He pleads, his palms sliding up the middle of your back; your shirt is caught on his wrists now, almost exposing your entire spine to the cooler air that surrounds you. It’s hard to tell if the goosebumps that litter your skin are from his touch or the sudden shift in temperature. He feels his skin growing hotter each second, desperate to envelop your lips in more searing kisses, but he’d be an idiot if he pulled you off him.

As Steve relaxes further into the sensation of your kiss-swollen lips on his throat, he finds it difficult to focus on one specific thing you’re doing; you’re all consuming. It’d be a disservice to you to only keep his attention on one element of your relentless teasing for so long. 

Your hands have drifted from his shoulders, one firmly grasping his bicep and the other deeply twisting your fingers into the hair on the back of his head. His grip on your waist falters when you tug lightly at the strands in your fist, earning you another restrained whimper from him. The added pressure of your body on top of his doesn’t make this any easier; his head spins, especially when you shift your hips a bit to elongate your posture and continue biting at the determined spot. 

Your nose bumps the shell of his ear every time you open your mouth; the light skimming is driving him insane in the best way. The light stubble that coats his jaw from the past couple days rubs against your soft cheek, further spurring you on in a way you can’t describe. Your fingers tighten in his hair.

His head finally falls backwards, completely giving in to your ministrations when your teeth not only pinch some of his red skin between them, but pull it away from his body. A full, unsuppressed groan vibrates his throat and fills the air; it goes straight to your abdomen in a pulse of electricity. 

Steve barely recognizes the sound that you pulled from him, not particularly caring anymore if someone overheard. What’s the worst that could happen — he gets chewed out by Robin? He’d take that any day if it meant this happened prior.

Another curse spills from Steve; he shivers, a stream of cool air hits the growing mark, your lips pursed as you blow a small amount of your exhale onto it. You’re finally satisfied with the work you’ve done, pressing one more feather light kiss to the bruising skin before dragging your attention back up to him. 

Steve’s eyes are still pinched shut, brow furrowed out of bliss; his face relaxes when your lips make contact with his chin, signaling your desire for further attention. He tilts his head back down, peeling open his eyes to see a smirk curling the corner of your mouth. 

“How’d I do?”

You’re preening, still high off the sounds you were able to earn from him, glad to know that you did a good job in pleasing him. He can’t understand how you’re able to switch from some minx, leaving dark marks scattered across his skin, hips shifting dangerously in his lap to this: a bright gaze, cheeks flushed, begging for his praise.

He’s yours. 

Steve actually manages to gather his thoughts enough to respond. His fingers splay out over your back as he quips, “I still don’t understand where you even learned how to do that.”

“That good, huh?” Your voice is laced with a chuckle, your eyes darting over his face as you brush a few strands of hair behind his ear. The moment is much softer than he was expecting, making his chest ache out of pure admiration for you. His voice is breathless, words mumbled as he cups the back of your head again, pulling you closer, “It was fucking fantastic.”

The kiss becomes heated immediately. There’s still this strong urge from your built up emotions, continuing to cloud your every judgment, especially as you continue to crave Steve’s skin on yours. He goes to whine in frustration when you pull your lips and touch away from him, only for you to grab the hem of your tank and tug it over your head. 

Steve doesn’t know where to look as his hands frame the delicate lines of your ribcage. He’s nearly overstimulated by you — a common occurrence in situations like this.

In traditional fashion, he decides to make a joke. It’s an attempt to playfully bruise your ego a bit and give himself the high ground; you’re gorgeous, you’re perched on his lap, you just gave him the best hickey of his life, and now you’re topless. 

He doesn’t know how he got so lucky. 

“Y’know, this is a little less exciting now that Munson knows your bra color,” Steve pouts, lightly tracing his middle finger up the strip of your sternum before his palm settles at the base of your neck. Goosebumps erupt over your skin as he continues, his hand sliding across your collarbone to fiddle with the strap of your bra, “Thought that was supposed to be a reserved boyfriend privilege.”

You know he’s only joking; you can tell by the type of smile that toys at the end of his lips. The look in his eyes, those full blown pupils — you know how he really feels. Regardless, you can’t help the teasing scoff that his comment pulls from you, an attempt to try and rile him up as you play coy, “So? Robin saw it too.”

Steve pushes out a really deep exhale, trying to pretend like that doesn’t mean anything. He knows Robin would never try anything on you (for a multitude of reasons). But he couldn’t help but notice the nervous swearing that accompanied her quickly darting her eyes away from you, not before they widened slightly at the sight. 

You return your hands to him, fingers skimming over his arms, “Besides, you took your shirt off too, Stevie. I think we’re even.”

His jaw tightens at the nickname, hands clutching you a bit firmer in a foolish effort to suppress the shiver that rolled up his spine with your tone. He clears his throat, “Well, it’s not a show every time I do it, is it sweetheart?”

You hum, winding your arms as loosely as you can around his neck, “I would beg to differ.”

Steve can’t help himself, crashing his lips onto yours once again. Your fingers thread into his hair, twirling the dark strands as you feel yourself growing more restless. When you shift again, hoisting yourself up higher, Steve stops abruptly. His hand, moving to re-adjust on your body, drifted over the bandage covering your skin — his throat goes dry. 

With hooded eyes, Steve stares at your face, grimacing at the feeling of the bandage beneath his fingertips. It’s a cold shock, a terrible reminder of what nearly took you from him. You understand, the same worry mirrored in your expression as you meet his gaze, now soft and full of concern. You can’t help but run your hand along his chest until you reach his own wounds, swallowing harshly as you glance down at the sight of them almost resting against your stomach. 

These pieces of your bodies are never going to feel the same. A part of you aches — you wish you had known there would be a final time the skin of his abdomen would be smooth and untouched; you would’ve spent hours worshiping the skin, saying good-bye to the familiar feeling beneath your hands. Steve would’ve done the same. Your back will never be the soft, delicate slope under his touch he’s learned over the last fifteen months. 

Someday soon, the skin on your bodies will be marred and twisted. The pair of you will be marked by this for the rest of your lives. The realization settles within you both: you and Steve are forever bonded, with souls fused together and equipped with the matching scars to prove it. 

No one will ever understand your pain like he does. No one will ever understand his pain like you do. 

“Are you…” You start but the words get caught in your throat, eyes still intensely focused on his wounds, fingers brushing around the edge of the gauze you placed there; Steve’s stomach clenches under your gentle touch, “Are you okay to keep going?”

Steve takes another second to think — he’s more worried about you than himself. Your screams of pain are still rattling around inside his head, twisting his gut even now as he holds you close. He thinks he needs to be even closer to accept that you’re okay, that you’re still here with him. 

“Are you?”

You drag your focus back up, taking the time to rove your gaze over his skin before landing on his face once more — the face of your protector.

Steve’s recounted his nightmares to you, at least the ones where he can collect himself enough to speak. You’re not surprised he’s so torn up about your injuries; it’s pretty damn close to the horrors his mind has previously concocted to haunt him. 

He’s had numerous dreams about you dying — that tends to be what terrifies him the most. The difference between your nightmares and Steve’s is the intensity. You used to get nightmares almost every single night, your anxious mind swirling about anything and everything, concocting a mix of the worst moments of your life to torture you with. 

When Steve gets his, one every couple months, they’re destructive. He’s always a step behind, a split second away from saving you when you’re taken from him. He’s shown images of you being swallowed whole by one of those creatures, or torn apart by a pack of demodogs, or beaten until your face is unrecognizable. It takes him hours to be able to fall back asleep, if he even does it at all. 

But you’re here this time. You’re alive. 

You swipe your thumbs across his cheekbones before cupping his jaw. Instinctively, Steve nuzzles further into your touch, turning his cheek to your palm and shutting his eyes for a moment. As he lets himself relish in the warmth you emit, he presses a firm kiss to the heel of your hand, sliding his nose along the side of your thumb.

The burn in your torso grows even more with Steve’s gentle affections; this is the man you love. The careful, passionate, amorous lover. He’s not a fighter, he never has been. But god, would he fight for you. He’d do anything for you. 

You confirm your answer with a kiss, which Steve graciously returns. His hands slide to the slope of your waist, with his left curling around to press into the small of your back and arch you even closer. With your thumb, you pull down on his chin to deepen the kiss; a sigh escapes you at the hot glide of his tongue. 

Your mind is going fuzzy again. You can’t focus on anything other than Steve’s soft groans and the slow drag of your lips against his until his fingers dip below the waistband of your bottoms.

The RV shakes — someone’s trying to open the door. They do it so aggressively that it shocks both of you back to your bleak reality. Thank god the door was actually locked. 

You’d probably fall backwards in surprise if it weren’t for Steve’s hands already on you, moving quickly to support your back before you can tumble. You grip his shoulders tightly to steady yourself. Eddie’s voice just barely pierces through your Steve-induced haze, eyes blinking as you try to adjust to the sudden change in atmosphere, “Open up in there, Henderson. Gotta grab something, it’ll be quick.”

You lock eyes with Steve and neither of you can help it — you share a breathless laugh, faces scrunching up in bright smiles, knowing how close you were to being interrupted far more dramatically. Steve can’t stop himself from kissing you through it, humming as you arch into him once more. A knock on the door has him sighing in frustration.

“Fuckin’ Munson,” Steve mumbles before you press one final kiss to his lips before you have to start removing yourself from him, leaving your fingers on him the longest to draw it out. He passes you your shirt as you stand, watching with hooded eyes as you put it back on with a wink.

His jaw clenches as you make your way to the door, twisting the lock and pulling it only part way open. Your annoyance leaks into your tone, but you try to sound pleasant.

“What do you need, Eddie?”

Eddie shifts his weight, gesturing to the interior of the RV, voice slightly muffled by the cigarette between his lips, “My lighter is in there.”

You roll your eyes. This is what you stopped for?

“Alright, where is it?” You ask between clenched teeth, pointing for him to stay there when he tries to enter. 

He brings his hands up in a silent apology as you disappear, shouting the answer to your question, “Should be in my vest on the booth!”

Steve laughs slightly, watching you flash a frustrated glance in his direction as he, unfortunately, tugs his shirt on over his head. The door’s shut as soon as you toss the small metal rectangle outside — Eddie just barely catches it.

“Nice hickey, by the way!” He calls through the door. You’re tempted to open the door again just to slam it. Your cheeks are glowing hotly as you sigh, turning on your heel to return to where Steve is. 

Steve himself seems to recall the gravity of the situation, and how far off track the two of you had stumbled in your little endeavor. His eyes track up and down over your figure as you pad back over, collapsing next to him on the couch, gaze eventually catching on the mark on your throat. He has no doubt that there’s a matching one on his skin, feeling it pulse in time with his heartbeat as the blood rushes beneath it. 

“Rain check?” Steve offers weakly. You roll your head to grin at him, an unexpected laugh passing your lips. It feels silly to be stealing these moments when the world is going to shit but grazing your eyes along the expanse of his skin, lips pinker than normal, you can’t find it in yourself to have any regret.

“Definitely.”

You don’t want your little bubble to end, but you suppose it has to eventually. You hate the thought that spills into your mind — this could be the last time you have him alone like this. Regretfully, you get up from the couch, but extend your hand for Steve to take. He waves it off, a sheepish smile pulling at his lips.

“I’m gonna need a minute.”

—

[esther-dot]

hello! i’ve followed for a while but never talked to you. thank you for being such a great jonsa and asoiaf source. i’ve been thinking lately about how sansa’s vale arc might proceed and was curious if you know of any theories about when/how her marriage to tyrion might end.

sansa needs to be unwed for littlefinger’s schemes to work. he seems to want sansa to believe he’s just waiting around for tyrion to die, but that doesn’t seem in character for him. it seems more likely he is actively trying to end her marriage behind the scenes.

do you think she’s likely to stay married to tyrion for much longer? or might her married/unmarried state end up as convoluted as the northern succession, maybe with a decree of annulment floating around somewhere like robb’s will?

Aw! Thank you so much for saying so! I really enjoyed your tags contributing to the Rhaegar & David parallels, and your post about his name.

I haven't been reading much meta this year, so I may have missed it, but I don't know that we've ever developed a specific theory about when Sansa's marriage to Tyrion would be handled! We've sometimes talked about a nice ol' widowing which is fun (but not what we'll get imo), @kellyvela found an exchange in which Martin said that someone doesn't have to go to the High Septon for an annulment but obviously will have to request it in their own name and it would reveal their location (link), so that means, it can't be safely done while Sansa’s pretending to be LF's daughter. She could do it once in Winterfell, and we've talked about the possibility of Tyrion trying to bring the North to Dany's side in DoD 2.0 via his marriage to Sansa, and if that is the route Martin wants to go, it would be pretty juicey, and really fuel Tyrion's rage if Sansa has already had their marriage annulled. That's a fun way to play it.

We've also talked about post a girl in grey trip to the North, considering loyalty to Ned and hatred for Lannisters, the North might just say fuck it, we don't recognize that forced marriage. Or, and I really do think this is possible for drama's sake, we have the two religions, and they might use that to defend not recognizing the marriage and, considering the byronic Jon quote, and how often bigamy pops up in gothic/victorian lit, I don't dismiss the idea that Sansa might marry someone before the old gods prior to an annulment being secured. That might mean, the annulment doesn't happen until close to the end of the story. I personally like the idea of a secret Jonsa wedding, but lot's of Jonsas expect it to be public after R+L=J to reconcile the Jon KitN turning out to be a Targ debacle. Either way, this would mean when Jon reunites with his friend Tyrion, they're both married to Sansa which is also a very sick twisted fun way to play it! (Stop throwing tomatoes, y'all know that would be funny!)

As for LF's current plans, I have no idea! He believed Cersei would end Tyrion, he'd then get rid of Cersei, and that at that point he could reveal who Sansa was:

"A marriage . . ." Her throat tightened. She did not want to wed again, not now, perhaps not ever. "I do not . . . I cannot marry. Father, I . . ." Alayne looked to the door, to make certain it was closed. "I am married," she whispered. "You know."

Petyr put a finger to her lips to silence her. "The dwarf wed Ned Stark's daughter, not mine. Be that as it may. This is only a betrothal. The marriage must needs wait until Cersei is done and Sansa's safely widowed. And you must meet the boy and win his approval. Lady Waynwood will not make him marry against his will, she was quite firm on that." (AFFC, Alayane II)

No man can wed me so long as my dwarf husband still lives somewhere in this world. Queen Cersei had collected the head of a dozen dwarfs, Petyr claimed, but none were Tyrion's. (TWOW, Alayne I)

The mention of the queen's name made her stiffen. "She's not kind. She scares me. If she should learn where I am—"

"—I might have to remove her from the game sooner than I'd planned. Provided she does not remove herself first." (AFFC, Alayne I)

Cersei had the motivation to go after Tyrion, so it made sense to me he thought she'd handle it, and then he'd handle her, but seeing as what he wants to do is reveal Sansa as herself, get the KotV to go North and reclaim Winterfell, I'm not sure what he is currently planning, now that he says his timetable is screwed? Unless he thinks the mayhem of KL, Cersei's current trouble there, Aegon and then Dany's arrival will allow him to get the annulment undiscovered? Cersei is at odds with the High Septon, so maybe he thinks he could get away with it? That doesn't make sense to me though, not with the way news flies. I guess the weather is something of a shield, but not enough. Maybe he planned to kill someone and try to pass them off as Tyrion? Marry Sansa to Harry quickly after and take her North where Cersei wouldn't be able to get her? The emphasis is on Tyrion being alive, not the annulment, but maybe that's a misdirect. I really can't say. If any of you have spec, let me know and I’ll reblog it!

[nakasumi-sims]

Got tagged by @stargazer-sims for more stuffs! But Iet Tea pick the character and they chose Nicholas.

Nicholas Beasley

• What uncommon/common fear do they have?

He's recently gained a fear of sex after being assaulted. Any kind of intimate touching or getting on top of him freaks him out, but he is working on it.

• Do they have any pet peeves?

When people call him nicknames of his name, big messes especially in the common areas

• What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

A collection of the Lord of the Rings books, his laptop, a small pile of dirty clothes on the floor next to the foot of the bed. He doesn't have a ton in his room cause it's a dorm room he shares with Ash and they take up a lot of the space. But his corner has some geeky posters and such.

• What do they notice first in a person?

Usually something they're wearing or carrying then their demeanor. Someone looking hostile and unapproachable hasn't stopped him from going up to them and trying to strike up a conversation. In fact, Cody's paranormal creature keychains at the time caught Nicholas' attention during a club fair and he went up to him even though Cody looked like he'd murder him for even daring to approach. Luckily, talking about paranormal things eased Cody out of his shell, so they became fast friends and started the club that day since neither of them found any other clubs interesting.

• On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

About an 8

• Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

It very much depends on the situation. Most situations he stands up to whatever it is. But there's situations where he needs to flee like if the cops get called on the club for trespassing or something since he can't get in trouble with the police if he wants his dream job of being a forest ranger.

• Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

He's an only child and it's just him and his parents, Jonathan and Holly. He's very much a family person though and he finds his parents as huge supports for him. He visits on most holidays too even if they are across the country.

• What animal represents them best?

Probably a lion or a bear. But there's also this pufferfish that he found on a sake cup that he thinks looks like him if he puffs his cheeks.

• What is a smell that they dislike?

He doesn't like the smell of blood or artificial banana

• Have they broken any bones?

Surprisingly, no.

• How would a stranger likely describe them?

Average height guy with a lot of muscle, kinda nerdy looking but also handsome. He gets completely thrown off when people compliment his looks since he was teased for his looks for most of his school years.

• Are they a night owl or a morning bird?

He's definitely a morning person. He gets up almost every morning to go running and hit the gym before classes.

• What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

He hates the taste of artificial banana and he loves curry.

• Do they have any hobbies?

When he has spare time, he plays video games. His main hobby is making beer and ciders.

• Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises?

He'd be startled initially since it's not something he's used to, but he'd enjoy it. Regular surprises, it depends. He gets regularly surprised by Ash being chaotic which doesn't throw him too much. Being a paranormal investigator usually brings surprises, but he's used to those too.

• Do they like to wear jewelry?

Not really. He's not used to wearing any, but when he was a sophomore in high school he wore a ring on his ring finger for about a month because he had a crush on girl. He kept that hand mostly hidden under his jacket sleeve so no one would notice. Eventually, he got caught by some classmates and got relentlessly teased about it and then never wore it again.

• Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

His handwriting is a little messy, but legible. Probably 2nd or 3rd best of the group.

• What are two emotions they feel the most?

Happiness and frustration. Ash pushes his buttons daily and knows exactly how to push them just right.

• Do they have a favorite fabric?

Flannel

• What kind of accent do they have?

I guess I'd say a typical American accent? He's from the east coast. He actually has a voice claim so if you wanna know exactly what he sounds like you can check it out here! (https://youtube.com/@AVNJ)

Aaaaaand now for the tagging (obviously voluntary) @pralinesims @poisonedsimmer @simmireen @j3lly-fish

[cannoli-reader]

Fuck, marry, kill. Categories are: Wondergirls, taverin, Rand's wives, Aiel Wise One trio, Amyrlins. Go.

These are stupid games, and I will only entertain this one, because I think there is something to be gained in understanding the characters, in order to give a proper answer. Or just show everyone what an idiot you are.

So.

Wondergirls. Probably not hard to guess for people who know me.

F - Nynaeve. Yeah, she has a lot of puritan village elder vibes, but all three of them are rather uptight and killjoys. On the other hand, from the mouth of someone who has experience with Nynaeve: "...I'll miss having my back clawed."

Nynaeve is great in the sack. Per a guy who has plenty of experience.

M - Elayne. She's rich, she can cook and despite the entitlement and arrogance, has no problem letting someone else take the lead if it makes them happy, while being ready to step in and take character herself if they screw up. Unlike certain other people in this group, she's not going to be a ball-buster just for the sake of proving to the world she's in charge. Elayne is the one who works at being a partner. She doesn't need a leader, and she doesn't need to be the boss.

K - Egwene. If for no other reason, she's the shortest. She's a killjoy. She has the most attitude and the least justification for it. You'd have to work to find a trio that puts her into any other slot without actively evil or physically repulsive people.

Ta'veren.

F - Mat. Experience, and he's not going to make you work for it. He has an actual philosophy about seeking to make his partners happy. As opposed to "What are you doing, don't you know how hateful I am?"

M - Rand. The right balance between commitment-shy and clingy. Fertility also seems to be a strength. Easily the most responsible of the three as well.

K - Perrin. This is actually not a default, "Kill Perrin" was the first and easiest choice for this trio, before figuring out which to assign Rand and Mat. He's the worst friend and the least considerate of the trio, plus the first one to be an actual murderer. Even his episodes of self-pity are less interesting than Rand's.

Rand's partners.

F - Aviendha. One of the most athletic characters, and frankly, probably not qualified for the marriage one, given her very ta'veren-esque approach to understanding the opposite sex.

M - Elayne again. For the reasons above. Although Min & Aviendha are tighter competition for her than Two Rivers girls, they both seem a lot more high maintenance.

K - Min. I never really warmed to her relationship conduct with Rand or thought it cute or charming, and when you add in the fact that she uses sex to manipulate or extract promises she has no business asking for from her partner, you definitely don't want her for the other two places. And frankly, she's far and away the easiest target.

Wise Ones (I am assuming Bair, Melaine & Amys)

F - Bair. She's been around the block, she knows what she's doing. She seems like the one most prone to dirty jokes, which suggests she's fun.

M - Amys. She's pretty chill about Rhuarc doing whatever he wants, even if she apparently has the unfortunate habit of collecting teenage daughters. You don't see her trying to change him, either.

K - Melaine. She was apparently militantly single, before suddenly flipping and wanting a husband out of the blue, and seems like she's both a micromanager and not very good at it, and clingy to boot. Probably a lot of work in the sack, too. And for Aiel, having twins named Egwene and Min is probably the equivalent of "Sunshine" and "Peace". Or a suburban white lady naming her kids Mei Ling and Shaquana. Plus, she has the worst poker face in talks with Aes Sedai, and frankly, does the least useful stuff of the group in the story.

(For record, Sorilea goes into the Kill slot no matter whom she tags in for)

Amyrlins.

F - Egwene. Youngest, supposedly really good-looking. Probably the least deserving of execution in this trio, but for reasons above, not putting a ring on that.

M - Elaida. She can knit, and is the only one proven capable of maintaining a long-term functional personal relationship, retaining Morgase's trust and friendship as her advisor for a quarter of a century, before circumstances outside her control messed that up. Good with kids, too. The ability to get the kids to play outside in winter time canNOT be overvalued. And she doesn't let them get away with any crap or slacking either. She takes an interest in landscaping, which I absolutely hate. Maybe you don't want her as chairman of the board you're on, but she seems a pretty good partner in the day to day stuff. Also, I like her inclination to troll assholes who are backstabbing her, but she can't quite get rid of them yet, like Meidani.

K - Siuan. She's just about the worst of the significant good guys and people actively fighting for the Light. She's egocentric, and a classic pointy-haired boss. She is the worst combination of locked in to institutional thinking, and at the same time, willing to abandon established practices on (generally ill-advised) whims. You kind of get the sense that the Pattern put her in charge of the White Tower specifically because it couldn't be anything but an obstacle to the Dragon Reborn, and Siuan is the best bet to drive it into a ditch. She also sucks at laundry, and I seem to recall it being implied she's a bad cook, too. And from her interactions with Bryne and behavior in Duranda Tharne's establishment, she's probably a ton of work, highly critical and a dead fish in the sack, all in one horrific package.

That was more interesting and fun than I thought it would be. Thanks, Anon.

[liiilyevans]

Fic Author Self Rec

Fic authors self-rec! ✨ When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers ❤️

Thank you @uncertainwallflower for the tag! This is difficult, but I'm going to try. There are in no particular order.

A Change of Heart | 15k, E

What is she thinking? Spilling all her secrets to a man who is practically a stranger? However, as Lily glances over at him, she can easily see him becoming a friend one day. He's kind, understanding, and funny. Plus, Marlene says that he's a great guy. If Marlene approves, then Lily knows she shouldn't question her.

This is one of my favorite Jily fics and it focuses on Lily and James and their scheming friends trying to get them together. Lots of fun and shenanigans in this one. (It also was not on AO3 until two second ago apparently lol)

Paris | 3k, T

In which Draco decides to accompany Astoria on a trip.

This fic cracks me up every time I read it. Draco and Muggles really don't mix, but it was fun making them try.

Reunion is Sweet | 17k, T

“Why didn’t Ron come along?” Angelina asked.

Merlin, Katie thought. Just how many people have they invited? There were six bedrooms in the house — three on the bottom and three on top. When Katie had suggested using her aunt’s house, she and Alicia had decided that they would split the bunk beds upstairs and leave the others to decide where they wanted to sleep.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Ron’s too wrapped up in Hermione to go anywhere for very long.”

Ginny snorted. “Literally.”

“I didn’t need that mental image,” Harry grumbled.

Or, the OG Quidditch team + Ginny spend a five day weekend together.

I wrote this for TTB Spring Fling and it was so much fun. These guys are crazy and it was a blast writing this. 17k felt like nothing. The fic focuses on Katie/Oliver, but there are other pairings mixed in there.

Four Times Harry Walked in on Ron and Hermione and One Time He Didn't | 3k, E

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry sputtered.

Ron jumped, nearly exposing Hermione to Harry’s line of sight. He thanked Merlin that it was dark.

“Harry,” Ron panted, as he pulled his trousers back up. “I didn’t expect you to be early.”

“Early?” Harry shot back. “I’m on time. Where the fuck is George anyway?”

“Downstairs closing,” Ron answered, still not moving from between Hermione’s legs. “He said he could close without me since I’d been working so hard.”

“So, you thought you’d come up here and have a quickie?”

I only include this one because Harry's sass was on fleek in this fic and I'm pretty sure it's the only time I've ever be able to write him like this again.

Uncharted Territory | 34k, M, 28 chapters

A collection of oneshots chronicling George and Angelina's time as parents.

My newest fic and one that brought me back to writing again. Very near and dear to my heart. Plus I love writing about George and Ange. I've got a bunch of fics of them that will probably never see the light of day lol.

Tagging: @harryissuchalittleshit @the-al-chemist @four2andnew @sweeethinny @hinnyfied

[anulithots]

So that could've been a mini-spiral, here's a thing that helped.

Uhmm... I'm going to tag @holdmyteaplease and @dancinginsepia, you all may like this <3

Context is that the others are in the "news watching phase" and I don't like my existence being political. (But sarcasm is great, that was the moral of the story.)

ANYWHO-

Specifically make a playlist to songs you've had the "nirvana lots of stimming" thing for. The ones that you've played over and over again for days and hummed along and danced to in the closet. Just those ones. Not any of the "good vibes ones" or even the "ooh character daydreams ones" just the ones you've actively felt the uber-happy-serotonin to. (Although in mine I added a few more melancholy ones that still give me happy chemicals, just make sure the most jammie jam ones are first.)

Mine's here because why not:

Okie dokie, that's part one.

The second part is the assigning a thought process the role of "caretaker". I story-fied this so that there are pixies that take residence in Anuli's head because of mycorrhizal symbiosis and only Naegi (the language processing, presentable one) can speak, so fae tells Anuli to use faer thoughts to give Squioo (the caretaker) a voice, and I really really want to include snippets of on-the-spot prose but maybe at the end.

Anywho, this "caretaker" thought process is there to soothe you whenever you need them. Mine calls me "bean" and says a lot of "I know, it's okay" and any help I need with doing the next task and not holding onto the spiral thoughts.

In fact! Thoughts become most damaging when they are OUR thoughts. They aren't! Most of the time, they are offered from that collection of subconscious childhood sponge stuff. You collected that, yes, but not by choice, so none of that is yours, they are only meant to help you when you need it.

And there was this one podcast my parents listened to in the car (long drives <3) and it talked about the four parts of the brain (Theoretically, they are nice guides, not foolproof, but nice. It makes me feel less alone - that was cheesy - in my head). They go like this:

The presentable one. Think "masking". This is your presentably and plan-making part of your brain that likes to analyze things (for the sake of future things, I think hyperfixations are more of a "three" part of the brain... more on that later.) Very future focused and will try to keep you out of trouble in society. You can call upon this one for any logic things for the future.

The Danger one. The one that probably got you in that spiral. They are that scared child that needs to hide and protect themselves and get away from the danger. They are only a scared little one, so it's best to call upon the Caretaker at that point to calm them down.

The inner child. Hyperfixations and the present moment has all these wonderful things and let's have some fun and oooh squirrel and this one lives off dopamine and having fun and stimulation every second of the day. Can get in trouble though. And this one will probably use jokes to make you feel better. Also a little one.

Then there's the caretaker.

I sttttoorrryyyfiiiieeeddd them! (They used to be one being and before they split and Floa got in trouble and now they are banished and Naegi is working on a plan to get unbanished and I don't even know if they will be cannon yet but like... I love them and they are the roles that I use.)

----

SNIPPETS

TW for the idea that certain minorities/other groups can be "parasites" and harm the majority. (Sorry, don't know what the term for this would be.)

"I don't want to think about that fallen fairy nonsense. In fact, say another word about them and I'll find one... I'll rip it;s eyes out so it can see what horror its bringing to all of my innocent dryads. "

Maidoe nodded. Nodded. Not a single shift in faer behavior. Did fae- was Maidoe like that too?

Does fae think that of me?

The container shattered. Static latched along my neck, tightening. My breath caught in the fibers. Perhaps my heart burst, it's sticky web spun around my head. Blood trickled from my ears. It exposed me to everyone, my eyes would fall into the puddles, warm and sticky and my sight fell beneath the pools of blood sinking beneath all the horrors I've ever-

"You okay? You went..." Maidoe tilted faer head, "Well, you're staring at your feet like they've wronged you."

I'm a fallen fairy. I'm a fallen fairy. I'm a fallen fairy. I'm a fallen fairy I'm drowning I'm drowning

dying.

dying.

dying.

"F-fine" I breathed.

"You sure?"

Just that word was an arc, a million stories, all that I had left, any more and I would burst at the seams.

I nodded.

Maidoe smiled and turned back to the Mother Fairy, the one who- and fae was -

How could fae be two things? That's not moral ambiguity, that's a juxtaposition and a dichotomy and tonal dissonance and it didn't add anything it didn't make narrative sense-

'You're spiraling.'

I growled. I know that Naegi, I know, I'm sorry, I know, and it's not-

'Squioo could help. Fae's done so before, and we can have us fumbling in front of important figures, just think of what that would do to our reputation-'

Fibers wormed around my spine, snaked around my neck, pulled until it bled, swelled-

Squioo could fix it?

What do I do? How do I do it? Is it difficult because I can't, I'm sorry, it's not- but I'll try to- I can't promise-

My scalp throbbed. I would've pressed my hands to my head and tugged at roots and yet my fingertips remained by my sides.

'Just give faer access to your thoughts so fae can speak to you, since you think in... word-ish pictures?'

Stories. I'm sorry. Did I mess it up already? Predestined fate of the villain and I will burst and that will mess everything up and this is nothing I haven't heard before and it was so small what do I do what do I do-

'Just imagine one of those... how would you phrase it? Mentor figures? Except more of the subtle sort. A caretaker. Someone who will soothe you from this spiral, imagine a few words and Squioo will gain access from there.'

I stiffened. The whispers of a forgotten lullaby ringing in my ears, of broken windchimes and fae was hurt and angry and does Kamari think like that now-

'Try a sentence to start with.'

You're okay, little on- oh I- what if it doesn't work? Am I doing it right? What if it's- I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

'Continue.'

You'll be okay, Anuli, I promise. We'll have a happy ending where we sing to the stars that we are free. It will be wonderous. Are you cold? Does that feel better?

If you wanted to stay you wouldn't have broken-

'Hello love. We'll take this one note at a time, okay?'

I bit the inside of my mouth, the sobs scratching at the confines. Okay

'Can you focus on the insides of your nose for me? And when you're ready, take a deep breath, whenever you're ready. Okay?'

I'll burst.

'That's okay. Do you want to try your palms instead? Can you watch those?'

My fingers twitched at my sides. Like this?

'Yes, very good love. Do your palms feel cold, hot?'

Hot and twitchy.

'That's alright love. Just watch it for now, any sensations?'

Yes.

'Can you tell me about them?'

I breathed out, hitched and shaky. They have... sparkles? Waves of almost wind but thicker, soft and... bouncy... like moss? But clouds?

'Cloudy moss must be very soft.'

A spurt of laughter mixed with swollen sobs. It's floaty.

'That's wonderous love. We'll watch it together, okay?'

Okay.

The fibers and blood fell though my fingertips, leaving me a washed-out cloth, left in the rain for moons, and oh how hollow and wonderous the sunlight was.

Squioo?

'Yes?'

... You're wonderous. Thank you.

'Aw. Thank you love.'

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Library of Ashes

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Jason takes an interest in the family business (Gotham’s oldest library) when he stumbles upon a secret collection of journals, photo albums, and a book written by his mother.

Chapters: 6/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Kate Kane, Barbara Gordon, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Lonnie Machin, Original Character(s)

Relationships: Jason Todd/Original Character(s)

Additional Tags: Library AU, No Capes AU, World Travel, Jason Todd-centric, Third Person POV, Hurt Jason Todd, Jason Todd Has Issues, Angst, Mystery, Mentioned Catherine Todd, Mentioned Willis Todd, Mentioned Sheila Haywood, Claustrophobic Jason Todd

Chapter Six: Speakeasy

That night, Jason dreamt of Sanaa. He dreamt of her hands on his chest. Sweating under the moonlight as he stifled his moans. Their chemistry was so strong that they didn’t pass the back patio. A massive wave washed over them, and Jason woke up with a hand on the front of his shorts and a hole in his chest where his heart used to be. He shuddered and cursed. “Naa, please,” Jason muttered as he slipped his shorts off and walked them to the hamper. 

Music was the only thing that comforted him. The silence was an unbearable curse. He showered, dressed, and made breakfast in the dark. 

The music he picked for the day was sad. His heart needed to grieve. Sanaa sowed the seeds of dance and music into his soul. It kept him alive. He emailed everyone their tasks for the day while he ate. His head throbbed. Tim replied almost immediately. Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning into the pressure building behind his eyes. “For fuck’s sake,” Jason whispered. He shut the laptop and called Tim on the landline. 

“Hello?” Tim answered on the first ring. “What about the book  donation box and the shipment of new—?”

“Yes… All of that is important, but I’ve got a headache. Can we do small talk first?” Jason mumbled. 

“Good morning,” Tim replied, “You okay?” 

“I’m not… How are you?” Jason asked. 

Tim cleared his throat. “Um… I—. I’m fine. Do you want to talk about—?”

“No. I just figured I’d be honest. It’s nice to know you’re doing alright. Why are you awake so early?” Jason asked. 

“Couldn’t sleep. I just—. I wasn’t trying to replace you—.” 

“I know. I don’t hate you. I never did… I resented you for a while because we’re so different, but I never hated you. I want you to work with me for the next couple of days,” Jason stated, “And if you can do a coffee run and bring some aspirin that’d be great, too.”

“Anything specific?” Tim questioned. 

“Three shots of espresso and maybe chocolate… I don’t know. I don’t really care,” Jason replied. Tim hung up, leaving Jason to his thoughts. 

**

When Tim arrived, Jason took an aspirin and started sipping his coffee. “Jason, what are we gonna do about the book donation box and the new shipment of classics?” Tim questioned. 

“Dick’s on the donation box. I’ve got Barbara and Stephanie on classics,” Jason answered as he dug through another set of diaries and journals. “Some of these should be turned in to the police. I think I’ll make a police pile.”

“I heard you were engaged,” Tim whispered. 

“I was. She passed away,” Jason explained. Tim frowned.

“Do you have any pictures of her?” Tim questioned. Jason smiled as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to show Tim. He showed Tim a picture of Sanaa with her best friend.

“My fiance, Sanaa, is the one on the right. The other one is her best friend, Margaret,” Jason explained before swiping to the next picture. Jason had his arms wrapped around her shoulders and chest, resting his chin atop her head as they smiled for the camera. “I look at these pictures all the time. I look at them all the time.” 

“You never would’ve come home, huh?” Tim asked. 

Jason shook his head. “I don’t think I would’ve,” Jason answered. 

“Do you think you’ll leave again once you can?” Tim questioned in reply. 

Jason softened. It didn’t seem like Tim had a strong opinion either way. “I might… Why? Are you thinking about getting out of town?” Jason smiled. 

“Listen, if you know a good place, I’m all ears,” Tim joked. 

“Costa Rica is nice. You could probably use the sun,” Jason teased. 

Tim rolled his eyes as he laughed. “How many places have you been to?” Tim questioned. 

“Fifteen,” Jason replied as he squinted at a map in one of the journals. “See anything interesting over there?” 

“Yeah… A very detailed diary entry about a sexual encounter with a younger man,” Tim replied. Jason leaned forward. 

“How much younger?” Jason asked. 

“She’s sixty-three. He’s forty-five,” Tim replied, “ And she’s limber .” 

Jason shook his head and laughed. “Next entry?” Jason asked.

“Same guy, different day… Yeah, I should not be reading this,” Tim replied as he set it aside. 

For the next two hours, it was like that. Jason studied the book of building plans for the library, and Tim made a run for lunch. He didn’t say anything about it, figuring that the plans were incorrect. He wanted to look into it, but he refused to look crazy in front of Tim or anyone else if his hunch was wrong. Even after their shift at the library ended, Jason walked around the building, searching for made-up rooms. What he thought to be made-up. 

Jason’s floor had four apartment-style living spaces. He lived in the biggest apartment, and the other three were otherwise unoccupied. Sometimes, Bruce’s friends would visit and stay in the smaller ones, but they usually used those rooms for storage. According to the plans, one of the apartments had a bedroom with a false wall in the closet. He used one of the hallway keys at the furthest apartment on the left to enter. 

The closet wall felt hollow when he knocked on it, but it didn’t turn with a simple push. Jason stepped back, taking a deep breath before putting his back into it. The wall gave, and Jason almost fell to the ground on the other side of the wall. It was a beautiful setup. The back edge of the apartment had a second elevator beside the bar, and Jason picked up a glass decanter, removing the stopper as he smelled the orange peels in the curaçao. It was an older bottle. He set it on the counter, and he took the elevator down to a secret basement. Jason looked around until he found the bookcase by a large, carved table. Gotham Secret Library. Stacks of books were left dusty and untouched. Handbound books. Books with hand-painted marbled edges. Books with resin, dried flower covers. It was a gorgeous library for the creative people of Gotham. 

And then Jason realized a set of problems. Who would Jason share his secret with? And how long would it take to go through the secret library on his own? The most recent items came from around the nineties. After hours of sifting through the books on the table, Jason stumbled across family court papers with his name and his parents’ names. And his grandparents’ names. Julia and George Haywood. People he never knew existed. And their address. An address that he knew well. He must’ve passed by their house a million times growing up. It made his stomach sick. He wondered if things would’ve been different if they raised him. He wondered if they loved him. 

But his thoughts were interrupted by a phone call. “Hey, Tim,” Jason whispered.

“Where are you?” Tim questioned. “I went back to your apartment to get the box for the police, and you weren’t there.”

“Oh, I went to pick up my prescription,” Jason lied. He couldn’t tell the truth. Not yet, anyway. Maybe this secret was meant to be his and his alone.

[skruffie]

In light of the situation that happened with my manager, she informed us today that she is planning to move back farther south where her primary community and support system are. I think we all saw this coming; the doctor predicted it like the day after we got the news about what was going on and for privacy's sake I'm not going to expand on it here even if I'm not naming names. It's the kind of situation where nobody would blame her for wanting to no longer live in that house.

She hasn't told her boss yet. The typical situation here is that the assistant manager would take her position and that would potentially put me in as assistant manager since I'm third down from the top, but our assistant manager is not enthusiastic about this idea. He moved up to WA to go to school to be an optometrist, not an optician, but was already kind of talking about moving again maybe in a year or two where there are better schools. They wouldn't promote me to general manager from my position just yet, especially without actual management experience, but I know when I started with this industry I showed a lot of promise and there were conversations had about what I wanted my future to look like. I'm not sure if I am ready to be a manager but I would feel comfortable as assistant.

This then leaves the potential they bring in someone from a different store, which is what I would prefer over an outside hire. The tech and I were talking this evening before they went home about how they're hoping whoever will take our boss's place will still be just as queer friendly and chill with our various disabilities, and that would be ideal. I've become a much more fully embodied worker with this team where I don't have to mask any aspect of my personality with who I'm working with--do you know how rare that is at a job? An outside person isn't going to be able to put that light out, and I already said outright that if they pick someone shitty I am absolutely not afraid to leave. I love my job, but I have a feeling they're going to be hunting for someone who is a lot more aggressively sales focused since we haven't been doing too well.

What we've been trying to tell the higher management is that the demographic of the area we live in is a lot more low income than the newer locations they put out. It's not really much of a secret but part of optical, especially at retail chain locations, is exam conversion: we want you to both get your exam done and also purchases glasses and/or contacts with us the same day. Everybody gets their prescription to take home with them regardless if they actually buy anything or not, but we stay in business when people buy. That's how it is with any retail industry.

Our exam conversion is actually pretty damn good but the average amount of money that people spend is lower than other stores and we don't get a lot of new patients. It was busier the first year this place opened but then they opened three new locations farther south and east and it took patients away because now there was a place closer to them. We've been trying to market up north where there are no other locations but it's a bit more of a schelp, especially now that one of the primary routes to get from city to city is going to be closed down for four months for construction. The area of the city we're in specifically is pretty low income and has one of those stupid reputations for being the "bad" part of town. We've had some of our luxury frames stolen. It's a thing. We have these magnets on the frames but over in one of the newer, more affluent locations, their lux collection has no security tags at all.

Optical is a niche industry and whenever I have my profile set on Indeed to "available to work immediately" I'm often getting messages from people desperate to hire me. Even without a license, I can still start an apprenticeship and be making a lot more pretty much anywhere else. I've stayed here because of the location and the team and I think quietly I've been emotionally preparing for knowing that can always change. I always had a feeling our manager would leave at some point because she also has a more specialized industry she left for this one + makes frequent weekend trips down to Portland for friends and keeping her connections, but the way this is happening is the worst fucking possible way.

[soyces]

Morning Tea(Johnlock) Final part

tags- fluff, angst :))

shoutout to a friend of mine who threatened to kill me if I didn't finish this fanfic-

(I recommend the song Light that never goes out by the smiths)

Chapter 3( Sherlocks point of view) 

I bury my cheek in my hand as I sigh and look down at my mug which is sitting on the tea table throughout this entire conversation which has now left a ring stain. Similar to how his words have stained my brain. I glance at him and watch him wash his face over and over again with anxiety. I try to collect my thoughts, emotions and try to stay calm and not become a “depressed blob” in Ms Hudson's words, unfortunately avoiding the depression blob state is nearly impossible. But I pull through and stand up, and walk over to the sink where John is now drinking a glass of water. 

I place my hand onto the counter next to the sink and lean in closer to John. I adjust his hair out of his face and notice how red his nose is. I look down at him and open my mouth to begin speaking but eventually decide it's better to just stay quiet…

He suddenly looks up at me and I just sort of stand there, feeling sick to my stomach for no reason at all. As if I had just swallowed poison and the dosage is finally taking effect. I raise my hand closer to his face. It's warm and soft, I gently brush his cheek with my thumb as I glance into his eyes with a more warmer expression. I lean in slightly closer- But then he pulls away suddenly and stops looking me in the eye. I sharply inhale and watch him start to walk over to the other end of the kitchen. I am not a coward, I will not give up on him so easily, I think to myself. 

I follow him and grab his hand firmly and first but then relax my grip. I look down at him and place my hand behind his neck and lean in. 

He doesn't seem to be stopping me nor does he seem as upset anymore, his face more relaxed but there's still some self-hatred in his eyes. I can feel his breath on my face which still lingers with the scent of tea and sugar. I inhale and keep my eyes fixed on him. He pulls me in and finally our lips touch softly. The passion grows with each movement. It is as if our lips were sculpted just for the sake of them to fit perfectly into each other’s. I can feel his hands on my back as I continue kissing him, I move my hand behind his head and smile into the kiss. 

We pull away for a breath then we glance at each other and burst out laughing. As our voices fill the air Ms Hudson comes to find us in each other's embrace, on the kitchen floor, laughing our asses off. She starts to laugh as well at our immaturity. I'm not sure why we started laughing, maybe because of how silly the situation was or how this was the first time we had kissed and were actually aware of it. Either way it was wonderful. And it seemed to have brought everyone into a better mood.

                                                                *

John finishes making us a second round of tea while Ms Hudson prepares some hangover food. I sit down in my chair and sigh as I smell the scent of earl grey in the air. John sits in his chair in a kind of sloppy way spilling some tea on his knee in the process. I softly giggle at his clumsiness and notice him give me a disappointed smile. As the day continues we sit in our chairs in silence as we drink our tea and let our lives contine, as well as our friendship and…love 

The end.  

[aclosetfan]

Hellooo, here I am again, after all, you said I could bother you all I want with my random trivia that I have in the middle of the night so I will 😃 (Stop encouraging me if you don't I take it seriously and I won't stop anymore)

Just for the record, I read the fics and loved every one of them. Unfortunately I made up reading The Notion of Loss and re-read Till death do us part for the tenth time (that damn ending always kills me, you will pay for every tear shed 😡) that same night with a heart-wrenching soundtrack and it was the holy trinity that I I could sleep covered in my tears tonight. I force myself to suffer, I know, but... If I don't, who will? 😔

My question for today is something I'm pretty sure you've been asked before, but it doesn't hurt to try, does it? Could you talk about some of your favorite headcanons for a specific character or in general? (And if something has already been discussed here, could you name others, please?🥲) I know it's something that's already been used, but I really like it when the fandom comes together to believe in something collectively in a way that feels like the cartoon itself has already confirmed (CN would never give us that satisfaction, so what we have left is to hunt for our own survival)

By the way, what you said about not being able to leave the fandom is something that I think is very real to almost everyone inside. I really use the community as a place of comfort to hide from real life problems or even spend hours looking at random things like trivia or fan headcanons (Main reason for asking) and I think now I couldn't get out of something that it's already become a routine for me in some way, or even watching random videos and never remembering my comfort characters again, but anyway, just any outburst from someone who is going through a similar situation! 😊

About the new job and the delays...don't worry so much, we all take our time to adjust and for some it may take longer than for others! I think adapting is part of growing up and maturing and I know that there will come a time when you will feel stable enough to be able to focus your head on interesting new stories and plots, or writing bit by bit, I don't really know, I just know that with time everything will settle down and I'm sure that when you release a story or one-short again it will be amazing just because of your writing and plot that never disappoints. Well that was it, take your time, however long it is, and your 'comeback' in writing when you feel up to writing again and I will definitely be here to read everything from my favorite writer in the community!!!💗

Notes :

-Slightly jaded speech, I know, but I really hope that some of this text makes you feel somehow better ♡

-I know I write a lot, it's just that I get a little overexcited having someone to respond to the idiotic questions of the hysterical teenager that lives inside me 😔

- Any mistakes are just a coincidence that I know almost nothing of this language 😀 (If it's not readable I'll cry)

- The emoji thing was real.

aw thank you :))) your continued confidence in me is so kind. I hope I find time to write something soon. Anything, really! I miss writing and want to continue practicing. Also, I'm super happy that you read the fic recommendations. There are some crazy talented people in this fandom who have taken the time to write incredible stories. There are a thousand more out there, and I know some people I follow collect lists of fics, so if you want more, I'd sneak a look at some people's pinned posts. Pinned posts are sometimes the only way I find fics haha

To you're actual question, I have a lot of headcanons throughout my blog. Some are tagged, and some are not. Honestly, I couldn't remember my headcanon tags now! For the sake of not repeating myself too much, I'll give you three h/cs for the three girls :)

Bloss:

Follows rules until she no longer agrees with the rules, and then she makes new ones. Despite what people may think, Blossom isn't so caught up in the technicalities of right and wrong. She doesn't think black and white but is morally gray. She knows what right is, and she does what she needs to do to accomplish it, and sometimes that means choosing the lesser of the two evils and breaking a few rules.

Related to the top one, she has classic leader-martyr syndrome, but as she gets older, she burns out. I think it would be interesting if once she burns out, instead of quitting, she falls to second-in-command and pushes Buttercup to take over, but eventually has to take it back because of her ability to make hard sacrifices that BC lacks, and they both know it. Compared to Blossom, Buttercup is too overly-protective to make hard decisions.

Bad cheesy jokes and puns. She is not funny. No one thinks she's funny. She thinks she is, though, and believes her pep talks can move mountains (they cannot).

Butters:

Like I said, overly protective. When Blossom plays martyr, BC's there to catch her. Her over-protectiveness/toughness leads people to think she's intimidating and standoffish, but in truth, she's also the shyest sister. So, it's hard for her to make friends, but once she's your friend, you've got a ride-or-die for life. Despite how often she complains about things/people, she doesn't give up on others.

I also love her as a classic dude-bro. She loves watching sports, tracking sports statistics, and playing them. I don't think she'd be able to play on teams with normal humans, but given how many mutants pop up in Townsville, I headcanon there are superpowered teams, and she's in at least three of them. Idk which sports exactly, but 100% of the time, one of them is Roller derby.

In the show, she was prone to acts of aggression. I'd like to believe that when she grows up, she's mellowed out a great deal, but she's not at all cool like she hopes she is. If you're her friend, she's nosy, loud, and 100% in your business. If a doorknob pulls out her earbuds, she's 100% punching a hole in the door. Like, she's mellowed out, but she's "spice" for a reason.

Bubbles:

Blossom and Buttercup have 99 problems, and Bubbles is the cause of all of them :)) <3 she's a whirlwind of chaos and is always involved in some kind of shenanigans, which her sisters inevitably have to clean up. For all the problems she causes, she creates an equal amount of solutions. Things tend to work out for her. (I usually h/c Boomer as the same, but shit doesn't work out as well for him).

Her love life is dismal. There isn't much else to say. She's a girl who very much wants to fall in love, but she is not lucky with it. She doesn't understand that Blossom and Buttercup scare off 99.9% of all suitors. Down the line, this is a problem because she begins to think she's the problem, so Blossom and Buttercup have to bully people into dating her.

A nature nut, a cheerleader, a seamstress, a dog walker, a pet talker, and a lawncare enthusiast, she'd definitely be the jack of all trades in the family. She has more hobbies than she could ever keep up with, but she does just fine. Blossom might seem like the busy one, but Bubbles is more so. Unfortunately, unlike Blossom, she's horrible at keeping organized. Given all her odd skill sets, out of the three sisters, she's the most eccentric (and superstitious, but that's another h/c lol).

I hope these spark some interest!! I feel like these are pretty in line with my prior h/cs. I don't deviate from my characterizations of them often lolol