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dirtylittlefairytales · 5 months ago

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Don't play with fire | - Part 1 - |

Authors Note: Hey. This is my first try ever writing in English, since it's not my first language. I read it over several times, hopefully to correct all mistakes. Also this is the first try of fanfiction since 2016. Sooo I appreciate feedback and let me know what you think.. Please be kind. 🙏🥹

Originally I wanted to write a short backstory, but I think it’s just going to be multiple parts if you want to read it. So see this as a kind of introduction. In further chapters I wanted to try myself to write my smut fantasies out. I'm also going to upload this later to Ao3 under the username Lorily96.

-> Writing in 'italic' is supposed to be the your thoughts

Warnings: Describing of a Panic attack, Age Gap (Legal)

Word count: 8k

Tagging: @a-movie-that-youve-never-seen, @amethystblackkchaos, @hereforthehitsbaby

Some people say life is a cruel joke. Unexpected twists and pain waiting around every corner. Some people say the glass is never empty and everything happens for a reason. You can learn from anything. Everyone you meet is either there for a reason, for a season or... for ever. However the world is not black and white, sometimes there is no reason at all. You know how you sometimes laugh when something bad happens to a stranger or friend. Like their ice cream falling to the ground, seeing a cop writing a ticket for somebody else. I think ‘Life’ itself is bored just like us. That's why sometimes you feel like it’s only getting worse. Doesn’t matter what you do, there is no luck to be found. That's exactly how you felt that day. Just strings of bad luck and to this day you still question yourself. Why? Why didn’t you say something? Why did you do it? Why didn’t you walk away? How did all of this happen in the first place? The events of that day living rent-free in your head, keeping you up at night.

~ Sometimes Life has a dark and twisted humor. ~

All those overprotective dads, who only want the best for their daughter. Your dad was one of them. He always told you: "Be wary of strangers", "Never tell someone your name if you feel something is off", “Go with your gut feeling” and "don't go near the car of a stranger". Seriously, he had good points.

Unfortunately, he didn’t tell you what to do, when you suspect someone is a serial killer. Maybe running or keeping your nose out of the situation would have been a great option. Well, since daddy had been out of the picture since you were 12, maybe he would have some kind of advice for that. Your mom had found out he was cheating, and after the divorce, he cared more about his new girlfriend and son than you. Why care about the daughter you raised for 12 years, your beloved wife, when you can just throw it away and play happy family with the next woman you find.

At times, you wonder if that's the reason you had some kind of daddy issues. Perhaps you liked older men like him because of that. Even today, his face still haunts and excites you at the same time. Remembering how drawn you were to him. He was so charming and devilishly handsome. You felt sick and appalled at yourself for feeling this way. Everything he did, seemed to play into his hands. Who would suspect the nice and charming dad next door? How many times did you lay awake in bed at night, the events of that day replaying themselves over and over. Like a continuous loop with no escape…

It felt like yesterday. The only reason you were at the concert in the first place was because one of the other guys quit a week before. You couldn’t even blame him, since your boss was a total dick. Ever since you started working in the company a year ago he was just looking for a reason to fire you. Always criticizing you, commenting when your bathroom break was too long. Wore a skirt? Too provocative. Wore a sweater? Be more professional. You could make a whole list of the things he pulled off. You fucking hated working in that place and even more to work outside or around many people. You chose to work in IT because you could work alone and in peace.

Outside of work, you were a relatively social person. Many friends and people seemed to like you. Despite preferring to rather stay home alone, with your cat and books, you were surprisingly good at making conversations. It felt strange, kind of ironic. Life had a stupid sense of humor. Sometimes you even felt like you were good at reading people. Your mom called it your sixth sense.

Working at the arena for the concert was a real hassle. It was so stressful. Over a week before the actual concert there was already a meeting. Everybody working in the stadium that night was there. They didn’t reveal too much that day. Apparently the whole concert was also a trap for this serial killer?

They called him - The Butcher

You remember hearing and reading about him in the news. He had killed 12 people till now and the FBI was sure he was going to show up there. Everything was top secret, everyone had an extra card for controls during that day and a code word. On the day of the concert you arrived extra early to get the last directions for the day. They even told you what he potentially could look like.

Work was boring. The company you were working for was responsible for ensuring that all the screens, cameras were working, both on the outside and on the stage, that the wifi was stable and so on… not the hardest task. There also were others who ensured the overall technology and speakers worked, but that wasn’t your job. Most of the time you and your colleague were sitting backstage, talking shit about your boss and listening to the show, at least you were, because lovely colleague Eric would do most of the stuff alone. What a sweetheart, right?

It felt a bit bad taking advantage of him. You knew he had a big crush on you, he wasn’t exactly hiding it. Relaxing backstage appealed more to you. Therefore it was totally fine with your conscience. This job was a pain in the ass and you already started applying for new jobs. You just had to hang on for a few more weeks. Hoping you could quit soon and work in a non toxic environment.

The first half of the concert remained uneventful. Fortunately, because your room was in the backstage area, you even talked to Lady Raven for a bit on her break. She was so nice and friendly. On and off stage, her whole personality was the same. Which you found truly great, a person like that was hard to find nowadays. The thinker for example seemed like a total dick from what you saw. Lady Raven and you also had some similar interests, it was so easy to talk to her.After asking about it, she told you that they hadn’t found the Butcher yet. She even told you a few more details on how the police got the information of him being there. Before she left you wished her good luck with the rest of her show and went back to work for a bit.

Later on during the second half of the show, you stepped near the stage. The atmosphere felt incredible. The lights, the performance on stage and the fans screaming and singing the songs of Lady Raven. How you wished to be standing in the crowd just vibing and dancing to the music instead of working. If it weren’t for all the extra police and security in the arena, it would be a normal concert.

Slowly you started making your way backstage as you saw people approaching from the audience room. Honestly you weren’t keen on talking to many people. Lady Raven started talking and announcing her dreamer girl, Riley. That must be why the people came in from the audience. At the end of the stage you turned around again. On your former spot stood a man. He was tall, with a nice backside, no doubt the father of the dreamer girl, looking at the stage. Though he seemed to take a quick look around every now and then. Looking at him, he didn’t look like he was having much fun being here. He looked rather stiff. As you started walking back in his direction to get a better look, Eric called you. Sighing, you turned around. As you were making your way backstage, you felt like someone was watching you.

“Hey, somewhere outside, a monitor has a bluescreen. I'll quickly go fix it. The show is nearly over. After that, we can start with cleaning things up.” Eric told you, as you walked down the stairs towards him.

“Okay, do you need my help?” You asked him, pushing a blonde strand of hair behind your ear, batting your eyes at him, hoping he would say no.

“No of course not! I can do it alone. The problem is not that hard.” he answered, trying to show off.

You smiled. “Okay great! Then, see you later.”

You walked past him into the backstage area. It wasn't that you disliked him, he was nice for a work colleague. However, nothing more. For one you had not much in common besides work, and he was a pushover. You could not imagine being with a man who had no opinion and just waited for you say anything until he stated his opinion.

‘Like have an opinion, Boy?’ Rolling your eyes at the mere thought of his personality, you grabbed yourself a drink and went back to your little break room.

There you waited for the concert to finish, which you knew shouldn’t take too long now. When you heard the last song finished you decided to grab your purse and go into the hallway. Considering it was too good of an opportunity to pass by. When would you ever see celebrities up so close again? Maybe you could ask Lady Raven for a selfie? Or an autograph? You weren’t the biggest fan, but there was a possibility you could sell that autograph later on.

Uncertain where to go, you stood in the hallway. Dancers ran past you. Nobody seemed to take much notice of you. Coming from the left, you saw the thinker walking towards you, and kind of flirting with someone behind him. ‘Spicy.’ A light chuckle escaped you. Curiosity filled your brain and you decided to head in the direction he came from.

In the middle of the hallway, where several corridors met, stood Riley, the dreamer girl and her dad. If you remembered her name correctly that is. You stopped walking and observed them quietly from a little further away.

‘Did the Thinker flirt with him?’ Now that you got a better view of him, you found that theory pretty reasonable. It felt almost unfair how attractive he looked.

‘Was he married? Presumably.’ Not that you would consider making a move, besides his daughter was standing right next to him. That would be so awkward. Also remembering, the last time you let someone in, things unraveled in ways that left you a bit guarded. Despite your people skills, your mom and you apparently both had a thing for cheaters. After a year of being single, you told yourself it was for the best. Except for your job, life was good– At least that's what you tried to tell yourself.

Nevertheless you would never have considered being attracted to older men. He was at least 10 years older than you, maybe more. You were 25, and he could easily be in his 30s or even early 40s. All of a sudden the profiler’s description came back into your head: tall, strong, dark hair...

Even though you've never been overly spiritual, you did believe in a sixth sense. The longer you thought about it, him standing in that hallway backstage. The way he subtly kept looking around for a second. Nobody noticed. ‘Wait… Did he notice you watching them?’

Pulling out your phone, you started swiping and typing randomly. Trying to look busy. Your thoughts were racing. He matched the description perfectly, and here he was, casually joking with his daughter like he didn’t have a care in the world. Despite his friendly smile and demeanor, there was something unsettling about him—a bit too friendly, almost fake?

After looking at him a bit more, it just clicked into place. You couldn’t shake off the feeling that that may be him, the Butcher. Until now they hadn't found him, not that you knew of. So they were still searching for him. People backstage were rarely searched, except when they wanted to leave the arena.

‘God, you should think rationally. Could that really be him? Still he seemed normal…’

Except the look in his eyes. That look gave you unpleasant goosebumps. You grew anxious, you knew where the camera room was. Police officers were definitely going to be there and maybe the profiler was there. Then you could ask her if the man had been checked by security or talk to her about your uneasy feeling.

Unfortunately you would have to pass him to get to the camera office. If he hadn't noticed you before, he certainly would then. Could you keep your cool? It didn’t matter. You knew you would overthink it in the evening, you had to do it. Your heart was starting to pound audibly in your chest.

‘Deep breaths–

Breathe in, breathe out.

Close your eyes, take a deep breath and go. Don't panic.’ Grabbing your phone tightly in your hand, you started walking.

As you approached them, Lady Raven emerged from her dressing room and started talking to Riley. She was so happy, grinning from ear to ear. As they chatted happily, the dad leaned forward and whispered something to Lady Raven that you couldn't make out.

As soon as you heard her tell his daughter that they would talk shortly, alarm bells were going off in your head. Your brain stopped working, and your legs and mouth moved on their own. You felt a certain hero complex activating within you. ‘What if he was the Butcher? There was a possibility’

You felt uncomfortable leaving her alone with him. Something felt off. Before they could leave, you sprinted the last few meters towards them. Trying to cry on arrival.

“Lady Raven, hay… I eh.. I.. I don't... Could I.. could I talk to you for a second? Please, I don't know what to do.. I–” you sniffled. You tried your best to cry. ‘Come one, you could lie better than that’, you thought angrily at yourself. ‘Who would believe you like this?’ This wasn’t going to be the first lie you ever told. You even lied on your last résumé.

She immediately turned around her face full of concern and worry. For a second you thought you saw his jaw tensing and left eye twitch. ‘Did you imagine it? ‘

“Oh no. Hey, what's going on? You’re Y/N, right? We met earlier.” You nodded your head, keeping the hand over your lower face, while trying to remain in tears. For once, you were glad that you chose to wear your hair open today. Your long blond locks shielded your face even more from the prying eyes around you.

“What's going on? Are you alright? Did something happen?” She asked more and more questions, putting her hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you.

“There was an accident, I...“ You just kept mumbling incomprehensible nonsense. Still shaking, sobbing, trying not to look up. You didn't even know what to do, what to say.

“Hay, ehm… I’m so sorry. Could you give us a second? I will be right back. It won’t take long.." she said, apologizing to the two of them.

“Of course, no problem. This seems serious! Take your time.”, said the man, his voice laced with concern.

‘Why did he sound so genuine, like he is truly concerned? Maybe I judged him too fast?‘

Gently Lady Raven took one of your hands and started to lead you away. It didn’t matter anyway, there was no going back. Now you need to play your outburst to the end and come up with a plausible story. While she brought you into her dressing room, it felt as if someone was staring holes into your back.

After the door closed, you immediately felt more at ease. Bit by bit you tried to calm yourself. At least that was what it seemed on the outside. You don’t remember much of what you told her, some kind of sob story. The first idea that came into your mind. About your dad having a car accident. The whole car crashed... With your car being parked further away from the arena and you were so afraid your dad could die. That you at worst wouldn't make it to the hospital in time with all the police controls going on in and outside the arena.

You cried, trying to think your story would be about your mom and not your dad. Which did the trick and made you sad. Being the kind person she is, Lady Raven suggested that you could drive with her in her limo, so you didn't have to go through the queues or security, and she would take you to the hospital or your car. You thanked her over and over again, as you wiped your tears away.

How high was the possibility that the dad would like to briefly speak to Lady Raven again, when you went in the hallway again? Then everything would have been in vain. However you could’t pressure her. Something came over you, so you suggested that perhaps the other two could join them. Maybe they could also drive in the car? You tried explaining your suggestion somewhat rationally. That way she can still talk with the dad,

you would feel extremely bad if you kept her from talking to her fans. You didn’t want to cause any more trouble.

Surprisingly, that seemed to work? No further persuasion was necessary. Which left you very surprised and perplexed. Was she truly such a kind person? Who was so trusting? Especially with everything that was going on here today. ‘Did she have such a shielded and good life, that she blindly believed you?’ You wondered.

‘Unimaginable…that could not be the case. You didn’t believe there were any truly good people left in this world.’

After another minute of collecting yourself, you went after Lady Raven. She had already gone ahead and had already told them the short version of what was going on, when you arrived. Asking them if they wanted to come too, so she and the dad could have their talk. She was way too kind and somewhat naive to even suspect you’d be lying. You almost felt ashamed of yourself, even stupid. What were you even doing?

The daughter gasped and tried not to jump up and down in joy, the way she gripped her dad's arm. She seemed to be torn between worrying about you and happiness. By being asked to drive with Lady Raven, her seemingly favorite artist in the world. She was honored and extremely happy for a few seconds, then she stopped and looked at you sympathetically.

“I’m so sorry about the thing with your dad...” Nodding weakly at her, trying to keep your act up, you gave her a half smile. Unknowingly to you, you had started twisting the ring on your middle finger. A Tic. Something you always did when you're stressed out or nervous.

The ring was nothing special. A plain black ring with some Greek numbers on it. A gift from your mom; from the only holiday you ever had taken outside the USA and since you were eighteen, there was hardly a day you didn’t wear it.

“Why don’t we lead the way? That way, we can talk.” said Lady Raven and gestured to the man.

“Yes of course... I mean, the circumstances are not the best, but thank you for considering Riley and me. We appreciate it.” He replied, looking concerned but with something unreadable in his eyes that made you want to look anywhere but at him.

“It is no problem at all. Actually it was Y/N here suggesting it. She would have felt bad if we hadn't been able to have our conversation because of her.”

He raised a brow at you. “That is so thoughtful and kind of you to still think of others. Something really rare these days”

As he walked past you, he briefly touched your shoulder, making you nearly jump out of your skin. “And I’m really sorry about your dad. I hope he pulls through. Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help” he smiled kindly at you..

“Yes, I hope so too. Thank you…” You trailed off, realizing you didn’t know his name.

“Oh I didn’t even introduce myself. I'm Cooper, just call me Cooper.” holding out his hand.

“Well, thank you Cooper. Also, for your offer, maybe I will come back to that." you shook his hand. He had a firm, but not to strong grip. 'so he was married'

"Let’s get going, please.” Somewhere in between Cooper coming close to you, you almost forgot that you had a mission to get to the hospital fast. Daddy dearest was waiting.

He nodded and as he passed you, walking ahead, you suddenly realized just how big that man was. You hadn't even noticed it before. However, standing right next to him you realized it. He was at least 6′2″, not overly muscular, but also not skinny either. Lady Raven seemed tiny next to him, and you weren’t tall yourself—maybe around 5′5″ on a good day.

Still, something about his vibe felt off. He seemed caring, yet on the other hand, almost relieved—or amused?

Riley and you walked a bit behind the two to the cat, nobody had to go through any controls. Riley was such a sweet girl, asking you questions or talking about the concert to ‘take your mind off of your situation’. She was so nice. You kind of wish that you had a little sister like her, but no, you only had a half brother. The only reason he ever contacted you was for money from our grandparents' inheritance.

It was only when you reached the end of the corridor, you noticed Cooper looking over his shoulder. One corner of his mouth pulled upwards and his expression changed. Something sinister in his eyes for a split second. So fast that you were doubting yourself again.

Near the limousine, you felt your phone vibrating, probably Eric wanting to ask where you were. You had no time for that now. Shaking your head, you declined the call and started to write to him, saying that an emergency had come up and you would be back later. You didn’t notice that you arrived at the car until someone cleared their throat in front of you.

Fuck, you almost ran directly into Cooper. Lady Raven and Riley had already gone inside. He looked at me expectantly, a small smile at his lips. You quickly locked your phone and held it up. “Sorry, my… Sister. She gave me the latest updates on our dad.." you explained, the lies just kept rolling off your tongue, and you just hoped they sounded believable. With that you went straight to the car, without waiting for a response.

Maybe you should have started an acting career…

You quickly sat down in the car, with Cooper following shortly after you. Keeping your phone in your hand to secretly keep twisting your ring behind it.

This guy was making you so nervous, not only him but also the lies. You even thought you heard a small deep chuckle from behind you, maybe it was just your nerves? The car started moving. You wondered what they talked about… What did he want to talk about to her?

Lady Raven's voice brought you out of your thoughts. “Y/N, where should I let you out? You remember where you parked your car? Or should we drive directly to the hospital?”

Car yeah… you almost laughed. You knew exactly where your car was, a few miles away at the mechanic, because your lights weren’t working. Why hadn’t you thought of that.

“Eh no, no! Just let me know where my car is. It’s a few blocks away. At this free parking space. There’s my car; let me look up the street real quick…” That wasn't a complete lie. Normally, you would park your car there, because it was just cheaper than parking near or in the stadium. Now just your bike was parked there, well, if nobody had stolen it.

You started to unlock your phone to look up the address. A large hand grabbed your hand with your phone to stop you. Before you could even protest or say something, Cooper started talking in his chipper, happy voice.

“Really? What a coincidence! I think that should be the same parking lot where Riley and I parked my car earlier. I do know the address, it’s just around the corner. You don't have to look it up.” Lady Raven pressed a button and Cooper told the chauffeur where to go. The address did sound somewhat familiar. You pulled your phone and hand out of his grip. There wasn't much resistance and he put his hands back into his lap.

You looked back at Riley and Lady Raven, they were deeply engaged in a conversation with each other. Noticing nothing around the. The phone in your hand started ringing again, and you quickly looked at the screen. This time, it was your boss; should you just accept the call? You did not get much time to think about it.

“Have you heard anything yet?”, came Riley’s question towards you.

You started twisting your ring again.

“Ah yes, yes… My brother texted me..” your breath caught in your throat. Realizing you messed up. ‘Didn’t you just say to Cooper that it was your sister? Maybe he didn't notice. Good thing you hadn’t pursued your acting career…‘

“...and the doctor said it doesn’t look critical. Our dad seems stable at the moment… but he needs to be operated on quickly.. I'm sure I will get more information as soon as…”

All of a sudden the whole car jolted to a stop, followed by wild car honking. You tried to find your footing, unintentionally gripping onto Cooper's thigh. Right before you could fall off your seat a hand pressed against your shoulder and pushed you back into the seat. You dug your nails even more into his thigh. Riley's bags tipped forward and many of the contents scattered a little on the floor. “Sorry, Lady Raven. The car in front of us braked abruptly." The driver apologized.

“Everyone alright?” Cooper asked, concern dripping in his voice.

“All good” said Riley and Lady Raven nodded.

“Yes, I think so..” you breathed. He came closer pushing a loose strand behind your ear. A blush crept on your face. After another second, you noticed your hand was still on his thigh, and you blushed even more.

“Oh I’m sorry!” You exclaimed in a panic. He smiled kindly.

“No problem. I’m glad nobody got hurt.” Then he got up from his seat to help Riley pick her things back up and put them back into the bags.

Your phone began to ring again. ‘It’s now or never; it would only get worse.’

With a sigh, you picked up the phone and immediately held the phone as far away as possible from your ear. A loud voice screaming through the speaker. Seemed like your boss just started screaming at you at the top of his lungs.

You mouthed a quick ‘Sorry’ to the others in front of you. He kept on screaming, ranting about how you were not at work and how he always knew you were a lazy piece of shit. He should have fired me months ago… The list goes on.

As Cooper sat back down. You tried to move your body back in the direction of your phone. Seeing as you didn't want to be too close to Cooper. He didn't seem to mind and put a calming hand on your knee this time. Your mind seemed to go fuzzy when you got near him.

Overall this was not your day, your nerves were all over the place. Your feelings felt like they were on a rollercoaster. You still weren't sure if your gut feeling was right… but you also didn't want to find out. All the lies you told today and now your boss is screaming at you? It was just too much. Clenching your fist and putting the phone near your ear again.

“I quit.” were the only words you said, dry of any emotion.

“What did you say?” came the angry reply.

“I quit” Hot tears were forming in your eyes, Cooper gently started to caress your knee. “i’m so fucking done. You don't know what I am going through right now! Someone could die, and you don't even let me explain myself. So go to hell, and I fucking quit.” Enraged, you ended the call and immediately blocked his number.

You put your head in your hands and sigh.

“I'm sorry… Sorry, you had to hear that. Everything goes wrong…” And with that, a sob escapes you.

‘Nobody can see my face, right? So maybe act even more sad? ‘

This whole day was a curse, why were you even here? Because you felt bad vibes from the dilf next to you? You just wanted to laugh over the whole situation.

‘You were fucking stupid and now jobless. Great work. Just because you wanted to play the hero, because of a stupid gut feeling. He was a normal dad. Not the Butcher. ‘

“Don't think like that. You said it yourself; your dad is stable, so that's a good thing. Maybe I can help you get a new job!” Lady Raven is really trying to cheer you up.

Someone rubbed your back gently, and there was only one person who could do that. You tried your hardest to ignore his comforting touch.

“Hay Y/N, I know you just met us, and you don't know me. But I bet a girl like you will easily find a new job. You seem like a good person. If you tell me in which field you work, I'm sure I could help. See if someone I know is hiring. How does that sound?” Cooper really tried to comfort you. He was so sympathetic and strangely charming.

A small laugh escapes you. "Yes, I probably will..” You wipe away your angry tears’.

“I mean… I already sent out job applications. I wanted to leave anyway, maybe I will get a job here in Philly or maybe where my mom lives. She lives more in the suburbs, like an hour away I think…” you paused.

‘Why did you suddenly decide to tell him so much about yourself? Didn't you want to keep a low profile and not give too much real information?‘

This guy certainly knew how to make people talk. About everything, even things they may not want to share and then do without even realizing it. ‘Fuck’

“See! Now you're even smiling again. You just need to see the positive things.” With that, he squeezed your shoulder lightly and withdrew his hand from your back. Making you almost miss the comfort and warmth they had brought you.

Stop crushing on the hot dad next to you! You tried to remind yourself and also remember all the things you thought were off with him.

“We're here,” the chauffeur announced. Great, finally. This car ride felt like an eternity.

Cooper and Riley got out of the car first, and they said their goodbyes. Riley, of course, needed one last hug, and Cooper simply thanked her again for what she did for Riley. Before you got out of the car, Lady Raven pulled you in for a hug.

“Please keep me updated on how things are at the hospital and if you need something. Just text me.” She pulled out her phone and pulled up Instagram.

“Just search for your username, and I'll add you. That way, we can keep in touch.”

You nodded and put in your name, and handed the phone back to her.

“Thank you.. so much. Again. I'm so sorry for any inconvenience I caused. I won't forget this. Thank you! Next time, I’ll be in the front row singing your songs.”

She laughed at that and nodded. While stepping outside the car, you crossed both fingers that the other two were gone.

Unfortunately, Cooper and his daughter waited for you. You had thought that by staying longer in the car, they would be gone already. No lucky day for you

You scanned the parking lot, and of course, your bike was stolen. The universe was just being cruel now.

“So let us walk you to your car!” Cooper was way too happy, waving the limousine of Lady Raven goodbye. “Sure..” You started walking towards the cars.

You were clueless on how to get out of this situation. Abruptly stopping, you looked around.

“I don't see my car..” you say while looking around again. You sigh extra loudly.

“Fuck me..”

“Your car got towed?” Cooper

“Maybe” a dry laugh escapes you.

“Or maybe with everything going on and all the things that were going on at the concert, I… just forgot where I parked my car.” You ran your fingers through your hair.

"Well, if you tell me which hospital you need to go to, I'm certain Riley and I can make a little detour on our way home. Right Riley?” Riley nodded.

“Of course, I’d be happy if we could help you out” she said, hopeful.

Right… the hospital. You should get better at remembering your lies. You were torn between keeping your lie up or simply turning around and walking away.

You didn’t know what to do. Cooper seemed a bit strange at times, but he could not be the Butcher, right? Still while looking at him you felt like something didn't add up. Sometimes… you didn’t know how to describe it… He felt too perfect, too caring or too sweet. Maybe that was just who he was? You were lost in thought.. The look in his eyes was making you feel a bit uneasy.

All of a sudden, Cooper's hand was behind your back, and he slowly pushed you forward. “If you can't decide, I will decide for you. Going to the hospital should be the most important thing. So we'll drive you and then you can worry about your car later. Okay?”

You nodded your head at his idea, simply because you didn't trust your words at the moment. His hand wandered up to your shoulder, where he kept a firm grip and pushed you in the direction of his car.

Riley was already running in front of you. You winced under his touch, did he know his own strength? You wondered. He certainly didn't look that strong. He opened the car a few meters away so Riley could already put her bags in the trunk.

A black van

You suddenly remembered what Eric told you about the profiler, she suspected the Butcher to drive a car like this?

Your body tensed up, and you felt like the pressure on your shoulder increased, which was almost painful. Surely that was going to bruise . Cooper opened the back door for you like you were a child being escorted home. You tried to muster your best friendly face before you sat down inside.

“Thank you... Have you had this car for a long time?” You asked before you could stop yourself. Cooper raised an eyebrow, clearly pondering the question before answering.

“Yes, I have had it for quite a few years now. Why are you asking?” Should you just tell him?

It was just the trip to the hospital.. then you would never have to see them again. You could not fuck up even more than you already had, and until now, it was just an uneasy gut feeling. Also, you were trying to move back to your mom, who was at least an hour away.

“No real reason.. Just that profiler from the concert. She talked so much, about everything and also about cars... especially mentioning a car like this, which could potentially be the car of a-… killer.”

He only stared at you.

‘Did you say something wrong? Maybe you’re the weird one now.’ Nervously rubbing your neck, you tried to lighten the mood with a laugh.

Thankfully, Riley was just on her way to the passenger seat. She didn't hear her, no need to scare her. You didn’t think she knew about what was going on behind the scenes of the concert.

“So maybe you should switch it up? But maybe she was just talking nonsense..” you tried to diffuse the situation, massaging your sore shoulder.

Cooper smiled and laughed softly. "Well, thanks for the tip. I thought about getting a new car. Maybe I should finally get one. More family friendly, any ‘smart’ suggestions perhaps?” -

“Hmm..maybe just something smaller, maybe in white, silver, or another color? Definitiv not black..” you smile.

“Great. I will keep that in mind when I buy a new car.” he smiled back at you and closed the door, and got in the driver's seat. He seemed like he wanted to ask more questions, tapping his finger on the steering wheel.

Quickly, you got your phone out and searched for a hospital near you. You found one which was 15 minutes away. When Cooper started the car you leaned forward, so much that your head nearly reached his shoulder and you could smell his aftershave. ‘He even smelled good.’ You showed him your phone.

“Here, that's the hospital where I need to go.” He slightly turned around to get a better look at the screen.

“Can I?” He gestured to the phone. “Just to get a better look.”

You gulped, a nervous feeling growing in your stomach. “Yeah sure..”

He didn’t even wait for your reply and grabbed the phone.

“You got some kind of privacy screen on here?” he asked with a raised brow.

Oh yeah, how could you forget, and here you thought he wanted to take your phone from you. When he couldn’t even see the screen.

“Yeah! Sorry, I totally forgot. My boss had cameras everywhere in the building, I got a bit paranoid, so I bought one of those..” you laughed.

“He doesn’t sound very nice. Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t have to work there anymore!” replied Riley.

“Yeah.. maybe”

“You could just work at my school, our teacher for IT sucks..”

Cooper glanced at her disapprovingly, slowly shaking his head. “Riley…”-

"Sorry, dad, it's the truth. He lives in the past. No one uses Windows XP anymore." Riley grumbled.

Cooper started the car, and Lady Raven's music was playing loudly over the speakers before he turned the volume down. After a few minutes of driving and Riley vibing to the music, Cooper cleared his throat.

"Here, you can have your phone back. Oh and I took the liberty of saving my number on your phone. That way, if you ever need anything or some help finding your car later, you can just give me a quick call.”

What the fuck. He did what now?

He smiled at you through the rearview mirror, his eyes watching you closely. Carefully, you grabbed your phone out of his hands.

“That's so… thoughtful. Thank you” You tried to put a smile on your face.

"So, Riley, how did you like the concert?” You tried changing the topic. Oh boy, that worked. Riley started rambling about everything, including how cool it was to be on stage with Lady Raven. Unconsciously, you found yourself smiling a real smile, she was just so cute. Your eyes flickered to the rearview mirror every so often, and as soon as you met Cooper's eyes, you looked back at Riley. Let’s not get lost because of his good looks. You still felt uneasy.

You tried telling yourself in your head. Somehow, you felt like a prey being watched by his predator. Once in a while you felt like his expression would flicker for a split second, his eyes becoming way darker, but it was gone so soon. You weren’t even sure if you saw it correctly or if it was your imagination. Even though the feeling was only there for a split second, He looked so friendly, encouraging Riley to talk more.

Finally, you could make out the hospital in the distance. About time, you thought.

“Hey Y/N?” Riley asked.

“Yes?”-

“Maybe when your dad is better again, you can visit us? I feel so bad for you. Today should have been a great day. _You seem really cool… I mean, your dad and family can come too..Right dad?” Cooper smiled and nodded.

“Great, Like a family dinner, my mom is a great cook.” So he was married. “I just would like to do something nice for you.” Oh god, the world didn’t deserve her kindness.

“Of course, you don't have to feel compelled to do so. Think about it, you don’t have to decide now..” Cooper interjected.

“The two of you are too kind. I can't,” more like won't, “give you an answer right now, but I promise to think about it. Okay?” You fake-gushed at the two, your face hurting from keeping the smile on your face.

Both Cooper and Riley seemed satisfied with the answer. You felt like you were in the wrong movie, was there a hidden camera somewhere? You arrived within the next minute. Cooper parked his car near the emergency exit. One moment away from freedom, away from this lie.

“I can’t really thank you enough. Thanks for driving me here. I hope you had a great day. Have a safe drive home.” You tried opening the door, but it wouldn’t budge. “Oh, child safety must be on. I’m sorry, I forgot.” apologized to Copper and exited the van to open your door. You didn’t believe him, it just matched too well.

“I hope you get good news inside. Dad acted really strange today, but I’m happy everything is normal again.” she smiled, before you could answer, and your door opened.

Daddy is acting strange today. You don’t say…

“Well, bye, Riley.” You waved at her and got out and barely got your hand out of the doof before Cooper shut it close.

“I’m so glad we could help you.” he said with that charming voice of his. He started to walk with you towards the building. “With all the extra police force, because of the Butcher, it could have taken you at least an hour to get here.”

“That's true. Well maybe next time he shouldn't let his recipes laying around in his hideouts. What does he even want at a pop concert?” you snorted.

“Did he now?” Cooper asked intrigued.

“At least that's what I overheard from a few higher up people today.”, no way you were saying that it was Lady Raven who told you.

“Seems like he needs to be cleaner and more careful.”

“If not, they might just catch him next time,” you joked.

“I don't think that will happen, sweetheart.” His mouth twitched in amusement.

That was a weird response. He must have seen the frown on your face, as he quickly started to explain himself.

“I mean if they didn't catch him today, while they knew he was going to be there. I think the chances of the police finding him again are relatively close to zero.” His reply sounded reasonable.

“Well yes, but he fucked up once. Maybe he is getting sloppy with time. Nobody knows.”

His jaw clenched. “You think so? Maybe you're misinterpreting the situation. I would imagine someone like him to be very calculated. Otherwise the police would have found him already, if he was being sloppy.”

“True…” You shrugged your shoulders. Maybe you were wrong, but why did he sound somewhat angry at your statement?

He was honestly acting strange now.

“Well I think this is where I leave you.” Cooper announced after a few seconds of silence. His behavior over the last meters made you feel unsettled again. He seemed strange. ‘Why was he like that?’

“Okay…”, should you with your gut feeling, you wondered? Fuck it, it was just a guess, a wild guess. You always knew your big mouth would get you into trouble someday. Maybe he was just a normal dad and you were overthinking the situation. If that was the case, he wouldn’t think anything of it.

“By the way B-...Cooper” you began, and Cooper turned around in a second, looking at you expectantly, one of his brows raised. His face was unreadable. “You're welcome.. You know that? For getting to drive with Lady Raven"—for getting out of there without the security controls - was what you wanted to say. Even if he were the Butcher his facial expressions and body language didn't betray him. He smiled and stepped back toward you. Every bone in your body wanted to run. ‘Fuck, did this creep you out.’ You felt like you were pushing your luck today

“Yes.. of course. I am very grateful for that…” Before he could say anymore, Riley pulled down the window.

“Dad! Let's go home! Y/N needs to go to the hospital! And I want to tell mom all about the concert!”

“She's right. I don't want to keep you from your father any longer. I bet your sister is waiting for you. Better go inside.” ‘He knew, he knew you lied when you fucked up with the sister and brother thing.’ Panic started to set in, you swallowed hard, your throat dry.

He came even closer and engulfed you in a tight hug. You stood there, frozen in place. He leaned his head down to your ear, his hands holding you even tighter. One of them slowly wandered to your lower back while he talked.

“Thank you, sweetheart. You sure made it easier. I’m sure Spencer will be soo grateful. I’ll let you know…” a dark chuckle escaped him.

“It's a small world. I'm sure we will see each other again.” His deep voice whispered in your ear, which sent shivers down your spine. You felt trapped. Like a tiny mouse next to him, holding your breath unintentionally. He patted you on the back. Smiling, he stepped away.

‘Breathe– mask your emotions. Get a grip.’ Many different thoughts running through your head.

Tilting your head to your side you looked at him. Moreover you were confused. Even a tiny bit scared.

‘Please don’t let him notice. Who was Spencer? Did you know Spencer?’

Furrowing your brows you asked “Spencer?” your voice slightly quivering.

He grinned even more— it looked unnerving. It was replaced by a much friendlier smile after another second. “Don’t worry about it.”

‘Were you imagining things? Now you knew why people said “don't play with fire.” Why had you said anything at all...’

His voice became louder, having that charming undertone again “and make sure to call sweetheart. Riley would be very happy if you came over.” Winking at you he turned around and walked back to his car.

You felt like your chest was about to explode.

“Yes! Once your dad's out of the hospital and things settle down, Make sure to call my dad. Then we can have a fun dinner.” giggling Riley's voice went even higher. She was practically shifting in her seat, unable to sit still.

‘Fun dinner? Yeah.. sureeee kid..’

You mustered your best smile and gave her a thumbs up.

“I will kiddo. See you around.” trying to steady your voice. You needed to get away fast. turned around and walked towards the hospital, near the end you were almost running.

Once inside, you had the feeling that it was getting harder and harder to breathe. As if you weren't getting enough air. Your breathing became more and more rapid. Your vision was blurred.

‘Was this hyperventilation? What was going on? Was he really the Butcher? Were you right? Would you die next? Maybe he would keep you alive because you unintentionally helped him?’

Anxiety welled up inside you. You barely noticed the loud voices around you.

‘Did you hear someone calling for help?’

You had the feeling that the world was spinning around you. ‘Were you still walking?’ It felt like your legs were made out of jelly.

Someone was talking to you, holding you by the shoulders. Shaking you. Waving something in front of your face. However, you couldn’t make out the words. You couldn't recognise the face in front of you. Everything sounded dull, like it was far far away. The world became increasingly blurred before your eyes, spinning more and more–

until you finally gave in and everything went dark.

#cooper adams x reader #cooper adams #trap 2024 #trap movie #josh hartnett #wtf am i even doing #cooper adams x you #female reader #cooper adams x y/n #cooper abbott #cooper abott × reader #cooper adams fanfiction

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notmorbid · 5 days ago

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the reformatory.

dialogue prompts from the reformatory by tananarive due.

why'd you do a fool thing like that?

don't run barefoot.

school is holier than church.

everyone knowing your name isn't always a blessing.

i can speak for myself.

what's got into you?

you little shit.

you pushed me first.

what would ____ have done?

not all stories are suited for the ears of children.

you can only trust explosive secrets with three people, maybe four.

we should have run away when we had the chance.

you talk too damn much.

we'll get there faster if we cut through the woods.

sometimes life throws you a curveball, and you end up in places you never expected.

are the stories true?

i've never seen a more superstitious place.

there's no such thing as ghosts. that's an absolute fact.

evil is never plain to the eye.

stop fretting. just makes it worse.

sometimes the only justice is a hot meal and a bed to sleep in.

you know how to cook?

it could've been last week, for how well i remember it.

you think i don't know an evil eye when i see one?

if you're dead, stay dead.

you're scared of your shadow. always jumping.

who is it? who locked the door?

none of you can take a joke.

you seem more tired than usual.

you can talk sense when you want to.

men do evil every day and call it 'doing their job'.

i've heard all i can stand.

this is only a season, and it will pass. no matter what happens.

you don't bother me, i won't bother you.

you talk too damn much.

say you're sorry. put it behind you.

there's more ahead for you than this.

this isn't everything. there's more than this.

stories are dangerous.

if i needed you to, you'd cover for me?

no one stays nice. best to remember it.

go on. ask me what i know.

i wish i could say i had good news.

get a good cry out if you want.

you're not as smart about the world as you think you are.

no good talk starts at a bar.

mama used to say that unaired feelings ate you up inside.

i'm sorry. i've got no right to blame you.

don't tell your business on the phone.

hush that damn foolishness.

don't you be sick in my truck.

sometimes the worst thing happens. usually, in fact.

how do you believe in god, with all the bad things?

this whole world is a lie, the bad things and the good things.

you've got an answer for everything, don't you?

it's like you can see every thought in my head.

what did i ever do to you?

don't talk about my parents.

don't talk like you know anything about me.

everybody won't see. but you might.

telling the truth always breaks the peace.

one thing i've learned: everything seems fine, until it ain't. and then we come to see it wasn't ever fine.

i was never allowed to have nicknames.

____ made me feel like i mattered.

be strong. like _____. can you do that?

it'll be alright, as long as you tell the truth.

all a man has in the world is his name. your name outlives you.

i tried to tell you, didn't i?

you're so dumb. not the dumbest i've ever seen, but pretty damn close.

you don't get to ask about ____.

if you see me run, follow behind. no matter what.

please let me do something to help.

they wear you down one wrong at a time.

we should use a code to talk about it.

never give up a chance to laugh.

i'm beyond your help.

being dead isn't so bad.

you thought i didn't know?

does anyone remember you?

you need me, just like i need you.

constant worry steals everything from you.

i don't like strangers in my house.

you need a place to stay, and i have a spare room.

sometimes we say a thing to try to believe it.

i don't know what game you're playing, but it's a dangerous one.

the secret to war is the sacrifices friends make for each other.

we don't all sit around in a clubhouse. is that what you think?

let it out. but when you're done crying, we need to go over the plan.

wait a minute. just slow down.

we're no better than them.

some mistakes you don't come back from.

everything is a trick with you.

i don't want to kill anybody. not even ____.

#rp meme #rp memes #ask memes #sentence starters #inbox meme #ask meme #rp prompts #horror meme #historical meme

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chantiying · 8 months ago

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Welcome to your fairytale where the only rule is let your imagination go wild

Hi, it's Chanty (I feel like this name resonates more with me rn) Today, I have a fairytale for you. How to choose? Close your eyes, imagine yourself surrounded by thousands of fairies, let these little creatures to lead you to their world, then choose either the image or fairy you feel more drawn to

If you are ready then let's jump into the fairies land

Remember tarot is not set on stone and you can change your path whenever you want. This is for entertainment purposesThis reading is general so if it doesn't resonate with you just let it go

PILE 1

Welcome to your story little stranger. You were born in a port, where you had to fight against everything you loved and get away from there. You are a brave adventurer with your heart always on your sleeve. You left your home where there were seas, oceans, seagulls & boats to reach a place in the mountains, where you will begin to discover yourself. You will see that the world is bigger than you thought, your perceptions about life will change. One day, walking through the countryside of that new town, a woman will change your perception of what life is, what love is, what freedom is. What you had always believed in will collapse, you will feel lost, you will cry, you will miss what you used to be, what you were, what you knew, but from that encounter your internal conflicts will be removed and understood, and your faith will have new foundations. You will feel glad to have spoken to her, to have asked her for maybe an address? Or a price? Or even the time. From that moment your motivation will be to see life as she sees it, your motivation will be to go out, smell the fresh air, the grass, the flowers, even the smell of the market. See the sky, the landscape, the clouds go by. You will miss the sea but the land will keep you anchored, which is what you needed, which is why you decided to start a new life

Your days will pass, your luck will change, you will be successful but then one day, when you look in the mirror, you will understand why you feel tired, because despite living well, you have never felt complete. The villain of your story will take action and look directly at you through the mirror. Why? It's me? Did I forget you? You will murmur while your memories of the sea, the fish, your family, of you, pass through your mind. The laughter as a child, how you dreamed of conquering the world, the promises you made to your parents, friends and siblings, all that comes back to you, your eyes crystallize and suddenly you feel tiny before the world again. Someone knocks on the door is your messenger, he informs you that there is a traitor in your castle, someone close to you has stolen the most precious things you had "running away" is the first thing that goes through your mind instead of fighting "RUNNING AWAY" is not the first time you will do it, will you stay to fight? No. "I want to go home" you say to the surprise of your server, I want to go home, you repeat once again, I want to see my family. You pack your things on a day of the waxing moon

Winter is about to come, the snow is about to fall but the only thing you think about is looking for a new rainbow on the horizon, the only thing that matters to you is starting over in a new place. Because as the years go by you still don't forget what that woman you met that spring told you. The seasons have passed, you are now in a big cage, fly little bird, look for your freedom, because your peace is in building a new home in every place you go. You will always have people celebrating your victories, your father, your friends, your colleagues. Everyone understands that you were born to sow, harvest and go to a new field to sow new seeds. What you are looking for is found by moving away from the problem, the magic that the fairies gave you is in letting go and waiting for your wishes to come true. That woman, that fairy that you found in the past, was just the beginning of your path, she was your teacher, she was your inspiration so that you could free yourself from everything that is gone, so that you would run with the wolves, so that you would be master of the sea, mountains and forests, so that you would finally understand that moving away is part of your freedom, that growing up sometimes makes you smaller, but even being small you can conquer whatever you set your mind to, that your greatest enemy is you, that the solution is not to stay tied, that you can build bridges and cross them with your friends but sometimes you must leave the bridge and take the road on your own, that it is you and your independence creating new relationships and that your hope is to collect all the colors of the rainbow, the pot of gold is not so important to you, but the lightning that bathes you when you arrive at what will be your new home, your freedom

Cancer, Aquarius, Gemini, Pisces, Leo rainbow, Beaches, Places with ports or mountains (whether you were born there or want to live in a place like that or it is where you find peace of mind) Sociable, Fish or Birds as pets. LGBT? People who struggle to let others/things go

PILE 2

Oh little creature, you are a warrior, strong, determined, with an implacable character (or at least that's what you want to appear to your family), "should I go?" You ask yourself from time to time. One night, while everyone is asleep, your magical adventure begins, you then take a book, press it between your hands while you watch the lamps from your window, "should I go?" You ask again and unconsciously use that book as an oracle. The answer comes to you. Then, you go to sleep, you let sleep take over you. The rays come through your window waking you up, it doesn't bother you, since you have decided what you will do: you will give up. But you will not give up on your dreams, nor will you give up on your ideals, you will give up on feeling the way you have been feeling, you will give up on the pain, the tiredness, you will give up on feeling alone and after that, you will realize the power that it has. nature for you. Before you had resolved your conflicts by crying at night, you had fought against them in your dreams, you had tried hard to feel the pain on your skin but this morning you had decided that it was no longer going to be like that. You gave a light smile to the people who were at home, you took your backpack and went for a walk down the street, the weather was perfect and the sun's rays caressed your skin, as if it were your father delicately touching your face, making sure you felt him next to you. Soon you felt a little sad, why did those women treat you so badly? Why did they seem to despise you? What was the evil that you did? Why did they claim that you were the one who ruined them? You hadn't done anything, at least not deliberately, but still, you couldn't please them. You are about to cry again, your aimless steps take you to a large tree, you are impressed by its magnitude, how tall it is, but you do not feel small, but rather protected. You sit leaning your back on its trunk, you take out the book or a notebook and the doors to the magical world open again for you

You have found the point where the fairies gather, they dance happily while you immerse yourself even further in your thoughts that are no longer bad but healing. You remember when you had a family that in your opinion was happy, you remember dad's arrival, the affection, a golden halo covers all those memories, the smile spreads on your face "I will have a home full of love" you promise yourself.

Time passes and you keep your promise, that day it wasn't your imagination but your power of divination. Now you are everything they told you you could never be, you are beautiful, you are kind, generous and an example for those who love you. Sometimes you have bad days, sometimes you have problems, but everything you experienced taught you how to draw your sword and fight your enemies. Your dark days and that hand that was extended to you that day you were reading under the tree, have been your allies. You are still of unbreakable character but now you do not pretend it but rather attach it to your emotions as a whole. You no longer cry yourself to sleep, you no longer mark your skin, now you appreciate every day and the opportunities it gives you, because those who had hurt you received what they deserved. You understood that it was not right to normalize what they did to you, or what you did to yourself, you turned pain into light, you wrote your wishes in your journal and you were grateful because they came true.

Trees, Nature, Parks, Libra, Aries, Pisces. Forests, Green, Blue, White and Purple, Journal, "Find the answer in a book" "Write down your fears" Lamps, Activist, Environmentalist, Healing through plants, Shadow work, mommy issues, "I love you"

PILE 3

This is the story of a wise man who with his words gave peace to those who consulted him about their indecision. It was magic, it was freedom, it was calm, it was hope, it was a miracle. It was written in his life story that he would be a courageous human being, who would face any problem by giving it a real solution. He was a transformer of lives but he was afraid to transform his own, but that day came... His worst fear: change, arrived in the form of a warm, pleasant and charming young person. He could not do anything but fall for them, he fell in love. His powers and wisdom disappeared. Confusion reigned in his head, he felt bad, he felt miserable, he felt like things had slipped out of his hands. Why had he fallen in love? Why had he given his heart? That was not his mission, his mission was to be a counselor, to share his wisdom and words with others, his mission was not to live but to serve... Then a day, one of the two left and no, it wasn't the other person but the wise one. He took the pieces of his heart, almost all of them, and decided to go to a new place to find peace and he achieved it.

The days, months and perhaps years passed, his recognition, powers and wisdom returned, he felt happy, he was an advisor to privileged people, he had a name with golden letters. There was a celebration, everyone was dancing, laughing, drinking and our wise man had a smile on his face but his soul felt desolate. He felt like a part of him was dying, tears rolled down his cheeks, he apologized and went out to the garden to get some fresh air, that pain became bigger, he couldn't contain it anymore and he let out the tears that he had held back for years, is it worth? the pain? He asked himself. He had left the one he loved alone so as not to transform who he was, but now he realized that transforming was part of life, of his life: passion, emotion, love, tears, all of that was part of his being and he couldn't bottle all those feelings for his entire life, he had to let them flow, and then, not only would he be a wise man of words, he would surrender to the transformation and now he would be a teacher, a magician, a whole. But he had to face his secrets, his fears, his shadow. He had to learn from his past, he had to embrace his self that had been hidden, he had to learn not to fear change and flow with it.

The process was chaotic, sometimes he wanted to go back to being who he was, sometimes he woke up wanting to explore his other versions, sometimes there was light, sometimes darkness, sometimes he just wanted to be in bed, forget who he was, but sometimes he wanted to use his magic, play an instrument, dance barefoot and watch the water drops fall creating colors as they crash on the ground. He always had the world in his favor, but, because of his fears, he never realized it, he thought that they only used him or needed him, he thought that they only approached him because of his wisdom. He never imagined that they were going because of the peace he transmitted, because of his gaze, because of the admiration and respect they felt, because of the inspiration he exerted. Sometimes he forgot that magic existed, that he was magic, that he was light and he was protection. He has not yet become the magician he should be, he has not yet mastered it, he still has doubts and setbacks, he is still sometimes afraid to feel, to love. He still sometimes thinks that he was born to serve and not to live. But life will show him (show you) again that nothing stays the same forever and that the only thing that is certain is change.

Scorpio, Taurus, Capricorn, Virgo, Sagittarius. Fear of change, Red, A Party, Lost love, The Past, maybe some of you are LGBT, Tea or Coffee, Avoidant Attachment, The friend who gives good advice, Teachers or your career has to do with education or sharing your advice, listening, Speak Now by Taylor Swift pop out to my mind

Ok, this is it, thank you for reading me and I hope it resonates with you (I was about to cry bcus I wrote this like three times and for a variety of reasons I needed to pause it and I don't know why but the post wasn't saved for those three times 🫠 I don't know if it was a sign of the universe and I just kept being stubborn 🙂)

Anyway, see you all next time

Alic (Chanty) 🪽

#tarot and astrology #tarot #tarot reading #tarot asks #tarot cards #tarot tumblr #pick a picture #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #pick a card #divination

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marjoch · 23 days ago

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YOU’VE GOT MAIL

a jayvik au!

early updates on ao3 @ josmarch

CHAPTER THREE!!

Christmas came and went. Jayce spent the holiday home with Mel, who hosted her mother in town for two nights. Mel insisted on redecorating the guest bedroom just beforehand, so Jayce had been in charge of putting together the furniture, and therefore he was behind on his project.

It was harder to keep up with AIM while the festivities were going on, but Jayce did his best to sneak away in the evenings and continue the ongoing conversation with Tinkerman. Things went back to normal by Monday. While Mel was working late, Jayce was on AIM.

I hope your holiday season is going well. It has been hectic on my end, but I have missed our conversations. NY1972

Tinkerman was on the computer, because a message came through shortly after.

It’s been the same for me, and I have also missed our conversations. Do you have any New Year’s resolutions? Tinkerman

I hope I can achieve some of my goals this coming year. I have a lot of potential growth, if I utilize it. I’ve got a great opportunity that I can’t let slip through my fingers. As much as New York gets on my nerves, I am not going back to Seattle. What about you? NY1972

I find I have a hard time speaking my mind. It has always been easier to be passive, but I know I could lose my business if I don’t stand my ground. Tinkerman

Jayce read over the messages, and thought of what to say. He never had a problem with assertiveness — he was confident in his beliefs, and he would defend both those he cared for and himself the same.

I think I speak my mind too much. Maybe I can give you some of my ability, and you can say whatever you like, and I can keep quiet when it would benefit me. NY1972

Tell me how to make the trade, and I’m there. Tinkerman

The wording made Jayce ponder once more who this internet stranger was. Jayce decided to test the waters of their growing friendship, holding his breath as he typed and barely breathing after it was sent.

Would you want to meet? NY1972

On the other side of the screen, Viktor was at the computer in his living room. He immediately closed the chat window, staring at the now-blank computer background. He stood up and went to feed Rain, giving her pets in response to her rubbing up against his legs. Then he took a deep breath, went back to the computer, and logged back into AIM.

When are you free? Tinkerman

With effort, he was up again. He leaned on his cane as he looking through the bookshelf on the opposite wall, as if a new book would appear and stand out beyond the others.

The notification came through. He didn’t even sit down, peering down at the screen.

I could do tomorrow evening. 6pm? You pick the place. NY1972

Like it or not, Viktor’s stomach turned, and not in a negative way. He’d never felt like this before, and he certainly didn’t expect it over an internet stranger. He lowered himself back into his chair, thinking. Too much time had passed before he had a coherent response, but he figured it was better late than never.

6pm is great. There’s a local coffee shop I like, I’ll send you the address. Tinkerman

He followed up the message with the address to the coffee shop, and waited idly for a response. When he didn’t get an answer, he logged out of the chat and pushed down his feeling of disappointment. He spent the rest of the evening going over his research, constantly working despite his need for rest.

In the Upper West Side, Jayce was already in bed next to Mel, having sent his final message before she came in through the door. He felt bad being on the computer around her, and he was still trying to decide if it was a general respect for her presence or some sort of guilt for the feelings he couldn’t deny. He found it hard to sleep, so he poured himself extra coffee in the morning, rising before Mel had already left. He never saw her these days.

He had the news on in the morning, playing from the kitchen as he got dressed for work. He could faintly hear something about his father’s recent business successes in Seattle.

The address for the coffee shop Tinkerman chose was somewhere in Brooklyn. Jayce felt relieved, because it would ensure he could make it on time without worrying about crossing half of the city during rush hour. There was a second message waiting for him:

Heading to work early. I’m not sure if you got my message, but I’ll be there tonight. Bringing a red book so you know how to find me. Tinkerman

I’ll be there. NY1972

Viktor wouldn’t see the last message, because he was dutifully working away on his current project. He was stuck on the neuroscience aspect of it — he could make mobility devices all day every day, but if he didn’t know how to connect one’s brain to the structures, it was useless. At this point, he didn’t need more funding, he needed a better facility.

“Planning to take a break anytime soon?” came Sky’s voice from the office doorway. Viktor didn’t so much as look up.

“In a little bit,” he responded, oblivious to Sky’s concern.

“You’re not working at home again, are you?”

Viktor shrugged, still focused. Sky had grown used to his conversational indifference. When he was working, he was impossible to crack. “I can’t work tonight anyway, I’m going out.”

“Oh really?” Sky’s tone changed, curious. “Is it this man you’ve been talking to on instant messenger?”

“No,” said Viktor, too quickly. He realized his error and sighed, finally looking away from his work and turning to Sky. “Maybe.”

“Ooo, Viktor’s got a date,” said Sky in a sing-song voice.

“It’s just coffee, not a date,” said Viktor, rolling his eyes as he went back to his equations.

“Coffee in the evening? He must like you a lot.”

“He has a girlfriend, I’ve told you this.”

“So? Plenty of closeted gay men have girlfriends.”

“Thank you, Sky,” he said. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

She shrugged, still amused. “Alright then.” She turned and left the doorway, pulling the door almost-shut behind her, and going back to work at the counter.

Viktor continued to work steadfastly until closing time came. Sky was ready to leave at 5, but Viktor decided to hang back.

“The coffee shop is just a few minutes from here, I’ll just work until then.”

Sky sighed in exasperation. “Sounds like an excuse for you to fall asleep here again, ‘on accident’.” She used air quotes for emphasis. “You have to stop overworking yourself. It doesn’t do you any good.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he said, shaking his head. Sky left with that prompt, and Viktor returned to his desk until it was time for him to pull on his coat, grab the red book, and head down the street.

6pm came and went, and Viktor sat at a table in view of the window. He saw many faces come and go, and wondered if each entering patron may be NY1972. He found himself becoming anxious over different possible outcomes. But what did any of them matter? He was an internet stranger.

Jayce was on time, palms sweating more than he would admit. He looked through the big window in front of the coffee shop, eyes searching for the red book that signified the presence of Tinkerman. He found it: on the table of a brunette man who was all too familiar.

Taken by surprise at the sight of Viktor, Jayce made the controversial split-second decision to continue hiding his identity as NY1972. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to talk to Viktor, though.

Viktor had heard the bell on the front door ring. He looked up see none other than Jayce Talis, who seemed to be casually queueing to order. Viktor immediately opened his book and tried to hide behind, pretending to be interested in the pages. His act failed, because Jayce’s voice was close when he interrupted.

“Is anyone sitting here?” Jayce asked, hand on the back of the chair on the opposite side of Viktor’s table.

“Yes, actually—” began Viktor, but Jayce was already sitting down.

“I’ll just hang around until they get here.”

Viktor was annoyed. “I’m actually busy.”

“Busy reading a book?” Jayce said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” responded Viktor, still feigning interest in the book. He flipped the page as if to prove his point, not making eye contact with Jayce, who took the book out of his hands and closed it. Viktor was visibly frustrated, taking it back and flipping through the pages. “You made me lose my place,” he huffed.

“Do you regularly come read at coffee shops at 6pm?”

“Do you regularly bother people who don’t enjoy being in your presence? Or am I special in that regard?”

Jayce scoffed. “What is it about my presence that you dislike?”

Viktor closed the book, and made direct eye contact with Jayce.

“I think you think you’re better than me. Maybe you think you’re better than everyone else. You act as if you’re owed something, but you’re new in town. You’re out of your league, and it’s bringing the rest of us down.”

Both of them sat in silence after that: Jayce stunned by the accusations, and Viktor finished with his explanation. When the silence was broken, it was by Jayce. “Alright then,” he said, standing up. He pushed his chair back in on his side of the table. “Good night.”

Nothing else from either of them before Jayce turned and left. Viktor remained at the shop for another hour, expectantly waiting, and left when they started to close.

Upon getting home, Viktor started up the computer. There had to have been a valid reason why NY1972 wasn’t there. Disappointingly, there was nothing waiting his return.

In the Upper West Side, Jayce was intercepted by his girlfriend, who was intent on having a serious conversation. During the course of this conversation, Mel explained that her job was taking away from their relationship, and she was planning to campaign for re-election. When she suggested they put their romance on hold, Jayce felt a surprising lack of disappointment, instead filled by a sense of freedom.

The next morning, Viktor went to work without logging into his computer. He was determined to focus today, because he had a growing list of tasks to complete before his invention progressed. He must have seemed different despite his attempts, because Sky sighed when she saw him.

“How did it go?” she asked, with obviously low expectations.

“It didn’t go,’” Viktor was monotonous as he unlocked the front door. Sky pushed it open and held it for him.

“He didn’t show up?” Sky said, sighing. “I’m sorry, Viktor.”

“It’s not a big deal. He’s just a stranger on the internet.” No efforts could make Sky believe him.

“Maybe he got into a car accident,” she offered. “Or maybe he got sick, and his internet went down, and he couldn’t message you.” She got out the duster and started cleaning the shelves. “Maybe he’s super ugly, and was scared to meet you because you’re hot.”

“He doesn’t know what I look like.” Viktor shook his head. “I’m going to work.”

The work day flew by. He spent the entirety of his time tirelessly researching. Sky insisted on locking The Shop up herself to ensure he went home and rested. He let her have the keys for the night, just to get her off his case.

When he got home, he spent time with Rain, and ate his first meal of the day. He couldn’t resist the urge to check AIM, despite his persistent frustration about last night. There was a message awaiting him, much to his surprise.

I’m sorry about last night. I’ve caught some sort of illness, and I didn’t want to spread it to you. I should have let you know, and for that, I apologize. I hope you don’t hate me for my absence. NY1972

Viktor felt relief. While a message would have been nice, he had feared NY1972 was done speaking to him. He typed out a response.

It happens. I hope you are feeling better today. Tinkerman

Jayce sensed the tension in the short response, and did his best to make up for it by continuing the conversation.

How have you been? Hopefully you are doing better than I am. NY1972

I’m as healthy as I can be. I think my New Year’s resolution is coming to fruition early. Yesterday, I was able to say exactly what I meant, and it didn’t feel like I expected. I think I much prefer keeping my thoughts to myself. Tinkerman

Assertiveness is a double-edged sword. You are very level-headed, from what I have gathered. You shouldn’t feel bad, I’m sure whoever it was deserved it. NY1972

That made Viktor feel better about his exchange with Jayce last night. It was nice to have someone on his side for once. He appreciated Sky, but she was about all he had before this internet stranger.

I have work to finish, but I’m glad to hear from you. I must admit your absence caused me to wonder if you wanted to continue messaging. Tinkerman

Working late proves you are as dedicated as I have imagined. Best of luck, and let me know if you need anything. NY1972

Viktor logged out of AIM, then. He spent the rest of his night doing just as said, falling asleep at the dining room table with his work littered about the table. He dreamt of Jayce Talis again, except this time Jayce was on the other side of the computer screen. When he woke up to Rain purring and nudging his hand for her breakfast, he couldn’t put the thought out of his mind.

#arcane #jayce talis #jayce x viktor #jayvik #viktor arcane #you’ve got mail

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chantsdemarins · 10 months ago

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😅Real Villain Training [Tom Hiddleston circa 2012 X Fem.Reader]

Chapter three of Breath of the Æsir is almost here. I’m SO sorry for the wait! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy a very brief Tom story...

Honestly, I pledged to myself, no more Tom stories just focus on Loki. But I think I just can't help it. Especially when slutty inspiration like this photo comes my way (@lokischambermaid and @lokisgoodgirl 😳)

I am humbled by this era of Tom. In 2024 he is a husband/father/seasoned iconic actor in perpetual good cheer, but in 2012, he was a bad boy. As always please reblog and comment if you feel inspired!

Summary: Tom is hanging out with some real jerks for a new role, and he runs into you, literally. Your depression has caused your life to turn a little black and white, could this handsome stranger possibly add some color back? (at least to your cheeks🥵).

Smut factor: I hope...HOT 🔥

(Authors note: I have no concrete proof he was in fact a bad boy so please don't take seriously my young Tom plot themes of drugs and sex, which once again appear here. I could be totally wrong about him. It's art! It's a fabrication! Also, this story does involve mental health!)

I also don't know who would want to be on a tag list for a Tom fic these days! These are a few people who might be interested?? @lokischambermaid @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokisgoodgirl @wheredafandomat @sailorholly @mrs-illyrian-baby @superficialdomina @gigglingtiggerv2 @fictive-sl0th @muddyorbs @tbhiddlestan83 @huntress-artemiss @smolvenger @kikster606 @mjsthrillernp @hiroyukinasukawa

Los Angeles, 2012

That afternoon, the rooftop pool at the Saint Avalon was a pink swirl of bathing beauties in early spring. Tom tried to focus on his deadpan conversation with his agent, but polka dots and silly cocktails danced around him. He pushed his Ray-Bans back into place, his sweat—or perhaps nervousness—causing them to slowly slide off his nose.

"Serious British actor succumbs to being typecast as a Norse sociopath. That's where this is headed, Tom, if we don’t do something, get you something else.” “Do you really want to be known only for Marvel?” he repeated his plea. The words just weren’t sinking in.

Tom laughed and inadvertently tried to change the subject. "Have you been to the La Brea Tar Pits yet, John? It’s wild—10,000 years' worth of dire wolf bones.”

His stare remained galvanized by the poolside girls. They just didn't look like that in London. Number one, the sunshine. Number two, the tans. Number three, well, his girlfriend—or ex-girlfriend, rather—made it hard to look too long at anyone else. So had he ever found himself at a rooftop pool party, he wouldn't have had the chance he was having now.

“Tom, are you paying attention? This is important. You're only here for a week, and we need to move on this role. I need to know if you're a yes.” The truth was, Tom was suddenly filthy rich with his own money for the first time in his life. He really loved being a Norse sociopath and already had big ideas for Loki’s eventual character arc into becoming an anti-hero someday. He had filled three journals on his bedside stand with his ideas for Loki.

His agent tried again, “Just hang out with Giorgio. It’s less than a month. Then the movie should be a very easy shoot. You get to embed yourself with some real hedge fund cats.” Tom’s attention snapped back. “Wait, I like that.” “Right? It’s like if Loki worked on Wall Street.” “Well…” Tom hesitated. He didn’t think Loki would actually ever bore himself that way. Those guys were boring to Tom and to Loki.

His poor agent was right, though. He did need another role. Things had gone so well; filming for the next Avengers movie was starting this summer. If he could find another gig, a time filler, a totally different genre, it really would be the best for his career. “Then a play next,” the agent mused, taking a sip of his own cocktail. “Shakespeare, or something 70s.” “70s? As in the 1570s? Or the 1970s?” “Tom.” “How should I know?” Tom laughed to himself, eyes still canvassing the poolside display around him. His agent leaned across his lawn chair and placed his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “So, you’ll do it?”

Two Weeks Later

Deep down, he knew he didn’t have the dissociation required for the job. He was too corporeal, too embodied. Years of being a long-distance runner and a trained athlete had fastened his mind, heart, and soul firmly into his muscles. He clearly wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings in his highly emotive, sensitive body. That was the first thing he noticed about the guys he was forced to hang out with for this role. They were covered up with their suits and sexist jokes. It was like they had Hadrian’s Wall around them. Which was, in fact, what exactly led to his sudden departure from the bar at Rue 23.

He had been embedded with short and loud Glen, buzz-cut Ellis, and the tall and lanky, just like him, Brad Nelson. There were a few others, but they were too milquetoast to be memorable. Role be damned. He left so fast the thick glass door almost hit a nice young couple as he bolted into the cold Los Angeles spring night.

He wasn’t dressed right; in his haste to leave London, he didn’t remember that California got into the 40s after the sun went down. He didn’t even pack a suit coat. Thank God he remembered to grab his leather pack from under the bar. It contained exactly five cigarettes, a finicky Zippo, his aftershave, a white t-shirt, and a travel toothbrush. There might also be a rolled-up Popular Mechanics magazine from the Burbank airport, something he never would be caught dead reading at Heathrow.

He also hadn’t done so much coke since he was in college. Why was LA always so incredibly cliché? He couldn’t blame Luke. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself for this role. He said yes when he was distracted. He was in over his head. They had hired these real blokes to make sure Tom looked authentic when they started filming next month, and given his intense drive for perfection, he had agreed that it was “brilliant” of the casting director to force the eight of them to spend these weeks in Los Angeles and one week in Manhattan, in a true immersive centrifuge of shallow materiality.

The night spun around him, a neon ball of yarn, teasing open his pupils until his eyes were black and not at all blue. As he walked, he ran his large hands down the surface of his body, the material of his shirt feeling like a fancy pillowcase from a boutique hotel.

One finger lingered over his jawline, tracing it as he brought his hands back up to his face. Engrossed in the comfort of his form a moment too long, he was distracted once again. This part of LA seemed to always be full of clusters of locals and tourists, laughing and talking. He was unfortunately moving against the flow of the crowd, a wayward salmon when he almost ran straight into you.

“Watch where you're going!” you yelled, dropping your purse onto the dirty LA sidewalk. It opened enough for your things to tumble out. Tom immediately stopped and bent down to help you, but you batted his hands away. “What the hell? I can pick up my own damn Chapstick,” you scolded. “Ma’am, I am so sorry, I am obviously not from here, and I am a little overwhelmed,” he rattled off. “Why is that obvious?” “My accent, of course.” “I didn’t honestly notice,” you spoke as you inspected the tall man’s face with squinting eyes.

You, of course, did immediately notice the timbre of his voice, his height, and the buttons on his tight shirt which looked like they were in the process of unbuttoning themselves. “Would you believe I’ve been doing coke all night with a bunch of Wall Street assholes at the Rue 23, and I had to get the fuck out of there,” he continued, not sure if you were listening, but you were definitely looking at him, so he continued.

“So now I am wandering the streets of Beverly Hills, and I haven’t the foggiest how the rest of my night will go.” You shuffled your feet for a moment before speaking. You had been heading home after a long day at work. You felt genuinely unprepared for navigating a handsome foreigner in the right direction. Yet there was a certain appeal to a man suddenly without his ship or his crew, so to speak. So you didn’t immediately walk away.

He had been shuffled from the airport to the bar in a hired car, he tried to explain, and his sense of direction bordered on problematic. Further, his flip phone was really only good for texting, and that even took way too long most days. He really did seem high, overwhelmed, and a little lost. He also seemed the type unable to handle any silence in a conversation.

“Do you live far?” he said after suffering through 30 seconds of no discourse. “It’s LA, everything is far.” “Fair enough,” Tom muttered sheepishly, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, which were still somehow unbuttoning themselves. He thought he had bought the right size shirt. Maybe not.

You realized that if you were to ask this too-high, too-hot British man back to your apartment, you would inevitably cave and end up sleeping with him just because he caught you in this particular moment of your life. It was an in-between time. You weren't quite your old self and your new self that you'd been working so hard on, hadn't emerged yet.

“Want to grab something to eat?” You finally offered a neutral segue. That seemed to be just what the man needed to hear. His demeanor calmed. “Oh sure, yes, I could go for a big American cheeseburger, honestly.” “Okay then, let’s go to Patty’s on Vine, we can walk,” you said as you pulled at his shirt to turn him toward the right direction. He bristled at the feeling of your touch.

His whole body was even more sensitive than usual. You looked like the queen of the ancient British Iceni to him. In truth, he didn’t much care for the California look. He loved that you appeared out of nowhere and you looked like Boudica, not like Gwyneth Paltrow. Even though he was sure he heard she was nice. RDJ seemed to really love her.

The diner where you were headed was the second-tier after-hours hang, so it wasn’t populated with the usual crowd, not yet at least. You had some time before you would be inundated, and perhaps before someone would recognize him, which you still did not. You could ask him, of course. Although, sometimes in Los Angeles, the worst part is knowing who someone is.

Although Tom being Tom was unable to resist personal questions. “Tell me a little bit about yourself, just a little,” he had to ask as the night air propelled him quickly down the sidewalk. You considered telling him about your job, but it was just how you paid the bills. Your passions were your passions and not for a stranger. So you decided to be a little goth. It couldn't hurt.

“I have something like anhedonia, I suppose,” you finally said. Tom seemed to know what you meant right away. “The inability to feel?” He spoke. “More classically refined, which results in numbness, making capturing interior somatic sensations nearly impossible,” you clarified. “Sounds like you are depressed,” Tom flattened out your creative retelling of your current state. “Maybe,” although you weren't sure of his simple label. "You think it will pass?" Tom continued, ever the optimist.

You considered one way to try and test if this state you'd been in could possibly change, would be to see if he could provoke feelings of passion or at least some kind of low-grade horniness. You’d been feeling functionally blank for a while now.

He was stunning, after all.

He seemed game for anything, his amphetamine grin taking up the majority of his handsome face. He looked so lovely under the hanging light in your dingy booth. You ate the two-egg special you ordered and watched him devour his American cheeseburger with genuine joy.

“So, you're here to practice for a new part?” You sincerely tried to keep the conversation flowing despite the growing desire to test your theory. “Yes, they want me to branch out. In my career, there’s the fear I am already 'type-casted,' I guess you could say.” “Type-casted? So early on?”

He looked young to you. Possibly younger than you actually. “Yes, I had a big role as a villain, it really blew up, but, he's like a mythological comic book one. I am misunderstood mostly. I mean my character, not me.” "Sure." You nodded in understanding and agreed even if you didn’t quite pick up what he was putting down. You wondered if he had ever seen 'The Last Starfighter.' A favorite movie of yours, you rarely shared with anyone else. Or had he been in that? Your mind wandered. You really didn't recognize him, but you also didn't want to offend him by this fact.

“So how would this role be redefining your abilities? If you are playing a heartless hedge fund dude, isn’t that also a kind of villain? Maybe that is why you got this part.” Tom pondered your insight. He again fell into overthinking and was only a text away from bailing on the entire endeavor. He was becoming that kind of guy, emotionally uneven under his elite veneer.

“I guess they feel like I don’t have the chops to be a 'real world' baddie.” “I needed more practice.” “You don’t?” you said very timidly, suddenly you weren’t hungry anymore. You gently pushed your plate aside so you could focus.

You realized his bromance compadres would find him eventually. Another LA truth: it was hard to get truly lost for long. You had been studying his face during the conversation. His pale complexion was slowly becoming flushed in small increments. Was it shyness or a hidden boldness he was bursting to demonstrate, you couldn't tell.

You had worn your espadrilles today, maybe it wasn’t the right season yet, but they always went so well with your outfit-a flowery dress from H&M. Gently and playfully, you kicked one of them off your foot, making a soft thud. Tom dipped his eyes beneath the table for only a moment and brought them back to you, a new flash of crimson emerging. Why were you taking off your shoes? Maybe your feet hurt from the walk?

He picked up his water and chugged almost all of it.

Your right leg lifted up and found purchase exactly between his, landing on the soft seat. Tom chuckled nervously and grabbed your foot. “Just what are you doing?” “I thought you were in training to be a real villain. Or did I misunderstand that?” You teased. Tom’s sincerity and earnestness were effulgent. “Oh no, I am, I really want the part, I need this role.” Suddenly when the idea of something illicit going on beneath the table loomed, he was not reticent about this new role. “Then you better continue to practice.” You laughed, your own smile forming across your face. “How long do we have until they find you?” You inched your foot closer to his crotch.

Tom took a deep breath in and pulled out his flip phone eyes squinting, trying to see the rectangle text banner across the tiny screen. He held the phone up to you. “Can you read this at all?” You grabbed it from him, feeling his hand shaking a little. It was charming. He was nervous.

You read the tiny screen aloud, “Not really, something about where are you at…you wanker, we are about to call your agent." It did say exactly that, and you wondered if possibly Tom was throwing away this role. Were you watching him collapse his career before your eyes? “Are you one for self-sabotage Tom?” The question seemed to catch him off guard. Maybe no one had asked him so bluntly. “Maybe,” he said after a long minute of typing something on the seemingly minute phone with his long fingers and even larger hands. “Just like I am possibly depressed," you offered. He looked up and sat his phone down. “Yes, I think so. Just like that.”

Incoming

Just then the waitress came by filled your water glasses and gave you another quick refill of coffee. Your chosen sobriety was a strange foil to Tom’s imbibed stimulant cocktail which showed no sign of waning. “So, are we on?” He finally said after biting his bottom lip, for what seemed like a year, until it was slightly puffy.

“For what? A staring contest?” You offered, laughing nervously too, your foot still stationed between his thighs. You wondered what you could accomplish at this hour with the looming threat of an incursion at any moment.

The glimmer in his dilated orbs registered that Tom was now aligned in a mission of testing the perpetuity of your anhedonic state. Suddenly under the table, you felt his long legs spread yours apart, like opening a long-closed window that had been painted over.

You gasped but didn’t say anything. He laughed and widened his legs further. You moved your eyes to watch him under the table, his hand reaching down to adjust his cock, which was obviously becoming hard.

At that moment you wanted to jump over to his side of the booth, you wanted to concede and take him to your far away apartment in embarrassing Marina Del Rey.

Tom went silent and finally let go of your bare foot, he had been holding it so hard with his other hand, that you were sure it would be bruised. You immediately placed it on his now impossibly hard cock, tenting his pants obscenely. Honestly, you’d never given a “foot job” before and only seen something like this in a French film once. You had no idea what you were doing.

You slowly began to move your foot up and down his length, which was quite impressive and required more force than you had anticipated. You curled your toes around him to try and create more friction, dragging your heel just at the base.

You placed your hands on the edge of the diner seat so you could put some real weight into getting him off. That seemed to work, and Tom let out a guttural moan. He quickly grabbed your water glass and drank it in addition to his own.

“Should I stop?” You let yourself wonder out loud. “Are you crazy? No.” Was Tom’s quick reply. “Does this feel good?” “Fuck yes.” His voice was breathy, and he shifted in his seat, daring to look around at the customers, but none showed any sign of noticing anything other than themselves. “But this isn’t fair,” he spoke again softly, panting. “How so?” “Because I am um, I am receiving.” “Aren’t you supposed to be a selfish cold surface-level junior business asshole?” “Yes.” “Then this is what they do, they get foot jobs in diners, amongst other perks of course,” you laughed. “Shit, you’re right,” Tom barely squeaked out.

Just then the diner door opened, and you could see the dim faces of the guys he had been partying with. They finally found him. “Don’t look now but your Republican friends have arrived.” Tom’s flush became pale. “Should I stop?” You checked in again. “No.” His response was as clear as mid-day.

So, you increased your speed, you took a deep breath. You were so turned on at this point. You were positive there would be a wet spot on the cracked vinyl seat. You lifted your skirt up further. Tom noticed and peered beneath the table again. He saw your hand brush past your underwear and a finger curl inside the lace trim. You matched his erratic breathing to your motions as you fucked yourself intently. His eyes were glued to you, his fists almost punching into the flimsy placemats. You laughed to yourself about the chances of you both coming in public, surely, he wouldn’t, or you couldn’t.

You were about to mention that perhaps you should stop. When suddenly Tom let out a muffled cry. His breath hitched. You could feel moisture beneath the bottom of your toes as you brought your foot back to the tip of his generous cock once more. “Ah, I see,” you laughed. "Well looks like we are done here." There was no more time to discuss what just happened. The bros had spotted him and you and made their way to your back corner.

Tom closed his eyes in what looked like a silent prayer. He had just had one of the best orgasms of his life. The short blond one with cropped hair spoke up, “Hiddleston, where the fuck have you been, your agency was about to call the cops, which would have been lame.”

“Hiddleston,” you said his surname out loud. Realizing you never got his last name. Tom looked at you with both lust and remorse. Then turned back to the assholes. “You found me, good work,” he said assuredly. “Well we gotta go dick we have a strip club that closes at 3am and it’s in the contract that we take you there.”

Tom slowly got up and used one of his long fingers to expertly untuck that white button-down shirt to conceal the mess you had both made. He looked your way, the pale blue of his eyes returning.

You exchanged numbers for the pleasantry of it, as the assholes looked on impatiently, probably wondering why Tom was wasting his time on a girl who looked like Boudica, but that's just what assholes do you remembered. Although you really didn’t expect to hear from him again. To your surprise right before dawn, perhaps as he was leaving said strip club, a text came over your Blackberry.

“I hope you felt something, I know I did.” Shit.

You did feel something, a lot of things actually. Tom had brought something back to the solemnly plain bagel of your life. You quickly wrote back.

"Don't let the bros see you texting me Tom, you laughed knowing he was probably squinting and barely able to see your words. You picture all of them looking over his shoulder.

"They went home. Can I come over? I feel like we aren't done quite yet. My asshole-in-training self expires at sunrise and I turn back into the real me. Is that okay?" You blinked a few times just to make sure you saw that correctly. "So you're actually Cinderella," you laughed nervously.

You managed to type your address and push send before pulling your covers over your head and screaming quietly enough to not wake up your still-slumbering roommates. You then looked around your room in quiet delightful horror, you had about 30 minutes to hide all your dirty clothes from the past three months under your bed...

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston x Reader #Tom Hiddleston fan fic #foot lover #meet cute

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i-am-baechu · 1 year ago

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Chapter one

Wishes (M) (Season One)

Summary: After a long day of classes, Min Yoongi decides to take a break at the music hall that has become his second home. He walks in with his cigarette lit and his blank expression quickly changes when he sees a girl playing his piano. The moment their eyes meet, their lives become complicated and Yoongi blames himself for her future pain. Was the love we had honest?

Genre: Gang au!, college au!, strangers to enemies (one-sided), strangers to lovers, slow burn, friendships, romance, angst, little comedy, and smut

Main pairing: Gang leader! Min Yoongi x Pianist! Reader

Warnings: Explicit language, smut, mature themes, gangs, violence, smoking cigarettes, drugs, and alcohol usage

⇜ Masterlist ⇝

Melancholy. The only way Min Yoongi could describe how he was feeling on this September evening. The sun was in its perfect position to bring in the photographers or just the average person on Instagram but to Yoongi, it was annoying. The light purple mixing with the pink so seamlessly was annoying. The sky always brought annoyance to him. It was consistent and in his world that meant safety. Safety was something he could never have and he knows this.

He lit his cigarette and made his way through the campus. No one knew who Yoongi truly was, he never let anyone get close to him to find out. There were rumors that he was a gang leader and even though they were true, he never let anyone know that. He was a mystery, a mystery no one wanted to solve because of fear. The fear of the truth is enough to keep the daring away.

He opened the door to the music hall and his eyebrows furrowed when he heard a soft melody. It bounced off of the red velvet walls and created this hypnosis that would make the weak clap their hands but Yoongi wasn’t weak. He quietly walked further down the music hall and watched the girl play away on his piano (it wasn’t his but the whole campus knew not to touch it). He tilted his head in curiosity at the girl, he couldn’t see her face but whoever it was, had to be new. He softly made his way up to the wooden stage, making sure not to make noise, and stood behind her. He took his cigarette out and let out a puff, “You shouldn’t touch things that aren't yours.”

He waited for a response. Nothing. His eyebrow twitched at this and let out a cough as the girl continued to play, “Yo, did you hear me?” He gently kicked the chair and she jumped at the sudden action. She looked at him with wide eyes, she looked innocent. Her sweater was nice and it looked like it was expensive and her pearl earrings gave away more than she could ever know.

She took off her headphones and gave him a small smile, “Did you want to play too? I was almost finished practicing.”

He scoffed at her and let out another puff as she watched him closely, “It’s my piano. I don’t need your permission to play it.”

“Well, I don’t see anyone’s name on it. If anything it's the schools.”

“What’s your name?”

“Now why would I tell you that?” He watched her gather her things and his eyes focused on the seal on her bag. It was the seal of the private school across the way, which only the rich and influential go to. He glanced back at her with a raised eyebrow, “Now what is a rich girl doing in a community college music hall?”

She put her arm through the loops and turned to look at Yoongi, “The fact you're already judging me for being rich is annoying. I’m here because I can be. Good luck with your piece, bye.”

She pushed her hair behind her ear and gave him a tight smile. She walked down the steps but he couldn’t peel his eyes away from her. She glanced back at him and gave him another tight smile, “Have fun...”

With that, she walked out of the music hall leaving Yoongi standing there with a confused face. He let out a puff of smoke and shook his head, “Women...” He sat at the piano and stared at the ebony keys. The one place where he could be at peace. Some people had the moon and the stars to give that said peace but for Yoongi the piano gave him everything he needed. His fingers gently touched the keys and the sad melody played throughout the hall.

It was quiet. Too quiet. Yoongi sighed and cracked his neck with annoyance. He turned his head and glared at the door, “I know you're there.”

“Haven’t lost your touch, boss.” The curtains moved and Kim Namjoon appeared with his glasses shining under the stage light. Kim Namjoon was the student president on campus and he was well respected. He was intelligent, elegant, and a good second-hand man. He was also Yoongi’s best friend since they were children. He knows all the secrets and the darkness in his soul and vice versa, best friends till death.

“Don’t call me boss on campus. What happens if someone hears you?”

Namjoon shrugged his shoulders and leaned against the piano with a small smirk, “We could always just kill them.”

“And waste a bullet on a student, and to think I thought you were smart.”

“When I need to be. We have that meeting tonight.”

Yoongi sighed and sucked in the air, “Don’t leave any evidence.”

“Do you want to keep a finger?”

“I’m sure he wants to see his son’s finger one last time. Just make sure he doesn’t kill one of our men again, he’ll learn.”

Namjoon nodded his head and took a cigarette from his pack. He lit the cigarette and placed it in his mouth, “It wasn’t just that...You know what he did to me.”

“That’s why I’m doing this...let’s go.”

The two left the music hall but before they left the campus, Yoongi turned towards Namjoon, “I need you to keep an eye on that private school.”

Namjoon raised his eyebrow while smashing his cigarette under his shoe, “Why?”

“Just do it.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The only thing that guided them was the lamp posts and the occasional headlights from the street. It was Yoongi and his main crew, the captains. Kim Namjoon; the second-hand man, Kim Seokjin; the hacker, Jung Hoseok; the interrogator, Kim Taehyung; the stealth, Park Jimin; the seducer, and Jeon Jungkook; the muscle. Best friends since childhood to gang leaders, oh how the time passes.

Yoongi cracked his neck and glanced down the dark alley looking over his shoulder to Taehyung, “To the roofs. I’ll signal you when I need you, take Jin.”

Jin looked at Yoongi with a frown, “You want me to go that high up with him, you trust him?”

“Of course I trust him. He hasn’t killed you yet.”

Taehyung let out a chuckle and shook his head, “Come on hyung, you love spending time with me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, kid, let's go.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes at the two and turned towards Jungkook, “You know what to do. Hoseok, you're going to follow Jungkook.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Alright let's go.”

The rest of the guys made their way down the alley and Yoongi cracked his neck when he saw a person standing at the end. He raised his eyebrow at the scene, it was weird to see just one person. Where were the rest of the guys? He looked around and saw Taehyung standing at the building next to them. Taehyung flashed three lights letting him know that the close was clear.

Yoongi stopped and took out his cigarette to lit, “What do you want, Hwan?”

Song Hwan was Yoongi’s rival since the beginning of The Seven. Hwan was one of those kids that whined to his dad to get what he wanted and his father was the type to make sure his son gets it. Hwan went to the same school as Yoongi and was always jealous of everything he achieved in school. Yoongi may be a gang leader but he was always the top student in his year. It all started when Yoongi showed up at school with a gold chain and Hwan wanted it. Hwan would stalk Yoongi and see that he was selling drugs among other things and wanted to make the same if not more money than him. It was just a petty one-sided rivalry that was more annoying to Yoongi but that ends tonight.

Hwan let out a small chuckle and watched Yoongi puff out some smoke, “Those are bad for you, you know?”

“What do you want, Hwan?”

Hwan rolled his eyes and glanced at Namjoon, “Never one for small talk. How’s your sister Namjoon?”

Namjoon tensed at this but Yoongi put his hand up to stop him from charging. He turned his head at Hwan and shook his head, “You called me here for a meeting. Get on with it.”

“Fine. My father is getting too involved with business and is leaving The Dragons in my hand...I don’t want to be rivals anymore.”

Yoongi took out his pistol and pointed it towards Hwan, “You got the nerve to say that to me, after everything you’ve done. Should’ve killed you when we were teenagers.”

“Just listen, there’s a bigger threat coming.”

“Speak.”

Hwan sighed and glanced down at the pavement, “There’s a new group that's becoming big. I know you heard about the death of Ha Joon.”

“Of course.”

“It was done by this new group, Demony na zapade.”

Yoongi lowered his gun and stared at him, “Why should I believe you? You almost killed my right-hand’s sister and even mocked him tonight with it. Why would I ever want to work with you?”

“Because Demony na zapade's main goal is to destroy all the groups...they already sent Chin Hwa to the hospital.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened at this and took a step forward, “Chin Hwa, the boxer? In the hospital because of this group, boss...”

“I’ll think about it, Hwan. Let’s go.”

Hwan sighed and nodded his head, “Fine. Let me know soon before something happens.”

“Fuck off.”

Yoongi entered their headquarters and walked straight to his bedroom leaving the rest in the living room. He slammed the door and locked it. He ran his hands through his hair and let out a frustrated sigh. He turned his head and walked towards two pictures with a small smile. He lit the candle in front of them and started to pray. He let the smell of lilac fill the room and camouflage the sins for another night.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“You really don’t listen do you?”

She turned her head and tilted her head at him, “I haven’t seen you in a couple of days. I thought I scared you off.”

He scoffed and took his cigarette out of his mouth, “You like annoying people don’t you?”

She let out a small laugh and shook her head, “I wouldn’t say annoying...I like to keep them on their toes. That’s all.”

“You gonna tell me your name?”

She shook her head and stood up from the stool, grabbing her backpack. She turned towards him and gave him a small smile, “No but I can take you out for food.”

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“No, I was just heading out to get food and I thought it would be polite to invite you. Looking at it now, I don’t think you deserve an invite.”

He raised his eyebrow and let out a deep chuckle, “Oh? Why is that?”

“Because you're a tyrant.”

“How so?”

She glanced at his cigarette and then back at him, “Only tyrants smoke indoors when there's a sign that clearly says no smoking. Also, in a music room? Where it's supposed to be peaceful, not filled with smoke and ash.”

“Very poetic. Does that fancy school teach you this?”

She rolled her eyes at this and looked away from him, “Why do you keep bringing up my school? It’s annoying...”

“It’s annoying that a rich person is asking me to go out with them like it's nothing.”

“I revoke your invitation.” She walked away from Yoongi but stopped when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned around and looked at Yoongi with a raised eyebrow, “What-”

“Let’s go get noodles before I change my mind.”

“Really?”

“I’m hungry...hurry up, woman.”

The walk to the local noodle restaurant was quiet but Yoongi was used to the silence but not this form of silence. This silence was comforting? It was strange that the silence between two strangers gave him more security than being surrounded by his guards. He glanced at her and really took in her appearance. She was shorter than him but not by much and her hair could cause someone to crash their car with how shiny her hair was. He noticed when they talked her voice was soft but it still had power behind it and just from the few interactions, he could tell she was stubborn. She wasn’t like the other girls that he has fucked in the past, she was different. Different isn’t always a good thing in his mind.

She opened the door and waved at the waiter, “Oppa!”

The waiter smiled at her but his eyes landed on Yoongi. Yoongi wanted to scoff at the glare but kept it in, “Who is this, Y/N?”

Y/N glanced at Yoongi and looked back at the waiter, “Joo Won, this is my friend. I met him at the music hall.”

Joo Won looked him up and down, “He plays the piano?”

“Never judge a book by its cover. I’ll sit.” She turned towards Yoongi and pointed towards the table in the back. He looked at her and nodded his head, her excited smile was cute? They moved their way through the other tables and sat by the window. She glanced outside and smiled at the sunset, “It was hot today.”

“Seriously talking about the weather?”

She rolled her eyes and nodded her head, “Yeah, it's a good way to start a conversation.”

“It was normal temperature.”

“The news said it was abnormal, are you going to disagree with the forecast?”

He clicked his tongue and leaned forward as she continued to stare at him with a raised eyebrow, “Why do you want to fight me so bad, Bambi?”

“Bambi? Why am I, Bambi?”

“You seem too innocent for this world. Now, why do you want to push my buttons so much?”

She shrugged her shoulders, “If I push your buttons, why did you come with me?”

“Because I can, Y/N.”

She rolled her eyes and went back to stare out the window, “Great you know my name.”

“Of course I do Bambi. Now order something.”

“Fine, Yoongi.”

He glanced from the menu to her, “Now, how do you know my name?”

“All the girls on your campus know your name. It wasn’t hard to figure it out.”

“She's innocent and smart, I like that.”

She pressed the button under the table and looked back at Yoongi with a small smirk, “Thanks, I like me too.”

After eating and Y/N constantly pushing his buttons, they left the noodle place. Yoongi couldn’t help but notice the way Joo Won stared at her, it was annoying. He would’ve let Y/N walk on him if it meant being that close to her. It was clear he was in love with her but Y/N didn’t notice it or didn’t feel the same. Either way, it shouldn’t matter to Yoongi.

They stopped by the light and he glanced down at her, “Where do you live?”

“Not that far. I was going to walk there.”

“You can’t. It’s dark out and you're a woman.”

She let out a small laugh and looked at him, “I’ll be fine don’t worry.”

“I’m walking you, let’s go.” He grabbed her jacket sleeve and she glanced at his hand and back to his face. She rolled her eyes and let out a small sigh, “Fine.” They walked through the city and the noises around them polluted his mind. He felt dizzy being next to her and he felt like the whole world could see him, it was making him sick.

She let out a small giggle and this caused him to look at her, “What?”

“It would make things easier if I told you where I lived.”

He let go of her jacket and nodded his head, “Hurry up.”

“I live by my school, just two houses down.”

“So, you are rich.”

She rolled her eyes and started to walk away from him, “Technically my parents are rich. I have money but it's not close to them, hurry up.”

“Innocent, smart, stubborn, and independent...I like it.”

They continued to walk and they stopped when they were in front of a tall gate. Yoongi glanced at the house and saw that their lawn was decorated with flowers that any floral shop would want. The grass was so green that it made paintings look dull. He looked at her and tilted his head, “Just who are you, Y/N?”

She looked at him and shrugged her shoulders, “Just a Ceo’s daughter trying to get good grades and money on her own. Who is Yoongi?”

Trouble. “Just a college student that smokes.”

“Which is bad...but I digress. Goodnight, Yoongi...” She pressed a button and did a small wave (a camera has to be there, she’s that rich). The gates opened and she glanced at him with a small smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Maybe. Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watched her enter the large house and waited until the gates closed. There was something about her that he couldn’t figure out and that pissed him off. He’s a gang leader and he had to be one step ahead of everyone but here he is, stuck. Whoever Y/N is, he was going to figure it out. The walk back to the headquarters wasn’t that long but long enough for him to clear his mind. Jimin was the first one to go up to him, “Boss where were you?”

“Eating. Any new details on Demony na zapade?”

Jin sighed and rubbed his neck roughly, “The only thing I saw was there from Europe. That’s it. Whoever these guys are, they're quick with everything they do.”

“They’re like ghosts.”

Jin rolled his eyes at Jungkook as Namjoon pushed them out of the way, “You wanted me to keep an eye on Ariana Marie Academy, is there someone you want me to focus on?”

“Her name is Y/N. I don’t have a last name but try and find out for me.”

Namjoon looked at his boss with furrowed eyebrows, “Why? Is she dangerous?”

Dangerous to me, “No, I’m just curious.”

“Hyung has a crush on someone!”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and glared at Taehyung, “Shut up and go look around the area. Only for an hour and then come back inside, take Jungkook with you.”

“I can handle myself!”

“I don’t give a fuck, we have to be more cautious. We can’t lose each other, now go. I’ll be in my room.”

Yoongi didn’t even wait for a response and headed to his room. He locked his door and kneeled in front of the pictures like he did the night before. He changed the candle with something new (Namjoon gifted it to him a month ago) and lit it. The smell of freshness with a hint of floral notes filled the room and he couldn’t help but think about Y/N. It smelled just like her...he hated that.

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts jungkook #bts namjoon #bts seokjin #bts taehyung #bts jimin #bts yoongi #bts x reader #Bts #min yoongi x reader #bts yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader

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tuliptiger · 9 months ago

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Hello again! House/life update.

I am in a much better place mentally but really rather the same financially. I am currently laid off for a month seasonally since I'm still not a permanent employee. I have something in the works I'm hoping plays out so that I have a permanent position and worst case scenario I go back to work May 6th as a temp for 6 more months. I have side jobs and unemployment lined up in the mean time.

Anyway though! On to the house. Disappointing news but honest news in terms of the first contractor we hired. We still haven't gotten money back from him.

Recap: my mom and I fired him because he lied to us, charged tools on our account we up front said not to do, built a shoddy excuse of a foundation and frame for my house that we eventually had to pay our current contractor to demolish because it was so bad. It was for all definitions a different house the original contractor built. He used the wrong framing type for the blueprint and didn't even use framing nails to the city code. He wasn't even on site for 90% of the build and seemingly subcontracted it out which we didn't know.

In addition my mom is...not the best person to work with and makes a lot of mistakes. She's not a critical thinker on a lot of things. I made the mistake of asking her to help me buy land and build a house in the pursuit of escaping my generational poverty. I made the second mistake of asking her to take on individual responsibilities and not step in when the red flags started coming up.

I left her in charge of getting the money back from the OG contractor since she had all contact with him and she was originally the one who found him. That went as well as anyone could guess and she's, in summary, procrastinated doing any proper paperwork for attorneys or the contract board. I keep pushing her and she always says she'll get to it this day or that day or hits a dead end and then it goes nowhere.

This would not be a big issue but we're talking more than $20,000 he did in damages and $1,000 he directly stole from us like straight up $1,000 we handed him to do work he never did. The donations everyone has been sending in slowly are very much appreciated and remind me to keep fighting for this.

At this point I just want to get the house done so I can be done with the contractors and done with my mother. I don't want to be in this situation anymore and it's been dragged out for 3 years now. I've added pictures of where the house is at now and most of it having been done in January and February.

As the electric was finished and passed inspection I'm waiting in the HVAC and plumbing as the last things professionals must do before I can finish the house. I've started putting in flooring and the wood stove was just delivered so things are still moving.

The donations haven't covered anything large from the build but it has covered smaller things (I've used it for nails, locks for the doors, etc.) and given me strength to continue. Motivation from strangers, acquaintances and friends to not just walk away and to keep my head in the right space. I've emotionally and mentally been in a better place since I initially made the gofundme which has helped.

Anyway I've been meaning to make this for awhile and I'm sorry for the delay. I've been working my full time job before I was laid off, my side gigs, working on the house, still living out of my car and trying to work with my mother. I appreciate everyone who's been invested in this, shared it and donated. More updates will come in the future and thank you all again.

#words #house #it's been a full year #since i started living in my car #homeless #idk what to tag this as #donation #donation post #assistance #community help

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gingerlurk · 11 months ago

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Lovers' Crest | Chapter 17: The Forged

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You've spent months believing your actions had made you a traitor, an enemy, never to be trusted again. But when you reveal yourself to the one who may as well have cast you out, you find an ambivalent and unlikely ally.

And you're gonna need it.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), post season 3, ANGST, I'm sorry, yearning, canon characters present.

A/N: Hey, you're awesome. X

The Armourer has always enjoyed the quiet of the work. It’s not the work that’s quiet, of course. A heavy hammer rises and sings down onto the metal, ringing the air over and over as she works. It’s the inner quiet that stills her mind and funnels her focus down into the piece before her.

She doesn’t feel hurried, or the need to check her surroundings. Even though it is a conflict of significance for which they prepare, she is deep in the mountainside of their established Covert. There is not a soul in the universe outside their clan that knows she is here.

But as she turns to quench the piece, tongs held nimbly aloft, there is a quiet figure seated at her table, and she does not know them.

She pauses for only a moment, then continues the work. They don’t move from where they sit, watchful.

As the Armourer shifts about her forge, she takes in small glances at her new arrival. It appears to be an Ubese hunter, the stretched and elongated features of the mask reminding her of certain mutated insects her people had unearthed on Mandalore.

Heavily armed with two rifles slung across the visitor’s back, and a cross-strap of munitions set to blow a small fortress, she does puzzle over how this presence came to be in her sanctum without her notice, or the notice of any of her comrades. Moreover, does this stranger know what they’ve come across? A Mandalorian Covert preparing for a war?

The piece settled on its mould, she turns to study the figure at her table more closely. They haven’t spoken still, and the Armourer begins to sense something familiar.

‘You come with a purpose,’ she states. ‘A message?’

Her guest straightens just a little.

‘I do,’ a brittle, reverbed voice echoes around the forge chamber.

‘Tell me.’

Her sole company stands slowly, palms out and settled at their sides. No threat.

‘You know a war approaches. I saw your preparations on my way here. It is not enough.’

The Armourer tilts a condescending helm. ‘We have the forces to meet the Imperial threat,’ she says.

‘Do you know about their allies?’

‘Yes.’

‘All of them?’

A different tilt, more inviting.

‘Tell me.’

You take turns between leaning heavily on the wall and then pacing back and forth in the shadows out of sight of the gathering audience. Armoured and armed soldiers of varying height and age and gender steadily file into the chamber, forming a congregation ready to take in the beckoned proceedings.

The rough garments and stuffy helmet of your disguise do loads to allow your festering anxiety to foment into a near panic attack. Tamping it down with deep breaths and every calming mantra you can recall, you await your fate.

Once the place is full and the Covert readies to hear what is in store, you force yourself to straighten and still.

From your vantage, you see the Armourer step into the centre of the dim lighting.

‘Gathered clan, loyal Covert,’ she says in a steely tone. ‘We are here on this moon to be the volleying party in an oncoming war. To know the enemy and beat back their advances.’

A unified beating of wrists fills the space. Everyone knows what they’re there for. They’re waiting on what else needs to be said.

‘But I have learned there is much we did not know. There are alliances and joining forces that would have taken us entirely by surprise if not for one, unforeseeable thing.’ The commanding presence of the woman speaking has everyone in the room hushed, still waiting.

Your heart is in your ears as you see her turn away from her congregation to you, raising a hand to invite you into view. You just have to tamp it down and move into the light. You step forward.

The din of protest and movement that follows as you emerge from the shadows, still clad as you are in heavy robes and mask, is deafening. The sensors built into the helmet you’re wearing catch the red, primed muzzles of every weapon in the place. Pointed at you.

It’s okay if you die, you think, just so long as they believe you.

The Armourer speaks over the unrest.

‘This supposed stranger walked into the forge alone and undiscovered, addressing me in repose before I had even noted their presence.’ The room grows hushed again. She carries on. ‘They found us at this location at impossible odds.’

‘How?’ demands a huge man stationed near the front, long rifle aimed at your head. You’d fixed his speeder once.

‘Because they have known us. And because they share a deep connection with one of our very own,’ she scans the room. You see her helm pause in line of sight of the small green wandering face you had missed so much. Ears twitching and head bobbing in mild interest. It tugs hard on your thundering heart.

Your eyes flick to the dark stillness beside him, Din.

‘This is the case, is it not?’ The Armourer turns to you and says your name.

Your augmented eyes, locked on Din, take in his infinitesimal flinch. But otherwise, nothing.

You sigh, reach up and lift your helmet, looking back to the Armourer with as much reverence as you can muster. Of course she knew it was you.

‘It is—’ you start but the room erupts in a roaring blaze of shouts and weapons cocking. You can’t stop your eyes flicking back to Din. He hasn’t moved an inch. Blaster still locked on you, still seated while everyone around him has leapt to their feet.

Grogu looks at you calmly, keen eyes bright. He knew you were coming. He showed the way.

The Armourer holds an arm out to the gathering, stepping carefully between you and the others. The cacophony fades quickly.

When all is quiet again. She continues.

‘We knew about the Crowning regiment and the Division allying with the Imperial forces we oppose. But now we have been brought the troubling news of more alliances being forged, cast, and bought.’

The Armourer relays the news you’d delivered. The Guild being hired and the doubtless other mercenaries brought to the cause for glory and riches. The room fills with a restless discontent. You decide now’s the time to speak up.

‘I can help!’ You raise your voice over the muttering. ‘I can help you win this war.’

You look to the Armourer. She gestures to continue.

‘Your targeting centre, for one,’ you ignore some outraged cries about how you could possibly know about that. ‘I can upgrade the iris ports, boost its range way, way farther. You’ll have the skies in hand.’

You spot a few blaster sights being lowered. Keep going.

‘And that imp camp on the chordal coast; you’ve reconned it, you know about the walker and the tie fighters. I can help you sabotage them, pre-set scrambles and vibrophase explosives.’

You think you’re getting through, less muttering, more still and focused figures.

You curse yourself for looking again, but you can’t stop cutting back to Din. You’re surprised to see he’s standing, though nothing else about his posture has changed.

‘And I can fight!’ You say, dropping your gaze from his steely helm. ‘I want to fight.’

You bully yourself to not cry, standing here as waves of distrust and suspicion radiate from the crowded gathering. Bursts of ‘why!’, ‘how can we trust her?’, ‘she’s a spy’ echo around the space.

The Armourer finally speaks again, easily heard over the discord. ‘She did not have to risk everything to come here,’ she says.

You beg to differ, but you stay quiet and turn your gaze to hold steady on her. She in turn regards you for a moment, then turns back to her people.

‘We will accept her offer of help,’ she decrees. She doesn’t stop speaking as muttering and protest rumbles on, though it is fading into contemplation here and there. ‘We cannot afford to lose this war. And it is too great of a risk to refuse an alliance where it is offered. This is the Way.’

You let the echoing ‘This is the Way’ from the crowd wash over you. Then movement catches your eye and you look back to Din. He’s holstered his weapon and is moving along the row of his seated compatriots.

He turns and marches down the aisle, away from you, with not a single look back. Grogu glances at you sadly before hopping down to follow his father. You try to convey your best ‘It’s okay; thank you,’ to him before he goes.

As they vanish around the doorway, the rest of the gathered assembly breaks. Some approach you and the Armourer, others head off in turn, back to duties, knowing their place.

The Armourer starts issuing instructions to those who had moved forward. You fight back the overwhelming urge to collapse to the ground and sob, focusing instead on deep breaths and looking ahead. Focus on what’s in front.

With a few repeated mantras, you collect yourself, fall into a tentative air of confidence.

A member of your group turns to you, gestures at you up and down. ‘You will turn your weaponry and garb over to the inventory crew to be purposed for the battles ahead,’ she commands.

‘Oh,’ you look down at yourself. ‘You can have the threads and the rifles, no problem. But,’ you flip the headwear you’re holding up and show off the array of circuitry and switches blinking inside. You wink, ‘I need this for other things.’

You’re seated on the floor of the battle room, a mess of wire coiling and circuit boards scattered around you. To you, increasing the range on the multi-array scoping system is simply a matter of telling the right wires where to go. Parts from the cannibalised helmet that lies by your knee will help them along.

A slender, kind of gangly Mandalorian has crouched beside you, making no effort to hide his fascination with what you’re doing.

He speaks with the pitched, wavering tone of an adolescent. Through the modulated vocoder, it’s kind of adorable.

‘So you’re using that circuit to program the power flux?’ he asks.

You chuckle. ‘More or less. It’s not a smooth curve though, up, down, up.’ You make a wave motion with your free hand. ‘It has to be more loose, or you get seizure.’

The two of you continue like that, in companionable tinkering. It’s the first time you’ve felt calm and present since warping into the system. It doesn’t last long.

Your peace is shattered by the heavy, clinking footfalls of Din Djarin. You’d recognise them anywhere, but your stomach still flips when he enters the octagonal, vaulted space. You feel tiny and meek, hunched in your nest of wires, but he barely turns in your direction. Instead, he takes several long strides around you and your burgeoning apprentice to step flush with Ari Wren.

You’ve learned that Wren is the Armourer’s 2IC in this war room, relaying tasks and keeping things on track. She has a brash but candid demeanour. And she’s tolerated your presence well enough, so you figure you owe her respect.

Din murmurs to Wren, who’s listening intently. Helmets titled together. You strain to overhear but he’s barely above a whisper.

He’s standing so close to her… What could he be saying…

You shake and give yourself a mental slap. You have no fucking right to be jealous right now! What the fuck is wrong with you?

Wren breaks away, gives him a nod, and they part. You focus back on what you were soldering, furious with yourself.

‘Um, m- miss? Sorry?’ Your head snaps to the kid.

‘What?’

‘Sorry, I was asking if recreating this would be possible in future builds? Make a 2.0 or?’

You will your face to clear, giving the young man a warm smile while trying to ignore your ex-lover stepping around you again like you’re so much refuse.

‘Potentially, sure.’ You wink. ‘See how this one pans out.’ You haven’t even finished speaking before Din is gone.

After a few weeks of working quietly about their base, taking orders and following duties, your presence seems to have been accepted by most everyone there. You now only catch the occasional long stare or hostile posture. Most times you get a nod as you pass someone. A few times you’re even stopped in your path, asked questions about your latest project – installing thermal railguns on your commandeered T-Wing.

Most everyone, of course.

You don’t know how he does it, but since briefly intersecting in that war room, the one Mandalorian you ache to see has been absent. Even at mealtimes. You try not to do it, but you always check every helmet you can land eyes on as they file across the hearth one by one and take in their supper, each shifting off to find a secluded spot with communal unspoken understanding. You can never find a reason to linger long enough before you just have to take up a cup and move off.

His young apprentice seeks you out once. You’re toying with a construct module when a brush on your ankle has you looking down.

Grogu gazes up with a tiny ‘Mm, eh?’ and you crouch to him.

‘Hey baby,’ you reach out a hand and he scoots toward it, letting you give him a squeeze. You’re treated to a tiny grunt. ‘Gods, I missed you so much, you know?’

He ‘wehs’ at you and peers around, like he’s checking you’re alone. Then he lays a hand on yours, closes his eyes and coos softly. A long, tentative moment passes before his little claw grips you hard. Your senses are flooded. Ambushed. With emotions. With thoughts. It’s difficult to make it all out, but sadness and joy and anger and love all cascade within you. A cacophony of ‘where did you go?’, ‘where have you been?’, ‘you came back, you’re back, you’re back,’ roars away.

You will reassurance into your consciousness, and ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’ It’s hard to do, the gale of emotion passing through you so furious and consuming. After what feels like an age, the swirling storm eases and you swim back into the present moment, eyes brimming with tears. They fall freely, dotting the ground between the two of you.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say aloud. Grogu just looks down, a little chagrined. Sensing further questions from him, you add, ‘If they let me stay, I will.’

He gives you a head tilt and a small ‘patu’ that’s borderline incredulous. You smile sadly.

‘Yeah, fair enough,’ you say.

‘You’re sensitive to the powers he possesses.’ The voice slices across your reverie with the child. You look up to see the Armourer a few steps away, watching intently.

‘The Force,’ you say, wiping at the stinging tears.

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘Do you know what it means?’

You reply honestly, ‘Not a clue, actually.’ Despite having ample opportunity, you hadn’t sought any detail about the sorcery you could apparently tap into. That same strangling fear of being bound, locked down, tied to something beyond your volition had held you back from it.

She seems to infer exactly this as she stares at you and Grogu.

‘I understand,’ she says, gesturing at the child still holding onto your hand. ‘It is a mysterious gift, one the Jedi once guarded heavily. But this one forges his own path to walk. Just as you do.’

Gods, what is she even talking about… You suddenly feel tired, a fatigue down to your bones.

‘Much has changed here,’ she intones, ‘in the time since you left this foundling and his father.’

She says the words without malice, just matter-of-fact. You left this foundling and his father. But they cut across you like a sabre. You’d never thought mere words would have a chance at destroying you. Yet here you are, trembling like the mortally wounded.

The rest of what she says just manages to sink in though, so you focus in on that. Much has changed… What does that mean?

You look up to ask but are startled to see her holding a familiar device – Din’s datapad. The scuff marks on the side unmistakable from when you’d dropped it off the side of the Crest’s starboard jet engine, where you had been using it to sketch some upgrade ideas. You remember he’d just sighed theatrically and tossed it back up to you.

She makes sure you see it, before tucking it away beneath her furs again.

‘If you do stay, you will soon understand the significance of these changes. And perhaps find the answers you seek.’

Answers? What answers? Is she being all vague and cryptic on purpose? You remember with a pang of resentment how confused you’ve been by her words before. In a time and place that feels like a lifetime ago, when she’d told Din it was time the two of you took a vow as if you were barely even present.

You find no words to say, so stay quiet and scrutinise the hem of your tunic instead. Apparently you have a lot to think about, you just have no clue where to start.

‘Come Grogu,’ the Armourer beckons. ‘Your father seeks your whereabouts.’

The child gives you a penetrating look before ambling toward her, falling in step and leaving you crouched on the cold, lonely floor.

Prev | Next

OK, so... I haven't watched Rebels, or much of the animated Star Wars stuff. And I wrote most of this chapter way before I first posted it. So it's either a wild coincidence that I pulled the surname 'Wren' out of thin air, or I unknowingly absorbed it through pop culture osmosis and my brain just presented it to me when I was casting about for name ideas. Either way, I would probably say no relation to Sabine? Very distant cousins perhaps? I dunno, sorry if it's confusing.

THANK YOU for reading. We're still in our feelings, but we're on our way out.

#din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you #the mandaloria/reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader

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simslegacy5083 · 3 months ago

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Today's (10/21/2024) Episode: A Coach's Cry For Help

Shortly after the incident at Skye’s elementary school Luigi got a text from his old college coach, asking if he’d be willing to meet up for a chat.

Luigi was eager to help his old mentor if he could and arranged to meet Professor Silva at Pepper’s Pub early the next morning.

Noemi tagged along with her husband to Britechester after they saw Skye off to school. “Man, this place sure brings back memories” she said as they settled down at a small table near the door with their laptops. “Did I ever tell you this is where Kiana and I first met?”

“I’m sure you did” Luigi laughed, “But I don’t recall. Go on.”

“Well…” she continued, not looking up from the screen “she was back here to reminisce – she went to Foxbury herself you know. I literally ran right into her when I bolted out of the bathroom to check on the party bot the bartender was helping me test. When we both got back to our feet, she laughed instead of getting angry, bought a drink from my bot, and struck up a conversation about school. The rest, as they say, is history.”

They settled down to work and wait, or at least Luigi tried to work. Every time he started, he was interrupted by one fan, then another, and another.

As always, he was polite, answering their questions and thanking his fellow sims for their kind words, but for the first time he began to feel a bit overwhelmed. Noemi kept her head down, but he could tell by her body language she wasn’t enjoying the multiple intrusions either.

Luigi couldn’t remember the last time he’d traveled with his family and not had strangers demanding his time and attention. “There’s got to be a way to be out in public without all this fuss!” he thought. Finally, he saw the professor enter and quickly held up a hand to forestall the latest eager supplicant “I’m so sorry, I have to go” he told her before rising and calling out “Hey, Coach!” to get his attention.

Coach Silva led them upstairs and over to a private corner away from the crowd, saying “We should be undisturbed here.”

“Thank goodness!” Luigi pumped his fist in the air for emphasis. “So, what’s going on? You did so much for me, I’d love to return the favor if I can.”

His old professor sighed, “Well… I imagine you still keep tabs on the college E-Sports scene?” Luigi nodded, “Then you know the last few seasons have been rough on us” he continued “Recruitment is down, and we haven’t beaten Britechester since you graduated. They can’t force a tenured coach out, but fans and administration alike are blaming our slump on me losing interest and just “phoning it in”. I’m being pressured to step down.”

“Mentoring young E-Sports athletes has always been my favorite part of teaching here. I refuse to give it up. I was hoping Rainy Day’s new director of strategy and recruitment – congratulations by the way – could help me introduce more young sims to scuffle and get our team into fighting shape.”

Luigi gave Silva’s shoulder a sympathetic squeeze as he replied: “I’m sorry coach, that’s terrible. I noticed my old home team had been struggling lately, but I knew you would never rest until you found a way to bring out the best in your students!”

“You were always one of the hardest working sims I know,” he continued “and taught me so much about leadership and sportsmanship. I’m honored that you asked for my help, and I’m sure that the two of us can develop a workable plan to turn things around!”

The two old friends spent the next few minutes doing just that, starting with strategy for the current season. The coach had brought a flash drive full of notes and recordings from the last few matches and practices. “I’ll analyze these and get back to you with my thoughts soon” Luigi promised.

As for recruitment, Luigi proposed a win/win new collaboration between the university and Rainy Day. “A formal internship program will attract more top-notch players to the school and help us with recruiting and placement once they graduate.”

“I love it!” Professor Silva said, “Their skills will stay sharper between seasons and more of our graduates will find jobs in their field.”

“This plan makes me feel so much better” Silva told Luigi, holding out his hand as they rose to leave. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

“Well, I haven’t really done anything yet” Luigi chuckled “but I can’t wait to get started. It’s great to work with you again, coach. I’ll call you soon.”

With that he headed downstairs to grab his wife and head off to their next destination, feeling good about helping a friend in need.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

#sims 4 #sims 4 challenge #sims 4 legacy #sims4 #sims 4 nsb #sims 4 not so berry #sims4nsbstraud #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 let's play #sims 4 lets play

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whoahoney · 2 years ago

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The Big Bad Day

Steve Harrington x teacher!Reader

Summary: You’re a new teacher and your year has been hard, this day in particular, and your boyfriend Steve knows just what to say.

Content Warnings: children are dicks, hurt/comfort, mature language

A/N: for all of us that need to cry in Steve’s arms just for a little bit 🤍 requested by my dear @loving-and-dreaming

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You had had enough.

You were no stranger to difficulty or bad days, but this one would go down in the books.

Ever since you got the teaching position at Hawkins Elementary, you’d been optimistic about your days spent with the future of the world, teaching them their order of operations and proper sentence structure, eagerly imagining the books you’d read with the class and what crafts to make to decorate the door for each season and occasion.

But when it came down to it, it felt most days like they saw you as another child. Lessons were filled with thrown pencils, students getting up out of their seats to move around and bother their friends, as if you weren’t there, homework going without being filled out, literal 8 year old boys heckling you during your lectures,

And as if that wasn’t enough, your colleagues seemed no different. You were easily the youngest teacher there and staff meetings and lunch breaks were spent feeling invisible behind your coffee mug, no matter how many thoughts you tried to contribute. They always seemed to silence your words before they could manage their way out of your mouth.

Today, things amped up.

Richie Timmons incited a riot.

A full on riot.

The assignment was making paper snowflakes. You’d given a wonderful tutorial on how to fold and cut the snowflakes, you’d shown them the special glitter glue you’d bought with your own money, and passing out supplies seemed to go well and then they just… ruined it.

Richie decided today he’d crumple up the center pieces for their desk clumps you’d worked so hard on and start a snowball fight, leading everyone to use any and all paper to their disposal.

You’d tried to stop it, everyone throwing them at the quietest kid in the class first, but then their attention turned to you, and not in the way you wanted. Suddenly all the paper wads were smacking you in the face, with impressive aim and power, you noted.

Not to mention the pencils, crayons, and eventually scissors that flew about the room, causing you to lose your cool.

And to top it off, the wicked witch of the west hall shows up to the staff meeting talking about hearing it all from the other side of the school.

This earned you so many dirty looks from your peers, not to mention the principal. Your cheeks heated as you stared into the bread of your sandwich so lovingly prepared by your boyfriend, wanting nothing more than to melt into the floor and disappear.

You wanted to quit.

But what about Sarah H and her cursive? She’s almost got it!

Or Corey B and his separation anxiety from his mom? He’s shown some real courage lately, and another change in his routine could just mess it all up.

You laid in bed that night waiting for your boyfriend to come home to your newly shared place, trying to get the tears out before he showed up.

But they wouldn’t come.

Your body wouldn’t allow it. You felt it, so strongly, the urge and pressure to burst into tears, but the cries were buried deep in your chest, not allowed to erupt for whatever reason. Instead, you curled up on your side of the bed with a massive tension headache.

Right as you thought you might fade into restless sleep, the front door clicked open and your heart leapt.

Steve’s home.

He worked late a couple evenings a week, tonight being one of them. As you heard him drop his keys onto the counter and shrug off his jacket, you weighed the options of talking to him about it all or pretending to be asleep to not bother him.

But then the bedroom door creaked quietly, clicking closed behind him. Steve had mastered the art of walking silently, practically floating across the floor as he whispered hopefully, “Are you awake?” He reached out to touch your shoulder, his fingertips grazing it before you turned over to face him.

Of course he looked this beautiful, he always did. But why did he have to look at you like that? Like you were special, like he longed for you though he already had you.

The sight alone made the dam you spent your whole day building crumble. With your brows knit together and a pout on your lips, his face melted into concern as he scrambled into bed, pulling your pliant body to him and wrapping you up in an embrace.

“Sweet girl, what’s wrong? What happened?” He whispered just above your ear. You felt your hands against his bare chest, the contact soothing you some. His hand found its way into your hair, his fingertips stroking your scalp as you heaved and sobbed. “I got you, it’s okay, I’m here.” He said intermittently.

When you found yourself blurry eyed and stuffy, and your sobs had ceased, you found yourself laying with your head on Steve’s chest. His hand stroked up and down your back while the other kept your hair from falling in your face.

After giving you a few regular breaths of quiet, he wrapped his arms back around you, “Do you wanna talk about it, baby?”

“My dream job sucks.” You sniffled against his warm skin. “And I suck at it.” You whispered.

“What??” Steve craned his neck to look her in the eye.

“No one respects me. Ever! Not even the other teachers. It’s embarrassing, everyone else has great classes and cute artwork they’ve gotten their kids to collaborate on, but when it comes to 8 year olds?” You shook her head, “I’m hopeless. I chose the wrong career path.” You shrugged.

“That’s so not true, are you kidding? You’re kidding, right?” He asked, searching for the light ‘just kidding’ after your usual self deprecating jokes. But it didn’t come.

“Maybe I’m just not cut out for it.” You shrug, sliding off his chest and situating yourself on your side, his hand reaching out to hold yours.

“Babe, I’m sorry, but I don’t think you could be more wrong.” He sighed, his finger coming up to trace your cheekbone.

You closed your eyes in avoidance, you’d already made up your mind. “There’s a little boy being bullied in my class. He’s shy, smart as a whip, though. But today we were making snowflakes—” Steve smiled, remembering you sitting at the dining table, meticulously folding and cutting paper while he cooked your dinner, “—and Richie,” Steve rolled his eyes at the mention of the kids name, “just got all these kids to gang up on him! And me! Can you believe that? And it took forever it felt like, to get everyone to stop throwing shit, and yelling. Thankfully, he came out unscathed, but—“ your breath caught, “he’s gonna remember that forever. He may not want to come to school tomorrow. And it’s my fault. I’m the freaking teacher and I can’t get them to— I’m a freaking joke, Steve.”

“—You are not a joke!” He said without hesitance, his tone laced with offense taken from your words. You froze. “Do you.. do you not see how much time to spend putting lessons together? Or hear how much you talk about your kids? How much you care? You love your job. Your job is just hard and overwhelming, and you’re new at it! It’s gonna be really hard for a few years, don’t you think? But once you settle, things are gonna get so much better.” He nodded as he spoke softly, just above a whisper in the quiet apartment.

“The year’s halfway over,” he continued, “If you hate it by the end of the year, then quit! Find somewhere else, and we’ll go, but don’t quit now.” He pleaded.

The tears pouring from your eyes were steady and quiet, his message received as he ran his thumb over your cheek. You nodded. “You’d come with me?” You asked.

He nodded, “Of course I would. I’ll go wherever you are. And wherever we end up, I’m gonna come visit you in your classroom. And I’m gonna bring you lunch and flowers, and someday your kids are gonna have to start calling you Mrs. Harrington, instead.”

You sniffle and chuckle airily at the thought. “It’s all gonna be okay. And if you decide you don’t wanna teach and do something else, I’m more than happy to cheer you on in your next venture. No matter what.” He implored.

You nodded as he leaned forward to kiss your forehead. “I want you to sleep. Okay? And tomorrow you’re gonna go to school, and try again. Because that’s what you do. And I’ll be here when you get home waiting to hear all about it, yeah?”

You nodded, tears filling your eyes once more.

“And if you need to, call me at lunch. Okay? My whole day’s open, I’ll be home.” He nodded, “You aren’t alone. And you aren’t the worst. If anything, I think you’re the best. The greatest! Y’know if you were my teacher in fourth grade I would’ve been so happy to listen to you.” He traced around your brow and down to your cheekbone, ending at the tip of your nose as you chuckled. He wiped your tears away.

“S’gonna be okay, baby.” He whispered.

You nodded. “Thank you, Stevie. I love you, so so much.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I love you more. Tomorrow’s gonna be better.” He assured you, pulling you close again and holding you until you fell asleep in his arms.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As you wait for the call to go through on your lunch break, you hear a knock at your classroom door, making you jump and hang up the phone. You smooth your hair and open the door, only to find Steve standing there with his brightest smile, a vase of daisies in one hand and lunch in the other.

“There’s my girl! How’s your day?” He asked before kissing your cheek and stepping inside.

Taglist darlings 💖

@loving-and-dreaming @newshade

#steve harrington comfort #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington x teacher!reader #teacher!reader #boyfriend!steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington requests #Steve Harrington x fem!reader

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theorphicangel · 1 year ago

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𝐌𝐲 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 | 𝐋𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | chapter one

summary: You had a dream...one simple dream. And it wasn't asking for much. 'Much' being the act of escaping from the one place that you've known for the past eighteen years of your life and possibly committing the worst act of betrayal on your own poor, sweet and loving mother?

But him? All he's ever dreamt of is having an island with nobody but his own bullshit to deal with and a shitload of money.

That was a simple dream.

So how the hell did he end up in a deal with a stranger who has nothing but a shit ton of hair and a creepy frog?

tags: strangers to lovers, tangled!au, thug!levi Ackerman, lost princess, sfw

Crossposted to ao3

prologue | chapter two

You think you’re going to lose your mind.

No, you don’t just ‘think’. You know you’re going to lose your mind.

These four walls offer you absolutely nothing. Staring blankly at you, they remain mute. Refusing to speak to you or offer any kind of salvage.

There’s absolutely no where to paint. In every corner you look, an idea has already been created and transformed into color. Never did you think that there would be a limit put on your creativity.

The best thing you can do is retouch where you can, whilst searching for a single space or gap in which you can fill, no matter how small. Your eyes dart all over the coated walls searching, looking, wanting for a break. Something. Anything at all.

Slumping your shoulders, you silently surrender and let the colorful walls of your tower win. This time at least, you’re too stubborn to give up yet.

Glancing around the room you instead search for another activity to do, desperate to cure your restless mind.

Yet you’ve come to meet disappointment for a second time today with most of the tasks on your list already completed. You can practically see your reflection on the kitchen floor as well as the laundry already being done, on the counter are the cookies you’ve baked to pass the time, there’s the pile of books on the ground opened to their last page.

You’ve finished them so many times you think you could recite it all line for line.

The set of chess lay unfinished on the table next to the new dress that you were sewing for yourself. Hell, even your new pet avoids giving you company.

You don’t even want to think about brushing your hair…again.

Squinting your eyes towards the antique clock in the corner of the tower, it informs you that it was only 8am. And mother wouldn’t be back for a while.

A weary sigh leaves your throat, waltzing through the room. You only perk up at seeing your journal lay open on a chair, your thoughts unfinished as boredom grew the better of you.

Immediately, you head towards the only entrance to get inside the tower and take a seat on the mini balcony. You rest your back against one side, spreading out your legs.

Taking in the landscape ahead of you, all of your racing thoughts and ideas slowly come to a rest.

You’d like to think mother nature is your best friend. She never fails to surprise you with her forest of trees that greet you everyday or her sky that’s filled with beautiful species of birds, ones that you never knew existed.

Despite waking up to the same scenario everyday, she always offers something new to you. You watch intently for the first sign of seasons change whether it’s spotting the first brown leaf or predicting which flowers will bloom, you’re never bored.

It’s certainly a distraction that you are always on the brink of freedom. The horizons that seem to spread for miles await you, waiting patiently to be explored.

Those are the only details that change in your life. The rest remains the same.

Flicking through the pages of your journal, there’s an influx of words. Some days emotions rush over you, your thoughts struggling to keep up as you fill up every line. But some days, you’re empty with not much to say.

You flick to a brand new page, pen in your hand at the ready to write down your thoughts. A soft breeze brushes past you and it has a warm touch. Mother nature emphasizes the arrival of summer, providing you with solace as you struggle to find your words.

It’s your birthday tomorrow. You’re not really sure how to feel about it.

You feel sad about it but you’re not sure why. Normally, you would feel excitement, particularly regarding the floating lights. And normally it’s with that thought that your stomach churns with impatience.

But instead there’s a feeling of sorrow, no– it’s not that. You scribble over your last sentence in your journal, searching for another accurate word to identify your emotions.

It’s almost a sense of…dissatisfaction with…everything.

It’s going to be your 18th. A day you had been looking forward to for years, ever since you were little. After living a life so restricted and sheltered from the world, the heavy gift of freedom was upon you and it was…scary.

Now, you would be able to do whatever you wanted when you wanted. Now, you could finally explore the world whenever you wanted and when you wanted.

You could experience all the new sights, sounds and tastes of the world. A part of you was indefinitely scared but another part of you couldn’t wait to take it greedily with your own two hands.

Well, with Mother’s permission.

For years you have dreamt of exploring past these walls, experiencing the true world. Not just through Mother’s words but through your own eyes. Most of all, what you really wanted was the freedom to experience the floating lights.

Those lights which shine brightly in the dark night sky each and every time on your birthday without fail.

An unknown gift from the world to you. You have no idea what the true purpose of the lights are but somehow, it feels like they mean something to you.

You can vividly picture your younger self, tiptoeing out of bed, hastily passing your mother’s bedroom. Even then you knew how to avoid certain creaks on the stairs.

Able to reach the balcony when you were on your tiptoes, you could finally experience the lights of the world. There seemed to be millions and millions, filling the usually dark night sky. Illuminating your face and your eyes, to this day you’ve never seen anything brighter.

They carry a sense of beauty that you envy. Perhaps it’s the way that they all stick together and float together, or perhaps the freedom they have to rise higher and higher into the oblivion until the simple human eye cannot see them anymore.

In a way, that’s how you wish to be. That was your true dream. To leave this tower with the freedom to go and see the lights for yourself.

No permission needed from anyone.

Which is why for your 18th you’ve taken the decision to go and fulfill your dream. Sure, from the view of the tower it is pretty magnificent but it’s hard to obtain a full grasp of the experience.

To be able to fulfill this you would inevitably need the consent from your mother first. After she’s the only person you know to have ever set foot into the real world. You had figured that you would need a guide and who else would be perfect enough than someone whom you trust and who had known you for the entirety of your life?

The question though… is how would you go about asking her?

The outside world has always been a sensitive topic for her, never hesitating in sharing her horrible and terrifying experiences with you. However this would nonetheless make her the perfect guide to show you the world for the very first time.

But surely for your 18th she’d finally let you see the world for yourself?

Placing your pen down, you shut your journal and disappeared back inside the tower to again look at your antique clock.

It’s only half eight.

She’d definitely be back by eleven.

Which gives you plenty of time to prepare your own speech to persuade her.

—

“Let down your hair!”

A moment of stillness was felt as Mother Gothel’s voice echoed throughout the forest, her gravelly voice seeming to bounce off the tough barks of the trees that stood as silent spectators around her.

For a split second, a wound of fear grew in the pit of her stomach. A fear that you had left.

But not a moment later she quickly reprimanded herself and pushed away the impulsive thoughts. It wasn’t like you’d ever survive for that long anyway. Not without her.

A smirk soon latched itself onto her lips, quickly fading as soon as she saw the rope of your hair being thrown down. Taking a handful, she latched on professionally, securing her feet in a hook of your hair and slowly she was being lifted up, higher and higher.

She glimpsed over at the view, a light blue sky with a few clouds rolling in. Misplaced across the sky. Her eyes wandered over the view without a second thought and quite frankly bored of the scenery, yet she knew she had no right to complain as it was necessary to conceal herself away.

Once she had settled down inside a long exhale of air escaped from her lungs and in a high pitched tone she exclaimed aloud to you.

“My, my, my dear, how on earth are you able to do this day in and day out without fail? Why must it be exhaustive, no?”

An innocent smile reached your lips after a series of drawn out pants. “It’s nothing Mother.”

The palm of her hand reached the top of your head, patting your hair playfully. “Then I don’t know why it takes so long.”

Her cloak is immediately disposed of, hung up on the hook before she marches right past you. After a few hours of deliberation, you’ve decided that it’s best to address the topic straight away, as soon as she returns home so that you don’t lose your confidence to ask later on.

But before you can introduce the topic of the conversation, she’s instead standing by the antique oval mirror. You follow her apprehensively as her hands stretch and poke at her skin, inspecting every inch of her face. Joining her side, you’re intimidated, deeply unsure of how to grab her attention.

“So…Mother.” you begin, hands clasped around your back as your fingers fiddle with each other in an array of nerves. “I wanted to ask–

“Do you know what I see?” She cuts off unexpectedly, wrapping an arm around you. “I see a strong, young, brave, confident and of course beautiful woman.” Her grip around you is tight and for a moment you get a burst of confidence that fills your body.

“Oh, you’re here too!”

And in that same moment it is quickly lost.

Not missing the way your face fell, she pokes at your side with her finger.

“Darling I’m just teasing, will you stop taking things so seriously?” She returns to the mirror, inspecting herself all over again.

Fiddling with your hair, you impose a fake laugh to cure the mood. “As I was saying mother I was wondering if–” Suddenly waving her hand around, you pause in the midst of your sentence.

“Mother’s feeling a little run-down sweetheart, won’t you sing for me first?”

“Yes Mother.”

You’re quick to grab a chair and a hairbrush, rushing back to her and pulling her along to sit. Giving her the hairbrush, you’re haste to grab a stool and sit yourself upon it. Quickly closing your eyes you sing– no mumble through the song as fast as you could.”

“Power gleam and glow let your power shine…”

“Wait, wait, wait!”

Ignoring her, you continue throughout the song before coming to an abrupt end. “...what once was mine.”

Your mother’s voice was stern as she said your name, confused as to why you rushed the process.

You turn around on your stool to face her, finally getting her attention.

“As I was saying Mother, tomorrow is my birthday.”

“Already?” she responded, “Why of course it isn’t, you had one last year. I remember it precisely.”

You chuckle nervously, hands now twiddling with a lock of your hair as you mumble.

“They happen every year mother, you know, and I was wondering, well it was more of a spontaneous idea-”

Your name is once again said with a sharp tone.

“You know how I feel about the mumbling, bla-bla-bla, spit it out for me darling.”

You nod, chuckling half heartedly despite her not even looking right at you. With a sigh you decide it’s best to just say it straight out. “It’s my birthday tomorrow and I’m turning eighteen.”

“Eighteen?” she raised a brow.

You nod timidly. “By now I think I’m mature enough now to see the world for myself.”

“The world?”

“I just mean in the sense that I was already thinking about the gifts that I would like to see.”

“Which is?”

You had already begun to climb onto the mantlepiece in front of her. There were purple curtains which covered the painted walls. Adrenaline ran through the course of your body but if you weren’t able to contain your excitement it could all go terribly wrong.

“Mother, you know how badly I’ve dreamt every year for one thing. And one thing only. I’ve been spending my life in this tower, watching and waiting for it. The one thing I want the most…”

Drawing back the purple curtains, you reveal the full picture of the lights, shining brightly against the night’s sky.

“The floating lights.” you say, your own eyes drawn to your painting, almost in awe that you managed to draw it completely from your own memory. “I want to see them, in person.”

There was a long pause as your mother observed your own drawing. You watched anxiously, your hands balled up in fists as she squinted at your painting. Without much more than a sigh, she turned away and disappointment immediately filled your bones.

“You want to go outside?” Mother strolled over to the entrance of the tower and slammed the wooden window shutters with a loud slam.

“Look at you, as fragile as a flower.” Her hands trailed over you as you joined her on the floor. Her touch was soft and gentle as well as her tone of voice towards you. “You know why we stay up in this tower.

“I know but–” you interjected.

“That’s right!” She moves along stroking a handful of your hair. “To keep you safe and sound dear.”

“I guess I always knew this day was coming, knew that someday you’d want to go and flee the nest. Soon but not yet–”

“But-”

You were stopped again with a finger placed over your mouth, “Shhh trust me pet, Mother knows best.”

“It’s a scary world out there my dear, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. You haven’t seen it for yourself but there’s ruffians and thugs, there’s poison ivy to watch out for and quicksand!” She noted, counting off everything on her fingers.

“There’s cannibals and snakes and terrible diseases, I mean, remember the plague?”

You swallow thickly, hanging onto her every word.

“There's large bugs and men, men with pointy teeth, who want nothing more than to use you and trick an innocent flower like you my dear.”

You look down at the floor, no more words to say in defense. You were completely clueless. Anything that she did say had to be true. After all she was the only person that you knew who had seen the world for itself.

She swiftly took a seat in her chair, “But hey what do I know? I’m just your poor mother, I only changed and nursed and bathed you. So you can go ahead and leave me, I deserve it. I deserve to waste here and die alone!”

“Mother I didn’t –”

She looks over at you, eyes observing you up and down, not letting you finish.

“Where do I begin with you? You probably won’t even survive for long enough out there without me. You’re sloppy and underdressed, immature and not to mention clumsy. Without me you won’t have much to live for, god they’ll eat you up alive! Gullible, naive, ditzy and hmm…a bit vague, what more can I say?”

Looking down at your feet, any source of confidence in you had now been washed away entirely. She was right. You’re a fool if you’d think you’d last out there. You can barely copy with a spider in your room, how would you ever imagine dealing with all of…that?

Sensing your deflation your mother heads over to you, her arms outstretched. She pauses a little bit away from you, so you can step towards her. Embracing you, her eyes meet yours intensely filled with nothing but love.

“I just love you very much dear, all I ever want to protect you. Do you hear that? I love you very much.”

“I love you more.”

“And I love you most.” she finishes.

Enveloping you into a hug, there’s only a slight break before she says your name again and meets your eyes again however this time, there’s an emotion in her eyes which you can’t quite grasp. All you do feel is unease from her stare.

“Yes?”

“Don’t ever ask to leave this tower again.”

Her tone was sharp like a knife with the tip laced with venom, piercing through your gut. Her past words about you had already pierced through your heart and this was just the finisher.

You guess you won’t be achieving that dream anytime soon. Despite feeling deflated, you understood. The world was a dangerous place. And after all, Mother just wanted to protect you from the cruel dangers of the world.

Here, with her, was in fact the safest place to be.

reblogs + comments much appreciated! :)

#angel writes #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi attack on titan #attack on titan #levi x you #aot x reader #levi x reader fluff #levi snk #snk levi #levi #levi ackermann x reader #attack on titan levi #levi aot

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senashenta · 4 months ago

Text

Horror High: Chapter Eight

Title: Horror High

Pairing: Destiel

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Sex, Violence

Summary: John Winchester plants his eldest son at Caspar High in Jacksonville because weird things have been happening there: people disappearing. People reappearing only dead and drained of all their bodily fluids. Cocoons. It’s up to Dean to figure out what’s stalking Caspar’s halls and deal with it accordingly; but then he meets the New Kid—newer than him, even, the New-New Kid—Castiel Novak, and all his plans get severely derailed. Now Dean has to juggle the supernatural case—a really hungry jorogumo—and also the fact that he’s very quickly falling in love, something that is absolutely forbidden by his dad.

Meanwhile Castiel, shoved into the third new school in a year because his adoptive father—Chuck Shurley’s—job has them moving around a lot, struggles to fit in at Caspar High, not only because he’s the New Kid but because he’s the weird New Kid. Dean seems like a saving grace, a harbor in a storm, someone who doesn’t judge him—that is until Cas finds out about Dean’s night job. Cas’s life just got a whole lot stranger—but that doesn’t stop him from falling for Dean, regardless.

Notes: Thank you to the few people who have commented so far, I appreciate your feedback. And while I would love more, I thrive on interaction with the readers, I think I’ve decided to just write the sequel to Horror High (Storm Season) even if no one else reads it, just because I’m enjoying writing in this verse. I already have FIVE one-shots written that take place after Horror High and leading up to Storm Season (which were mostly written for the sake of smut, tbh, though one or two do have a bit of a plot) to post once I’m done posting Horror High as well, so… I’ve been busy. Haha. Can also be read HERE ON AO3. <3

HORROR HIGH TUMBLR MASTER POST HERE.

HORROR HIGH Chapter Eight By Senashenta

Dean gave it a whole twelve hours before he went to Cas’s house to check up on him, and the entire time he was waiting he was antsy, pacing the motel room or sitting with one leg bouncing restlessly while he scribbled in his notebook; notes about the Hunt, notes about the flamethrowers and how to improve them, notes about Sam, notes about Cas. Just generally driving Sam crazy. Specifically not calling their dad to tell him he’d finished the job they were in town for.

When Sam finally had enough of Dean climbing the walls, he slammed his laptop shut with a frustrated noise and ordered; “just go already!”

Dean didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed his spare jacket from the back of the chair he had been sitting on and headed for the door.

It was a forty-five minute walk from the motel to Cas’s house, give or take, but Dean made it in significantly less than that. He arrived on Cas’s doorstep slightly disheveled and a bit out of breath and had to take a minute to collect himself and fix his clothes before knocking on the front door.

When Chuck answered after a brief wait, Dean put on his best smile and greeted, “hi, Chuck!”

Chuck just sighed and stepped aside. “Castiel is in his room resting. He’s not feeling very well today, I think he has the flu. But he’ll be happy to see you, the same as always. Just go on up, Dean. But try not to wake him up if he’s asleep, alright?”

“Yes, sir. Thanks.” Dean scooted past Chuck, paused just long enough to take his shoes off in the entryway, then made his way through the house and up the stairs to Cas’s room. He rapped lightly on the door, but when there was no answer, he went in anyway, closing the door quietly behind himself.

Cas was nothing but a lump under the covers on the bed. He didn’t move when Dean came in, though Dean had been stealthy about it. Now he just shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over the back of the desk chair before crossing over to the bed, where he carefully pulled back the blankets and eased in under them with the other boy.

Cas mumbled something in his sleep, and when Dean tucked up beside him, he nuzzled closer with a murmur, ending up with his face buried in Dean’s chest and one of Dean’s arms carefully wrapped around him. Dean pressed a kiss into his hair. “I’m so glad you’re not dead. I’d’ve had to kill you if you were.”

There was a brief silence, and then Cas’s voice spoke up, muffled by Dean’s shirt, “feels like I’m dying, though. Pass me the painkillers.”

A quiet chuckle and Dean stretched to reach for the nightstand, rummaging in the drawer before coming up with the bottle of aspirin. “Sorry we didn’t have anything stronger for you.”

Cas gave a minute shrug and struggled to sit up for a moment before giving up and half-collapsing back into Dean’s chest. Dean made a soft worried noise and gently adjusted so they were both half-propped-up by the pillows. “You had the antibiotics, that’s good enough. I’m managing with just aspirin.” Cas took the bottle of painkillers and tipped three out into his palm, then swallowed them quickly. Dean set the bottle on the nightstand once he was done with it. “It hasn’t even been a day yet, Dean, what are you doing here?”

Dean just wrapped him up in his arms and leaned his chin in Cas’s hair. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Had to come check on you. Make sure you were still alive. Cas, I…”

“I know, Dean…”

“No, you don’t know.” The older boy made a frustrated noise and resisted the urge to tighten his hold on Cas, knowing it would hurt him. “How could you be so stupid? You’re smarter than that. You’re not a Hunter, you’re just a civilian, you could have been killed! You got hurt. Badly, and that just…” Dean swallowed slightly and buried his face in Cas’s hair, “shit, Cas, I thought you might die and my whole world was just collapsing around me, I… I don’t know what I would have done if…”

“But I didn’t.” Cas pointed out softly.

“But you could have.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Cas, you can’t do that again… you can’t be that stupid again, okay? Not ever. Not for any reason. Promise me.”

Cas swallowed a little and then pushed himself up with a wince to look Dean in the eye. He gave him what he hoped was a reassuring, though slightly pained, smile. “I promise, Dean.” Then he shifted just a bit and asked, “help me change my bandages? I don’t think I can do it on my own.”

Dean blew out a breath and finally offered a smile of his own, “yeah, I can do that.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Lets’ get you up.”

With Dean’s help, Cas managed to climb out of bed and make his way to the bathroom, more than aware that he was looking rough, just dressed in boxers and his borrowed t-shirt, his hair a mess, bags under his eyes and moving tentatively, trying not to limp.

Dean didn’t comment, only helped him through to sit on the closed toilet seat in the bathroom, then dug under the sink for the bandages when Cas directed him to them. That was apparently where he kept his first-aid kit. Dean made a mental note to bring more bandages over from their stash at the motel next time he came.

While Dean was rummaging, Cas struggled to pull his shirt off but eventually had to give up with a frustrated sound. Dean gave him a little smile, set the first-aid supplies on the counter, and moved over to help. “Arms up. Careful. Slowly.” Carefully tugging the t-shirt up and off, he joked, “any other time this would be totally hot.”

“Dean,” Cas protested, one hand coming up to rest against his bandages, “I would but I think it might kill me right now.”

Dean snorted a laugh. He crouched down in front of Cas and leaned in for a brief kiss—but of course nothing more. Then he just began gently pulling at the tape around Cas’s bandages, easing it off and pulling the bandages away to reveal the wounds beneath. His smile faded out at the sight. He let his fingers trail along the edge of one of the gashes lightly. “They look better. Not great, but better than last night. How do they feel?”

“Painful.” Cas answered truthfully, watching Dean inspect his injuries with remarkably sharp blue eyes, considering how much he was hurting. “And I’m filthy. I know you and Sam cleaned me up the best you could, but I need a shower.”

“Can you stand on your own long enough to have one?”

It was a valid question. Cas considered before asking, “you could come with me?”

“Cas,” Dean’s hands dropped down to rest against Cas’s thighs, squeezing there restlessly, and he shook his head, “come on, you know what you’re asking, don’t you? That’s a lot even for me. I’m strong but I’m not that strong.”

“I know. Don’t worry about it. I’ll make you help me have a shower in a couple days, when I’m a little sturdier.” Then a pause, followed by a little smile, “thank you for always looking out for me, Dean.” The other boy always had his best interests at heart, it seemed. “I’m sorry I let you down… with the jorogumo thing.”

“You didn’t let me down. You came through for me when I needed a hand. You just scared the shit out of me in the process.” Dean leaned up, dragging him into another kiss, slow and deep. When they broke apart a breathless moment later, he grinned at Cas and grabbed for the bottle of alcohol. “This is gonna sting. A lot.”

Despite the warning and even though he braced himself for it, Cas still found himself cursing under his breath the entire time Dean cleaned out his wounds and re-bandaged them. His father would have been disappointed. At least Dean was efficient at it and got the job done quickly, tossing the old, bloody bandages into the trash when he was finished and then tucking the rest of the first-aid supplies back where they had come from.

Once he had washed the blood off his hands, Dean helped Cas back into his shirt and then out of the bathroom and back over to the bed, where Cas painfully crawled under the covers and motioned for Dean to do the same. Dean went willingly, climbing into the bed and tucking Cas into his side again, one hand resting lightly over his bandaged ribs.

“I haven’t called Dad yet,” Dean admitted after a long silence. His eyes were on the ceiling, absently counting the stars there while he felt Cas just breathing along with him. Cas had his own eyes closed and his head resting on Dean’s shoulder. “I was supposed to call as soon as the Hunt was done. He’s gonna be pissed. But…” The hand on Cas’s side rubbed, just the gentlest of touches. “I don’t want to leave you like this.”

“I don’t want you to leave at all.” Cas admitted softly, eyes still closed.

“I know. I don’t…” Trailing off, Dean made a soft, frustrated sound and thumped his head against the pillows. It wasn’t like he wanted to leave, either, but he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. “Cas,” he said finally, “I don’t want to leave, but you know how it is for me. You know.”

“Yes. I know.” Cas agreed, one hand sliding to rest against Dean’s chest, just to feel his heartbeat, so he wouldn’t ever forget it. “When will you call your Dad?”

“In two or three days, I think.” Dean replied quietly, “once I know you’re alright.”

“I’m alright now.” Cas pointed out, a little smile on his face, “with you. I’m always alright when I’m with you.”

“You’re better off without me. You got hurt because of me.”

“I thought I got hurt because I was being stupid?”

“That, too.” Dean agreed.

Cas hummed. “What if I just came with you?”

A chuckle, the laughter rumbling in Dean’s chest, under Cas’s palm. “My Dad would freak out. Your Dad would freak out. Basically, all the Dads would freak out.” Then a pause and he admitted, “not that you wouldn’t be a welcome distraction on the road. Although we would be sharing a room with Sam and Dad and they probably wouldn’t appreciate our… closeness. Sam already mocks me for it, and he hasn’t seen the worst of it by far.”

“We would have to have our own room.” Cas agreed, tapping one finger against Dean’s shirt, “or sex couldn’t happen and that would be… unfortunate.”

Dean grinned at him. “You’re terrible.”

Cas lifted his head to return the grin with a smile of his own. “You were thinking the same thing.”

“Guilty.” Dean agreed. He angled for a kiss and Cas was happy to oblige. “Mm. I’m pretty much always thinking about being in bed with you.” Then he amended, “but this kind of being in bed with you is nice, too. I’m going to miss it.”

“Me too.” Cas returned his head to Dean’s shoulder, nuzzling into the side of his neck with a hum, pressing a gentle kiss against where his pulse was pounding. “I’m also going to miss spending lunch hour with you at school. It’ll be weird when you’re gone.”

“Start eating lunch with Charlie and your other friends,” Dean suggested.

“Mm, but they aren’t you. It won’t be the sam—” The younger boy interrupted himself with a yawn and settled even more into Dean’s side, almost boneless. The aspirin was finally kicking in, and he was comfortable, warm, and exhausted. “Dean, I think I need to sleep some more. Will you stay while I have a nap?”

Dean was already pulling the covers up around them a bit more. He dropped a kiss against Cas’s hair again. “Get some rest, Cas. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

-- --

They fell into a rhythm, Dean visiting every day ‘after school’, even though he had stopped going to school as soon as the whole jorogumo thing was over and done with. But Cas’s father didn’t need to know that—it would be hard to explain—so Dean just dropped by in the afternoons after school was out for the day anyway so Chuck wouldn’t know the difference.

Cas was always glad to see him, though for the first couple of days he had been rather tired and sleepy, just his body’s reaction to his injuries, trying to kickstart the healing process. The antibiotics helped, he was sure, as did Dean helping to change his bandages every day, since he couldn’t exactly ask his father to do it.

But through it all, he continued to feel… gross. Dirty. He still has dried blood and dirt flecked across his skin from the initial wounds, though Dean and Sam had done their best at the time to clean him up. Also, he hadn’t showered in days, leaving him feeling greasy. His hair was disgusting. Honestly, he didn’t know how Dean could stand cuddling up with him when he came to visit, but he did so faithfully, each and every day. Still.

“Help me with a shower today?”

They were in the bathroom and Dean was in the process of carefully peeling his bandages off when Cas spoke up—and the older boy paused. Green eyes flicked up at him, then back down to his wounds, and after a moment he asked, “are you sure? You could wait another couple days.”

“Dean, I’m disgusting.” Cas stated flatly, then; “and it can’t be good for my cuts. I’m supposed to be keeping them clean, right?”

“You’re not disgusting, you’re just—” Dean broke off when Cas stared at him hard and cleared his throat before finishing with, “okay, you’re mildly disgusting. But your cuts actually look okay.” He returned his attention to removing the bandages, tossing them in the trash and then finally allowing; “alright, I’ll help you shower. But no funny business.”

Cas’s lips quirked in an amused smile. “Are you saying that to me or yourself?”

“Both.” Dean confirmed with a little half-grin. He stood up and helped Cas to his feet as well, then began the process of stripping them both down, Cas helping where he could, though it was still hard for him to bend or twist too much. Those movements pulled at his injuries.

When Dean stripped his t-shirt off and tossed it to the side, Cas was surprised to see two short slashes, already well into healing, marking the right side of his chest. Dean was already reaching for Cas’s shorts, but Cas caught his hands, frowning slightly before reaching up to touch along the cuts. Dean didn’t even twitch. “You didn’t tell me you got hurt, too.”

Dean glanced down at his own chest and sighed. “It was nothing, just a little flesh wound. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Cas’s brows drew together in concern, but when Dean leaned in and pulled him into a kiss, he allowed it. “Dean…” But then he trailed off, just stepping closer to the older boy, almost pressing against him, making Dean grumble softly. “Sorry.” Cas apologized, not really meaning it. He wanted to be close to Dean—needed it, even. Craved it. “Thank you for this.”

“Just… I’m afraid of hurting you.” Dean admitted after a brief hesitation. “You’re still injured.”

“I am.” Cas agreed, and reached for Dean’s pants, starting to undo them with deft fingers. “But I desperately need to get cleaned up, Dean, and I don’t think I can do it alone.” Smiling, he glanced up at Dean even as he pushed the older boy’s jeans down over his hips, “luckily you’re around to help me.”

“Yeah. Luckily.” Dean swallowed audibly but got himself out of his jeans the rest of the way and then reached to tug Cas’s boxers down. “This is a bad idea and we both know it.”

A quiet hum as he stepped out of his shorts. Cas shrugged with one shoulder. “Probably.” Then he let his hands come to rest against Dean’s abdomen, just still there for a few breaths before he began tugging at the older teen’s boxers, pulling them down as far as he could without bending over or crouching down. “Take these off, please. You can’t wear them in the shower.”

Dean made a quiet agreeing noise and shucked out of his boxers, all the while pretending that he wasn’t already half-hard. Cas just watched him with obvious amusement in his eyes. “There, happy now?” Dean muttered finally, turning to start the shower up.

“Yes.” Cas agreed, stifling the urge to laugh. “But I’m always happy when I’m with you, Dean.”

“Always? Really?”

“Mm. Really.”

“I… yeah. Me too, Cas.” And then; “come on, the water’s ready.”

The two of them climbed into the shower together and Cas heaved a long, heavy sigh at the feeling of the water cascading over him, humming happily as he reached for the shampoo and began scrubbing at his hair with only a little discomfort from the pull of the wounds on his side—and completely oblivious to the fact that Dean was watching him, probably too closely. He gave a content little groan while he was rinsing the suds away—at which point Dean echoed the sound and forced his gaze to the floor, watching the soap, tinted with blood and dirt, wash down the drain instead.

“Cas, c’mon, you’re killing me, here.”

“Sorry, Dean.” He wasn’t really. He was the opposite of sorry. But he had also reached the extent of what he could reasonably do on his own, so Cas picked up a cloth and the soap and pressed them into Dean’s hands. “Here, I need you to do this part.”

“This is not going to kill me any less.” Dean informed him dryly.

“Sorry.” Cas repeated with an amused smile, then; “you knew what you were signing up for.”

A little grumble but Dean didn’t protest because he knew it was true. Instead, he focused on lathering the soap into the cloth—which, frankly, didn’t seem soft enough for Cas’s injured skin, as far as he was concerned—and then stepping closer to the younger boy. “Lift your arms up a bit.” He muttered, and when Cas complied, he began gently washing the grime from him, working carefully over the gashes to get rid of the last of the dried blood, and then moving on to the rest of the dirt that was still smeared across his chest from the Hunt. Underneath the surface dirt were the bruises, though, mottled and in various stages of healing. Dean frowned to himself at the sight. “How do the bruises feel?”

Cas shifted and dropped his arms back to his sides, turning so Dean could clean up his back; “they’re sore, but they’re not terrible.”

“They’ll be gone in a couple of weeks.” Dean agreed, tentatively cleaning up the gouges that scored all around to the back of his ribs. “You got lucky.” When he was finished with Cas’s back, Dean nudged him to turn around again—and then hesitated before sliding the cloth down and over Cas’s abdomen, washing gently.

Cas shifted a little again at the attention, shuffling from one foot to the other and back again. He was very quickly getting hard from Dean’s hands on him. Finally, he swallowed and managed weakly, “I’m sorry, Dean. I know we were joking around, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this…”

“Don’t apologize,” Dean’s voice came out rough and his hand slowed to a stop. He leaned in to press a kiss to Cas’s forehead. “I’m in the same boat.”

“I’d noticed.”

They were both fully, undeniably hard now, cocks straining against their stomachs, and after a short hesitation, Dean dropped the soap and washcloth and planted one hand on Cas’s chest to gently push him back against the wall. Then he ducked his head to kiss along Cas’s jaw and down to the crook of his neck—before sinking down to his knees.

“Dean,” Cas protested, one hand already grabbing at Dean’s hair, “you really don’t hav—ah!”

Despite his not-really-complaint, Dean was already tentatively licking over the head of his cock and Cas thought his knees might give out already. This was something new between them—definitely unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome. Dean’s mouth was hot, wet velvet, sliding down the length of his cock and it was perfect.

Cas’s head fell back against the wall, and he pulled at Dean’s hair absently. “God, Dean…!”

Dean actually pulled off of him with an obscenely wet noise and coughed out, “enough with the hair pulling, Cas.”

Cas barked a breathless laugh—“Sorry.”—and loosened his grip on Dean’s hair, smoothing his fingers through the wet strands gently. “Didn’t mean to.”

Dean muttered a garbled “s’okay” and then went right back to what he had been doing, sucking up and down Cas’s cock like it was candy, and considering it was, Cas assumed, his first time giving a blowjob to someone, Cas thought he was doing a freaking fantastic job. Then again, it wasn’t like he had anything to compare it to, either. Still. Cas was left leaning heavily back against the tiles, biting his lip hard to muffle his moans and one hand down, buried in Dean’s hair, fingers carding through the wet strands—carefully this time, reverently.

After another minute of gasping for air and trying desperately to keep his hips still, Cas cracked his eyes open and looked down and—God. Dean was on his knees, one arm up and braced against the tile wall beside Cas, the opposite hand resting against Cas’s thigh, gripping there tightly, possibly to keep himself from jerking off along with everything else he was doing. His cock was hard, though, straining red against his belly and making Cas swallow thickly.

Unable to do much else, the younger boy whined softly, watching Dean suck up and down his cock for a long moment—and then Dean’s eyes, which had previously been closed, opened—and he looked up, meeting Cas’s gaze.

Cas moaned, head falling back again, and his hips bucked as he came abruptly.

Dean didn’t pull away, instead swallowing every drop before easing back, licking his lips absently. Cas’s head lolled to the side, and he looked down again with a little smile, then watched Dean carefully climb to his feet. Dean wrapped an arm around him when he pressed close and leaned in for a kiss.

His boyfriend tasted of salt and musk and something else vaguely alkaline but undeniable. Cas kissed back, slow and languid, and slid one hand around between them, down to palm against Dean’s still-obvious erection. Dean uttered a soft groan and ducked his head to nose into the crook of Cas’s neck.

“I told you this was a bad idea…” He muttered.

“Mm.” Cas agreed, even as he started to stroke, jerking Dean off quick and easy. “But I’m not complaining…”

Dean braced his free hand against the wall beside Cas and muffled another groan into the other teen’s skin. Cas just continued stroking, ducking his head to press little kisses along Dean’s shoulder with a smile.

When Dean came a short time later, painting his cum across Cas’s hand and abdomen, he pressed his forehead tightly into the crook of Cas’s neck and took several panting breaths, steadying himself. By that time Cas’s own breathing had evened out and he just rubbed one hand up and down Dean’s back for a long moment. Then Dean eased back from him to stand up properly and offered him an actual, sheepish grin.

Cas brought his hand up to lick at his fingers for a second, then rinsed the rest of Dean’s cum off under the shower spray. After that he pushed away from the wall and offered a smile of his own. “What was that all about?”

Dean just shrugged and glanced aside. “I figured that—uh, you know—wouldn’t pull your injuries.”

The older boy was being adorably bashful. Cas reached out to pull him closer and leaned in to kiss him gently. “Thank you.”

“Don’t gotta thank me for a blowjob.” Dean muttered against his lips, embarrassed.

“But it was good.” Cas protested, “don’t you say ‘thank you’ when people give you nice things?”

“Like blowjobs, though?” Dean sounded incredulous.

“Definitely like blowjobs.” Cas confirmed with a nod.

“I don’t like the number of times we’re saying the word ‘blowjob’.” Dean informed him flatly, then, “the hot water’s starting to run out, we should get out of the shower. I’ll help you dry off and get your cuts bandaged up again.”

Dean reached around Cas to turn the water off (just in time, it was starting to edge into nippy territory) and the two of them climbed out of the shower, water puddling on the floor as they dried off—Cas dropped a towel down to mop it up when they were done. Then Cas was returned to his place sitting on the closed toilet seat so that Dean could bandage him up again. At least this time he was clean—and it felt a lot better that way.

Once his bandages were done, Cas insisted on tossing his dirty clothes in the laundry hamper and digging out a new t-shirt and pair of boxers from his dresser, so wandered through to the bedroom to do exactly that while Dean finished pulling on his own clothing. By the time Dean made it through to the bedroom after him, Cas was dressed again, sort of, and already crawling back into bed.

He motioned for Dean to join him. “Come on.”

There was a bit of shuffling around while Dean crossed over to the bed and climbed in beside Cas, pulling the covers over the both of them and settling with the younger boy comfortably tucked against his side, one of Cas’s arms flung over Dean’s chest and one of Dean’s hands resting lightly, carefully against Cas’s injured ribs, gentleness reserved for very few people in his life.

Cas basked in the care that Dean showed him, always did, from sitting with him at lunch at school to sharing the details of his life to kisses and touches and bandaging him up now that he was wounded. Dean sometimes struggled to show his affection, but he was good at it in his own way and getting better day-by-day. Cas appreciated it all.

Right now, he especially appreciated Dean’s warmth and the rhythm of this breathing, the steady beat of his heart.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that. The… word you think we were saying too much.” Cas spoke up after a long few moments of silence. Dean didn’t reply right away, just trailed his hand up to thread his fingers through Cas’s hair gently. Cas hummed and leaned into the touch. “Not that I don’t appreciate it. Because I do. But it was your first time… doing that. Right? So, I’m just saying. It wasn’t necessary.”

“But you liked it, right?” Dean rumbled after a pause.

“Mm. I really did.” Cas agreed. “I mean. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

“Then I don’t regret it even a single bit.”

Cas tightened his arm around Dean in a little hug and turned his head to drop a kiss against his chest. “You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

Dean chuckled. “I’m the only boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“That’s beside the point.”

“I really don’t think it is.” The older boy sounded amused, laughter tinging his words, “the point is you’ve got nothing to compare it to. You can’t say I’m the best when there are no others in the running.”

Cas frowned up at him slightly. “Do I need to list off all the amazing things about you?”

“Please do.” Dean grinned back.

“You’re incorrigible.” He dropped his head back on Dean’s chest, making the other teen mutter an ‘oof’, and was quiet for a long moment before shifting his arm around Dean absently and murmuring; “you said I make you feel cared for, but it’s the same with me. You obviously care for me, Dean, and that’s… it’s a novelty for me. You’ve protected me right from the moment we met. You’re… strong, and smart, and funny, and humble about it all—most of the time, anyway. You take care of me, in every sense of the term…” Trailing off a bit, he brought his hand up to toy with the front of Dean’s shirt absently, “you’re an amazing big brother to Sam, even if he’s at an age where he doesn’t appreciate it. You’re an amazing Hunter. You’re an incredible person. An incredible friend. An absolutely extraordinary boyfriend.” His fingers paused, then, and he smiled, glancing up at Dean once more, “also you’re tremendously good-looking. That’s always a plus.”

Dean was quiet, just looking down at him, but Cas could see the gears working in his head. He returned his own head to Dean’s chest again, closing his eyes to listen to his heartbeat with a little, content smile on his face.

“Since I got hurt,” He continued after a brief pause, “which was not in any way your fault, by the way, you’ve spent all your free time over here, or as much as possible, anyway, just checking on me and taking care of me. You change my bandages every day, though soon I should be able to do it myself. You even helped me have a shower today, and I cannot understate how grateful I am for that. I feel so much better now. And when we were in the shower and I got—excited—you helped with that, too. All you do is help me and take care of me. You’re always there for me. I can’t even tell you how much all of it means to me, Dean...”

When Cas trailed off, just going back to toying with the front of Dean’s shirt absently, there was another long silence. Not uncomfortable—they were long past uncomfortable silences between the two of them—but contemplative on Dean’s part. Cas was just waiting for his boyfriend to finish computing everything he had said so he could respond.

“Cas,” When Dean spoke up finally, his voice came out soft; “I think you see things in me that no one else does. And… I’m not saying you’re wrong or that those things aren’t there, I just…” Shifting absently, he sighed, “I think you look deeper than other people bother to. You see parts of me that I don’t lay bare for just anyone. But there’s something about you, and it’s been there right from the start, that makes me want to open up to you and not keep any part of me a secret. Does that make sense?”

“Mmhm,” Cas agreed quietly, “I feel the same way.”

“I told you about Hunting, and my Dad and Sammy… and my Mom. About my nightmares.” Dean continued, “I’ve never told anyone that stuff before. The stuff about my family and Hunting is… it’s secret. It’s sacred. That’s the one big rule, never telling anyone about all that, but with you it just… came out. And I don’t regret telling you even for a second.” Then a pause and he added with a little chuckle, “though I might when my Dad finds out.”

“When?”

“He has a way of figuring out these things. It’s just a matter of time.” Dean muttered, then brightened a little again to add, “but I think dealing with Dad’s wrath… you’re worth it, when it eventually happens. No regrets with you, not ever.”

“Not even the blatant homophobia at school?”

A soft laugh, “nah, those jokers don’t scare me.”

“You punched one of them in the face.” Cas pointed out. “Three times.”

“Yeah, well, he deserved it.” Dean grumbled. The hand that had been in Cas’s hair paused briefly before his fingers continue stroking gently, generally making a mess of the still-damp strands. “I really don’t miss that school. I mean at all.”

“I still have to go there until the end of the year.” Cas sighed. “At least it’s just a few more months.”

“I’m sorry I won’t be around to deal with the assholes for you, Cas.”

“Mm-mm.” A soft negative noise, “I understand. I know your case is over, you’ve got to move on. Just don’t forget to text and video chat, right?”

“I’m going to miss the hell out of you.”

“Me too.” Cas shifted, making a little uncomfortable noise, and patted his hand against Dean’s chest, “Dean, pass me the aspirin.”

Dean dug the bottle of pills out of the bedside table and passed them to Cas, who swallowed a couple and then handed them back to be put away again. He really did wish they’d had something stronger to give the other boy—codene, maybe, that was easy to come by—but they hadn’t, so he was making do with over-the-counter stuff. Cas didn’t complain, though, even though it was obvious that he was in pain.

Dean’s hand slid back down to rest gently over Cas’s bandaged ribs again, even as he glanced at the clock. Nearly seven. He really needed to go, even if Chuck hadn’t come in to kick him out of the house yet. He did need to keep an eye on Sam while they were still at the motel by themselves, even if Sam was mostly capable of taking care of himself. But…

Dean didn’t want to go. He never did, when he was with Cas, whether it was eating lunch with him under the bleachers or cuddling up in bed with him the way he was now. He craved Cas’s company, his companionship, the physical and emotional closeness between them. Hell, he would move right in here if he could. But that wasn’t an option for so many reasons, so he just kept leaving and then coming back as soon as he possibly could.

Soon even that would be a thing of the past.

“I’m not even looking at you and I can see you frowning.” Cas spoke up, head back on Dean’s chest and eyes closed once more, waiting for the painkillers to kick in. “You have to leave soon, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I—it’s almost seven.” Dean confirmed. “I’m surprised your Dad hasn’t come in to kick me out yet, honestly.”

“He must be busy writing.” Cas began shifting, sliding away from Dean’s side a little and then leaning up to give him a quick kiss. “You should go, though. Sam will be wondering what’s taking you so long, and I should get some rest. I’m exhausted. You wore me out.”

Dean actually laughed at that—and pulled him into another kiss, this one deeper, longer. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” He promised when they parted a moment later.

Cas just smiled, the expression overly fond. “Of course you will.”

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #destiel #destiel fanfiction #nsft #spn #shut up sena #sena writes #horror high by senashenta

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deylightsfictionalcompanion · 1 year ago

Text

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

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

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

More under cut

Fandom: Stranger Things

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

Word Count: 11.9k

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

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

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

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

As You Wish

By Deylightsfictionalcompainion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s gotten better, you know.”

“Don’t want to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is.

Until now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You bit your lip slightly. “And him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve stared at you, his eyes trained on yours.

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will do, Mrs. Munster.” You smiled.

“Lily.” Joyce corrected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

Or so you thought.

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

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

“Guilty as charged.”

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

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

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

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

He sat back, relieved.

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

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

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

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

You blinked. “I did?”

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

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

You knew which option it had to be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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