#there was a thing about schools opening and the radio person saying something about the dangers and. it hurt.

[she-toadmask]

Maggie is a great movie

It's a drama movie though and COVID makes it more painful in some parts so if you are emotionally sensitive I don't suggest you watch it

I hope to god I dont have to watch it a second time

[satorusugurugurl]

Toji as a bodyguard

Til’ the Day that I Die

Summary: You’re a popstar in need of a bodyguard when you find yourself with a stalker. That’s how you meet Fushiguro Toji, you’re insanely hot bodyguard. Who knows how to push your buttons, and get you feeling flustered. Just how far is he willing to go to protect you? And how far would you go to protect him?

Pairing: Bodyguard!Fushiguro Toji x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: mentions of stage right, performance, anxiety, stalking, panic attacks, language mentions of gun, (eventual smut)

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: this request is amazing!! It got my brain worms going! Once again, this will be a multi part series, I’m looking at a total of four parts as I have already planned down the whole story. I’m sorry for the lack of content, it’s been a rough few days and I just decided to take some time for myself! But I do have about four stories almost done so you can expect updates for the rest of the week! Love you all!! (Readers' stage persona is highly inspired by several artists! 😊)

Part Two Part Three Part Four

Performance anxiety is defined as an excessive feeling of fear related to being able to perform well. Symptoms of performance anxiety include pulse racing, rapid breathing, dry mouth, and throat tightness. Dealing with performance anxiety when you're a rising star is brutal, and you begin to regret all your life choices. You aren't sure if you want this to be your life. You were attending nursing school, but your sister posted a video of you singing online. Reading all the sweet comments was fun initially, but it's funny how fast things change.

One second, you were posting a few videos of you singing, and the next thing you knew, you had a record deal, your songs were on the radio, and you were performing at concerts. All in the span of six months. The attention was overwhelming, and, at times, your anxiety even worse. But the more you performed, the more you were able to bury the stage fright down, masking the fear with a persona you made until you were home in your apartment. In the confines of your home, you could cry and tremble; dealing with those attacks was something you’d gotten used to.

But your stalker was a whole new fucked up mess you never dreamed about dealing with.

It had started as nothing more than a couple of love letters that turned into more descriptive letters detailing information about your personal life you had never told anyone. Anytime you saw a letter come in with ‘M’ written on the front and dark gray ink, your stomach twisted. You at first thought you would be okay. You could handle something like this. This was the kind of thing that came along with the territory of being famous.

That was until a bouquet of roses was dropped off at your door in your guarded apartment building. That whole situation sent you into a full-blown panic attack. You left your apartment and went to stay with your friends. That incident caused your manager to contact Kong Security Services and hire you as a bodyguard. One, you were anxiously waiting to meet as you sat in your dressing room before your show.

“It’s going to be fine, I promise.” Nanako, your makeup artist, assured you as she fixed your blush. “Geto said this agency is the best in the business.”

You shot her a skeptical look while her twin sister fixed your hair. “Are you just saying that because your dad’s are my managers, and they told you to say that?” When both twins had ceased their movements in obvious shock at your to-the-point accusation.

“W-What—?”

“No, never!”

“Uh-huh—I don’t believe a word either of you are saying right now.”

Nanako steps back, looks you over, and bites her lip. “They really are the best, whether or not we get to go out for Boba after this. It’s not like sweet milk tea is on the line if we don’t ease your nerves.” Just as your sweet young makeup artist finishes, the door to your dressing, eyes darting towards the door as it swings further open. Suguru and his husband, Satoru, enter, displaying their matching black-and-white wedding rings. They were the best management company in the world, the power couple of Tokyo. Satoru, who was in charge of your social media accounts, types viciously on his phone while Suguru grins up at a man walking in with them.

If you could even call him a man.

A fucking mountain of muscle is a more appropriate way of describing him. He’s tall, has dark hair and navy blue eyes, and he’s fit. The mountain wore a tailored jacket and white button-down shirt with the first two buttons undone. His eyes leave Geto’s for a minute to watch you sinking further in your chair, his pink tongue running over the scar down the corner of the right side of his mouth.

“Hun, this is Fushiguro Toji,” Suguru announced before glancing at his phone. “He’s your bodyguard and will be with you everywhere you go.”

“E-Everywhere?”

“Yes, to rehearsals, your shows, meet-and-greets, he’ll even escort you home.” Your eyes rammed back over to the mountain of a man standing off to the side. When you have time off, or he needs a day away, his work partner Tsukumo Yuki will take over for him.”

You swallowed hard, fingers twitching, a subtle action your new bodyguard noticed immediately as you dug your fingers into your skirt. It was part of Toji‘s job to see behaviors and be observant. He could tell you were on edge from how your fingers twitched to how your pulse raced in your neck. His handler, Shiu, had warned him that you were an anxious mess after finding out about your stalker. But this anxiety didn’t come from just having a stalker. This anxiety was deeply rooted in you. It was probably something you had suffered with for years.

Without being told, Toji stepped forward, kneeling before you, giving you a gentle smile like a father would give a frightened child. He had to put your nerves at ease to let you know you would be okay. “I know you’re scared, but I can assure you that I am very skilled. You won’t even notice I’m around.” You weren’t sure about that. How could you not notice the handsome man who would always be around you?

“Right, thank you.”

“You’re welcome--”

“Ugh! We gotta get going; they expect you on stage in five minutes.”

“I-I s-shou—” you stuttered as the performing anxiety began to root itself into your already anxious demeanor.

“Yep, let’s get going.” Toji stood motioning towards the door of the dressing room. “After you, Miss.”

Being a bodyguard and a security escort for so long had allowed Toji to pick up on specific cues from people, like how their eyes moved around the room or how their body language told him what they were feeling. The way your fingers were twitching, he knew you were nervous and scared, and he wasn’t sure if it was stage fright or something to do with your stalker.

Regardless of whether you wanted to go up there, it didn’t change the fact that thousands of people were already waiting for you to perform. As you both walked down the hall, Tojo noticed you took a deep breath and exhaled through your nose, and as you turned the corner, you put on a huge smile. The way you put in a mask so fast nearly sent Toji stumbling back. He was usually prepared for the unexpected, but seeing this scared, shaking woman shift into a bubbly pop star rocked him back.

Everyone you encountered smiled wide at your perky voice and demeanor. You truly lit up the whole room. “Alright, guys! Thank you for all your hard prep! Now, let’s have a great show tonight!” You were handed a jeweled microphone and placed on a platform to lift you to the main stage, but before you gripped the handles to steady yourself, Toji grabbed your hand. “Oh, Fushiguro?”

“I'll be on the side, watching you. If you need me or notice something's off, you should give me a sign.”

“A sign? Like a signal?”

“Yeah, something easy and inconspicuous.”

You thought for a second, that perky look still on your face, but Toji could see the anxiety behind your eyes. “Well, I wink a lot during my shows and throw a heart sign up.” Toji hummed, pursing his lips together.

“Well, if you don't want to alarm your fans, how about this.” he took your hand, putting your middle and ring finger down. Your thumb, pinky, and pointer finger were left extended.

“Oh, the sign for ‘I love you’!”

“Only use this if you need me on stage. Otherwise, do what you normally do, but know I’ll be right there if you need me.”

There was a flicker of fear in your eyes, which probably would go unnoticed by many different people, but it was one that he could see clearly as day. “Right, thank you, Fushiguro.” Your new bodyguard looked at you as he scoffed, shaking his head.

“Toji, just call me Toji. There is no need for formalities. Have a good show, Miss.”

“R-Right, thank you, Toji.”

Your new bodyguard watched as the platform began to lift, taking you up to the stage where fans were screaming your name. Taking a deep breath before smiling, your bodyguard watched you reach the top before the band blaring music as you began singing into your microphone. The beat of the music rang in his ears; Toji ran for the stairs that led him to the stage, where he could watch you from the side.

There, Toji found your managers standing on the sidelines, watching you. Upon looking at you, he met a woman who looked nothing like the girl he had just spoken to moments before. You danced, sang, smiled, and winked at the crowd. Multicolored lights flashed as fog from the fog machine flooded the stage, and the backup dancers moved in sync with each other. I think this is poor, who was shaking upon meeting him.

“Yeah, crazy to see her shift, isn’t it?” Geto asked before pulling his phone out and snapping a few photos of you as you sang. “She’s like a different person.”

“Like? I hate to be the one to break this to you, Geto, but that woman is a completely different person. Why the fuck is she masking?”

The white-haired man glared at Toji, his sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “She’s not masking; it's called a stage persona.” The annoyance was clear in the other man’s voice, a tone that crawled its way under his skin.

“Look, buddy, keep your terms to yourself. I don't care about the different terms. All I know is that woman—” he jabbed his thumb in your direction as you twirled around the stage. “is masking; that’s not who she is.”

“You don’t know a lot about the entertainment industry. This is something that a lot of celebrities do. It’s completely normal, and she knows that. That’s how she adapted so fast.”

Toji wasn’t sure if that was the case. He had seen you firsthand, shaking in your dressing room. To see you change drastically for the sake of a show? Toji could see why you would be nervous to go up on stage. There had to be a fear of your mask slipping, revealing your true persona to the world.

But Satoru was right; Toji’s job was to protect and ensure you were safe. It wasn’t his place to judge how you lived or worked your career. In the end, you were just like all the other popstar divas and clients he had had before. Rich people with too much money to throw around and fame led them to believe that they were in danger all the time, which is how he managed to keep a steady income for himself and his kids as long as they were rich snobs like you, Tojo was guaranteed to have a job.

Instead of continuing to argue with your overzealous manager, Toji crossed both arms over his chest and watched you closely. The sooner the show was over, the sooner he could get you back to your apartment, where he could call to check on Megumi. He just wanted to relax, and for all he knew, you and your managers were overreacting to this so-called stalker you had. If anything, this might’ve been some cruel prank; receiving a note to roses wasn’t that big of a deal, and this was way too easy for as much as he was getting paid, so he wasn’t going to bitch about it.

What he did want to bitch about was how fucking long your show went on for. Performed for about two hours straight, only taking breaks to change costumes throughout the performance. It was in those moments when you were changing that your mask slipped. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes and how you wanted to do nothing more than take a break. But as fast as that mask slipped, you had it back on instantly. When one costume was off, and the other slipped on, you were back on stage to sing the next song.

After about two hours and thirty minutes of this bullshit, you gave a final bow and blew kisses out at the crowd of strangers who were cheering your name. While the two hours he got to stand up to the side and watch you perform was easy, he only had to look for your signal if you needed help; getting you out of the arena safely was a whole different story. Everything moved so fast The second you stepped off that stage and towards your bodyguard.

After every show, the goal was the same: get changed as fast as possible, collect your stuff, which Nanako and Mimiko had already packed, and get in your limo before the crowd started heading towards your exit. Toji gently placed his hand on the small of your back, ushering you through the maze of halls that led you back to the dressing room, where, just like you knew, the girls had packed all your stuff.

“You got five minutes to change,” Suguru announced as Satoru snickered behind his husband. “Thanks to Satoru, you’re trending again for your newest song.”

Toji could see the minutey, perky personality shift into your more anxious state. You frowned, literally frowned, at the news. Most people would be jumping over the moon to hear it. Seeing such an ungrateful expression on your face had Toji resist the urge to roll his eyes into his skull.

Spoiled little brats, you rich folks were all the same.

“Did you make sure to tag the—“

“Are you insinuating that I don’t know who to tag or which hashtags to use? Babes, I've got you covered. When have I ever let you down?”

“Never.”

“Right, so let the best PR manager handle this.”

Toji sighed, glancing towards his watch. “Two minutes,” he announced to the room of people bouncing off the walls and collecting items to clean up the green room. How could your managers be talking about more brand deals at a time like this? Brand deals were bullshit, but knowing how popular you were with the teenagers and you probably had some make-up deal or some other shit that would make you all the richer, you had to make sure the right people were tagged so you continued to be sponsored. But there was a time and place for that, and now wasn't the right time!

“I know you're the best Satoru, but I still wanna make sure the word gets out there.” You stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in black leggings and a simple T-shirt. Completely different from the baby doll dresses you were wearing on stage. “It’s imperative—”

“I know. I’ve already posted it. Everyone’s been tagged accordingly, and the hashtags are in place. You’ll get lots of people to see this, trust me.”

You were slipping on your baseball cap and sunglasses when Toji’s large hand gently grabbed you by the shoulder. “We gotta get going,” you sighed before nodding, waving off your team, and falling Toji down the hall to where your car awaited you.

Thanks to your quick change, nobody was waiting for you outside, making your getaway from the arena smooth as butter. You just wished you felt as calm as your exit from the bustling stage had been. You were beginning to regret going back to your apartment. You hadn’t been back there since the roses were delivered to your door. Going back was going to be difficult, leaving your stomach swarming with anxiety. But at least you had a big mountain of a man to protect you if, god forbid, you needed help.

The entire ride back to your apartment complex was thankfully quiet. Toji sat on the other side of you, staring out the window, not making any conversation, which was a blessing. Not only was your throat sore from the amount of singing you had done, but the idea of sitting through a conversation run solely by small talk was almost as bad as your performance anxiety. Sitting in the back of the car, leaning your head against the window without worrying about smiling or acting perfect in front of strangers, was a breath of fresh air.

Being alone with your bodyguard made you feel like you could let your walls come down for the first time in a long time. It was a feeling you might as well get used to. He would be around most of the time, so instead of adorning the perfect, pretty mask you always wore, you could be the introverted true version of yourself. Knowing that you could relax, you shut your eyes, allowing yourself to doze off as the car smoothly headed down the freeway.

If only your dreams were smooth and calm like the car ride. Your dreams were filled with mysterious notes and roses you had once loved. They circled you, drowning you in paper and petals as a roaring crowd rang through your ears. You could fight against the tidal waves, but instead, you let them wash over you, allowing yourself to be crushed by the unbearable weight of being a star at times.

Nursing school wasn’t easy, but at least when you were in school, you didn’t have to worry about a mysterious bouquet showing up on your apartment doorstep or sneaking out to avoid getting seen and swarmed by your fans. Your biggest concern in school was getting good grades and doing everything possible to get your degree. The only things you had to worry about were study dates and pop quizzes, not ominous letters that made you fearful for your safety.

These nightmares were so vivid that you wished your family had heard you singing online. Was it too much to ask for a normal everyday life where you weren't constantly stressed?

You sighed, looking up at the lingering rays of light that slowly began to peek through. More envelopes and roses piled on the cocoon you were stuck in. Perhaps there was no going back. This might very well be the rest of your life. Just as you were shutting your eyes to the casket you were being buried in, a hand reached out from the top of the mountain of dread and anxiety you lived with, reaching for you.

You couldn’t make out who was reaching out to you, but you were sure they just wanted to help you. Without hesitation, you reached for that hand, brushing over their fingertips. Just when they clasped your hand to pull you out of the burial ground, you were jn. You gasped as someone shook you, waking you from the dream.

You sat up quickly, shaking as you met Tojo’s navy blue eyes. He was frowning, motioning towards the rolled-down window, and Ijichi, head of security for your building, leaned in, giving you a weak smile. With a quick rub to both your eyes, you placed your mask back on, going from the sleep-deprived woman you were transforming into the perky popstar everybody knew and loved.

“Ijichi! Hi!”

“Hi yourself, glad to have you back.”

Toji could see how your shoulders stiffened when you mentioned being back. “Oh, yep! It's good to be back.” Toji could see through your facade, while Ijichi was blind to it.

“I just wanted to let you know that we added more cameras to the building, and my security post will be far stricter with deliveries and anything else from this point on. We want you to feel safe here, and I’m sorry we failed to do that in the first place.”

“Oh no, it’s not your fault! Plus, I feel a lot better now that I have Fushiguro!” The man with glasses peered into the car, waving at your bodyguard whose face remained stoic, not returning the gesture. “Okay, uhm Ijichi, Toji; Toji Ijichi.”

No pleasantries were exchanged, not at all. The only thing Toji managed to do was give him a nod before focusing his attention back on the massive building and making a mental note to ask for access to the cameras. That way, he could keep an eye on you and ensure nobody was hanging around who wasn't supposed to be there. Those thoughts Toji was lost in made it a tranquil ride up the elevator to your apartment. He was leaving you feeling even more anxious. Usually, being around someone quiet never bothered you; you felt so relaxed around that person, but Toji’s cold demeanor and attitude toward your friend made you irritable.

“So, uhm, are you going to be that cold and standoffish every time you meet somebody I know?” You asked, finally allowing your heart mind to win over your mind.

“Huh?”

His dark gaze had you swallowing the lump suddenly in your throat. “I wanted to ask if this is going to be normal, you being—.”

“Oh, I am so sorry little star; I wasn't aware I needed to wear a fake ass mask around people too.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, and unfortunately, unlike you, I like wearing my face. I don’t have to be someone I’m not to get people to like me. Because quite frankly, I don’t give a damn if anybody likes me.”

“I don't eit—”

Toji scoffed, leaning against the elevator wall and shaking his head at your words. “Oh, please. You’re just like every other client I’ve had. All you care about is money, your appearance, and what sponsor deals you get.” His words made your blood begin to boil.

“You’ve barely known me for a couple of hours, and you think you know who I am?”

“Oooh yeah, you're some small-town girl that made it big. And instead of showing the world who you really are, you put on this fucking mask, one that hides the true you from the prying eyes of the world. You care only about ticket sales, making your fans happy, and sponsorships like the one you were talking about with your manager not even thirty minutes ago. So yeah, I’m sure I got a good idea of who you are. It’s my job to read people..”

This was the best security in the business; bodyguard your manager had set you up with? Ha! Yeah, right, this man was nothing more than a dickhead that had a lot of opinions that were far from true?!

You laughed, pushing yourself away from the wall to stand in front of the doors before him. “That's the great thing about wearing a mask around people I don’t fucking know. They get to see the real me, but I get to see people for who they truly are.” Toji opened his mouth to continue arguing with you, but only for you to quickly shut him down, holding a hand up before you. “You were right about a couple things; I do put on a mask, I love my fans, but I could give a damn about sponsorships.” Toji pushed himself off the wall, towering over you, gritting his teeth as he tried to control his evident anger.

“Oh, you suddenly don’t give a damn about sponsorships? I just heard you talking to your manager about one.”

“You don’t know anything about me! That whole conversation had nothing to do with this sponsorship!”

Tojo tilted his head back with a laugh. “Oh, right, of course. You don’t care about your amazing condo or all the money you’re making; you don’t care about those so-called nonexistent sponsorship deals.” The elevator rattled like the lid to the rage threatening to explode.

“Alright, yes, I do live in a nice apartment, one with security that sucks, but it’s still home. But for your information, I don’t do this for the money. You don’t know what I have planned on doing with my life, so I don’t want to hear you make assumptions about me! The conversation you so rudely eavesdropped on had nothing to do with a sponsorship deal but a massive donation I’m making to the local Children’s Hospital. The same hospital is well renowned for helping unfortunate children. So yeah, that whole conversation you listened to was me telling my manager to tag the hospital in my video because the hospital inspired the song! It was a public service announcement, a reminder to help those who can’t help themselves.”

Your rant was unexpected. Toji had never had one of his clients talk to him like that; strangely, he liked it.

“And another thi—”

The doors to the elevator slowly slid open with a ding as you reached your apartment. Usually, your automatic lights would be on in the living room and kitchen, leading upstairs. But as the doors opened, no lights illuminated your bodyguard's face. You knew something was wrong, and just before Toy could look over your shoulder into the apartment,Toji’s hand quickly covered your eyes. He pulled you into his chest, and he listened in as he smashed on the lobby button on the button panel.

“Toji!?” You asked, placing your hands on top of his. “What is it?! Is something wrong? Let me see!”

Toji shook his head as if you could see his reaction, his hand reaching for the gun at the holster on his side as the door slowly shut. There was no way in hell you were going to see what was behind the door. Because he knew if you were to see what had happened in your apartment, you would never be the same. As the elevator slowly began to descend, Toji realized that he had been wrong about your stalker. It wasn’t some harmless joke.

This was fucking serious.

(TBC)

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

[sincerelyyuu]

hidden affections • itadori yuji

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ synopsis: after moving to a new school, you quickly gain the affections of a mystery admirer. ➼ pairing: itadori yuji x gn!reader ➼ content/tw: sfw, secretadmirer!yuji, tooth rotting fluff, no curses au, yuji is basically a lovesick puppy and is whipped for reader ➼ wc: 2K words ➼ a/n: desperately in need of some cute yuji content! likes and reblogs are appreciated ♡

Growing up, there weren't many people that Yuji found interesting enough to date. People seemed to gravitate towards his friendly and outgoing personality so making friends came easy to him. Even then, there wasn’t anyone that really caught his eye. Of course, he had his preferences (Jennifer Lawrence being one of them), but no one that he considered passing the threshold of friendship with.

That is until he met you.

Nobara had mentioned a new student was transferring into their class. It was a little unexpected considering it was the middle of the school year, so he was curious as to who this person was. When you first stepped into the classroom, Yuji felt the breath knock out of his lungs.

He always thought the idea of falling in love at first sight was so cheesy and something that only happened in movies. Yet suddenly all of those love songs on the radio made sense. You were the most attractive person he’s ever seen. He hadn’t realized he was staring until Nobara shoved an elbow into his side, snickering at the way his jaw snapped shut from the way it hung open. Meanwhile, you stood at the front of the class, doing your best to smile despite your nerves at all the attention on you.

“This is (y/n). They’ll be joining us for the remainder of the school year. They just moved here, so please do your best to make them feel welcome,” the sensei introduced before turning to you. “You may take a seat.”

Bowing in respect to the teacher and then once more to your new classmates, you briefly scanned the room. You decided to take a seat next to a pink haired male who waved hello enthusiastically to you, already feeling your nerves dissipate from his cheery demeanor.

“(y/n), right? I’m Itadori Yuji,” he greeted with a grin.

“It’s nice to meet you, Itadori,” you returned his smile, pulling the supplies out of your bag to get ready for the lesson. “I like your hair. It kind of reminds me of strawberry milk.”

The words leaving your lips before you could stop them, you looked at him sheepishly, “Sorry, was that weird to say?”

Yuji laughed lightly, a little embarrassed at your thoughts on his hair. “No, it’s fine. I haven’t heard that one before but thanks, I guess.”

“If you want, my friends Fushiguro, Kugisaki and I can show you around. I wouldn’t mind-, I mean, we wouldn’t mind,” he offers, quickly correcting himself and silently cursing himself for lamely stumbling over his words.

Thankfully, you didn’t seem to catch it and nodded your head eagerly, “I’d like that a lot.”

Just like that, you found yourself hanging out everyday with this trio of friends who accepted you into their group with open arms. There was rarely a day where you weren’t with them, be it group study sessions in the library or outside of school going on convenience store runs. Among this group, you naturally became closest with Yuji who always made you feel welcomed.

Meanwhile for Yuji, what started as innocent interest quickly evolved into a full blown crush on you. He was drawn to your bubbly and sweet nature and like a moth to a flame, his heart followed you. He found himself thinking of you all the time, wondering about what you liked or what you were up to. Wondering if you thought about him as much as he thought about you.

It was the little things that sent his heart racing. One random day, his number two pencil had rolled off his desk. Leaning down to grab it, his hand brushed against yours feeling the soft skin of your hand against his fingers. You were a step quicker than him and grabbed the pencil first, placing it back on his desk.

“Thanks,” he expressed, doing his best to fight back the rush of heat to his face.

You merely waved him off nonchalantly in an effort to tell him not to worry about it. After that, Yuji would purposely drop his pencils often in class, timing it so that his hands would brush against yours every time. You joked with him about how clumsy he was when in reality, his hand would tremble as it yearned to hold yours.

Yuji never had a problem with expressing himself to others. However, when it came to you, it was like his brain immediately turned to mush. All of his thoughts fly out of his head the minute you're on his mind. 

“Why don���t you just tell them how you feel?” Megumi asks him a different day. 

“What if they don’t feel the same way?” Yuji whines, plopping his head onto his folded arms on his desk. “It would be so embarrassing if they rejected me.”

“You don’t know unless you try,” his friend replies, mildly amused by the distress on Yuji’s face. “Besides, I’m surprised they haven’t figured it out yet.”

Raising his head, Yuji looks at him in surprise. “Wait, what do you mean?”

Megumi rolls his eyes. “You literally have hearts in your eyes whenever you look at them.”

Did he really? He couldn’t help it. Every time you walked into the room, it was like all he could see was you. The way your eyes light up whenever you wave hello to him. The crinkle of your nose whenever you laugh at something funny he said. Your voice dripping with honey every time you spoke to him. You were absolutely captivating to him.

“Look, I’m just saying that there are other ways to let them know your feelings,” the spiky haired teen suggested cryptically with the gears turning in Yuji’s head as he thought over his best friend’s advice.

The next day, you and Nobara were aimlessly chatting about plans for the weekend. When you walked into class, you were surprised to see a red and brown box sitting on top of your desk. Upon further inspection, you saw it was a pack of chocolate Meiji Hello Panda cookies, your favorite childhood snack.

“Whatcha’ got there, (y/n)?” Nobara asks as she throws her bag to the floor and slips into her desk beside yours.

“Cookies,” you answered and held up the box to her. “Did you see who left these here?”

The ginger shrugged, “Wasn’t from me. Is there a name?”

Taking a closer look at the box, you couldn’t find a sender name. Instead you found a tiny strawberry sticker pasted on the front. Why would someone leave you this on your desk? As if answering your thoughts, Nobara leaned in with a cheeky grin.

“Looks like someone has a secret admirer~,” she teases.

You shook your head at her in disbelief. “I doubt it. Maybe someone is just being nice?” you tried to reason with her.

“Oh, definitely. That’s exactly why I have a box of treats sitting on my desk, too,” Nobara sarcastically retorts and gestures to her empty desk. 

You shoved her shoulder playfully with a laugh, opening the box and shaking a couple of the shortbread pandas into her awaiting hand. Hearing a chair screech on your opposite side, you turned to see Yuji looking at you with expecting eyes.

“Hi, Itadori!” you greeted, holding out the box to him. “Want some? Someone really sweet left these for me on my desk today.”

“O-Oh, really? That was nice of them,” he stammered in response.

He stretched out his hand and let you drop a couple of the pieces onto his palm, crumpling the convenience store receipt with the name of the snack inside of his hoodie pocket.

Satisfied with how the first time went, Yuji started leaving anonymous tokens of affection at your desk every day. A single stem of your favorite flower (which he found out through Nobara who had a field day when he told her of his crush on you). A bag of candies as sweet as you. A cute bunny keychain that he won at the local arcade (and spent way too much money to get) that reminded him of you. Each time he would wake up extra early to make sure he was the first one to get to class to leave his little gift. 

Feeling a bit braver, Yuji also began writing love notes to you to slip into your locker. Just little one liners onto torn notebook paper of things he wished he could say to you but didn’t have the courage to say to your face.

“Seeing your smile is enough to brighten my whole day.”

“You are my sunshine on my darkest days.”

“Do you understand how amazing you are?”

With every passing day, you wanted so badly to find out who your secret admirer was. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t start to develop a crush on them back. How could you not when they were clearly trying hard to convey their feelings for you in the most endearing way?

The only clue you had was that same strawberry sticker that accompanied each gift and note. You did feel guilty that this mystery person was spending all this time and money on you without getting anything in return. The curiosity was starting to become unbearable.

So, you made up your mind. You were going to find out who this person was whether they were ready or not.

Waking up just as the sun was rising, you hurriedly got ready and made your way to school. Walking through the empty hallways, you stopped just as you were a step away from the door of your homeroom, careful to avoid being seen through the class windows. Your heart accelerated once you heard footsteps inside the classroom. They were already here. Inhaling deeply to steady your rapid heartbeat, you slid open the door.

“...Itadori?” you gasped.

The tall teen looked at you with wide eyes, unceremoniously dropping the adorable shiba dog plushie on your desk. He felt a panic rise in his chest. You weren’t supposed to be here yet. What were you doing here? 

Wracking his brain on what to say, he ultimately sighed. Turning to face you, he rubbed the back of his head bashfully, “You finally caught me. It was me.”

You felt your heart grow warm at finally matching a face to all the gifts and the love notes. To think it was your friend Yuji this entire time. As you studied the male, your eyes gravitated up to his strawberry pink locks. 

Strawberry. The strawberry sticker. You finally connected the dots. It was his way of telling you it was him and you didn’t even realize it.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you questioned softly. Walking up to the tense male, you saw him gulp as you stopped in front of him, looking so nervous and utterly adorable.

Yuji gave a half hearted laugh before replying, “Would you think I’m lame if I told you I was afraid to?"

"You just make me so nervous. I really like you. I’ve liked you for a while now but I didn’t know how to say it without ruining our friendship. I wanted to give you an out in case you didn’t feel the same.”

Picking up the plushie, he tentatively held it out to you. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach at the way you accepted it and held it to your chest affectionately.

“Yuji,” you gently beamed up at him. “Can I call you that?”

Yuji swore he died and went to heaven upon hearing you say his first name. Cheeks flushing, he nodded fervently. He felt his breath hitch when you leaned up to press a kiss to his reddening cheek.

“Thank you for everything,” your voice full of gratitude as you stared into his fawn colored eyes. “For the record, I really like you, too.”

Feeling a sudden wave of confidence, he placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him. “Does this mean I can finally take you on a date?” he asks, his cheeks aching from how widely he was smiling. 

Hiding your face behind the plushie in your hands, you peered up through your lashes at him with twinkling eyes. Too cute, Yuji thought.

“Just say the word and I’ll be there,” you promised.

[wooyoungiewritings]

Fire and water - Seonghwa x Reader

Summary: When you walk into the mechanic, you don't expect to see Seonghwa, the most intimidating person you've ever laid your eyes on. He's the complete opposite of you. But he opens the idea of something you've never considered, and before you know it, the door he has opened for you is already locked behind you.

Word count: 6K

Genre: SMUT

Warnings: smut, fem reader (fem pronouns), reader is very innocent and hwa is very not (lol), nicknames such as kitten and princess, oral sex (f receiving), hwa smokes, semi public sexual activities, lmk if I missed anything!

This is all for fun and is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way.

The intense smell of gasoline and oil fills your nose as you step into the unfamiliar space. Generic rock music plays from the radio and a few random posters hang on the walls. It doesn’t seem like the most professional place, but a car with an open hood in the middle of the room, assures you that you came to the right place. Your eyes scan the repair shop for someone to assist you, but the silence is enough of an answer for you. 

You knew you arrived at a late hour, having spent most of your day getting lost in the books at the library, but a part of you hoped you could make it before closing time. It was a simple Google search for the nearest mechanic that had you end up here, but you didn’t think twice to see the closing hours.

Your legs guide you further into the room, careful not to touch anything you shouldn’t. This is the first time you’ve been to the mechanic with your car that you bought a few months back. It was an already used car when you bought it, but you could get it cheap and desperately needed something to help you get to school. The feeling of being in here is intimidating in itself, having little to no knowledge of cars, but a lamp in your car display has been screaming for attention for way too long, you couldn’t ignore it anymore. 

“Are you lost?” The voice surprises you and you turn around to see a tall figure walking into the room. 

Seonghwa.

The tall, lean, beautiful man you’ve seen in the hallways of your university. He is always wearing an oversized old-school leather jacket, messy black hair, black nail polish, and has a cigarette in hand 24/7. He and his group are known on campus for being too intimidating to talk to, but somehow every time you see them, they each have a new girl wrapped around their finger. They party when everyone else is sleeping, don't care about what people are saying about them and they will fight if they have to. 

You’ve only spoken to him once when you accidentally walked in on him and a girl kissing in the library. You were searching for a specific book and made your way to the back rows of the library. As you were in your own head, you turned a corner and saw him with his tongue down her throat, her hands running through his (then) white hair. Your instant reaction was to freeze in your spot, panicking. This was the last thing you expected to see, especially at the library. 

As Seonghwa removed his gaze from the girl trapped between him and the shelves, and his eyes watched you carefully, you immediately woke up.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” You quickly said, turning around. Cheeks quickly blushed, and you felt the embarrassment rush over you. Not even for them, but for you.

You heard the girl mumble something to Seonghwa, and a second later, she passed you and walked out of your sight. Heart pounding fast against your chest, you slowly turned around before your eyes landed on Seonghwa. Relaxed, he was leaning up against the shelf with his arms crossed, staring you down.

“You can take what you came for.” His low voice spoke. 

Slowly you walked further down the row, trying your best not to look at Seonghwa. Focused on the note in your hand with the book name you were searching for, you scanned the rows for the book. It seemed like an easy task, but you felt Seonghwa’s eyes locked on you with every move you made, making this simple mission impossible. 

Your eyes kept going over the same place again and again, slowly getting frustrated that you couldn’t get your shit together. 

As you looked down on the note again, reading the same line for the 29th time, you suddenly felt something watching over your shoulder. The smell of gasoline and cigarettes surrounded you, and it was like everything froze again. Seonghwa’s presence was close to you, but he wasn’t even touching you. You slowly turned your head to the side, and Seonghwa was peeking over your shoulder, looking down at the note in your hand. 

Not a word was said when he lifted his arm, grabbed a book, and handed it down to you. Your breathing stopped as you saw the book you were so desperately looking for, resting in Seonghwa’s hand. Your hands slowly reached out for the book, and you couldn’t help but look up and see his eyes watching you with no expression. You couldn’t tell what was going on behind those eyes. 

“Thank you.” You whispered, not being able to get more words out. 

“You’re welcome.” He answered coldly, still watching your every move. 

Was he pissed at you for interrupting? Was he tired? Was he happy? Relieved? You had absolutely no idea.

So you quickly saw your opportunity to get away, sending him an awkward smile before you practically ran away.

And that was the first and only time you’ve spoken to Seonghwa. Until now. 

“No, I was looking for someone to help me.” You say, knowing he’s been waiting for an answer for a little too long. “I need an oil change.”

He takes a few steps further into the room, and you notice the white towel in his hands, filled with black oil stains. He’s wearing a black tank top and jeans, also filled with black stains.

You didn’t know much about him, and you had no idea that he worked here. Looking back though, it made sense for you. He was often seen with a “dirty” outfit, with black oil stains on his clothes and skin.

“Brave of you to walk in here in an all-white outfit,” His eyes travel down your body, and you suddenly feel small. You look down at yourself in your white cardigan, white skirt, and white knee socks. Of course, you didn’t think much of it when you put your outfit together this morning. “Give me five minutes, I just need to finish this,” He walks closer to the parked car in the room, throwing the white cloth over so it rests on his shoulder. 

Restless, not knowing what to do with yourself, you step closer to the wall, trying your best not to be in his way. “Careful standing too close to that, or you’ll get oil on your skirt. It stains. You can sit on the stool over there while you wait.” He points at a black stool in the corner and you quickly find your way over there so you can let him work in peace.

You take your time studying the place, not knowing if it’s normal to have a conversation at a place like this. How long will this take? Does he own this place? Should you leave him alone? You decide to focus on the rock music playing while you silently watch Seonghwa do his thing.

He’s leaning over the open hood of the car, screwing something and rubbing his hands in the white cloth after. You might not have any idea of how to repair cars, but he makes whatever he does look so easy. He knows exactly what to do and how to do it. 

He closes the hood of the car and walks to the other corner of the room. You can’t see what he’s pressing, but suddenly the metal wall behind you goes up, and you look behind you to see other cars parked outside. It rolls all the way up, and Seonghwa walks to the car, gets in, and drives it out of the room and to the parking lot. 

You silently watch him as he comes back and walks towards you. “Alright, can I have your keys?” He asks, reaching out his hand. You’re quick to hand him the key with a heart keyring attached, and there’s a tug on his lips as it’s placed in his hand. “Be right back.” 

A moment later, he arrives in your car, parks it in the middle of the room, and walks out to close the metallic garage door again. Once it’s closed, he grabs a few things from racks on the walls and walks to your car.

“You want me to do a routine maintenance check as well? I have the time.” He asks as he opens the hood.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to.” You say as confidently as possible. Truth be told, you just want to have your car fixed so you can go home. Seonghwa doesn’t respond, he just grabs a mechanic’s dolly, lays his back on top and suddenly his upper half is under your car. A few moments pass by in silence, the only thing filling the air is the music playing and the sounds of metal crashing as he works, and he rolls back out and goes to work in the front trunk. Leaning over your car, working and changing the oil, he once again looks professional and focused, and that makes you curious.

“You work here a lot?” You ask.

“Yeah, every day pretty much.” His back is turned to you, but you see him pull out a pack of cigarettes. He places one in his mouth, flicks the lighter, and a cloud of smoke escapes. His body turns towards you, the pack of cigarettes in hand. “Want one?”

“No, thank you.” You shake your head. He continues to work on your car, cigarette dangling from his mouth. “Is that safe?”

“What?” 

“Smoking. While doing that.” You point to the car. You’ve seen too many movies including fire and cars, so a quick concern washes over you, scared that a huge fire would suddenly occur. 

“Smoking is never safe. You’re always playing with death when turning one on. If you’re asking if it’s safe to smoke over an open hood, then it’s inconsequential. Your car won’t blow up if that’s what's worrying you.” He glances back at you. His black hair is pushed back, but a few strands have fallen down into his face.

“If it’s not safe then why do you do it?” You can’t help but ask, curious if he really doesn’t care or if it’s just an act.

“Helps me concentrate.” He simply answers, going back to work. “What about you?”

“I don’t smoke.”

“No, do you do anything that's bad for you?” Another cloud of smoke fills the space around him, and he rubs his hands in the white cloth, leaving black stains. The black oil on his hands blends in with his black nail polish, and somehow it looks good. 

Just like he was that one time in the library, he’s once again impossible to read. And his question leaves you silent for a moment, not knowing what to answer.

“Oh… Uhm, I don’t know. I don’t think so.” You shrug, and a light scoff comes from Seonghwa.

“Shocking.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Your brows come together in question.

His body turns to you, eyes going down to your outfit, hand gesturing to you. “You look like you’d be spending a week in church if you walked across a red light on the street.” There’s a small tug on his lips as he speaks. He’s entertained by you. You look like the complete opposite of him. In your white outfit, knee-high socks, and white little skirt you look like a saint next to him in his all dirty, messy black clothes. Like fire and water, you're the opposites.

“Well, I don’t.” You say.

“You don’t have to take it as a bad thing. Church girls can be full of surprises.” There's something hidden in the way he says it, and the smirk on his lips makes your cheeks blush. “I’ve seen you at school, you know. Often at the library, surrounded by academic books you probably read just for fun.”

“Well, I like the idea of knowledge. It gets you further in life.”

“It depends, doesn’t it? Don’t you think knowledge can hold you back from doing certain things too?”

“Maybe. But I also just like staying at the library. It’s fun.”

Another scoff leaves him, and you get the feeling that he’s mocking you. 

“What?”

“If your idea of ‘fun’ is reading at the library, then I’d love to see you on a Saturday night.” He sends you a smirk before going back to focusing on the car. His back muscles tense as he works over the open hood, and you can’t help but stare. The black tank top really does him justice as he moves his arms around, and you shake your head, trying to focus on something else.

“What do you study?” You ask, trying to change the subject.

“Business, language and culture.”

“So you don’t wanna be a mechanic?” 

“Still figuring it out.” He answers shortly. “You study what?”

"Psychology.”

"So, those biochemistry books I see you with at the library really are just for fun?" He raises an eyebrow and smirks, making you feel annoyed that he has you figured out so easily.

“As I said, I think knowledge gets you further in life.” You justify. He shakes his head in disbelief and you hear something close to a chuckle leave him. The sound is nice, especially since you’ve never heard or even seen this man smile. So this small chuckle is enough for you to continue this small banter you have going. “You don’t look like the type to go to the library.” 

“I don’t think we use the library for the same reasons.” He turns around toward you again and takes a long drag of his cigarette. He leans up against your car as your eyes lock on his figure, eyes piercing on you as he blows out the smoke. “Do you know about the library’s back room, princess?” His nickname for you makes your mind blank, and you shake your head no. “Proves my point.”

“What’s the back room?” You’re curious.

He’s studying you for a moment before answering. “A place to fuck.” 

Like a switch, your entire expression changes and you feel your cheeks heat up. Never have you heard of this ‘back room’ before. No, you probably (absolutely, most certainly) wouldn’t even use it if you had known about it, but it shocks you that it’s a thing. 

Seonghwa’s smirk grows on his lips as he studies your face. “Your expression says it all. You’re such a good girl you couldn’t even hide it if you wanted to.” 

You fall silent for a moment, not knowing what to say or how to move on from here. Until you’re reminded of the first time you spoke to Seonghwa.

“I saw you at the library once. With a girl.” You say shortly.

“Yeah, I remember. The back room was occupied so I took her down to the part of the library no one comes to. Well, except you.” The way his eyes are locked on you while talking about this is making your heart beat faster. 

“Is it even allowed?” 

“Would it ruin you to break the rules once in a while? Have you ever had sex in public before?”

“N-no!” Your cheeks are burning at this point.

“Don’t hate it till you try it. It's thrilling.” You’re not sure but you think you see him send you a wink as the smirk grows on his lips. A few more strands of hair have fallen down in his eyes, framing his face perfectly, before he runs his hand through his hair to push it back. It makes you fall under his trance for a moment, but you quickly flicker your eyes away, scared to fall for the beautiful brown eyes of his.

“So what, you only go to the library to sleep with someone? You don’t think there’s a better place to make love?”

“‘Make love’, how adorable.” Seonghwa is full-on smiling at this point, enjoying this conversation the more it escalates. The way your cheeks reddened, the slight shake in your voice, your flickering eyes. It’s clear to him that you’re not used to talking about these kinds of things, and he loves it. 

“I don’t see what’s funny.” You say.

“You make love on your honeymoon. You fuck everywhere else.” He says, as a matter of fact. 

“I don’t.” You disagree, fighting to keep your eyes on him and not back down from his piercing ones.

“No, I figured.” Another cloud of smoke leaves his lips and frames his face before continuing to fix the car, still looking back at you occasionally as you’re having this conversation. “You’re seeing anyone?”

“No.” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. His gaze on you seems so intimidating, even his presence itself. There’s a confidence, almost an arrogance to him that makes him so unnerving. But despite this, you can’t help but ask further. “Do you? Since you use the ‘back room’?”

“You only fuck-” He stops himself and holds his hands up. “Excuse me, make love, with people you date?” His questions make you fall silent for a few seconds.

You don’t know Seonghwa well, so this conversation is not exactly what you expected. This question could also open an entirely new topic of conversation that you weren’t sure would be comfortable for either of you.

The conversation about sex is not normal for you, especially since you’re not the most experienced. Despite having been in a relationship with the guy who took your virginity, it didn’t end the way you had dreamed of. 

You had always romanticized the thought of losing your virginity to the person you would spend the rest of your life with, but when you found out he had cheated on you during your relationship, your world crumbled. At the time, all of your insecurities came to life, and despite knowing you had done nothing wrong in the relationship to prevent this, you couldn’t help but feel like you had done something wrong when it came to sex.

With time, you promised yourself not to let your ex have an effect on you, so you did everything you could to gain back your confidence, and you did.

You clear your throat, taking your time to find the right answer. “Well... I’ve only made love to one person and that was my ex. So yes.”

“And you only stayed in the bedroom?” 

A moment of silence.

“Yes, we did. I just don’t understand why you would do it anywhere but in the bedroom. There’s literally a bed, I can’t imagine how uncomfortable everything else must be.

Seonghwa throws his head back before looking at you in disbelief. “I didn’t think you could get any more good. You must be first in line to heaven when doomsday comes.” He puts his smoke out in the ashtray on a working table next to the car. “Public sex is not about how comfortable it is. And just because it’s public, does not mean people are watching you. That’s a whole other kink.” Seonghwa is slowly making his way towards you on the stool. His large frame is closing in on you, speaking in a lower volume as he’s coming closer. “It’s the feeling of someone possibly being able to see. Having to keep quiet, being close, finding whatever excuse you have to leave and drag the other person into a random room. Comfortability is not a necessity at that point. Then you don’t care if you fuck in a bed, against a table, or the hood of a car.” 

He’s standing right in front of you. You try your best to control your breathing as he looks down at you, you have to look up at him through your eyelashes. The smell of cigarettes surrounds you as he is near, but there’s also an obvious pull of something dangerous yet addicting when being close to him. You don’t know where it comes from, but you can't help but want more. 

You’ve never caught yourself thinking of Seonghwa this way, but he’s awfully good at wrapping you around his finger and thinking of things you’ve never had before.

“So what, how does this ‘backroom’ work?” You suddenly ask, almost surprising yourself. What did you want with the information? You have no idea.

Seonghwa finds your questions endearing. The innocence in your voice has him smiling, letting you see his perfect teeth. You’ve never looked at him so closely, you find yourself so fascinated by him. The raw, scary persona he is, but yet his face is perfectly made like an angel. Soft and beautiful. You suddenly find yourself completely under his spell, studying his every feature.

“What, tempted to give it a try? I can show you if you’re interested.” There’s a hint of something in his voice, you can’t tell if he’s kidding, but even the thought of him taking you to the room, has you notice a certain heat between your legs.

“N-no, I’m just curious.” Your voice shakes from how close he is to you along with his words.

“Careful with that. Curiosity killed the cat, you know.” He then steps back and walks back to the car to continue working on it as if nothing happened. Seonghwa is working over the open hood, unaware of how he left you feeling inside. 

Your heart is beating fast against your chest as he casually works in front of you. Like he turned on something inside of you, you suddenly notice things about him you didn’t before. How his hand curls around the wrench, how his shirt lifts when leaning over the car, exposing the skin on his waist, and how his muscles tense when he works. His jeans hang low, just below his waist, revealing even more skin and you somehow can’t help but look.

“Getting awfully quiet over there, princess. Your mind running?” Seonghwa’s head turns to you, catching you looking at him. Your eyes go to his, and you both freeze. He studies your face for a few seconds before grabbing the hood of the car and closing it. You both look at each other, a certain tension between you.

“Come here,” Seonghwa says as he leans against the car. Your body hesitates to do as he says, but you eventually cave in and get down from the stool to slowly make your way towards him. 

Seonghwa throws the white cloth on the table before looking down at you. The smell of cigarettes and oil enhances again as you’re close to him, and Seonghwa taps the hood of the car with his hand. You look at the hood, suddenly unsure of everything you do, but push the thoughts away and jump up on the hood to sit. Your feet dangle, but you freeze when Seonghwa steps in front of you, resting his hands on either side of you. 

“You’re thinking of something special?” His low voice asks. He’s searching for your eyes, but your heart is pounding and your eyes struggle to stay in one place. The heat between your legs is driving you insane, never having felt like this before.

“No... Maybe.”

His eyes continue to study your face. His expression is still impossible to read, yet his actions make you feel a whole new type of way.

“Look... I’d gladly take you, right here right now, if you want. We don’t even have to fuck, I can just make you cum if that’s what you want.” His bluntness throws you off, yet you didn’t expect those words to have such a big impact on you.

“Won’t someone come in? Or hear?” You worry.

“No. They won’t.” He whispers, slowly leaning forward. 

You can’t tell what’s happening, even if you had a gun to your head. Seonghwa is not someone you should be spending time with. He’s the complete opposite of you, yet that draws you in like nothing else.

“Okay.” You cave in.

Not a second later, Seonghwa’s lips are on yours. Everything is happening so fast, that your brain isn’t even realizing who you’re kissing. The guy you’ve seen scare people away from their seats is having his hands on you, pulling you closer for a kiss. His tongue slips through your lips and you allow his every move. 

It’s a whole new experience to kiss someone like Seonghwa. The taste, the moves, the desire. He knows what he’s doing, and the confidence shines through, even just through the kiss.

He pulls back, leaving you thirsty for more, and a small tug on Seonghwa’s lips assures you that this is actually going to happen. “First… How do you usually like it, kitten? How do you like for someone to make you cum?” He whispers.

“I’m not.. no one has ever... I mean-”

“No one has made you cum before?”

You try analyzing his question in your mind before you shake your head no. 

“I thought you had a boyfriend a while back?”

“I did..”

There’s a short moment of silence where Seonghwa just reads your face and takes in what you just told him. “So let me get this straight... You only had mediocre, boring vanilla sex with this guy, he never made you cum and you still dated him?” He lifts an eyebrow, trying to understand the situation. You slowly nod, confirming his question. “Did he ever cum?”

“Every time.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding... Now that’s just selfish of him,” He removed a piece of hair from your face and leaned his face closer to your ear. You felt him slowly press his lips on the soft spot on your neck before gracing his lips over your ear. “Can I get the pleasure to be the one to make you cum, princess?”

“Y-yes.” You’re almost panting at this point, craving his touch more than you’d ever expect. Seonghwa holds your face in his hands as he presses his lips hard against yours again. The smell of cigarettes surrounds you as you get lost in him, yet you for some reason get addicted to the idea of him. Like he’s your kind of nicotine.

“I’ll try not to get oil all over you.” He assures as pulls away from you.

“That’s okay.” You tell him, suddenly not caring about the stains. This makes Seonghwa’s lips turn into a smirk, slightly amazed at the sudden change in you. His hands run up your thigh, leaving black stains from his fingerprints on your skin.

“You like the idea of my fingerprints on you? Looking in the mirror when you get home and seeing my hands on your thighs?” He goes to kiss your neck as his fingers dig into the flesh on your things. Unable to speak, you nod, wanting him to touch you even more. “Lean back for me, kitten.”

You scoop further back on the hood of your car, leaning back on your elbows to get a view of Seonghwa. His hands go to your hips to drag down your underwear till it completely leaves your body. The cold air hits your heat as Seonghwa parts your legs to lean over the hood and get a better view of your cunt. 

“Gosh, you’re glistening, princess. Are you that wet already? The idea of cumming in a public space is turning you on now?” 

You don’t get to react before his tongue suddenly slides between your folds, getting a long taste of you. The feeling makes you gasp, but you quickly cover your mouth with your hand, silencing yourself as much as possible.

“You taste so sweet, kitten.” He continues taking long strokes in between your folds, making sure to lick your clit as well. You look down to see his fingerprints on your thighs, turning you on even more. A moan escapes through your lips as he starts focusing on your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue on the sensitive nub. You can barely say anything as he takes his time, eating you like he craves you. 

“I can’t believe someone had the chance to make you cum, and he didn’t even do it right.” Seonghwa shakes his head with a smirk before taking a few more deep licks against your pussy. “How embarrassing of him.”

“Will you... do it right, then?” You asked, looking at him with doe eyes. Seonghwa stands up further to look down at you spread out on the hood in front of him. His fingers, still stained slightly with black oil, go to your chin, and tilts your head up slightly to get a better look at him. 

“Kitten, you’re gonna wish you came to me sooner when I’m done with you.” The look in his eyes almost works like a promise before he leans down to your pussy again. “Tell me how you like it, princess. Use your words.” 

Once again you have to fight yourself to get actual words out when he runs his tongue between your folds again. This time, he focuses on your hole, slipping his tongue in before licking up your pussy again. 

“Like that... That’s really g-good.” You manage to get out, already feeling the shocks through your body when he licks the right places. 

“Fuck, you taste so good.” He spits down on your pussy before going back and to lick it again. Your legs slowly give up, but Seonghwa holds them open, allowing him full view and access. He goes back to sucking your clit, making you moan through your hand once again. “Best cunt I’ve tasted, kitten. Sweeter than anything.”

His tongue works around, he knows what he’s doing. He occasionally looks up at you, making eye contact as he runs his tongue between your folds. This makes you go absolutely crazy, seeing him go down on you like this. Eating, slurping you up. The sounds from the repair shop are out of this world, filled with your moans and him slurping all the juices from your pussy.

“Please don’t stop.” You throw your head back in pleasure, slowly feeling your orgasm approach. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He grins. His mouth goes to your clit again, sucking and rolling his tongue over it. Restless with your hand, it goes to his hair and you grab a handful. The black locks in your hand look amazing as his face is against your cunt, eating and licking you up. Your abandonment starts to send shocks through your body, Seonghwa having to lock your legs down so he can continue. 

The feeling is overwhelming, you can barely hold back your moans anymore. His tongue is flat against your pussy as he flicks your clit with the tip, making sure to hit all the best spots. He works fast, barely letting you get used to one way before he moves next to the new. 

“Seonghwa, I’m gonna-” You moan his name as the feeling of your orgasm quickly starts to form. Lastly, his tongue goes to your clit, sending you over the edge. Your whole body is a shaking, moaning mess as he eats you out of your orgasm. He doesn’t miss a spot as he slurps up the juices from your pussy, licking you one last time, everywhere, before separating himself from you.

You look up to see his chin glistening from your orgasm. He has a smirk on his lips as he pulls you up to sit and presses his lips against yours. Quickly, a specific taste of something mixes as you kiss, his tongue added as well. 

“You taste yourself on my tongue?” He asks confidently, and you quickly realize what the taste is. You. “Amazing, don’t you think?” He smirks before giving you one last kiss before pulling slightly away. He stays between your legs as you scoop forward a bit, still on the hood but with your feet dangling now. 

“Should I.. with you?” You almost whisper.

“No need, princess. Eating your pretty pussy was enough for me.” He smirks as he places his hands on each side of you. You blush again, never having someone comment on your pussy before, but you can’t help but like how it sounds coming from him. “So.. first time having someone make you cum and it being in a public space. What do you think?”

“It was.. fun.” You admit, speaking the truth. The rush of doing it here, with Seonghwa, at his place of work was not something you ever expected to happen, but it had a thrill you never felt before.

“See, that we can agree is ‘fun’. You have school tomorrow?” The change of subject throws you off for a second, having to get your mind clear after just having the biggest orgasm of your life.

“Yeah,” You reply, remembering something important, “How much do I owe you?” Your words leave him with a wrinkle between his brows. 

“For eating you out?” 

“N-no! For the uhh.. the car.”

He looks somewhat relieved after you clarify, “Oh... I don’t know, it’s hard to say. I know you said you didn’t want a maintenance check but I couldn’t help but notice that your serpentine belt is filled with cracks.” 

You don’t even know what a serpentine belt is.

“What does that mean?” You ask.

“That means that it’ll break at some point and then you’ll risk getting stuck in the middle of the road because your car can’t drive.” He explains, and you suddenly understand the situation. You can't help but notice how quick he is to move on, talking about your car after he just had his tongue in between your folds.

You know he's not a stranger to sex, but that also intimidates you.

“Oh..”

He reads your expression for a second as you try to figure out what to do. You don’t want to be stuck in the middle of the road when driving, knowing that’s gonna be even more expensive. But it’s late, so leaving your car here would mean that you would have to order a cab or take the bus.

“I’m done here for the day. How about I give you a ride home? Then we’ll drive here together from school tomorrow, I’ll finish your car, and you’ll get to drive home in a car that doesn’t have the risk of crashing down at any moment?” 

You look up at him to see his expression back to its usual unreadable one, “I mean... If that’s okay with you?” You ask.

This makes him smile. He looks down on your thighs to see the stains he left on you, before meeting your eyes again.

“Of course, kitten. I’ll just grab my stuff.” 

He then disappears away and into another room, leaving you on the hood of your car. The fingerprints on your thighs are a raw indication of what has happened tonight, and you’re sure your clothes are stained with black oil as well. 

When he arrives again, he’s wearing his black leather jacket. You follow him to his car outside, and he drives you home. When you arrive at your apartment, you can’t help but look in the mirror immediately. Seonghwa’s fingerprints are all over your thighs and hips, almost marking you. Your cardigan, skirt, and socks all have stains on them, and there’s a slight embarrassment in your gut when thinking of what happened tonight. 

You can’t help but feel embarrassed at the thought of seeing Seonghwa in the hallways of the university, especially since he has to pick you up from school tomorrow and go back to the place where he just gave you your biggest orgasm. But even so, you’re even more tempted to walk through the door he just opened for you. The wilder side, the dangerous and unfamiliar. 

It makes you blush even thinking of him, and when your phone suddenly buzzes in your hand, you’re shocked to see a certain name on your screen.

Seonghwa made you save his contact when dropping you off, saying it was for future car problems. But you didn't expect a text already, and you know the door he has opened for you, is already locked behind you. 

Seonghwa See you tomorrow, kitten

Taglist: @canigotosleep--plz (comment if you wanna be added to my taglist!)

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlight prompt: Danny and Duke being childhood friends, but Danny tells Duke the moment the accident happens and such cause he trusts him, only for Danny to go radio silent when giw decide to block the town communications in senior year.

So Duke-does he tell Danny he's Signal or not? Up to you-gets worried the longer no contact goes by.

Maybe the away game thing seen in other posts where the sports team still does away games and Danny gets enough good will with star or dash maybe and they send a message to Duke that's some coded phrase and Duke knows shits going down?

(yourlocalcorviddad, it's a side blog so didn't want to send from main sorry)

Danny is not someone who is on his mind a lot, these days. It’s to be expected, considering how distance and their double lives eat up all the time they have to talk. Really, it’s a miracle that they were able to speak enough to learn about their own individual vigilante work, especially with Duke bouncing around foster homes for a good portion of that time. 

They haven’t spoke in months but that’s normal for them.

Duke thinks he can be forgiven for not knowing something was wrong. He still won’t forgive himself for it.

“Danny’s gone?” he repeats, feeling numb. There’s static ringing in his ears, his entire world hollowing out.

The guy in front of him looks grim, unable to meet Duke’s eyes. Did he introduce himself? Duke can’t remember, can’t keep his spiraling thoughts straight in his head. “He’s gone. His entire family is gone and we haven’t been able to call for help because… well…”

“It’s those guys, right? The ones in white?”

“You know about them?”

“Danny told me. Danny told me a lot about what he did in Amity Park.”

The guy lets out a slow, relieved breath. “Good, then I don’t have to explain. Sorry, it’s just that it’s not something we talk about, especially out in the open. After the last few months, things got really bad. We know the GIW took the Fentons, but we can’t find out how or why and they’ve got us on a tight lockdown.”

“Then how did you get out?” Duke asks. Another arguably more important question pops into his mind a second later. “Actually, how do you know about Danny and… you know. The other things.”

The grimness on the guy’s expression fades away some beneath the sudden shame and embarrassment. “Oh, that. Well, I dunno how much he told you about his, like, daily life, but, um. I’m Dash. Baxter. I bullied him?”

Dash. 

Dash. That’s a name he recognizes. 

Danny’s complained about Dash a lot in the past. Since they were in middle school, really. Duke would always get mad on Danny’s behalf about how terribly he’s being treated, how no one would stop such obvious bullying. And every time, Danny would laugh it off and say in that soft voice of his, It’s alright, Duke, really. Having you care is more than enough for me.

It never stopped the bullying, though, but the way Danny talked about Dash changed when they both entered high school. He was still annoyed about everything Dash did, but there were less insults about him, less venting about every little thing that pissed Danny off about him, as if he just didn’t care anymore.

And there is, of course, the most memorable time Danny called Duke about Dash over the summer.

Hey, Danny, Duke had began, only to be cut off by Danny yelling, I kissed Dash?! Or he kissed me?! What am I supposed to do now!

And Duke, despite the jealousy he felt at hearing that Danny and Dash kissed, laughed so hard he cried while Danny yelled at him to be helpful. 

There wasn’t any discussion on Dash since, beyond a comment here and there about a funny fanboying thing Dash had said about Phantom. The focus of their conversations shifted towards how hard it was to be heroes or vigilantes, quiet reassurances that they’re both doing the best they can, tips traded about best ways to patch themselves up and get through the night. Sometimes, it felt like Danny was the only person in the world to really know Duke; all his pain and promises, his dreams, everything he was Before and who he became in the After.

He’s missed Danny, but the last message Danny sent him told him that things were getting rough in Amity Park, and to not call or contact him until he reached out first.

So Duke trusted in Danny and focused his attention in Gotham, putting his all into becoming a better hero, someone people can rely on. 

He thinks that maybe he should have fallen into the Bats’ bad habits of invading privacy to make sure Danny’s okay. 

Too late for that now, though.

“I know you,” Duke says after a long moment. “He talked about you sometimes. Come with me, we have a lot to discuss.”

Dash looks appropriately nervous, but he doesn’t argue. 

It’s a tense, quiet walk to the library where Barbara works. She’s stationed at the front desk when he arrives and greets him with a smile, eyes flicking towards Dash in question.

“Hey, Babs, got a private study room open?”

Her gaze sharpens and Duke can’t help the feeling of relief that flows through him, knowing that Oracle is ready to look out for him. “Let me check,” she says, turning towards the computer to click around a few pages. “Study room 8 is open.”

That’s the study room with a working lock and soundproofing. It also has cameras and a mic inside, but all the other study rooms have one too, just for safety purposes. Things could always go terribly wrong when people are locked together in a small room, and having video and audio evidence of what happened has assisted in more than a few cases. 

He leads them up to the second floor, past the students studying and the group of young children in the back corner of the library listening intently to a read aloud. 

The only occupied study rooms are those up front, closer to the stairs. The back rooms are empty and quiet, the perfect place for a little impromptu interrogation.

“So,” Duke says as he closes the door to study room 8 behind them. Dash sits down as if this is just a casual conversation, but the way his foot taps against the floor betrays his nerves. “Danny’s gone. And somehow, that lead you to me.”

Dash glance around, then leans closer to drop his voice into a harsh whisper. “The Guys In White got some insane upgrades a few months ago and forced every citizen of Amity Park into a surveillance state. The entire Fenton family is gone, but we all know it’s really because they want Danny.”

“Explain the situation in Amity Park some more.”

“Well. It’s like this: we didn’t take them seriously, so they upped their moves and got us trapped. No one goes in or out of Amity Park without good, verifiable reason. We have a curfew and we can be randomly stopped and searched for ectoplasm or exposure to ghosts. Most of the ghosts have left, but a few of the stronger ones hang around to cause trouble to get the GIW off our backs for a bit.”

“So how did you end up in Gotham?”

“I was invited to tour the college. And since outsiders were expecting me, the GIW let me go. But there’s definitely some that tailed me to Gotham, but I can’t find them at all. Even talking to you now is a huge risk for me.”

Which means they don’t have much time to talk before someone comes looking for Dash. His words, paired with everything Duke’s heard from Danny, paint a deeply unpleasant picture in his mind. “Are you going to be in trouble?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. It’s Danny we’re all worried about. He told me before he got caught that if anything happened to him, I should find you. Tucker helped us narrow down where exactly you are and sent you that text to get you to where we met.”

“What do you think I can do?”

“I don’t know,” Dash admits. “But Danny trusts you, and he needs your help.”

Duke was never going to say no to this request to begin with, but damn if those words don’t make him want to run to Amity Park without waiting for anyone else.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. I’ll help rescue him and bring down the GIW. You should go now, before they get too suspicious.”

“What are you planning?”

“I got a couple of friends who are good at destroying government property. Trust me, you’ll see what we’re up, we’re pretty noticeable if we’re pissed off enough.”

“Don’t take too long then,” Dash says, standing up, “I expect a good show from you. See you around, man.”

And with that, Dash pats Duke’s shoulder and leaves the study room. Duke doesn’t follow after him.  He’s got a rescue to start planning, and the less time he wastes, the better.

In the end, it’s pretty simple. It’s not a hard mission at all when the time comes for them to act, but the amount of data they gather and have to shift through is daunting. But that’s more Tim and Barbara’s forte, so he trusts them to handle it. 

Together with Red Robin, Spoiler, and Black Bat, they hit Amity Park hard and fast. 

One night was spent learning the lay of the land and every station and lab set up by the GIW. The second night was spent burning it all down and tossing open cages full of green blob ghosts and a few transparent, weakly glowing human ghosts. Stronger ghosts, glowing brightly, joined them in a few places with battle cries and maniacal laughter.

They split up and took down all the bases and patrol stations on their own, sweeping through the city like vengeful shadows. 

By dawn, the GIW were in shambles, without any bases or equipment, and rounded up for arrest. 

Cass was the one to find Danny and his family; his parents were forced to create weapons for the GIW under threat of Danny and Jazz’s torture. Danny was locked up like an animal and studied. Jazz had restraints on, including a muzzle, and a bloodthirsty rage in her eyes. Apparently, she had put up the most fight and, while being studied for repeated exposure to ectoplasm and radiation, started biting people.

The Fentons are big names in this conflict. Tim makes the executive decision to burn one of his out-of-state safehouses so they can hide and recover in peace, then promptly moves them into it as soon as the EMTs give them the all clear. They’re gone by the time the sun is rising over the horizon, and the curious Amity Parkers that have gathered behind the blockade of police cars have to be reassured that the Fentons have been taken away for their protection, not for further abuses. Even then, tensions are high and the locals are clearly prepared to start rioting now that they have a chance to fight back.

As vigilantes, they’re not meant to interact with cops much. Perhaps it’s simply their experiences in Gotham that keep them at a distance, disappearing into the neighborhood the moment attention shifts off of them. Either way, Duke is hurrying out of Amity Park with the rest of the team on his heels, eager to return to Gotham and follow up on their own leads to make sure the GIW is properly gutted and dismantled. 

Duke heads off for the Hatch as soon as they reach Gotham, hoping to shed the suit and finally be able to call Danny. The guilt of not noticing how bad things had gotten rolls through his stomach, and more than that, he’s missed hearing Danny’s voice. 

The first few calls go straight to voicemail. Duke leaves a quick message asking Danny to let him know how he’s doing as soon as he can talk. 

Then he goes for a shower and to change into civilian clothes, prepared to make his way to Wayne Manor to let Bruce know how everything went. And hopefully distract him from his Disappointed Father/Leader Lecture about taking on missions behind his back, as if Duke can’t handle himself. And also because Bruce has no leg to stand on when it comes to this. He’s fully prepared to throw that entire lecture back into his face at a moment’s notice.

The post-mission exhaustion is hitting him hard and fast. Duke has to brace himself against the wall once he’s out of the shower, resisting the urge to just lie on the floor and sleep there until he starts feeling more human. 

Somehow, he gets himself into some sweatpants and a plain shirt, pulls on a pair of mismatched socks, and begins gathering his things so he can get to the Batcave. 

He’s in no state to be driving. Maybe someone would be willing to take him there?

Just as he reaches for his phone to thumb through his contacts and see who he can bother, it buzzes in his hand. Duke blames the way he jumps on his exhaustion, then blinks his tired eyes to squint at the name that pops up onto the screen.

Danny.

All at once, his exhaustion fades away. A rush of adrenaline runs through him as he scrambles to accept the call, already pacing around the room so he doesn’t fall asleep. 

“Hello?”

There’s a moment of silence, then the exhale of a breath that turns to static over the call. “Duke,” Danny’s tired voice says. “Duke…”

“You doing okay? I couldn’t get to you before you and your family had to leave and go into hiding, but I’ve been worried about you, man.”

“I’m good. We’re all fine, now. Fentons are strong, you know? We’ll bounce back in no time.”

From what he’s heard about Danny’s family, that’s most definitely true. He’s seen the pictures of walls Jack Fenton has burst through with his body. It’ still hard to believe that no one in the family is a meta, outside of Danny.

“You need anything? I can get it to you, just say the word. Anything at all.”

Danny hums, then asks with a playful note in his voice, “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“I need you. How fast can you come meet me? I’ll even pay for express delivery.”

Duke laughs, so relieved at hearing the lightness return to Danny’s voice that he feels weak in the knees. “It’ll be at least two days. I gotta sleep and debrief with Batman before I can see you. It’s gonna take some time to get out of Gotham again.”

“Maybe I can go to you, instead,” Danny suggests. “Fly over and be there is less than an hour.”

“Are you in any shape to be flying right now?”

“I’m fine! Already healing and everything,” Danny insists.

“It might be dangerous if any rogue GIW agents go after you.”

“Well,” Danny says, “That’s why I need to get to my knight in shining armor sooner rather than later, right?”

Duke bites his lip to fight back a smile, blinking his eyes forcefully to keep them from closing under the heavy weight of exhaustion. “Does that make you a damsel in distress?”

“I mean, I did need rescuing, so I guess? I’m not much of a damsel, but I could put on a pretty dress for you. It’ll be like playing pretend when we were kids.”

“Oh, man, I kinda miss those poofy dresses. I think I could still rock on, put it on top of the armor when I go out for patrol.”

Danny snickers. “Signal: the most well dressed vigilante in Gotham.”

“That’s me, baby!”

The last of the agonizing fear that’s choked him since he first talked to Dash finally melts away. Danny’s fine now. Everything’s okay; the GIW are done for and there’s plenty of people willing to look out for the Fentons. This will never happen again.

“Hey,” Danny says, voice suddenly turing more serious. “Send me your location. I wasn’t joking when I said I could fly over to you. And before you say anything! I do need it; Jazz and my parents are smothering me and I just need to get away from everything and pretend all of this never happened.”

The admission softens Duke, makes him shove away everything that tells him this is a bad idea, that Danny needs more rest first, that having Danny fly over alone and without warning any of the Bats fills Duke with anxiety. 

He does miss Danny. More than he can put into words.

“Yeah, okay,” he says at last. “Come meet me, Danny.”

He texts Danny the location of the Hatch before common sense tells him to be more careful with his base of operations. Not that it matters, anyways; if there’s anyone in the world he trusts with everything, it’s Danny. 

Then he sends the Bats a quick text saying he’s crashing in the Hatch and to not bother him until the sun is fully up two days from now. Oracle gives him a thumbs up emoji, which is a good guarantee that she will personally see to it that no non-emergency messages interrupt his rest and recovery time.

Duke has no idea how long it will take Danny to get to the Hatch, so he putters around, cleaning up the space and straightening it out in an attempt to keep busy enough that he doesn’t crash. Travel really takes it out of him. It’s one of the cons of being born and raised in Gotham: he doesn’t have the stamina to travel outside of it, especially when they were there and back in less than three days.

Thank god for Tim’s many motorcycles and his tendency to see the speed limit as a weak suggestion that can be ignored while on a mission.

Ultimately, the call of sleep is too strong to resist. 

One moment, Duke is sorting through files on the Hatch’s computer, and the next moment, he’s face down on a bed with his face shoved into a pillow. 

Blearly, he manages to pull his phone out of his pocket and send Danny a typo-ridden text that hopefully gets across the message of might be asleep so just come in, don’t wait for me to answer the door.

He’s out like a light as soon as it sends. The last thing Duke registers is his phone dropping out of his hand and falling against the mattress with a little bounce.

When he begins to wake up, something’s changed. As much as he wants to go back to sleep, awareness comes back to him slowly and Duke forces himself to claw his way out of unconsciousness to figure out what, exactly, is bothering him so much. Until he figures out what’s changed in the room, he won’t be able to sleep because he’ll be worried about someone breaking in.

His mind comes back online long before his body does. It’s only when he tries to move that Duke realizes he’s no longer alone on the bed; there’s someone wrapped up in his arms, body temperature a little too cool to be a normal human.

Blinking open his eyes, Duke looks down at the head of messy black hair and feels Danny’s soft breath ghost across his chest. 

“Danny?” he manages to say, voice rough with sleep. 

Danny hums and doesn’t move.

“Hey, look up. Let me see if you’re really alright.”

“Mmm, no,” Danny mumbles, burrowing his face into Duke’s chest some more. “‘m sleepy.”

A good argument. Duke is also sleepy. 

“Fine,” he says, “Check in the morning, then. G’night, Danny.”

“Night, Duke. Thanks for saving me.”

He tightens his grip on Danny, contentment burning warm in his chest. “Always, Danny. I’ll always save you.”

That’s why he’s a hero, after all. To save others, to reach a hand out to everyone the way he needed when he was younger. To keep the people he loves safe. To make sure Danny always finds a way back to him. 

This is what makes all the pain of this lifestyle worth it.

Danny makes everything worth it.

(@yourlocalcorviddad tagging to make sure you see this!)

[libraryofgage]

Harlequin Prince

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One Harley Quinn One (you're here!) 10th Doctor and Rose (on the way! might take a little, I have plans for this one) Scooby Gang (there are also plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz)

I'm a simple woman who believes Steve deserves to be a little unhinged sometimes, and having Harley Quinn as a mother is the perfect excuse to make that happen lol

Anyway, I know I haven't updated some of my other series in a hot minute; I've just been busy with work and a little sick ngl

If you'd like to be tagged for any new parts in this series, let me know!

And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

-------

Steve's earliest memory is of being tucked into bed with a Batman night light plugged into the wall and his mother squeezed in next to him. She's wearing her softest pajamas, and Steve idly rubs the fabric under his thumb. In her lap is a huge book that she flips through, humming "Pop Goes the Weasel" under her breath before finally stopping on a page. "Okay, Dumplin', let's read about Narcissistic Personality Disorder," she finally says, wiggling some to get comfortable before clearing her throat.

Her voice is soft and a little nasally, and Steve obediently closes his eyes when she starts reading. After a few minutes, she gently cards her fingers through his hair, her palm warm as it slides over his scalp. Eventually, he drifts off, his dream so vivid that he still remembers the oversized hammers with their white doctor coats and floating clipboards.

The first time Steve's mother is sent (back) to Arkham, he doesn't realize anything is wrong until Uncle Bruce picks him up from school. Steve had been waiting long after the other kids were picked up by their parents, a misshapen pink-and-blue coaster for his mother that he made in art class in his hands, when one of Uncle Bruce's fancy cars pulled up to the school.

The passenger window rolled down, and Bruce looked almost pained as he met Steve's eyes. "Hop in," he said, leaning over to open the door from the inside.

Steve walked up to the door but didn't get in. "Mom said I should only go home with her," he said, "unless you know our secret code."

"Cognitive Behavioral Therapy."

Steve stood for a moment longer before nodding and climbing into the passenger seat. He closed the door, pulled on his seat belt, and carefully held the coaster in his lap. "Where's Mom?" he asked, watching as Bruce turned down the radio and slowly pulled away from the school.

"Your mother is....going to be away for a while," Bruce said, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "She did something bad, and now she's going to stay in time out because of it."

"Mom says you shouldn't dumb things down just because I'm young. She says it's not good for my development."

Bruce got a slight smile at that, his lips twitching up as he glanced at Steve. "Is that so," he said, his grip on the wheel loosening some. He seemed to think for a moment before saying, "Your mother blew up a warehouse. She was apprehended by Batman and has been sent to Arkham for a few months. Since I'm listed as your godfather, you'll stay with me until she's released."

Steve didn't reply. He just looked down at his coaster and wondered if he'd be able to convince his Uncle Bruce to visit Arkham so he could give it to her.

He did not, in fact, get to visit her at Arkham during that stint. But Steve did get to visit on her next one, which was almost three years later to the day. Steve's first visit to Arkham was on his 8th birthday, and he was chaperoned by Uncle Bruce and Nightwing (he wasn't allowed to call Dick by his real name when he was in costume, so Steve just didn't call him anything at all).

That was also the first time Steve truly experienced Arkham's lax security. Through no fault of his own (and he would continue to argue this point; how did two superheroes let an 8 year old wander off?), Steve had somehow ended up in another part of Arkham altogether.

This hallway had large cells with reinforced glass walls that allowed Steve to look inside. He could name most of the people he passed, recognizing Killer Croc and Riddler and the Penguin by his mother's descriptions of their defining features. Most of them tried talking to Steve, but he pushed ahead, eager to see if his mother was at the end of the hall.

She wasn't. Instead, Steve found another woman. She had green skin and bright red hair and Steve hadn't been able to contain himself. He'd practically squished his face against the glass and asked, "Are you Poison Ivy?"

"Oh, her he talks to," the Penguin said, his tone mean and his voice carrying.

Poison Ivy ignored him, choosing to instead open one eye from where she lay on the bed. She stared at Steve before sitting up. "Do I know you?" she asked.

"Nope! But my mom knows you. She talks about you all the time. She said you're the baddest badass to ever badass," Steve said.

"Oh. You're Harley's kid," Poison Ivy replied, walking over to the glass and crouching down to meet his gaze. "What are you doing all the way over here?"

"It's my birthday, so Uncle Bruce said I could see Mom."

"Well, happy birthday. Now, what are you doing here?"

Steve blinked, looked around the hall again, and realized for the first time that he was, in fact, a bit lost. "Uh, I'm not sure. I was with Uncle Bruce before."

A moment passed between the two of them in which Poison Ivy said nothing while Steve tried to remember how, exactly, he'd ended up here. When he came up blank, he simply shrugged and looked back at her. "Hey, you like plants, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, kid, I like plants," she said, her tone taking on the same inflection his mother's did when he asked something she thinks is obvious.

Steve didn't linger on the tone. Instead, he dug around in his coat pocket for a few seconds, pushing past candy wrappers and erasers until his hand closed around an acorn he'd picked up off the ground a few days ago. He pulled it out and presented it to Poison Ivy on his palm. "Is it still a plant if it fell off the tree?" he asked.

"Yeah," Poison Ivy said, her voice soft like she was staring at something unbelievable. Steve watched as a huge grin spread across her face, her eyes lit up, and she pressed her hands to the glass. "Can you do me a favor, Steve?" she asked.

"Sure! Mom said you're a person I should listen to," he said, starting to close his fingers around the acorn. Now that he was thinking about it, he didn't actually know how to give the acorn to her with the glass between them.

"Your mom is right. You should always listen to me. And her. But mostly me right now," Poison Ivy said, her gaze a bit softer as she looked at Steve. "So, go ahead and put the acorn on the ground and stand as far away as possible."

Steve didn't question her. Whatever Poison Ivy wanted to do would probably be fine. After all, Uncle Bruce didn't warn him about talking to her like he had about the Joker. So, Steve put the acorn down and hurried to the other end of the hall. "Now what?" he shouted.

The only response he got was the acorn shuddering, spinning across the floor, and then bursting open. In the blink of an eye, a tree grew, its roots breaking through the ground and its branches shattering the glass of Poison Ivy's cell. Steve was just thinking that was probably why Poison Ivy told him to stand back when she walked out, rolling her shoulders and breathing like the air is fresh.

She looked at Steve and walked over, standing in front of him for a moment before sweeping him into her arms. "Thanks, kid," she said, opening her hand and letting a tiny purple flower grow from her palm. She tucked it behind Steve's ear. "Now, let's go find your mom."

Of course, Poison Ivy's escape had set off numerous alarms, and Uncle Bruce just about fainted when he saw her carrying Steve while Nightwing looked two seconds from laughing. But Steve's mom had smiled so wide that her cheeks must have hurt after only two seconds when she saw them.

It was, by far, the best birthday Steve had ever had.

‐-----------------------------

Hawkins, Indiana, is...boring. Steve has only been in the town for a few weeks, and he's bored out of his mind. He could have been sent to Metropolis or Central City. Hell, he would have preferred Bludhaven to the absolute snoozefest that is Hawkins. But, no, Uncle Bruce insisted on somewhere safe, which means somewhere boring, which means...Steve will just have to make his own fun.

That's why he's found himself in a dive bar on the edge of town, sitting at the bar as the owner (a woman named Bev who definitely killed her husband; Steve would know, he's met plenty of women who definitely killed their husbands) refuses to give him anything alcoholic. "Listen, kid," she says, her tone hard and unyielding, "I can give you water, a Shirley Temple, or a permanent ban. Which do you prefer."

After a few seconds, Steve sighs, slaps way more money than is necessary on the bar, and says, "Gimme a Shirley Temple."

Bev nods, swipes up the cash, and starts making his drink. He watches her with a slight frown before looking away, noticing another boy his age wiping down a table. He looks, and Steve cannot say this affectionately enough, like a wannabe goon for a motorcycle gang. Between the bandana stuffed into his back pocket, his slightly frizzy hair falling to his shoulders, and the leather jacket/vest combo, the guy is the first reminder of home Steve has seen since arriving in this sleepy town.

When he notices the guy's shoulders tense, Steve looks away to keep from being caught staring. A Shirley Temple is placed in front of him, and Steve represses a sigh, missing the sounds of fights happening behind him as he drinks with Jason.

"Aren't you a little young to be hanging around here?"

Steve slowly takes a sip of his drink, the saccharine cherry flavor washing over his tastebuds, and glances at an older man a few seats down from him. He looks the man over, lingering on the half-tucked shirt, muddy loafers, and circles under his eyes. Without permission, his mother's DSM-V rushes through his mind, a blur of his mother's voice accompanying the page flips. They finally settle on "Adjustment Disorder," accompanied by his mom saying, "Sometimes, that's just a fancy term for a mid-life crisis, Dumplin'."

Without thinking, Steve asks in return, "Aren't you a little old to still be going through a mid-life crisis?"

In Gotham, that might get him a laugh, an eye roll, and possibly an elbow to the ribs from whichever friend accompanied him. Here, it gets him a tense silence that he only thought happened in bad movies gearing up for a fight sequence. Seriously, what is wrong with Hawkins?

"I'll give you one chance to apologize," the guy says, clearly thinking he's being sufficiently threatening.

It takes every ounce of Steve's self-control to keep from laughing at the guy. Does that usually work? Do people usually find this guy threatening? He's got nothing on Alfred, so Steve just can't bring himself to even fake intimidation.

"Yeah, don't hold your breath, man," Steve says, rolling his eyes as he takes another sip. The Shirley Temple isn't bad, but it's not what he was expecting, and it feels like just another disappointment atop a pile of them.

They're building in his chest, now that he thinks about it. Steve is slowly suffocating under the weight of them. They buzz in his lungs, surging through him until the energy is so overwhelming that he has to bounce his leg and tap his finger against his glass to expel some of it. He shouldn't have agreed to leave Gotham, or at the very least, he shouldn't have left the location entirely up to Bruce. Holy shit, that was a dumb decision. He ought to know better.

A sudden, annoyingly harsh drag of chair legs against the floor rings in Steve's ears, making his shoulders tense and his fingers twitch. He looks over to see the guy standing over him, glaring down at Steve like that's supposed to scare him when nothing else has.

Steve sighs, drinking the last of his Shirley Temple before standing. Over the guy's shoulder, he can see the boy his age watching them, and...well, Steve kind of wants to make a good impression on the first person to remind him of home. Plus, a fight sounds great. He'd love a chance to expel some of this disappointment-fueled energy.

The guy suddenly snorts, pulling Steve's attention back. "You're young, kid, so I'll let you off the hook this time around, but learn some respect."

What? Seriously? All of that, and the guy doesn't even start a fight? Does he know how rude that is? He'd get killed in Gotham. "Oh," Steve says, his voice flat, "you're scared of getting your ass kicked."

Somehow, that's what the guy considers the final straw. It wasn't even that good. Like, that's just fucking small talk in Gotham, and Steve can't bring himself to understand what about it was so infuriating that the guy swings his fist.

Either way, Steve happily embraces the fight. His eyes light up, and adrenaline rushes through his veins as he ducks and kicks the guy's left knee. The familiar sound of a bone snapping rings out. Steve's ready for more, hands curled into fists and held up to protect his face, when the guy drops.

After one kick, he drops. Steve blinks, staring down at the guy cursing and holding his knee. He slowly lowers his hands when he realizes this isn't some kind of fake-out diversion and looks at Bev behind the counter. She's frowning at him, hands on her hips, and Steve comes to the conclusion that bar fights are not, in fact, a thing in Hawkins. "Do they usually go down so easy around here?" he asks.

"They usually don't fight at all."

Oh. Holy shit, this place is boring.

Steve sighs and pushes some hair out of his face, frowning slightly. "Well, uh, sorry about the disturbance, then. I'll just...get going," he says, awkwardly pushing his chair in and doing the same for the guy whose kneecap he kicked. Nobody says anything as he leaves, and Steve shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, frustration and disappointment and homesickness building in him.

He's halfway to his car when somebody shouts, "Hey! Wait!"

With a huff, Steve stops and turns, his mood only lightening when he sees the boy that was wiping down tables. He waits patiently, watching as the boy runs up to him and holds out a wad of cash. "Bev said to give this to you," he says.

"What, is my money not good enough?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow at the cash before looking up and meeting brown eyes.

"No, no," the boy says, "Bev only gives change to people she likes. She said you're welcome to come by and kick Phillip's ass whenever you want."

Steve blinks, studying the boy for any signs of lies. When he doesn't find one, he takes the cash and nods. "Good to know," he says.

"Yeah. Right. Um, I'm going back inside now."

"Hold on," Steve says, grinning when the boy listens and stands still. He takes a step closer, holds out his hand, and says, "My name's Steve. I'm new around here, if you couldn't tell."

The boy stares at his hand for a few seconds before taking it, the rings on his fingers pressing against Steve's skin. "Eddie. I could tell," he says, his shoulders relaxing some. "Where you from?"

"Gotham."

"Holy shit, no wonder you looked so ready for a fight," Eddie says, staring at Steve like he's incomprehensible. Steve tries not to preen under his gaze. "Hawkins must be dead compared to Gotham."

"Yeah," Steve agrees, glancing down at his and Eddie's hands still clasped together despite the handshake being over. "But I think I'll have some fun anyway."

[alchemistc]

chisme 1/1

read on ao3

“I still don’t know the guy under the engine, Hank.” “But...you could find out.” “Didn’t you date one of the paramedics on the B shift over there? You were always yapping about how your schedules never lined up.” Thomas’ face goes a little pale. “Yeah, uh... that didn’t work out.” “Yeah, don’t shit where you eat, Henry.” ___ The LAFD likes to gossip. They all take advantage of the fact that Tommy knows their favorite subject to gossip about.

“You see that kid on the news?”

Jones shoots him a raised brow, and Tommy shrugs. “Captain Nash will sort him out.”

“Or he’ll wash out in a month,” Jones singsongs, and Tommy bites back on the defensiveness he feels bubbling up.

They’d been growing towards something, when he left. Even he knows that whatever Bobby Nash was doing was rare. He... misses it, some days.

He’s still getting used to this new crew. They’re... there’s nothing wrong with them, it’s just that Tommy’d been at the 118 for years, and even though he doesn’t look back fondly on most of it, or the person he’d been, that had been home for a long fucking time. He’d made a decision, the moment Bobby slid the LAFD pilot certification paperwork across the desk to him, his last review, that he wasn’t gonna hide himself anymore.

It’s fucking work, being genuine. Honest. Open.

“You got any plans for the night?”

Tommy takes a deep breath through his nose, stretches his shoulders back. Tilts his head a little, tips his chin down so he doesn’t look so fucking tense. “Does trawling the horrific depths of LA Grindr until I fall asleep count?”

Jones goes still. There’s a terrible, horrible moment where every shitty thing Gerrard, his father, his CO’s, his high school buddies ever said washes over him. And then Jones’ face does something strange. Pursed lips, raised brows, scrunched nose, like the surprise is washing over him uncontrollably, and then — “Well shit, Kinard, that’s just depressing. Let me and my man take you out tonight.”

Tommy blows the breath back out, feels the corner of his mouth tilting uncontrollably up, has to roll his tongue over his teeth to keep it from going too wide. That — he hadn’t known that. Everyone here uses ��partner’ to describe their significant others, he figured it was just some initiative they’d all taken to be inclusive. “As long as you’re not looking for a third. No offense, Jones, you’re not my type.”

Jones smirks. “Who says you’re mine?”

Tommy slaps a hand over his heart, really plays up the hurt expression. “I’m everyone’s type.”

Jones’ eyeroll is a thing of beauty. “You’re too pretty for me, Kinard. And I’m too mean for you. You need a nice boy with a heart of gold to keep you humble.”

Tommy thinks, fleetingly, of the lost little look in that kids blue, blue eyes, camera shoved in his face and the flashing lights of a tilt-a-whirl behind him.

“I’d eat him alive,” Tommy says, and Jones’ laugh follows them both out of the lockers.

---

“What a fucking day,” Gatlin says, laid out across the length of the bench, one arm over his face,

It’s been a series of days, actually, but Tommy doesn’t feel like being pedantic about it.

Tommy just hums, and does his best not to be annoyed about having to juggle his duffle in one hand while he shifts the sad, unused basketball out of his locker to stuff it in the open neck of his bag. They’ve all been through the ringer, Tommy’s gonna give the new guy a moment to regroup.

“Hey, did the 136 ever find their captain? In all the chaos I don’t remember anyone radioing it in.”

Tommy nods an affirmative. He’s so fucking tired from calling out locations of trapped survivors that he’s sure his voice sounds like sandpaper. “Swept up in it like all the rest. Someone on patrol found him pinned under debris. An officer had to saw off his arm, poor bastard.”

Gatlin sits up like he’s rising from the dead. “You’re making shit up. This is a hazing ritual.”

Tommy slides him the most serious face he can manage around the yawn threatening to escape. His phone is blowing up — texts from dozens of people who’d been working the same shit as him, and it’s the first time in a while he’s regretted deleting Facebook. The marked safe function would have saved him about sixty texts so far.

“Heard from Waters that one of the 118’s kids was on the pier when the wave hit,” Gatlin tells him, finally groaning and rising to gather his own shit.

Tommy’s gut drops even as he’s opening up Hen’s contact in his phone, gratefully dumping the duffle onto the bench, now that Gatlin’s legs aren’t taking up the entire thing.

“Kid has CB or something, some lady found him and carried him around for like half a fuckin’ day until she found the old VA popup.”

“Mr. Rogers would have been proud,” Tommy says, and stares at the unsent text he’d typed out with shaky hands. Is Denny okay?

“Huh?”

Jesus, he’s young. “Look for the helpers?” Gatlin blinks at him. “Never mind. Change your clothes. Drink some water. Go the fuck home and get some shut eye, Gatlin.”

“You too, Kinard.”

He deletes the text the moment he’s in his truck, but scrolls back to her contact about twenty times, lying in bed that night, trying to get some sleep.

When he wakes up there’s a text from Hen.

Tommy scrolls up to find a keyboard smash he’d somehow managed to send at 2 in the morning.

Hen 3:27 AM: ???

Hen 3:28 AM: You good?

Hen 3:31 AM: We’re fine. If you were wondering. I assume you fell asleep talking yourself in circles about whether or not to reach out.

Hen 3:42 AM: One of our guys was at the pier with the probies kid. They’re both fine. Tell your crew to stop gossiping so much.

Hen 5:53 AM: Call me if you need anything

Tommy ignores the ache behind his ribcage.

Tommy 7:33 AM: Glad you’re okay. Tell Karen I said hi.

Hen 8:24 AM: Karen and Denny send their love.

---

Tommy’s elbow deep in wiring when Thomas sidles up to the cockpit. He’s got a look on his face that Tommy would normally like to entertain, but there’d been something fiddly with the altimeter his last flight out and he wants to check this before they get called out again — better to ground her until someone can take a real look, if he finds anything, than wave it off ‘til the end of the day.

Thomas shifts closer, tips his head in so he can duck under the open door.

“So, you still know a couple of the guys over at the 118, right?”

Tommy grimaces.

The fact of the matter is, Tommy knows a few guys from all over the city. He’s been around a while, has made many an appearance at the bars first responders like to flock to, has seen enough people come and go from stations to know a guy here and there everywhere. He’s thinking of setting up a pick-up game for whichever LAFD members want to show, maybe seeing if he can wrangle enough people for at least a bi-weekly trivia night.

The breakup with Jason sucked and he’s definitely trying to avoid going home to his empty apartment. Maybe he should get a dog.

“I still don’t know the guy under the engine, Hank.”

“But...you could find out.”

“Didn’t you date one of the paramedics on the B shift over there? You were always yapping about how your schedules never lined up.”

Thomas’ face goes a little pale. “Yeah, uh... that didn’t work out.”

“Yeah, don’t shit where you eat, Henry.”

And now he’s thinking about Jason, again. Christ. Don’t date anyone you meet on calls, Sal had told him, five years in, when everyone still thought his flirting with every hot chick they ran into meant anything other than him desperately trying to cover for the way his eyes were always drawing to the wide stretch of shirts across broad shoulders and the tight fit of a pair of classic 501s.

How he’d managed to convince himself Jason would be the exception is beyond him.

And the guy pinned under the engine had only made things worse, so he’s not particularly in the mood to gossip about him when Jason had used the whole ordeal as an excuse to start a massive fucking fight about the risks of the job for the fifth time in as many months.

“Yeah, I get it, oh wise one. Are you wise enough to figure out why the fuck the guy is suing the department?’

Tommy’s interest is piqued.

God damnit.

It hasn’t even been that long since Chim called him last, Tommy rationalizes as he tips the flashlight in his mouth with his bottom teeth.

“Give me ten minutes to figure out if there’s a short and I’ll make a call.”

---

Tommy’s got one eye on the television and another on the pool table. Brody’s got a pool cue tipped under her chin, and he can already see the chalk shifting onto her skin.

“So, we all agree they’re fucking cursed, right?”

Tommy takes a sip of his beer while a few of the guys make noises of agreement.

“Like, I’m thinking of starting a pool to decide what disaster they’re gonna have a starring role in next. But I don’t want repeats, and at this point I’m not sure how to list them all.”

“Rebar through the brainpan,” Trent says, shaking his head. Tommy feels a flash of guilt for never calling Chim after the initial text he’d sent.

“Plane crash,” lists Jones, eyes still on the reporter being drenched in the downpour as she recites the same tired story about the boy down the well.

“Bath salt werewolves.”

“Earthquake high rise rescue,” Tommy tosses out. He’s still a little annoyed he’d missed that one.

“Unwitting bank heist,” Brody says, phone out and typing furiously. “Oh, do we count ‘targets of teenage Unabomber’ and ‘pinned under a fire engine’ as two separate events?”

“This is getting a little morbid,” Trent says. Still no updates about the guy who’s been buried alive with the kid down the well.

“Armed chicken,” Tommy contributes, hoping to lighten the mood, and grins when they all turn to him with incredulous looks. “Maurice. Knives for feet. He introduced Nash and Grant, technically.”

Brody rolls her eyes. He never should have let her in on his secret love of love stories, she’s such a cynic, she hates when they all gossip about each others love lives.

“This is life or death situations, not dangerous fowl turned rom-com moments. C’mon, what else have we got? I’m including tsunami. Wasn’t your buddy’s girlfriend at dispatch when it got taken hostage? I’m counting it.”

Christ, he really needs to do a better job of keeping in touch.

Tommy’s eyes flit back to the screen. He can see the NASH dashed across the back of one set of turnouts, the end of a name, just ‘LEY” on the set next to his. He’s suddenly not feeling great.

“I’m gonna grab a drink,” he tells them, and Jones raises a brow at his half-full beer.

Tommy chugs it and tries to ignore Brody continuing to list things off.

---

Tommy’s getting a little tired of the argument about his job. There’s always a fucking argument, and he’s always somehow the bad guy for being the one saving lives day in and day out.

At least Peter hadn’t lasted long enough for Tommy to really get all that invested.

The house is too quiet, though.

And the dating scene is hell. He’d never —

The whole landscape of dating had been a shit show from the moment he’d decided he was done fucking around with hookups and lies, and it’s only gotten worse. He feels old, and he hates that he’d never let himself try when everything wasn’t app based and fraught with weird expectations.

He shoots off a message to Chim before he heads in to work. He needs a break, maybe. He’s got half an empty drawer and one less toothbrush in his bathroom and there’s an ache, in his bones, for the easy way he’d always been able to let loose with Chim and Hen.

(He’s not sure they even know he came out, and the superficial relationships in his life just keep smacking him right in the face.)

The pileup on the freeway provides a nice distraction, for most of the day, and he tries not to feel too disappointed when the message he sent to Chim goes unanswered.

It’s three days later before he gets a slightly blurry picture back. It’s — it’s a baby, and Tommy is unprepared for the wave of longing that threatens to crush him.

Howie 4:35 AM: I’m a dad!

Howie 4:35 AM: I made that!

Howie 4:36 AM: Sorry, man, I’ll be tied to this pooping, crying creature for the foreseeable future. But we should grab a beer sometime

Tommy 4:45 AM: Congratulations. She’s beautiful. You get out in, what, 18-20?

Brody pokes her head over his shoulder when he pulls up the picture again. “Cute baby.”

“Chim’s,” he tells her, and her expression shifts.

“Wasn’t his brother in the pileup last week?”

Tommy keeps his eye on the picture, wets his tongue against the top of his mouth before he speaks. “He didn’t say.”

---

They’ve all been on edge for days, now. Technically most of them aren’t in much danger, eyes in the skies that they are, but there’s not a single one of them who doesn’t have a friend or two outside of Harbor that wears the uniform.

They’re already two men down. And they’re all going a bit crazy.

So of course, when Tommy lands the bird and steps into the hangar, it’s to find everyone huddled around the TV set up in their little rec area, murmuring to themselves. Tommy runs a hand through his hair and makes his way across to them.

“Is he —?”

The guy’s insane. He’s got a vest and a helmet and no cover at all beyond the metal bars encasing the ladders of the crane tower. He’s surrounded on three sides by high rises, with wide windows and balconies just ripe for someone to set up an easy fucking shot.

The news crew pans to the witnesses on the ground, and there’s 118’s engine.

“Didn’t his partner just get shot? What is the 118 even doing out there?”

Someone hums. There’s a line of tension in every single set of shoulders huddled around the TV, watching, waiting. If Tommy was a praying man, he’d send something up to the big guy. Too bad they don’t believe in each other.

He’s still climbing. Three points of contact always, Tommy thinks, watching, holding his fucking breath the higher he climbs.

The camera cuts away once he’s out on the arm.

“Did anyone see who it was?” Remy asks, and they all shake their heads, but Tommy’s got a mental list from his sparse contact with Chim. Diaz is in the hospital. Bobby’s on the ground. This is Buckley, the kid he’d missed meeting by the skin of his teeth, when Bobby fast tracked his transfer.

In another life, under a different set of circumstances, the idiot making himself a target for a psycho would have been Tommy.

Tommy watches with bated breath until they switch back to the desk, both anchors looking a little wide-eyed as they report that the guy on the crane has been successfully freed from the cable that had had his arm pinned, and both him and the firefighter are fine. On the ground. Out of danger.

For now.

---

“Pay up, dickheads. Prison riot officially made it on the list.”

Tommy shakes his head, amused more than anything else. He pulls a five from his wallet, and Brody stares at it.

“It was twenty. A piece.”

“This is a gesture of goodwill, Youngs. You never paid me for the mudslide.”

“We worked the mudslide, it doesn’t count.”

“Oh now you’re creating arbitrary rules after the fact? Give me my five back.”

---

Brent smiles with his whole body, and kisses Tommy like he’s proving a point, and he doesn’t care that Tommy’s job is dangerous. The problem is that Tommy would like him a little more if he wasn’t so obsessed with the job.

“He worked out of your old house, didn’t he?” Brent asks, legs up on Tommy’s coffee table and a gleam in his eyes as Taylor Kelly reports on some Angel of Death wannabe who’s been shuffled from station to station, city to city, state to state for years with no real oversight, and Tommy — Tommy is tired of talking about work.

He hums, and takes a drink. Brent’s a Heineken man, and for some reason takes real offense to Tommy’s inability to drink them without making faces. Tommy stopped drinking them a month ago.

He’s not sure what he’s doing, anymore.

“Isn’t Taylor Kelly dating one of the guys from the 118?”

Tommy hums again.

“Feels like a quick turnaround on that news story. You think she’s getting an inside scoop?”

“I think we should break up,” Tommy says, and Brent blinks once, twice.

“Yeah. Probably for the best.”

Brent sees himself out. Tommy throws out the lone bottle of Heineken left in his fridge.

---

Donato is a breath of fresh air. She’s brash, and kind of an asshole, and dead set on proving herself a better pool player than he is.

She’s also a newer source of information for the gossip mongers of Harbor station.

“No, that’s the same guy,” she’s saying, biting her lip as she tries to beat Jones’ high score in Asteroids. She’s got a choking grip on the joystick and Tommy can already tell she’s gonna miss it by a mile.

“I — sorry, the guy who got pinned is the same guy who climbed the tower before the sniper was in custody?”

“Same guy. Also the same guy who hopped into that Speed style runaway truck with me. He’s kind of a badass. I mean, they sort of treat him like the station dalmation, over there, but that’s because if you rub behind his ears he wags his tail.”

“He’s not the same one Bosko accidentally got into Fight Club, is he?”

Lucy laughs. “Uh, no, Buck is absolutely a lover, not a fighter.”

“So which one —?”

“Probably the one I was filling in for.”

“The one who got shot, you mean.”

Lucy hums.

None of them have brought up Greenway, which Lucy seems to be marginally grateful for, but Tommy knows she’d worked with him. He hasn’t worked out why she’d worked with him — he’s pretty sure she’d been on the same rotation as Chim and Hen.

Tommy doesn’t feel like touching that with a ten foot pole, if he’s being honest. “So how are Chim and Hen?”

Lucy looks a little cagey. She curses up a storm when she collides with a pixelated flying saucer. “They’re — chugging along.”

“Oh, there’s a story there,” says Lemming, and Lucy shoots Tommy a look between her lashes, something fierce and vulnerable that tells him she’d throw down to protect the open wounds of the 118, same as him. He tips his chin, raises his bottle.

“Boring story,” Lucy says, eyes gleaming. “I bet you’ve got plenty of more interesting stories, Lemming. Weren’t you the one who had to rescue the UFO guy?”

Lemming is easily distracted, and happy to toot his own horn.

Tommy thinks of text sitting unsent on the blank conversation history with Chim.

---

“That wasn’t on the list,” Tommy says, trying for levity and failing miserably. His throat feels tight, and there’s an ache somewhere in his torso that feels like it’s spreading.

“Man, any time you think things are gonna stop happening to that house, they gotta go do something to prove you wrong.”

Tommy’s phone buzzes against his hip. It’s Lucy.

Donato 6:30 AM: Hen says he was down for three minutes.

Tommy 6:31 AM: He good?

Donato 6:33 AM: Inconclusive. He’s got a pulse, but he’s not breathing on his own.

Tommy 6:37 AM: You good?

Donato 6:55 AM: I worked with them for five minutes, Kinard

Donato 6:57 AM: Buck’s a good guy, though. I know you’re not a praying man, but maybe we could all send some good vibes the 118’s way

Tommy 7:01 AM: Jones’ is doing his mindfulness shit in a few. We’ll all be thinking of them.

Tommy hasn’t prayed since he was seventeen, but when Young ducks his head a few minutes later, eyes closed like he does every time they get news of one of their own going down, Tommy lets his own mind drift to his old house, and the people there who’d made him brave enough to live an actual life. Jones’ little meditation practice turns the hanger quiet, and Tommy listens to them all breathe, and breathe, and breathe.

He tries not to think too hard on it when they get the news, days later, that Buckley’s expected to make a full recovery.

---

Tommy’s been eyeing the guy at the bar through his lashes for the past fifteen minutes, and he knows Donato has clocked it. But there’s something — there’s something that keeps drawing his attention.

He’s — objectively attractive. Tall, broad shouldered, jeans that fit nice. Full pink lips and a flirty smile aimed at the woman he’s with.

Tommy’s always refused to bring dates to a ladder bar, even when his crew gives him shit for it. Mostly it’s because the conversation always eventually turns to all the crazy shit they’ve all pulled, all the risky maneuvers, all the scars. It’s always a pissing contest, and Tommy’s been burned a few too many times by guys who like the look of him, and not the reality of his career.

Tommy loses sight of Lucy for half a second only to find her approaching the couple as they move from the foosball table to the bartop.

He shakes his head. She’s spent weeks trying to squirrel information out of him about his love life, which is distinctly lacking at the moment. He doesn’t expect that to change any time soon.

Maybe he’ll hit up Brian once he’s had a few more beers. See if he’s seeing anyone. See if he’s still as flexible as Tommy remembers.

She doesn’t linger when Thomas calls her back for her turn, but by the smirk on her face she’s managed to put her foot in it exactly how she meant to. The couple are closing out, the guys head tilted to stare at his tab, color high on his cheeks. Tommy takes a deep pull off his drink and rolls his jaw when Lucy sinks three in a row, and then the eight ball too.

He gets a full thirty second reprieve before she’s sidling in to the seat beside him, a knowing look on her face.

“Look, I get it,” she starts, and Tommy takes another drink as Young starts a to rerack. “When the bar light hits just right on those broad ass shoulders, you really can’t help but wanna see if his lips taste as sweet as they look.”

Tommy knows his expression is long suffering.

“They are, just in case you were wondering.”

“Donato,” he warns, and she grins, playing with the pool cue with her free hand.

“Got it, Kinard. Backing off. But you know, I’ve got a cousin...”

“Not interested,” he tells her, already swinging out of his seat to break for his round.

He barely even notices he couple leaving. He breaks clean, a few stripes finding their way into pockets, and doesn’t pay a lick of attention to the way the guys flustered laugh sounds as he guides his date out the door.

---

Donato still looks a little shell-shocked.

“They — uh — they’re all good?”

“They’re all pretty banged up. But yeah, from what I heard, they all made it out.”

“Cap — Captain Nash. They found him?”

“Pinned at the bottom of the rubble, but he got lucky. No serious injuries.”

Lucy slumps. She looks exhausted, minutes out from crashing. Tommy’s flown away from enough disasters moments before they get worse to know exactly how she’s feeling.

“Go change, Donato. I’ll drive you home.”

“I’m fine,” she argues, and Tommy’s gaze catches hers. Holds.

“Yeah, okay, fine. I’m gonna cry all over your nice leather seats, though.”

He doesn’t point out that they’ve seen his tears plenty, but from the look in her eyes he figures she kind of knows, anyway.

She’s quiet, for most of the drive. It’s a longer one than he’s used to, and the detour caused by the bridge collapse makes it longer.

“I don’t know what it is about them that makes me feel like I’m losing a limb every time one of those stupid assholes gets hurt. They’re a magnet for disaster, you think I’d be used to it. I didn’t even work with them that long.”

They’re still ten minutes out. Tommy had thought she’d passed out with her face plastered to the passenger window.

“You miss it?”

“Do you?” she asks, defensiveness creeping in to her voice.

Tommy flips his indicator as the light goes red in the turn lane. “I missed the bulk of the Bobby Nash Experience. Mostly I’m just bitterly resentful that I never got to experience the turnaround of my old house.”

He can feel her eyes sliding to him, the curious stare. “Is this what it takes for Tommy Kinard Honesty Hour? I witness something traumatic and you finally open up a little?”

Tommy shrugs, thumb tapping along to the sound of his blinker. “I’m old school, Donato. Usually you gotta save my life for a glimpse up here.” He taps to fingers to his temple.

She takes that in in silence. There’s always been a kinship there, between them, some part of Tommy that sees a lot of himself in the way Lucy conducts herself, the brash way she pushes past the rough days, the spark in her eyes when she’s seconds away from doing something ill-advised.

“Chim’s getting married,” she says into the silence, and Tommy hums. “I’m pretending not to be upset I didn’t get an invite.”

She’s the only one who gets being jealous of that tight-knit little group of psychos.

“So yours got lost in the mail too, huh?”

“Been a long time since I’ve been close to anyone there. I didn’t expect one.”

Lucy tips her head back against the headrest. Sighs. “Yeah. I guess eventually I’ll get there too.”

---

Jones levels him with an incredulous look.

“They should fire your ass.”

Tommy raises both hands in supplication, but he can’t quite keep the grin off his face as Diaz and Buckley both round the side of the chopper, both of them looking like they’ve been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. It’d been an uphill battle, trying to figure out the logistics of who was going where, after the fact. Chim and Hen had gotten stuck in the back of buses to the hospital.

Diaz and Buckley had ro-sham-bo’ed for shotgun to get back to Diaz’ truck, and Tommy had spent the short flight back from the rescue ship trying not to notice the pouty tilt of Evan’s lip from the back, or pay attention to the back and forth over the headset as Diaz reminded him he’d already had his chance.

There’s a thrum, under Tommy’s skin — the thrill of being reckless is fading, a little, but beneath that there’s a possibility opening wide — Eddie Diaz in the seat beside him pumping him for information on his army days, Evan Buckley shifting restlessly at his side as he comes to stand beside him, arms crossed and staring at Jones like he’s about to go guard dog mode.

All this time he’s been getting second-hand gossip about these people, listening to the wild and sometimes exaggerated rumors that follow them around the LAFD. This time he got to play a part, and neither one of these virtual strangers seems keen to let the moment pass.

Evan’s shoulder glances off of Tommy’s, and he fights the urge to dart his gaze to the side, to check out his profile, to see how ridiculous he looks when those puppy-dog eyes get defensive.

Eddie claps a hand to his shoulder on the other side. “They should give you medal,” he says, pointedly aiming the comment in Jones’ direction, and Jones huffs, eyes rolling.

“Get the hell out of my hangar before I find a reason to be anything other than jealous.”

Tommy laughs, cheeks aching as he waves his passengers out through the open bay door to guide them back to the spot he’d had them hide their truck.

---

Tommy rolls up to the court and watches as some ten-odd firefighters clam up completely.

Well, shit.

This is the first time he’s ever been on the other side of this.

Price is the first one to break. “You’re not bringing anyone from the 118 this time, are you? Seriously, Kinard, one was already pushing it, you’re tempting fate. I don’t want to catch the curse.”

Tommy rolls his eyes good naturedly, doesn’t mention that if the curse were contagious he’d be neck deep in it by now.

“Tommy’s the one we need to be worried about, Price. He’s lucky he wasn’t collateral damage in that lovers quarrel, last time.”

It’s been two weeks.

Tommy has to remind himself. It’s been two weeks. Since he’d gone to make it clear he had no intention of stepping into whatever shit was between Eddie and Evan, to make it clear that he planned to keep spending time with Eddie but he’d never meant to get between them. Two weeks since he’d taken a leap, hedged his bets, kissed a beautiful boy in the orange light of his kitchen.

Less than a week since he’d taken a sip of a terrible coffee concoction and leapt right back into the chaos.

“Are we playing, or do you all want to crack open a bottle of red back at my place and play at being Dan Humphrey?”

Tommy dribbles the ball, raises an eyebrow, watches them all shift guilty looks between themselves as they grumble and move to stand.

---

Lucy spins the metal chair across from him, settles with a leg over each side, arms crossed over the back of it, shit eating grin on her face.

“So. I heard a rumor.”

Tommy’s not sure what his face does. He’s hoping for disinterested, but more likely than not his lips are twitching bashfully.

“The nurses at PIH are incredibly easy to pump for intel,” she continues, and Tommy can feel his ears burning. Donato’s grin goes wide. “I can’t believe you didn’t get me a last minuet invite, too.”

Tommy recovers in time to avoid the full-body blush. “Well, the next time you No Homo me in front of a mutual friend and make up for it with a grand gesture, I’ll think about it.”

Lucy tilts her head. Her grin goes soft, eyes taking him in. “Shit, Kinard, you like him. Damn it. I can’t tease you about that.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

The expression goes mischievous again. “He really didn’t even wipe the soot off his face before he hard launched you?”

Tommy ducks his head, failing miserably at hiding the grin on his face.

[ladelinee]

As promised, 50s Elvis was the winning choice in the survey for my next fic. So here it is! I hope you enjoy 💕

♡ Summary: Red is introducing his friend Elvis to the group. You're not in the mood for it, so Elvis starts teasing and irritating you. 50elvis!xreader; Fluff.

♡ Word count: 4K

Saturday night

As you reached for your favourite cherry red lipstick, you found yourself looking in the mirror. With a final dusting of powder to complete the look, you smiled at your reflection, pleased with how you looked.

You heard your favorite song, "All I Have To Do Is Dream", playing on the radio. Your friend, Betty, started singing along and fixing her soft blonde hair in the mirror next to you.

Saturday night was always your favorite night of the week. It was the time you would meet up with your group of friends. Before going out, hours would be spent in your room with the girls, getting ready and planning what to wear or do to look great and impress the boys.

"Are we running late?" You asked, still trying to decide between the yellow dress and the pink one.

"Don't worry" Betty replied, applying blush on her cheeks as she spoke. "We won't be late. Red is always the last to arrive, so we have plenty of time."

“By the way, guess what?” Nancy, the group rebel, chimed in as she looked through the row of perfumes on your dresser. “He’s bringing a new friend with him tonight.”

"Oh, great. Can’t wait." You rolled your eyes and forced a sarcastic smile.

Dealing with a new person was the last thing you needed tonight. Having to censor yourself and deal with some idiot ruining the mood was not something you were looking forward to.

“Oh, come on,” Nancy teased. “Don’t be such a downer. Maybe this new guy will actually be cool.”

You rolled your eyes again, scepticism all over your face. “Yeah, I’m sure he’ll be just as amazing as the last five.”

The diner on the main street was the perfect spot to kick off the night. Pretty much everyone from high school ended up there at some point, grabbing a bite to eat and exchanging the latest town gossip.

As you, Betty, and Nancy got in, your friends, who had already settled in at your usual booth, began clicking their tongues in a playful way, letting you know that you had kept them waiting.

You huffed in response.

"Awesome! We just need Red now. Once he shows up, we can order" Nick exclaimed chuckling, he was the most impatient one in our group. You could even hear his tummy rumbling from your position.

“Oh yeah, he's coming with this new guy. He is in a different class. I have never seen him, but I’m quite excited to have another pal to play football” Arthur, his best friend, added.

As the conversation dragged on, their voices all blended into background noise. You totally lost interest in what they were saying about him. You rolled your eyes, and let out a sigh, thinking to yourself, "Fantastic, the night is starting out real great”

Then the conversation went from gossip about who hooked up at the drive-in to that crazy incident where someone puked in the school's equipment storage. Then, the diner doors swung open, and everyone turned to see who was coming in.

You all watched as Red strolled in like he owned the place, swinging the doors open like some cowboy in a movie. Couldn’t miss that shaggy hair of his, he threw a look back at his buddy as they came in.

You became curious about how his friend looked. Behind Red, you could spot a guy of the same height as him, maybe a little bit taller, looking down while rearranging his slicked-back black hair. Did he have sideburns? The weirdest thing you had ever seen.

Then he glanced around, noticing everyone checking them out. That's when you got the full picture of him. He had on a black lace shirt and beige trousers, he was not exactly built like a tank but definitely in good shape. His face was friendly, with blue eyes, a straight nose leading to plush lips, and a perfect smile.

You watched as both guys walked towards your table. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest. It was obvious that he was the popular type, the kind who gets whatever he wants without a care in the world. You thought to yourself, "Are you kidding me? I can't be friends with a self-centred jerk like him. He's nothing but trouble."

Red greeted everyone and then turned to the new guy, introducing him. "Hey, guys, meet my buddy Elvis" pointing at him.

Elvis jumps in with a friendly smile, "Hi, nice to meet y'all."

Betty and Nancy were totally swooning, practically drooling over him. Pathetic.

You made a conscious decision to keep your mouth shut and avoid sharing any personal information. You knew from experience that people like him would take any juicy tidbit and use it to taunt and bully. Not this time. You'd remain poker-faced, giving him no ammunition to use against you.

Red glanced at your face, noticing your expression of indifference and annoyance. He chuckled slightly and told Elvis, "This is y/n. Don't mind her, she's just having a bad day."

Red gave you a quick knowing look, silently asking, "What's going on? You okay?"

“Well finally we are all together, now we can get some food!” Nick said interrupting. Then the whole group went to the queue to order, leaving you and Elvis alone.

Elvis flashed a friendly smile and took a seat beside you. Sensing your silence and avoiding eye contact, he asked casually “Just not in a real talkative mood tonight?”

“Just tired” You replied. Well, it wasn’t a lie. Just tired…of all the nonsense.

His smile faded slightly at your tone, but he pushed through, even though he could tell you were not being straight with him. “...uh huh...well, then what’s makin’ ya so shy?”

“Not shy! I just don’t want to talk” You insisted, your voice giving away your nerves.

He raised an eyebrow at your defensiveness but kept grinning, staying chill. “Oh yeah? Then why’d you let me sit here?”

You blushed, but then you glanced around, making him realize he had you cornered in the booth. With a hint of resignation, you shrugged and said, “Well, I didn’t exactly have a choice, did I?”

Elvis chuckled softly at your stubbornness. “‘Didn’t have a choice’, huh? Oh, darlin’…” He shook his head, clearly amused by your banter. Leaning back on the seat, he casually dropped his arm across the backrest, as if inviting you to relax. He smirked, seeing right through your tough act.

You sighed, resting your elbows on the table, your hands covering your face. Slightly uncomfortable under his gaze, you muttered, "Stop staring at me. I can feel it."

He grinned widely as he kept staring at you, tilting his head and licking his lips. His eyes slowly travelled down your body and then back up to your face. “Sorry darlin’, but you’re sitting right in my line of vision.”

"Fine then, I'll switch seats," you muttered.

You moved to the other side of the booth and crossed your arms, determined not to look at him. However, whenever you did glance his way, his smile and the dimple on his cheek caught your eye.

Your focus on his smile was interrupted when your friends returned to the table with the food, bringing your long-awaited vanilla milkshake.

"You know, baby... that ain't gonna change much. I still got a perfect view of ya." Elvis replied, he winked and smirked at you once more as he grabbed his burger.

The girls exchanged glances and started chatting and laughing to lighten the mood, discussing weekend plans and some random gossip.

You seemed to paying more attention to them than you are to Elvis, so he is left with only one goal in mind: get your attention. With a playful sparkle in his eye, he grabbed a chip and tossed it at you.

He peeked at you and saw you were still trying to ignore him, so he sighed and got an idea. He took a huge bite of his burger and chewed loudly, making all crazy eating sounds. He grinned when he saw your eyes narrow in annoyance.

“Oh, could you just stop?” You asked, rolling your eyes. The girls were watching the whole situation with wide eyes and trying to hold back their laughter, but it was getting harder by the second. They’ve never seen you so riled up before.

As Elvis munched on his burger like a wild beast, Betty couldn't help but chime in,“Lord, Elvis, could you chew any louder? I don’t think the folks in China heard you.” She teased, trying not to laugh.

He grinned wider, with a playful glint in his eyes “Stop what, darlin’? Can’t a guy enjoy his burger in peace?” He asked innocently, clearly enjoying your reaction to him.

Red chuckled and patted Elvis on the back “Yeah, buddy, you’re really making an entrance today.” He joked, knowing Elvis was annoying you on purpose.

Elvis grinned innocently and swallowed part of his burger with a satisfied sigh. He then grabbed his coke and slowly started sipping through the straw, still watching you waiting for some sort of reaction. The group, including Red, started shaking his head at Elvis’ acts.

Nancy attempted to redirect the conversation. "Elvis, tell us more about yourself!" she asked.

You tried your best to tune out Elvis and ignore the conversation that centered around him, but the group's interest kept drawing your attention back to him.

He glanced at Nancy and grinned, clearly loving the attention. Leaning back, he crossed his arm over his chest while sipping his coke. "Well, what do you ladies wanna know?" He glanced over at you, catching your reaction to Nancy's question.

Nancy looked at the others, then back to Elvis “Just, like, what are you into? Do you have a girlfriend? How old are you?” She asked with a playful tone, giggling with Betty.

Elvis chuckled at her question and looked over at you before replying to Nancy “I’m into a lot of things, music mostly. No, no girlfriend at the moment, not sure what kinda girl could keep up with me.” He answers, his lip curved into a smile knowing you were listening.

"No one, to be honest" You snapped back rudely at his answer.

Elvis raised an eyebrow and grinned, amused by your rudeness “No one, huh? Think I’d be too much for anyone to handle, darlin’?”

The girls smiled, enjoying the banter between you and Elvis. Betty pipes up, giggling “Well, it’s not like anyone’s been able to handle her so far, Elvis.”

Elvis couldn't help but chuckle as he glanced over at you, picking up on your growing grumpiness. "That's true, isn't it, baby?"

You shoot Betty a deadly look. "What the fuck are you doing, Betty?" you thought to yourself. This is exactly why you didn't want to open up about personal stuff. You just knew he was going to make fun of you now. As if it was not already bad enough that you haven't been kissed at this age.

“Yeah! She has never been kissed before, Elvis!” Betty stated amused talking as if she had known him for ages. She didn’t have the right to say that.

Elvis’ eyes widen slightly at her comment, surprised. He looked over at you, taking in your annoyed expression and biting his lip to keep from laughing.

“No way, honey. Really?” He asked, faking disbelief.

Red laughed from the other side of the table, finding amusing to see the interaction. "Yeah, can you believe it?" he said, knowing that Elvis was really enjoying this information.

Elvis paused for a moment, a sly smirk playing on his lips as he looked at you. "No wonder you're the way you are, darlin'. All pent-up frustration, huh?"He teased, knowing it would get a rise out of you.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. The thing you'd been trying so hard to avoid had actually happened, and it was all thanks to Betty. You were so mad that you just blurted out, "Can you just shut up?" You could feel your face getting all red from being so frustrated.

Elvis jokingly pretended to zip his lips and leaned in to listen to the lively conversation, but his eyes kept looking at you. When he saw that your milkshake was almost gone, he mischievously shifted closer and checked if anyone was watching. Since everyone was busy talking, he sneakily grabbed your milkshake, took a big sip, and grinned at you.

He winked as he swallowed a mouthful of your milkshake, then smacked his lips together and looked at your shocked face “Hmm, tastes good” He teased, enjoying every second of this.

“What in the hell are you doing???” You asked, getting on your nerves.

Elvis took another sip of your milkshake, making an exaggerated noise of pleasure as he swallowed. He then sets the glass down and he leaned closer to you, his knee brushing up against yours. “Ya mad at me now, baby?” He asked in a low devilish voice.

"What's your deal?" you barked, feeling totally embarrassed in front of everyone by that jerk.

“What ya gonna do, honey? Be mad at me? Well, ya already are” He teased, laughing at your obvious irritation.

Red laughed along with Elvis “Looks like someone's not happy at all” he commented.

Elvis looked at Red and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms “Can't blame me, though. S'not my fault she's such an easy target” He shot a wink at you, enjoying riling you up.

Red chuckled and nudged Elvis' shoulder

"You flirtin' with her or what?" He asked with a smirk.

Elvis cracked up and shook his head "Nah, nothing like that. I'm just havin' a little fun, seeing how much I can piss her off" He looked over at you, noticing your grumpy expression "But seriously, darlin’. You gotta lighten up a bit. You're gonna spoil the night for everyone else."

You didn't know what to say after he spoke, so you just looked down at the floor, trying to figure out what he meant. It seemed like he was intentionally trying to bother you, with no other intentions, and you couldn't shake the feeling that your friends were annoyed with you because you were in a bad mood. As everyone else continued chatting without realizing the tension between you and Elvis, you felt more and more like no one understood you.

Out of nowhere, you stood up from your seat, and rushed towards the diner exit, tears rolling down your face. It felt like all of your emotions came rushing out at once, and you couldn't hold them back any longer. It seemed like everyone was really into Elvis and his charming personality, and it seemed like they preferred him over you.

Elvis and the others watched in surprise as you suddenly ran off.

"Whoa whoa whoa, where's she goin'?" Nick asked, stunned

Elvis pushed the table away to get up, went to the window to see where you went, and said, "I, uh...... I'll go talk to her," Without waiting for a reply, he quickly left the diner and started looking around for you.

Elvis hurried to catch up to you, determined to reach you. He finally saw you walking away, looking really upset, and felt even guiltier with every step.

"Wait up!" he called out, struggling to keep up with your fast pace. When he finally caught up and started walking beside you, he said, “Damn, you're fast, baby" trying to catch his breath. He stared at you, seeing the tears rolling down your face, and asked "Hey... where ya goin’ all angry and upset?"

"Leave me alone!" You managed to cry out, your voice shaking and tears streaming down your face. You couldn't stop the hysterical sobs that wracked your body, making it hard to speak through your hiccups.

Elvis felt bad seeing the anger and tears in your eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling guilty for making you feel this way.

"Nah, can't do that, sweetheart. I gotta talk to ya," he says firmly, walking beside you at your pace.

Elvis stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking down at the ground as he walked. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking up.

“M’sorry, I shouldn't have pushed so much at the diner. I went too far." He looked up at you, his eyes sincere. He took a deep breath and continued, "I was just trying to have some fun, you know, trying to get a reaction out of you. It wasn't right. I didn't mean it. Can ya forgive me?"

Elvis looked at you, seeing the tears still streaming down your face. You couldn't bring yourself to speak.

“Hey, hey, please don't cry anymore. I'm really sorry, darlin’. You didn't deserve that”

He paused for a moment,

“But you're great, ya know? Feisty, stubborn, and damn pretty too” He added.

He looked concerned as he reached into his pocket and took out a tissue. Slowly, he wiped away your tears while gazing into your eyes. "I’ll buy you the whole damn diner, darlin’. Any milkshake flavour, as many as you want. Anything to see you smile”

You and Elvis made eye contact, and you could see regret in his eyes. He took a step back, giving you some room to breathe. Despite any assumptions you had about him, there he was, trying to help you through this tough time. You felt a little relieved, even if you didn't want to admit it. And you had to admit, the way the light was hitting his face was pretty captivating.

He noticed your silent sigh, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth

"Ya won't speak to me? No insults, no smart comeback? Am I that irresistible up close?" He teases, trying to lighten the mood

“Idiot…” you muttered, chuckling.

Elvis smiled widely, feeling a sense of relief to hear you chuckle. He tucks the tissue back into his pocket, still standing close to you.

"Ah, there it is. There's that feisty attitude I know" He teased, his eyes glimmering with mischief

You laughed at his response. “Well, the thing is, I didn’t expect anyone else to come with the group. And I had some personal stuff I didn’t want to share, like the fact that I haven’t been kissed… because I don’t want to hear some stranger making jokes and comments about it. I thought you might be that kind of jerk…” you said.

Elvis's expression softened as you mentioned your situation. He nodded and leaned against a nearby wall, stuffing his hands into his pockets again.

"I get it, darlin’. Sometimes ya just wanna keep things to yourself, especially when ya don't know the people you're with. I ain't tryin' to poke fun at yer troubles"

He looked at you again, his eyes holding a hint of vulnerability “So I hope ya don’t think too badly of me after this, darlin’”

Elvis took a deep breath and looked at you. He stepped closer, and before you knew it, he pulled you into a hug. You were a bit surprised at first, but as he pulled you close, you noticed the faint scent of his hair gel and the clean, woodsy scent of his cologne. He held you tightly, one hand resting on your waist while the other gently patted your back.

He whispered into your ear "M’really sorry, darlin’. For everything." As he hugged you tighter, he kept talking, "I've been focused on you the whole night, and I guess I let my dumb teasing get out of control." He paused, his face buried in the crook of your neck, and you could feel his warm breath against your skin, causing a slight shiver to run down your spine.

Your heart was racing. No one had ever given you such a warm hug. Feeling remorse, you said, "I'm sorry I didn't make you feel welcome either."

Elvis let out a soft chuckle against your neck, his chest vibrating with the sound. He kept his arms wrapped around you, not ready to let go just yet. "I deserved that. I was acting like a real sonofabitch" he said as he pulled back slightly to look you in the eyes.

"But I'm glad we're good now, baby. That's all I care about," he said with a tender smile, pinching your cheek.

He looked down at your face and saw the hint of a blush on your cheeks. His grin grew wider, and he couldn't resist teasing you a little more. "What's this? Is the tough girl feeling a bit flustered?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You wish!!!” You let out, trying to hide your embarrassment.

Elvis laughed at your fast denial and crossed his arms "Aw, come on. You’re terrible at hiding it, darlin’."

He took a step closer, a smirk on his lips "I can practically hear your heart racing" he growled.

Elvis locked his piercing blue eyes onto your lips, drawing closer until his chest almost touched yours. Your heart quickened as you felt his nearness, his gaze fixed on your lips, inching closer to your face.

You closed your eyes, heart racing, waiting for a kiss. Your first kiss. Seconds ticked by, but nothing happened. Elvis didn't close the gap between you both. Instead, he just grinned wider, teasing you with that mischievous smile, inches away from your face, clearly enjoying your anticipation.

He left you staying like that for a second, then spoke, his voice low and amused “I knew it. You were hoping for a kiss, weren’t ya?”

"OH MY GOD, I JUST HATE YOU SO MUCH!!" Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, betraying your inner agitation.

Elvis bursted out laughing, bending over and clutching his stomach. Your annoyed look and outburst just made him laugh even harder.

"Oh, I love it when you get all riled up like that!" He managed to say between laughs.

You kept stomping away from Elvis, totally ticked off about what went down.

Elvis quickly got himself together, his laughter fading into a wide grin as he noticed your embarrassed expression. He hurried after you, catching up in just a few strides.

"Oh, don’t be mad now, darlin’. I was just having a bit of fun. Can't blame me for wanting to see your cute, flustered face"

As you kept walking, still grumbling about how much you ‘hate him’, Elvis walked beside you, his smile never leaving his lips. He listened to your muttered complaints, and suddenly his eyes sparkled with mischief.

Out of nowhere, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close to him. Before you had a chance to protest, he pressed his lips against yours in a swift, unexpected kiss.

The unexpected kiss left you speechless, your frustrated words stuck in your throat. Elvis enjoyed the sensation of your lips on his for a moment, then pulled back slightly to gaze into your eyes.

"You were saying something about hating me, baby?" He smirked, his voice filled with a smug satisfaction.

Your heart was racing, partly from surprise and partly from the lingering feeling of his kiss, but you attempted to stay composed. You shot him a glare, though there's no real anger in your eyes—just a touch of confusion.

Finally, you found your voice “You…..you idiot. Why’d you go and do that?”

Elvis chuckled, his hand still at your waist, holding you steady “Couldn’t help myself, darlin’. You looked too cute when you were all mad at me. I had to do something to shut you up”

He smiled, pulling you closer to him “Besides, you clearly enjoyed it” He teased, winking at you.

Your cheeks kept blushing, you didn't want to admit that you loved it. So, you gave him a little slap on his arm.

Elvis playfully gasped and rubbed his arm where you smacked him, still grinning. “Ouch! Feisty as always, baby” he teased, chuckling as he guided you back towards the diner.

“Alright, I guess I had that coming. But now, here’s the tough part. Chocolate, peanut butter, vanilla, or strawberry milkshake?” Elvis asked, raising his eyebrows up and down. God, he was really set on treating you to the whole diner, just like he promised.

“What about peanut butter?” You chuckled, feeling butterflies in your stomach watching Elvis holding your hand.

“Atta girl, you sure have a good taste, baby.”

🍨

[spooky-holtz]

Delicate

Melissa Schemmenti x fem!reader

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: This is my first time actually posting something I've written, please be nice :) I also don't know how to end things but this entire thing is a start I guess idk

There is no doubt in your mind that Sundays are easily the best day of the week. They are a moment of peace and a reprieve from the hectic nature of the school year. Abbott never gives you chance to breathe, with there always being some issue to fix - though it’s usually because of Ava or Janine’s ‘helpful’ antics.  

Not only do they offer you a respite from an otherwise perfect work environment; they also give you a chance to spend some time with a certain red-headed co-worker.  

Juggling work with a relationship is never an easy task yet somehow you and Melissa have managed it for close to two years, both of you learning to intertwine your work and personal lives seamlessly. Spending lunchtime chatting with Barb helps, usually with the redhead’s arm resting on the back of your chair as you eat last night's leftovers over conversations about the older woman’s latest Janine-shaped qualm. Mel even manages to convince Ava to group your classes together during field trips to various museums throughout the school year, just so she can see your eyes light up as you guide the kids toward a new fossil - well, as new as something that’s been underground for millions of years can get.  

As enjoyable as all this is, your Sundays give you a chance to spend time doing absolutely nothing with Melissa. Days usually begin wrapped in a duvet until neither of you can stand the heat of the confined space any longer, or until she turns on the Schemmenti charm and bats her eyelashes at you before asking you to make coffees, knowing you would simply never say no to her. Today starts a little differently, though.  

The coldness of the sheets wrapped around you doesn’t go unnoticed, and neither does the lack of body heat that is usually pressed against your back and wrapped around you. Before you can even wake, you’re frowning at the loss of warmth that constantly accompanies the redhead. You begrudgingly open your eyes, blearily searching for Melissa who at the very least you expect to be resting against the headboard, cat-eye glasses propped on her face as she reads a terrible romance novel. Instead, you’re greeted with a crumpled pillow and cold sheets.  

The sight of the empty bed makes you huff, disappointed that she wouldn’t stick around to say good morning. You roll over, wrapping the cool sheets even tighter around your bare torso and grumbling under your breath about the harsh change in temperature that this time of year always brings, before the faint sound of music causes your ears to perk up. It’s too far away to make out properly but there’s only one person that can be the cause of it.  

Deciding that you’ve been away from Melissa for far too long, though in reality it’s probably only been half an hour since she woke up herself, you swing your feet off the edge of the bed and onto the cold hardwood floor. Spying an old Phillies sweatshirt with cracked red print that you had commandeered from the redhead a long time ago laying on the floor in front of the dresser after last night’s activities, you decide that it would provide sufficient coverage for your journey into the rest of your home. It is only you two here, after all.  

Cautiously, you make your way across the corridor to the stairway, quietly padding your way down as the music becomes louder and the smell of breakfast envelops your senses. The tune is much easier to make out as you round the corner and lean against the kitchen doorframe, Melissa not noticing as she fusses with ingredients on the stovetop that you can’t see, her back turned as she softly sings along to the track playing from the radio that resides on the sunny window ledge.  

“Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate,” she softly sings, almost subconsciously as she carries on with the task at hand. You shake your head and let out a slight chuckle at the sight, one that she doesn’t hear over the radio. She continues her singing, hips swaying slightly to the relaxed beat.  

Swiftly but silently, you make your way across the kitchen to where she stands and wrap your arms around her. She tenses slightly, her breath catching in her throat at the surprise intrusion. As soon as it happens, she relaxes back into you, continuing to prepare breakfast.  

“Who would have thought the Melissa Schemmenti was a Swiftie?” you ask lowly into her ear.  

It’s not as if her soft spot for pop music is a secret to you. After a night on the town with Jacob and Janine during spring break you had returned home to find the redhead fast asleep curled up on the sofa, a half-full bottle of rosé forgotten about on the coffee table as Harry Styles crooned at her from the radio that hasn’t moved from the countertop. The same radio that is currently playing Taylor Swift.  

“You realize I don’t really have a choice in that, right?” You can almost hear the smirk in her voice, the quirk of her eyebrow that appears so regularly you’re surprised it isn’t a permanent feature that’s etched on her face. “You listen to literally nothing else.”  

You gasp, feigning offence at the comment. “I have no idea what you’re talking about”  

“Look, if we’re going to see her in concert then I wanna be prepared,” she says matter-of-factly gesturing wildly with the spatula that she holds in her hand, almost as if it backs up her frantic justification. “I’m not gonna half-ass it like most of the boyfriends in that crowd, I’m going to make sure I know all the words, so my girl doesn’t have to worry about whether I’m enjoying myself or not.”  

Her words immediately cause a pink hue to spread across your cheeks, her casual thoughtfulness never going unnoticed. Suddenly embarrassed, you move your head to press against the exposed skin between her neck and shoulder. You’re pretty sure she can feel the heat radiating from your cheeks, even if she can’t see it.  

“I still can’t believe you’re going for me.” You mumble against the skin of her neck, pressing a soft kiss to the skin.  

She relishes in the contact for a brief moment before she registers your words and spins to face you, the pan and its contents that sit on the stove pushed to the side, forgotten.  

“Well yeah, of course I’m going to go with you. You love her and I love you. Simple”  

You pause.  

“Really? Because if you didn’t want to go you know I could always just take Janine or Jaco-“  

Your rambling is cut off by a soft pair of lips pressing against yours, immediately stopping the tirade of second-guessing.  

She tastes like coffee, the remnants of which sit at the bottom of a mug on the counter that’s adorned by faded images of the two of you over the last 3 years that you’ve known each other. The item was a gift from Barb, given to Melissa as part of her birthday celebrations this year. It serves as a reminder of just how long the two of you pined over each other before letting your true feelings be known.  

Barb took great pride in presenting the mug to Melissa, with an equal amount going toward the fact that all but one of the images that are printed on the side were taken secretly by the older woman, candid moments of your relationship through the years.  

“I think you’ll find that you weren’t even together in half of them,” she had said, as soon as she had seen Mel’s eyes soften at the sight she held in her hands. “I just knew I had to take pictures when I would see you two together. You would definitely want to see them when you finally plucked up the courage to tell the damn girl how you felt.”  

“Where did you just go?” Melissa asks, bringing you out of your thoughts. She’s looking up at you slightly through her eyelashes and the sight makes your heart skip in your chest.  

“I was just thinking about how much I love you,” you reply, honestly. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone that would learn the words to an entire concert setlist just for me.”  

“Of course I would,” she says, leaning in again. “Because,” kiss. “I love you,” kiss. “And besides,” she shrugs slightly, “it’s not as if I didn’t know most of them in the first place. I couldn’t have you thinking I was getting too soft now, could I?”  

Your jaw drops at the statement.  

“Melissa Ann Schemmenti!” You gasp, “Are you seriously telling me you’ve been a closeted Taylor Swift fan this entire time and you were going to let me think you weren’t?!”  

“What do you think I am, an idiot?” She breaks into a grin, her eyes crinkling. “The woman is a musical genius. You should be more shocked that I apparently didn’t like her after that whole Harry Styles debacle.”  

Your jaw is still ajar, quite simply unable to recover from this revelation. You go to move away from the redhead as the song changes on the stereo but her deceivingly strong arms tighten around your waist, pulling you even closer to her than you were before.  

“Dance with me?” She asks, looking up through her eyelashes again. Her voice has taken on an almost nervous tone that you rarely get to hear from her.  

Those three words soften your rigid exterior as she looks up expectantly, almost hesitantly, as she waits for your response.  

“As if I could ever say no to you.”  

She visibly relaxes at your statement, her left hand moving further down your lower back to rest against your waist. You snake one hand up the silk of her floral dressing gown to rest on her shoulder whilst the other subconsciously finds its way into hers, fingers intertwining seamlessly. This is a position you often find yourselves in, always finding something to dance together to as a meal cooks, or a fresh pot of coffee brews, or simply as a way to enjoy the others' company.  

Your bodies press flush against each other and you’re finally able to relish in the warmth that she carries. A warmth that you so desperately missed this morning. Your head leans back slightly so you can look at her face properly for the first time since you woke.  

This is your favorite version of Melissa and is by far the most beautiful. Yes, she looks incredible when her eyes are lined by sharp black eyeliner or her lips shine with recently applied sparkly pink gloss, but this natural state with soft eyes and a dusting of freckles that line the bridge of her nose makes your heart leap in your chest. Not many people get to see this version of her, but you feel privileged to be among the extremely lucky few.  

Her fiery hair is pulled up into a messy bun in an attempt to tame the tangled mess she finds herself in every single morning. It was clearly a hasty choice made when she woke herself, so much so that she missed a chunk and a copper strand falls down her back, completely unnoticed.  

“Do you know how pretty you are?” You ask.  

She scoffs. “As if-“she begins before her protest is abruptly cut off by your own.  

“Nope, I’m not listening,” you say, leaning your head back away from her in a bid to cement your point. “You’re absolutely the most beautiful woman in the world and I won’t hear any different, so stop that right now.” 

She chooses not to fight this battle that she will clearly lose, for once going against all her instincts. When you look back at her, her eyes are glistening, shining like they’re made of glass. You take the opportunity to place your lips to her forehead, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple in a silent ‘I love you’. Meeting her eyes again, you can see the faint pink hue that dusts her cheeks.  

“You’re blushing, you know.” You tease lightly.  

She laughs, almost in disbelief. “Yeah well, pretty girls tend to have that effect on me.” Her eyes crinkle again as she grins, her expression only growing wider as you throw your head back in laughter. Her hand on your waist moves to your lower back, pressing to keep the two of you from toppling over as you laugh together.  

When you bring your head back to her level, beaming in her direction at her constant ability to turn the Schemmenti charm on seemingly out of nowhere. Your grip on her tightens, the hand that was conjoined with her own snaking it’s way inside her robe and under the loose tie to rest on her hip, rubbing the pale skin there with your thumb.  

Her own hand moves to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, it having fell during the moment of pure joy and laughter you shared. As her hand pulls away, she moves it to brush against your jaw, caressing the skin as her light eyes gaze lovingly into yours. This entire scene feels like something that’s been ripped straight out of a rom com, but there is simply no other person you would rather share these lulls with. Almost as if she’s reading your mind, Melissa breathes a quiet “I love you,” before resting her own forehead against yours.  

[we-out-here-simping]

Ch 3: expanding horizons.

(s.h. x gn!reader)

from the river to the sea. (get in your daily clicks, read about it, donate if you can.)

Summary: you want to talk to Steve, but between your fights with hopper and looking after el and max, you just can't seem to get the time out but it's okay! you'll make the time to talk later... right?

Warnings: use of (y/n); no pronouns used (gn!reader); sad; arguments; flashbacks; injuries; a wild Eddie Munson appears; high school bullies

Word count: 8k

A/n: changed the chapter title but still feel like nothing fits for this one :{

also this was supposed to be out atleast a week or two ago but shit keeps coming up and I get very sleepy very early soz guys ;(

i know i asked for lil soft happy blurb ideas earlier unforch nothing got my creative juices flowing... well- there is one Nancy fic I've been wanting to write for a while now but I feel like I'm already working on so many different fics I don't wanna add another one but just know I'm thinking of Nancy wheeler and soon sapphic energy will strike upon me on a random weekday and I'll write her down

Masterlist

It was hard to breathe. Steve's vision is blurry as he walks through the woods towards his car. He feels ridiculous-- absolutely ridiculous, walking through woods in a stupid sailor uniform after being caught doing the deed with the person he is dating by said person's father. 

Walk of shame is an understatement.

But that isn't all that makes it all so ridiculous, so damn stupid. Steve knew he shouldn't have been eavesdropping on you two, it was a matter between you and Hopper, but he just couldn't help it– he was the topic of the argument after all.

He didn't know what to do when Hopper's voice got louder, when he started shouting. He wanted to barge in, to act as your shield. 

"No, you listen", Hopper’s voice comes loud even through the door, "You are fucking grounded. You can live your stupid paranoid fantasy and stay safe and stuck in this cabin”

“Hop–”

"And that means no tv–", the man interrupts you and Steve hates how much this whole thing reminds him of his own dad. 

"Dad–", he hears you whimper and it breaks his heart. Because you don't call Hopper ‘dad’, not yet anyway. You had once confided in the boy that the title felt too big. Too scary. You’d told him that Hopper didn’t mind. That he’d told you to take as long as you need, to say it if and when it feels right. But with the way he is shouting, it makes him wonder if gentle words like that could ever leave his mouth. 

Boots shuffle on the other side of the door, "No radio or cassettes, no more phone, no more tv– ", Steve hears the clatter and something falling on the floor. "What else are you hiding from me, huh?”

"Nothing, Hopper–", his feet stomp once again, "Hopper, stop–"

"No more fucking dating", his voice booms, followed by the sound of something tearing up.

Your voice cracks when you exclaim, "NO!!--" 

"And NO MORE FUCKING STEVE HARRINGTON", Steve can’t help but flinch a little at the large thump that follows. "D'YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND?" He barely even heard the sniffle you let out. “Asked you a fucking question.”

This is it, Steve thinks, enough of this. He is stepping in, Hopper, respect and his dad be damned, he will not let the man shout at you like that and not do anything.

Just when Steve was about to swing open the door, he heard you speak up, "No."

"What'd you say?"

"I said, no."

"Why? You love that stupid idiot or something?"

The air is thick with tension, Hopper’s question lingers in it for a while. You don't say a word. Seconds pass and your voice finally comes out, all shaky and rough. “He’s my friend. He’s my only friend, Jim.”

Steve’s knuckles turn white around the door knob. He cant help the pit that starts forming in his stomach, the disappointment that settles in it.

Friend. Friend? That's it? 

Sure, you both had just been dating only for two weeks but they were one of the best two weeks of his life and you don't feel the same? 

His grip tightens. was Steve being irrational? Maybe. But he cant help that pit in his stomach to spread wider– not because you don't love him but because he realises that he does. The realisation hits him like a bag of bricks, sure to bruise.

He thinks back to the night at your old trailer, the night he realised he liked you. All those months spent sneaking in just to see your face and your smile, tell you stupid jokes, hear your laugh, and to just be around you— it meant nothing to you? 

And now, he loves you. He loves you and you don't. 

"Cut the bullshit, y/n", he hears Hopper mutter from the other side.

his jaw tightens, molars grinding. Steve felt like history was repeating itself but this time he won't let it kick him down. He won't let it happen.

He won't let it happen to him again— he couldn't. So he puts his shirt back on, blinks back the moisture in his eyes and leaves the cabin. 

Now, walking to his car, he dared not to look back where he had just left, he wished to not even think of what had just happened. This was stupid, he was stupid. And as he drives through Hawkins towards starcourt mall, all he could think of was how much he felt about you and how much you didn't.

Hopper was right, this was all just a bunch of bullshit.

Bullshit. He laughs to himself at it without finding any humour in it. its funny how much that one word has ruined things in his life. The two syllables, a running motif in his life that he just can't seem to escape.

When Steve walks into work, Robin Buckley notices the air around him is thick and stale, his shoulders slumped. He was missing his scoops ahoy hat, his hair in disarray which is an uncommon occurrence considering he always had it styled as it is his self proclaimed best feature. His eyes have a glazed look to them, Robin notices– not that she was going to investigate as to why. she doesn't care about him, they aren't friends, they are far from it.

Something else she notices, Steve was trying to hit on every girl that came to the counter. So much so that the girl had conjured up a tally scoreboard– five lines marked below the 'you suck' and zero below the 'you rule'.

Robin listens to Steve trying to flirt with another girl and doing so badly. She fights back a snicker as the curly haired girl rejects the boy. As the girl and her friend walk away giggling, she hears, ".... It's my first day here...", Steve's voice trails off before letting out a heavy sigh, his head hanging low.

"And another one bites the dust!" Robin announces, sliding the whiteboard so Steve could see it– marking another tally under the 'you suck' title. "You are O for six, Popeye"

He crosses his arms, turning around, "Yeah, I can count"

"You know that means you suck."

"Yep, I can read too."

"Since when?", She retorts quizzically, putting the board back where it had been before continuing, "Why exactly are you suddenly trying to flirt with every girl in Hawkins?"

His brows knit together before he looks away, shaking his head a little, "I'm not trying to... flirt with anyone”

"Yeah, you are. I thought you were already spoken for"

"I have no clue what you're talking about"

she squints her eyes, "Oh, really? what about--"

“I don't even want to talk to you right now”, he interrupts her, turning around, his eyes not meeting hers.

“Not too keen about it either”, she is quick to say it-- they arent friends after all. "i mean– Y'know", she rests her crossed arms on the counter, "it's a crazy idea but have you ever considered telling them the truth?" she shrugs towards where the two girls had just been.

"Oh, that I'm so stupid that I couldn't even get into tech and now my douchebag dad's trying to teach me a lesson? That I make three bucks an hour and that I– that I have no future?", That the one person I love never seems to love me back? "That truth?"

“Wow Harrington. A joy to be around, aren't you?”, she shakes her head, trying to rid her head of thoughts and questions about Steve Harrington's love life. “And where’s your hat? You’re supposed to have it on at all times, y’know, company policy”

“I– um, I forgot it at home”

“‘Course you did”, Robin sighs. Before she could say anything else, Robin's eyes land on a group of girls walking towards the ice cream store, "Hey, twelve o' clock", she tells him, gesturing towards the group.

Steve let out a breath, he goes to fix his hair, quirking a brow towards Robin as if to ask if he looked good.

“And he says he isnt flirting”

“I’m just trying to look presentable”, he defends, running his fingers through his hair one last time.

"oh my god you're a whole new man", she says all dry and sarcastic.

"I know right ooh–", the brown eyed boy shimmies his shoulders then quickly turns towards the counter, "ahoy there, ladies! Didn't see you there! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavour with me? I'll be your captain….", The sailor uniform clad boy announces rather loudly, "I'm Steve Harrington."

The group of girls look at the boy with wide eyes, holding in their giggles. Steve is still babbling about the many flavours they offered, his gaze flitting from one girl to another. Robin grimaces and turns to put another tally under 'you suck'.

…

There is a knock on your bedroom door, followed by a voice. "(Y/n)?", Jim calls out from the other side.

Your door is locked. Still hiding under your blankets, you'd spent the entire night tossing and turning, barely getting any sleep. Your back hurt from lying in the same position for so long, your eyelids droopy. And Hopper knocking on your door every ten minutes ever since he woke up wasn't helping.

"(Y/n)?", The man hollers again, "just... open the door, okay– I have breakfast", He is greeted with silence, once again.

"Listen," he sighs, "I just want to talk...", he pauses and after it was indicative that he wasn't getting a response, he bangs his balled-up fist against the door.

"Go away", he finally hears your voice out loud. You did not want to see him, you couldn't. Yesterday's fight still fresh in your mind, you couldn't bear to look at him or the things he'd broken during said fight. the aftermath of his lash-out lied shoved in a lonesome corner of your cramped room. You wanted him to leave you alone, to go to work like he always does so you could call Steve and maybe apologise for all that Hopper might've said to the boy. so that things could go back to the way they were.

There is silence and for a minute you think he actually listened to you. But then the muffled sound of his sigh reaches your ears. "Hey, I know that…", he breaths in, "yesterday– I might have said too much… and I– I just wanna talk it out and maybe–"

Suddenly, the door flies open and he is met with your face. Your red rimmed eyes filled with anger, nostrils flared and hair a mess. "I told you to go away. So, just leave me alone", you say through gritted teeth, voice cold before slamming the door on Jim's face.

"HEY, don't you fucking slam doors!", His palm went for the knob, locked. "Open this door, (y/n)."

"No", he barely hears you over the blood rushing in his ears.

"Where the hell have you gotten this attitude from lately, huh? From your little friend? You think you're being real cool? being a rebel?"

"Oh, you think you're being real father-like?"

it only makes him angrier, he clenches his jaw, "(Y/n)... open this door", he says it almost like a warning.

"No."

"Fine!", he throws his hands up before holding up a angry finger at the door like an angry father does, "Just know that I tried to have an adult and mature conversation with you, but since you're such a reckless, immature child, I'll let you fucking be!", He turns away from the door, stomping his feet rather purposely.

The door swings open behind him. he turns around and you're there all furious and mad.

"Ah, look who it is!", The man exclaims, sarcasm evident in his tone, "Finally gracing us peasants!"

"You're the one who broke all my stuff and acted like a man-child", You hiss, pointing an accusatory finger towards the man, "And I'm the reckless and immature one?"

"Not only are you that but you're also stupid and irresponsible– breaking a rule, with that jackass Steve Harrington, no less!”

“Don't say that about him, he’s my–”

“Your friend? Yeah, I heard that, I saw it all too. I'm sure you guys are great friends!" Jim speaks with mockery in his words, "D'you kiss and fornicate with all your friends?"

With a scowl he continues, “you are immature and irresponsible, sneaking him in past my alarms like that–"

“They’re shit anyway!” you shout to interrupt him but he keeps talking, voice only getting louder.

"Not only did you put yourself in danger but El as well."

"How the hell did that put us in danger? you know Steve he–"

"Don't you talk back to me!” there's that tone again, the one that makes you scared, “you put us all at risk for this stupid boy. So yeah, you are irresponsible"

"God, why do you hate me so much??", You blurt out– its frustrated, tired and angry. You don't realise what you'd said until it was already out. Tears line your red eyes, and you look so tired, you want to go back to sleep.

all his irritation and rage are gone, his face falls, "What–", Hopper starts but gets interrupted by a familiar voice.

"(Y/n)? Hopper? What's happening?", El, who had been presumably waiting for Mike outside inquires with furrowed brows as she comes back in, concern etched into her features.

Both you and hooper say that it was, "nothing". You turn your face away so the girl couldn't see your distraught state and unfallen tears, trying to discreetly wipe them away. Jim rubs his palms over his face to collect himself, himself also not meeting the young girl's eyes.

She looks between the two of you before moving towards the phone, “is everything okay?” Hopper asks after clearing his throat. you glare at him.

“Yes.” she answers. You and Hopper stand silently as she asks for Mike on the phone. She then goes to her room to continue the conversation with the boy.

He clears his throat once again, and when you catch him looking at you, you cast him a glare full of indignation that makes him avert his gaze away. "I'm– I should get going...", Jim mumbles more to himself before taking his hat, wallet and keys and then heading out while you turn to usher yourself into your room, wallowing in self pity, once again.

Your room was dark, none of the lights on and somehow it was colder in there. Within moments you hid yourself under the blankets, ignoring the ever-present headache you'd had for a few days now.

1980.

You got detention, again.

You are used to it at this point. It is the same old– you wouldn't know how to react in a social situation, a classmate would make fun of you, and you'd get mad. Anger would boil in your blood as you would walk up to the person and punch them square in the face. Their parents would complain, you'd get detention and then a lecture in the principal's office with Hopper. The same old.

This time it is Tony Reed who was graced with a split lip and a bruised cheek. The blonde boy had decided it was very cool and funny to trip you in the lunch cafeteria and then proceed to spill his chocolate milk over you, calling you something that you didn't know the meaning of but assumed it was bad considering how his group was laughing and sneering. Your limbs had worked faster than your brain and here you are sitting outside the principal's office, picking your nails and waiting for Hopper to come out.

It has been almost close to a year since you escaped the lab. Almost a year of hiding. Almost a year of running. Almost a year of trying to fit in and failing ever so graciously at it. Almost a year since you'd met Jim Hopper.

Seldom do you two talk now, the man is always busy with his work. You also had your own job, school and the overall goal to not be caught by the lab again. The man doesn't know about your past. He is unaware of all of the secrets the small town of Hawkins holds, so does everyone else.

The creak of the door alerts you that it is Hopper coming out of the office. He picks up the hat he'd placed on the seat next to you, a silent gesture to tell you that he is ready to leave. You follow him out the doors, quick steps catching up to him. You sit in his car, slamming the doors behind you.

There is a silence, your gaze fixed on hands resting in your lap. Jim reaches for the cigarette pack in his pocket, he lights it up, blowing out a puff of smoke– making the car smell like strong tobacco.

He lets out a long, heavy sigh, "(y/n), we've talked about this", he continues once he notices you aren't going to interrupt him, "you can't keep doing this. This is the second time this month"

"(Y/n)", he says tenderly when you don't answer, "Hey... look at me when I'm talking to you" You look up from your lap, gaze connecting with his. "You cant keep doing this. If someone says something, we've discussed how to deal with it– you talk to your friends, teachers, or me"

"I don't have friends, teachers don't believe, and you are busy….. always", when Hopper doesn't say anything you continue, "I have not seen you since the last time I got in trouble. you are never there at the PTAs or–"

"Yeah, that's because I am not your damn parent, (y/n)", Jim interrupts you.

Your gaze is back to your hands in your lap, picking at the skin near the nails. The man beside you lets out a soft sigh, rubbing his temple. "Hey, hey", he whispers, "How about you promise and try not to kill another kid, I'll get you a new shirt and treat you with some Benny's, hmm? How's that sound?"

…

You heard a knock at your door, a softer and quieter one as compared to Hopper's, "(Y/n)? Can I come in?" El asks.

"Yeah, sure". The door opens, the hinges creaking slightly– light pooling into the dark room. Eleven lets herself in, sitting by the foot of your bed.

"What happened with Hopper?"

"You heard it all didn't you?" The girl nods. "I'm sorry…" that I shouted? That he shouted? That you heard it?

"So, Hopper knows about Steve?" Eleven inquires.

"Yeah, he does", you sigh before asking, "Hopper's gone right?"

You sister nods. You get up from your place, feet padding towards the phone hung by the kitchen wall– dialing up Steve's house number. When the line goes to the voicemail, you opt to try for his workplace number. You were greeted with the raspy voice of a girl.

You immediately hang up. El looks at you quizzically, “it wasn't him" Its always Steve who picks up the phone. Normally, at this time, Steve would always be there to pick up your calls. And Steve never ignores your calls.

You let out a forlorn sigh, putting the phone back on the receiver. Eleven standing by your side ready with a bowl of cereal for you and herself. You thank the girl before going to take a seat on the couch– she follows you closely then sits beside you. The girl twiddles her thumbs, clearly wishing to say something, "I wanted to ask you something", she speaks up after a while of eating silently.

"Yeah?"

"Mike... is being strange.. he is lying, I think" The girl explains to you all the details of everything that occurred between her and Mike. The way the girl explained everything, it seemed like your sister was asking for advice but considering you know jack shit about relationships, you were stumped.

After you both were done breakfast, she suddenly grabs your wrist and pulls you off the couch only stopping for you to put on your shoes and then pulling you through the door.

"El, what– where are you going?"

"To get advice."

"From who?"

Eleven tells you she was taking you to Max's home. You aren't sure that roaming in the neighbourhood was a good idea yet you let her lead you. The houses almost all look the same, surrounded by well mowed lawns and next to no one. Except for one person with bright red hair. Max is practising skateboarding and in the process the board slips from under her feet, rolling towards you and your sister.

The short haired girl beside you stops the board with her feet, picks it up and walks towards the redhead.

"Hi", Eleven greets.

"...Hi?" Max echoes in confusion, glancing between you and Eleven. You gave a wave of your hand towards the girl.

"Can we... talk?"

....

"... And then he said, he missed me", your sister explains to Max who is pacing around her room, furrows of lines on her forehead. You are leaning against the wall by the door, eyes following the redhead's movement. "And then he just... hung up"

"He's a piece of shit", Max says matter-of-factly.

“That seems... harsh?” you speak up a little unsure.

“Are you seriously defending Mike right now?” Max looks at you pointedly.

“You know what? You’re right", you hold your hands up in surrender, "my bad.”

"What?" El says, looking between you two and suddenly it makes you feel bad about shitting on her boyfriend so openly.

"El think about it", Max says, now stopping infront of the girl to get her full attention, "Mike doesn't have jack shit to do today– his Nana obviously isn't sick. I guarantee you, him and Lucas are playing Atari right now."

"But friends don't lie", El states naively.

"Yeah, but boyfriends lie." She said it like it was the obvious thing, "All. The. Time."

Huh.

"What do I do?" Eleven queries.

"Listen, you're going to stop calling him– you're going to ignore his calls. As far as you're concerned, he doesn't exist"

"Doesn't exist?" Both you and El say at the same time, words pour out of your mouth before you even realise-- clearly more invested in Max's advice that you might have wanted. Max and El look at you, you clear your throat awkwardly before murmuring a little "sorry".

"Yeah," Max turns back to face El, "he treated you like garbage! You're gonna treat him like garbage– give him a taste of his own medicine"

"Give him the... medicine", El repeats the phrase a little wrong yet Max doesn't correct her and instead hums in acknowledgement.

"And if he doesn't fix this and explain himself– dump his ass", both your and your sister's eyes widened.

"C'mon", Max said, pulling Eleven off of the bed.

"Where are we going exactly?" You spoke up.

“We? You're coming too?” Max asks, the question directed towards El more so than you.

“Yes, (y/n) is coming”, she answers immediately, nodding.

"Okay we are going to have some fun, there's more to life than stupid boys, y'know."

....

You aren't sure why you are here. In a crowded bus— way too many strangers, you think– headed towards the talk of the town, the starcourt mall. You know you are breaking a rule, but you keep reminding yourself that you are there to take care of El.

When the three of you step out of the bus you are hit across the face with the fact that there are even more people. Way too many strangers. The short haired girl beside you says, almost as if voicing your concerns, "too many people… against the rules."

"Seriously? You have superpowers! What's the worst that could happen?"

…

It has been almost a month since you punched Tony Reed.

You haven't seen Hopper ever since that lunch at Benny's. Despite him having promised you to meet you more as long as you avoided fights. That was the verdict.

So far, you'd still managed to stay out of it for a month despite the bullying and sneers having increased tenfold.

It is a Wednesday morning in the middle of July, it had rained the previous night so the air is immensely humid– you are sweating your ass off. There are sweat spots on your gym t-shirt. Your shoes slip on the wet grass, you fall with a thud against the ground. A boisterous echo of laughs sounds behind you and as you turn, you see Tony Reed, with his group of friends which included Tommy Hagan, Carol Perkins, and many more who you haven't bothered to memorise the name of— Hawkins was full of bullies.

"Hey, you okay?"

You turn around and are met with a mop of frizzy black hair and an extended hand to help you up.

"Yeah. Fine", you mutter under your breath, not taking his helping hand.

"Hey, Munson!! That your co-freak?" Tommy shouts from across the field.

"Match made in hell!!", Tony added, and the rest of the group bursts out into an obnoxious fit of laughter. Before you know it, your hands that were just hanging by your side curl up into fists and almost involuntarily, you start walking forward towards the group of bullies.

Ever since that last fight, they have been on your ass. from spilling stuff on you to locking you in empty classrooms so you miss classes. the entire group reminds you of your brothers and sisters back at the lab. Your Papa-- Martin. Martin would make them fight you, despite knowing full well you'd lose. the lab infirmary had always been your second room more so than the rainbow room.

There is a fight. somehow, you aren't sure how though, Eddie gets involved as well.

By the time some teacher stopped it, you had bruised knuckles and a split lip, Eddie had one too and a bruise spread across his cheek. Tony had a black eye and a broken elbow. Maybe you and Eddie made a good team.

You are then called to the principal's office and are ordered to call Hopper once. The threat of being suspended from school hanging in front of you like a sword.

You call Hopper. He doesn't pick up. You call the station. Flo, the lady at the desk, tells you that he was busy but that she would convey the message as soon as she could.

You wait five hours. And then some more. The sun has already set. The sky is filled with clouds of different shades and hues of lilacs and oranges and pinks. The road is close to barren.

The principal has suspended you and Eddie for a week. His uncle had talked to the principal– the old man had offered to drop you off, the two of you did live in the same trailer park afterall. you had refused but now you wholeheartedly regret it as you look at your watch and realise how long you had been sitting on the dirty, concrete pavement. The gravel was uncomfortable, the air still humid.

But you and your stubborn ass are here waiting for Jim Hopper. At this point, you aren't even sure if he was coming. Your rusty bike stands abandoned in the stands.

As the sky was starting to get darker, you realised that you should probably get going, you shouldn't sit out in the open like this all alone. Then there was the stubborn part of you. You didn't want to move; everything was too much yet nothing at all.

Several Minutes pass. That's when you hear the sound of tires against gravel and engine revving. You look up to see the all too familiar Blazer along with the all too familiar face.

The car stops in front of you, "Hey, kid–", he tries starting while cranking the window down.

"You are six hours late", you interrupt him.

he lets out, "I'm sorry.." his fingers rub over the steering wheel, "C'mon I'll drop you off", he says with a jerk of his head towards the passenger seat.

You walk around the car to get in the passengers side, slumping down in the seat. Jim shifts the gear, driving through the streets of hawkins.

"You got in another fight?" Jim finally breaks the silence of the car, "What happened this time?" He asks before you could tell him. You almost want to be mad at him for being so oblivious to the details but you are tired and your injuries hurt– the school nurse was awful at her job. You are exhausted so you settle on explaining.

"I got suspended…", Jim's eyes flit to your face before quickly turning back onto the road, "...for a week."

The man lets out a deep sigh, "You promised that wouldn't happen"

"And you promised that you'd visit me", you can't help but add a little venom to your words.

"...ah, thats what this is about", he says, almost a mumble to himself. 

Jim doesn't say anything for the rest of the car ride. Neither do you. The air is thick with tension and you don't want to be the first one to cut it. You don't say anything when Hopper doesn't turn at the intersection he is supposed to. After a few minutes, the car stops in front of the video store and Jim finally speaks up .

"Alright kid, What's your favourite movie?" You look at him, confused, before shrugging. "What about your favourite snack?" You shrug again.

You wonder why his features soften for a second, "Okay, we need to fix that", he says turning the car off, "You need to develop some taste, kid. Expand your horizons. That make sense?"

You nod before he mutters a 'c'mon' while getting out of the car. You follow suit. You and Hopper pick out a random movie and some snacks and popcorn. Then he drives you to your trailer where you watch the movie and enjoy the sweet and salty snacks to your heart's delight.

Somewhere near the halfway mark of the movie, you fell asleep– the exhaustion of the day finally taking over. When Hopper looks back from the screen to look at you to see how much you were enjoying the movie, he notices your closed eyes, the steady rise and fall of your chest as your head was lolled to the side.

Jim immediately pauses the movie. When he looks at the time, the clock reads 9:30 p.m., he decides it was pretty late. The man moves to pick you up and carry you to your bedroom, the movement wakes you up. It isn't until he finally put you on the mattress, that you speak up.

"Hopper?" Jim hums in acknowledgement. "Is the movie over?"

"No but you need to sleep, it's getting late", he smoothens your blanket over you. "We will finish it... later?"

"Later", you echo. Jim was getting up to leave when you call out again, "Are you... leaving?"

"Yeah, kid. I'm sorry"

"You can stay", you try to bargain.

"I can't. But you'll see me later this week I promise", he turns to leave again before he notices the teddy bear sitting by the shelves. "You still got this bear?"

"Mr. Arnold", you correct him through a yawn.

"Right, right. Mr. Arnold Bearenbearer– I remember." He chuckles to himself, a smile creeping onto his face at the name he made up when he gave it to a younger scared you. the toy is old, the blue ribbon around its neck is fraying, tattered-- well-loved. it was one of Sarah's favourites, "You take good care of him?" You nod in response.

"Good, because if you take care of him..."

"he will take good care of me."

".. yeah, its like a superpower– I’ve said this all before, haven't I?”

You nod with a sleepy shy smile.

“Yeah, well I'm an old man, kid. Can't keep up.” Jim smiles and you mirror it before your features contort into another yawn. "Good night kid. Sleep tight"

"Good night."

…

You have a headache, similar to the one you'd have back when you had powers, it had subsided earlier in the day but increased again when you got to the mall. There are too many people, you ascertain as you walk behind Max and El, weaving through the crowd. Max takes El and inadvertently you, to various shops in the mall. Giggles from the two girls fill the air as they try the various things from dresses to hats and even shoes. Trying to find the super-powered girl her style, something she could call her own.

El had a grin pasted on her face and so did Max and you knew that this was going to be the start of an amazing friendship.

You are glad El was starting to find who she is– finding out what she loves and what she doesn't. and Max is the perfect person to encourage and empower her without being patronising to the girl.

In the shoe store, El is trying on a pair of high heels. Her legs wobble as she tries to strut in the shoes, losing her balance almost immediately, the girl falls to the ground. You and Max are quick to help her get up. When you look up, you see a group of girls, with a judgemental look painted upon their faces.

Your nostrils flare, fists clench and you are about to say something to the strangers. But before you can do so, the girls beside you do something that you would never have expected— they laugh. They brush it off and unapologetically laugh.

Max leads El and you towards the food court. Your ears perk at the mention of scoops ahoy. You know that Steve would probably be there, maybe you could apologise for whatever Jim had said to him. Maybe get an answer for why you couldn't get ahold of him earlier.

As you walk through the herd of people with a slight pep in your step, you try your best to follow the two girls to the ice cream parlour.

Suddenly, your shoulders knock against someone, when you turn to see who it was, you are met with a man in a security uniform.

For the split second you both look at each other, annoyance and irritation flashes on his features along with a hint of what seems to be recognition; but you don't recognise the man, you are sure of it.

Confusion in your mind is quickly swept under the rug as the two girls quickly lead you towards scoops ahoy. Thoughts of the stranger long gone.

There on the counter is Steve Harrington, who had just finished serving two young boys.

"Hey, Harrington", Max greets.

"Hey", you mouth, shyly waving towards him from behind the two girls.

"What do you guys want?", The boy gestures towards the ice cream tubs, completely ignoring your greeting and skipping all pleasantries.

The girls gave in their orders, the boy starts to scoop the strawberry and vanilla ice cream, not even sparing a glance towards you.

"What about you (y/n)?" Eleven questions.

you blink a little dumbly, "Huh?"

"Which one d'you want?", Max asks.

"I…", your voice trails off when your gaze finally met Steve's– his jaw clenches and he had an unreadable expression on his face, "I don't know... I'll take any"

Suddenly, the window slides open behind Steve, revealing a girl with short blonde hair, headphones around her neck. She whispers something to Steve and the boy says something back. The girl smiles, and she looks pretty and you couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy.

He goes scooping one for you too– the same flavour which he'd gotten for you the day before. The boy turns around with two cones of ice cream in his hands, handing them to the girls and giving you yours without even looking at you. Your fingers brush together, the boy quickly retracts his hands and turns back towards the two girls. The girls mutter a "thanks" before starting to eat the sweet goodness.

"Wait a second," for a split second his gaze flicks towards you before going back to El, "are you even allowed to be here?" He knows the answer to his own question, you aren't allowed. You know the question is directed towards you, despite him saying it to El. Yet he dares not to look at you.

Your sister and Max fall into a fit of giggles before turning to leave. Your eyes are still locked onto Steve's, the expression on his face that you couldn't decode, one you'd never seen on his face– you didn't know what it meant and oh, did you want to stay and find out. But the two girls were already almost out of the store and you were supposed to look after them.

You mutter a little "bye" before turning to leave too– almost sprinting towards the girls. The boy doesn't return your salutation and instead just looks at the direction from where you'd left.

"Hey, dingus"

"Jesus, Christ. What?" Steve flinches at the sudden appearance of Robin beside him

"I would appreciate if you tried not to burn holes into our customers", Robin says leaning against the counter, "Also I got the second sentence"

"Great."

"Okay, you know what? I'm done with this"

"With what?"

"You! You've been acting this way for two days now. What the hell is happening?"

"Nothing is happening"

"Oh, really? 'cause you look like a kicked puppy right now"

"No I don't."

"Who was that?", she quirks her brow, jerking her chin towards where you had just been, "The person you just served?"

"They were Dustin's friends", he answers as nonchalantly as he could, shrugging,

"No, dingus, the older one."

"Also, Dustin's friend"

"So why the hell did you look at 'Dustin's friend' with such a dejected look?"

"That's just how my face looks and why do you care anyway?"

His coworker sighs before turning towards the backroom once again, mumbling a raspy "whatever". She does know now that Steve's demeanour had something to do with you. She could probably discern if she investigated a bit more. But at that moment she had bigger things to decipher like a super-secret Russian code.

…

"Why did Steve look like he was mad at you?" Eleven whispers to you– ever observant.

"I don't know", you whisper back to her.

"Oh, you've gotta be shitting me", the redhead who is walking ahead of you spoke up. Your gaze follows her eyeline and you see the boy's of the party by the bike stands. "Isn't this a nice surprise!" Max exclaims sarcastically.

Mike drops his bike, stunned, "What're you doing here?" He interrogates, pointing towards El.

"Shopping." Your sister states.

"This is her new style.. what d'you think?"

"What's wrong with you? You know she's not supposed to be here", he then turns to you and points an accusatory finger towards you, "You know she's not supposed to be here"

"What is she, your pet?"

"Yeah, am I your pet?"

"What? No!"

"Why do you treat me like garbage?"

"What?"

"You said Nana was sick"

"She is!"

"Yeah, she's so sick", Lucas speaks up from behind mike.

"Which is why we're here– to shop for Nana and also we're here to get something for you but it's hard 'cause I only have three dollars and fifty cents"

"It's Super hard", Lucas backs Mike up.

You notice Will, who stands behind them, not participating in the interaction. The young boy's gaze jumping from one person to another before it finally lands on Mike.

"You lie..", Eleven starts, "Why do you lie?"

When she gets no response from Mike, she walks closer to the boy. she looks at him for a second before her head turns at the sound of the bus arriving.

"I dump your ass."

Max's, Will's and lucas' eyes go wide at your sister's declaration. Max's mouth hangs open before Eleven grabs her and you by your wrists and pulls you to the bus.

Good for her, you think.

…

It is a Saturday. It is about to be seven days since Hopper promised to finish the movie with you. You stopped wondering when his later would come.

Since you are suspended from school you offered to do more shifts at the gift shop.

Every now and then teenagers from Hawkins high and middle school come in through the doors of the shop and they give you wary looks. Of course, word travels in a small town like Hawkins like wildfire.

The day the fight happened, everyone and their mother came to know that (Y/n), who doesn't seem to have a last name, and Eddie Munson had gotten in a fight with Tony Reed.

Tony Reed was a bully, not the harmless kind either. The older boy is the type to torment someone for days on end just for his entertainment but still never face the consequences for any of his actions.

Word started travelling around: Tony Reed was moving out of Hawkins.

Maybe you should've broken his elbow sooner.

You, your coworker and your boss close up the store at around 8 in the night. The older lady offered to give you a drive home, but you, however, refused. Despite how sweet the lady seemed, you still couldn't trust anyone. So you bicycle through the empty streets under the yellow streetlights– back to the trailer-van that you call home.

When you enter the trailer park, passing the Munson's trailer, you see a very familiar vehicle standing infront of your home. Your feet peddle faster, when you finally reach the car, you leave your bicycle behind and go to the slightly open driver's window. The person's face covered with the familiar hat.

You knock on the window, the man jolts awake– a groan audible through the cracked window. He removes his hat and as soon as he meets your eyes, his face softens– a smile appearing on his face.

You step back as he opens the door. Before Jim could shut the door behind him, you run to tackle his torso.

"You came!" You hug Jim, your arms barely reaching around and touching around his frame. The man lets out an oomf at the impact.

"Of course I did. I promised, didn't I?" he says while holding the back of your head, gently patting your hair– it has grown out a lot since he first met you.

You nod against his chest, not letting go of the grasp you had on him.

"Okay, kid. I think that's enough affection for the day. How bout we get inside, finish that movie huh? I bought some of those snacks you liked", you only hug him tighter in response. Hopper chuckles, continuing to hold and caress the back of your head.

…

There is the rev of an engine, the telltale sign of the arrival of Jim Hopper.

The door flings open, then closes harshly behind the tall man. You watch him from the couch as you were browsing through channels on the TV. Jim looks at you but immediately averts his gaze, he walks a little further in the house, his movements loopy and rocky. He is drunk, extremely so– the mostly empty bottle in his hand backing up your conclusion.

Jim stops in his tracks again. "Hey!" He shouts with a little gravel in his voice, "Hey!" He repeats again, walking towards El's room where your sister and her friend are. "When I say three inches, three–"

When the door flings open, he expects to be met with the sight of El and Mike but instead he is met with her and Max reading comic books on the bedroom floor.

"Do you knock? jeez"

"Yeah, jeez!" Eleven repeats.

"Oh, hey", Jim, who seemed to be unable to respond, slurs out, "I'm sorry… I thought that you–"

"Mike's not here", Max interrupts his rambling as if reading his mind.

"Max wanted to have a… sleepover. Is that okay?"

"Yeah." Hopper nods while repeatedly saying, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah", he awkwardly looks between the two girls and then asks the redhead, "Your parents know about this?"

"Yup."

"Yeah, that's cool. That– that's really cool." The man just keeps looking at the two girls, almost spacing out in his drunken state.

"Did you need something?"

"No, no", he shakes his head, his palm reaching for the door knob. "I'll let you– I'll leave"

He stands outside the now closed door. His drunken features morph into a smirk as he grabs yet another beer can and settled himself on the armchair in front of the tv.

"'sup." You sit down on the couch beside him with a plop.

He looks over at you. "You're talking to me now?"

"Don't worry, I'm still pissed off at you but", you say, not looking at him. "I think we need to discuss some things. Have a talk"

"Great", he takes a big gulp of the beer in his hand.

"So let's start easy", you say stretching your arms. "How was work? I mean... that's where you were, right?", you say, eyes gesturing towards the most colorful shirt you'd ever seen on Hopper.

"Yeah", he slurs out.

"I'm a human lie detector, remember? I can tell when you're lying. It was the one thing I was good at, So, try and give me the truth", you assert dryly, "Were you at work?"

You barely hear it when he says, "...no"

"Where were you?"

"At a friend's…"

"Friend's what? Birthday?"

"Ye– no"

"Who was this friend?" you interrogate with narrow eyes.

"They never came"

"That wasn't my question but okay", you pause, eyes trained on him, trying to read his expression, "Even though they didn't come, who was it you were expecting?"

He takes another big swig from the can before he says all hesitant, "...Powell and... Callaghan?"

"Lie."

"Godamnit, Joyce– it was Joyce,'' he finally admits, frustrated.

"So, you were just going on a dinner with your friend Joyce"

"Like I said, she never came"

"Yeah but you were going to go on dinner with Joyce, if she'd come"

"But she didn't"

"But you wanted her to", you pause before asking, "Was this a date?"

"No!"

You both know it is lie, you don't even need to state that it is a lie, so you just look at the drunk man beside you while he takes a swig of the beer can in his hand.

"Next question", you state, folding your legs onto the sofa, "What did you say to Steve?"

"What–" Jim almost seems startled by the sudden subject change.

"Yesterday. What did you tell Steve"

"I didn't tell him anything", you look at him a little more, but this wasn't a lie. You can tell he is telling the truth. "I mean, that the boy wasn't there when I left", he further clarifies, when you don't say anything.

"Oh." is all that comes out.

"Where did you get that shirt?" The man beside you suddenly asks while you're in your thoughts.

"I've always had this", you lie. Max and El had convinced you to buy some clothes back at the mall as well.

"No– it's brand new", Hopper insists.

"So is yours Hopper–", you once again gesture towards his bright coloured shirt, "but I guess you wanted to look good for your friend Joyce, right?"

its tense, he takes another sip from his beer. after a few seconds, you sigh before getting up, "anyway, think I'm gonna teach El a new word later– hypocrite. She needs to be familiar. how does that sound?"

You don't wait for his answer to come, you get up, walk away and slam the door behind you.

...

[authorxxxxxx]

Jitterbug | Bayverse!Optimus Prime x fem!human!reader

Pairing : Bayverse!Optimus Prime x fem!human!reader ( she is Sam's younger sister )

Summary : At first she was the exact same as her brother Sam , but after some tragic events she became a little bit distant . But when he came - she was confused . She did not know how to react when she realized that she loved him . When him and the Autobots landed on the Planet Earth , he expected humans like Sam to be intrigued by them , what he did not expect was to fall in love for a certain girl with bright blue eyes.

Tw : mental health issues , diagnosis of illness , angsty feelings , a very concerned Ratchet , confused Optimus , parents stupidity , but fluff at the end.

English is not my first language so if you spot any mistakes please just bare with me .

Ps : I got away with this one because OPTIMUS DESERVES SOME LOVE , but I really enjoyed it so I hope you do too .

Edit : I think it is so bad for some reason . Some people will say that the song does not fit with the imagine , but I think it is better this way .

11k words

______________________________________________________________

Let's just say that your first encounter with the Autobots was not like you've imagined it to be .

Not that you've ever imagined about meeting extremely tall and big aliens that can turn into cars .

You've never imagined that you'll fall in love for the leader of the Autobots when you first saw him either .

It was a cold night in the early days of October when you and your older brother Sam got into a really big fight .

Things got even worse when your parents came upstairs to calm you both , but instead of doing that they intervened and the situation escalated .

From arguing with your brother about something that you both forgot after a while , to both be arguing with your parents about literally anything .

Their criticism about Sam's progress in school that was not so good , how you were being a not so helpful person because of your mental health issues .

" How much more oblivious can you both be ? Sam do you even realise how much money we are going to spend for your college if you do not graduate form High School with at least decent grades ? "

Your father had told your brother , but he did not answered .

He believes that in situations likes this one - silence is the best option.

But when your mother turned to you . . . Sam saw red .

" And you Y/N haven't we spent enough money for your therapy ? Buying pills every God damn month ? It happened long ago , you should have been able to forget it by now . I mean , it is like you are doing it on purpose ."

He immediately grabbed your right wrist and dragged you out of your house .

Your parents yelling at you to come back at the house immediately or else -

That is how you found yourselves in the middle of nowhere eating McDonald's and drinking coffee inside his car .

Dad bought him a yellow Camaro with black details a couple of days ago , but he was experiencing some weird problems with it .

The most common one - the radio turned all the time on its own .

You loved it .

And so did Sam that night .

The radio was playing some funny jokes to help you both forget the ugly situation back at the house .

Uncontrollably laughing you did not hear a big track changing its form to a 22ft alien robot .

Optimus Prime thought that Bumblebee was still into his alt - form just because he enjoyed it .

The thing is that Bee was so happy that you both were laughing at the jokes , that he did not even noticed his leader looking down at him .

" Mother of Primus . Are you even listening to to me ? " Optimus Prime asked a little louder this time and Bee frozed in his spot .

When Optimus realized that Bee had passengers inside the car he left a breath he did not know he was holding .

Bee opened his doors slowly telling you to get out before he could change into his original form .

Both you and Sam were shocked beyond repair .

Bee was looking down embarrassed when Optimus kneeled on the ground to take a better look at you - both .

Coming close to your faces he asked :

" Are you Samuel Witwicky descedant of Archibald Witwicky?"

" Yeah . " Sam had answered holding at you like a teddy bear .

" My name is Optimus Prime . We are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron . "

" But you can call us Autobots for short . " Another one said .

Where did he come from ?

" What's cracking little biches ? This looks like a cool place to kick it . " Another one asked .

You heard yourself silently laughing .

" My first lieutenant the designating Jazz . " You heard Optimus deep voice saying .

" How you learnde to talk like that ? " Sam asked smiling .

" We learned Earth's languages through the World Wide Web . " Optimus answered while looking at you .

Shocked by his piercing blue eyes , you did not realised that another bot had said that your levels were unstable and your body was asking for some rest .

Sam looked worryingly at you .

" And you are ? " Optimus asked you .

" Huh ? " You asked him lost in his eyes .

" She is my younger sister Y/N . " Sam had answered for you .

Suddenly you heard George Michael's voice in Bee's speakers .

" You put the boom - boom into my heart

" You send my soul hig - sky

" When your lovin' starts "

Ratchet the medical's officer had stoped Bee with what it seems to be a laser .

Optimus tried to save you both from embarrassed when he properly introduced to Sam that Bee was his guardian .

And while Ironhide and Jazz were both not interested in the conversation , Ratchet decided to tell his leader that you needed a guardian too .

He offered to become yours so he can have you close by his side since of your unstable health levels but Optimus decided otherwise .

__________

Ratchet was never more anxious and afraid in his whole entire robotic life .

After their first encounter with you and your brother , he soon realized that Sam was the type of guy that tried to fing good in every bad situation . He was alaways happy and funny . Laughing at everything him and Bee did .

You on the other side were more close , introvert , sometimes you spent to many hours of the day alone , you had sleepless nights , you found peace in listening to 80's and 90's music in your earphones .

And of course he had realized that you and Optimus - your guardian had a think for each other .

Everyone seemed to know except you two .

Although after the war between the Autobots and the Decepticons you reached your breaking point .

__________

Anxiety and panic attacks , insomnia , sleepless nights , nightmares , constant fight with your parents , Sam's abstinence , Ratchet's healt questions , Bee's teasing about you and Optimus - Optimus .

You can not lie .

You two were closer that anyone else .

Ironhide believed that your bond was even stronger that the one of Sam and Bee's .

You loved him - more that n just love actually .

You could not imagine your life without the big bot .

And when one day were you were at your worst , Optimus did not returned home that night chasing after some Decepticons , you thought that he was dead .

Only Sam knew why .

You left the compound that night crying and when Optimus returned and did not found you , he knew that he was in deep trouble .

Sam told everyone the truth .

One year ago you had lost forever your bestfriend right in front of your eyes .

The memory was just too much for you and you slowly started getting depressed .

When the therapist diagnosed you with it it was too late you were already deep within it .

Sam told Optimus that you liked him .

And after that Optimus knew what he had to do .

__________

You heard the big truck coming to a stop and after a couple of seconds the sounds of Optimus changing from his alt - form .

" Are you alright Jitterbug ? " Optimus Prime asked you coming closer to you .

Jitterbug . . .

The nickname Optimus had given you after he found out that the song Bee used was your favorite .

Wake my up before you go by Wham!

Your silence made him even more worried .

"Sam told us what is going on and I wanted to say that . . .

I'm sorry Y/N .

If I realized sooner maybe I could have find a way to help you . " He said .

" It's not your fault Optimus . " You finally said to him , voice hoarse from crying .

When you looked up at him - even in the dark night sky he could see your red eyes .

Oh Sweetspark . . . he thought .

He placed his left servo on the ground near you .

After a couple of seconds you hopen up while he was briging you closer to his face .

" Y/N I would like to confess something to you that I hope it will not jeopardize the relationship with have build up . Sam told me - " Before he could complete whatbhe wanted to say you interrupted him .

" Did Sam told you that I like you ? " You asked , tears already building in your eyes .

" Is it not true ? " Optimus asked you .

" No it's not like that . Look you are Optimus Prime . You are a Prime . The leader of the Autobots . And I'm me . Just me . " You said . Taking it of your chest .

" That doesn't meen anything Y/N you humans have helped us with so much that we can call your planet Earth home . And in my home your in too . I am willing to help you get through your pain my Sweetspark . " He confessed to you .

" I thought I was your Jitterbug . " You said to him while placing your hands to his face plate pressing your lips in his dermas .

He stared in your blue eyes , the ones he grew to love so much .

" What do you think about going back to the compound ? It's about to rain and it's a long drive . " He said and slowly he transformed back to his al - form placing you inside his cabin .

" Can you please put our song ? " Your sweet voice asked him and he for sure did it with happiness .

Wake me up before you go by Wham! was playing .

Your song .

__________

" Y/N your back . Is everything okay ? " Your older brother Sam asked you once he saw you .

" I am going to kill you . " You said to him while running to catch him .

Sam started to scream for help while Bee and Jazz seem to enjoy the moment .

" Primus . What is going on ? " Ironhide asked Optimus but before he could answer Ratchet showed up .

" Well at least her levels indicate that she is doing better . Someone save Sam , his stress levels are duplicated .

__________

@unimportantbabymilksharkte

@k----a27s

[holeandnirvana]

List of shifting-related stuff that happened to me bc I'm trying to be motivating

These are like symptom-thingy things that happened during or after attempts (did not include most symptoms I got during attempts) Also ignore that this is stuff over the course of 4 years with different scripts and different DR's

When I felt somebody tap my shoulder and just kind of knew it was Cedric

When I turned around and saw Harry for a split second

When I smelt the green house and just knew it was the greenhouse that happened several times but there was a 2 year gap between the first and second time

When I imagined someone stroking my arm to comfort me and then actually felt it

When I opened my eyes and saw my DR-room for a split second

The times I felt like I was floating above me/out of my body

I swear to god I was cooking once and George Weasley was just casually standing in my kitchen and I could see him in the corner of my eye

I smelt a lot of my DR people, sometimes one person several times (I only smelt most people once) I don't know why this sounds so creepy

One time I gained slight lucidity in a dream and just decided I wanted to wake up (because I was about to get eaten by a tiger in my garden)

The damn feathers

Gaining memories from my MCU DR

Successfully channeling Layla Williams (I asked her for a specific sign within a specific time frame and she sent it, she's my best friend in my Sky High DR)

One time I am damn sure I shifted to an altered version of my CR because I didn't have bags under my eyes anymore and my plant that's supposed to grow slowly doubled in size overnight (a couple times after that it seemed to have shrunk again but idk where I even am now)

I heard a song on the radio I am sure I never heard before but then I knew the chorus as if I remembered it? Figured I know that song in my DR 🤷

I can't put my finger on what it is (which is weird but I guess I have amnesia now or something) but there's something my mom always used to say/ask me and hasn't done in a long while for no specific reason?

I LITERALLY MANIFESTED TODAY THAT A BOOK I HAD LEFT IN MY LOCKER (I'm only going back to school once this school year to turn in my books) IS JUST HERE AT HOME AND IT IS

One time before I even knew of shifting I almost did it? Like I just focused really hard on where I wanted to be and lay still and I could feel myself sort of sinking into that place as I fell asleep but I freaked out last minute and ended up only dreaming of that place

A day or two ago I channeled the universe with music and then during and after I consecutively saw 01:01, 02:02, 03:03, 04:04 and 05:05

Anyway I'm out of here by Sunday 🤷

Happy shifting!

[shieldofiron]

When I See You Smile

Also on Ao3

He can't pretend it doesn't hurt a little.

Dustin and Mike Wheeler chatter about it on Max's little radio, how Eddie and Steve are spending so much time together, and how Steve had come out to them very seriously as bi, and Eddie was gay so they were hoping...

And Billy's hopes, the tiny thread of hope that he'd been nourishing without realizing it, withered and died right there.

Because Munson is a dealer, and kinda loud and annoying. But Billy is a murderer. He still has nightmares about it, waking Max and Susan some nights. What kind of monster kills their own father, inter-dimensional parasite or not? And it wasn't like Billy had been some kind of catch before that.

Steve smiles when Billy comes by the store anyway. Like he's not a murderer, a puppet for an inter-dimensional being, but a person. They had the same taste in movies, and sometimes they would sit there just talking for hours. Steve had been nice after starcourt, and it had made the crush that Billy had secretly harbored in high school bloom into a full on infatuation.

One sided infatuation, apparently.

So it was real cute, actually. Munson and Ste-Harrington. He decided that it would be cute, and it wouldn't hurt any more. Hell, if Munson and Harrington started dating, maybe then...

He didn't know what maybe was, but he was trying to be positive about the whole thing.

And when he sees the van parked by the video store, he just turns right around.

"Racking up those late fees, huh," Steve says with a grin when he finally does bring them back.

"Got a lot on my mind," Billy mumbles in response, hurrying because he thought he saw the van pull into the lot. And he's fine with Steve dating whoever he wants, of course Steve can date whoever he wants.

Billy just doesn't have to be there while it happens.

"Wait, uh..." Steve ducks his head down, and his hair falls over his eyes in that adorable way that makes Billy want to brush it back behind his ear. "How'd you like Ladyhawke?"

Billy glances back over his shoulder, his heart racing when he sees Munson waltzing up, "Good. Gotta go, Steve."

"Wait-"

"You are never going to believe the news I have for you, big boy," Munson smacks the door open and Billy winces.

"See ya," Billy waves his tapes in the air and ducks out the door that's still swinging closed from Munson's dramatic entrance.

He can't see Steve's expression, and he doesn't want to see how Steve smiles for Munson. Billy bets it's real special, all dreamy and doe eyed. So he just ducks into the camero and speeds away over Max's protests.

"You forgot milk duds, dick," She hisses.

"I had to get out of the way," He hisses right back.

"Of what?"

"Budding romance," He says, half sarcastically, throwing his hand in the air dramatically.

Max doesn't say anything back, but she must know. After all how many times has she dragged him practically kicking and screaming when he and Steve got to talking about movies and then tv and then sports...

Billy's certainly not about to come out to a bunch of snot nosed brats. But Max knows. She's heard what his dad called him enough to know what he is.

And it's fine. If there was only three gay guys in town someone was bound to be the odd one out.

That night she totally sides with him for movie night and they watch This is Spinal Tap instead of Against All Odds. She and Susan do watch along obligingly, Susan even chuckling at the 1960s jokes.

That night he can't sleep, tossing and turning in his bed when he thinks about Harrington's smile and that lock of hair.

---

Munson must be able to tell something is up because after that he starts acting really squirrely when Billy's trying to meet up. Which sucks because he could really use the weed right now.

Heartbreak being a bitch and all.

He's waiting in his car for Max to check out the videos she wants when Steve comes barrelling out of the Family Video, headed straight for Billy.

Billy blows a plume of smoke out the window.

"Alright, Harrington?"

"No," Steve isn't smiling. He looks downright pissed. "I'm not alright. You got some kind of problem with me and Eddie, Billy?"

Billy sucks in a drag and squints at the back of the van parked right up front of the store.

"Problem with what?"

"You know what."

Billy shrugs, "Enlighten me."

Steve huffs, and then deflates, "Look, I know you're working on being better. I heard about you working on basketball with Lucas, and I think that's really... great. But... I..."

Billy waits. And waits.

"You what?"

"You really don't know?" Steve blinks at him, and a shot with those big brown eyes sinks another of cupid's arrows deep into Billy's heart. He pushes his aviators up his nose to hide his face.

"Know what?"

"I thought," Harrington's blushing, and it looks so cute with the green of his vest. "That you heard that I like... that I'm... bisexual. And that Eddie's... um... And you had a problem with it."

Billy snorts, though he doesn't mean to. And Harrington cocks his head to the side.

He doesn't have a problem with it. He has an ache, a pain deep in his chest that he knows there's no cure for. It hurts so bad it makes him a little angry, a little reckless.

"That would be pretty hypocritical of me," Billy says with a sharp little laugh, "Not that I'm you know... dating material. For any gender. In any sense of the word."

Harrington just looks down, "I don't know about that."

Billy huffs, "You don't need to flatter me. I'm no threat to your boyfriend. Though you can tell him I'm gonna actually need to score soon or I'm going to go mental. My stepmother's into wreath making. You know what a wreath can do to a guy's reputation?"

He wants Steve to laugh. He wants Steve to smile. Even if it's just for a corny joke. Even if it's just as friends. He'd officiate their wedding if Steve would just throw Billy a smile once in a while.

"Boyfriend?"

"Oh. I mean," Billy waves his hand in the air, "Pre-boyfriends. Fucking. Whatever it is you all are doing."

Steve's cheeks are really pink now, "We're not... I mean... I like someone else."

"Oh," Billy pushes his aviator's up, trying to school his expression into something calmer, less manically happy. "I'm sorry, I just assumed-"

"No, I... we just gotta stick together, right. L and G and B and T... all... together," Steve makes a weird sort of half sigh sound.

"Yeah," Billy doesn't know where Steve is going with this, "That's you and me. Two B's. Sticking together."

He's never said it out loud before. He always imagined it would be terrifying, but Steve's smile smooths over some of the panic in the pit of his stomach.

"So you're not... sticking together with anyone, exclusively?" Steve rocks on his heels.

Billy snorts, "No. Plenty of girls to be not so exclusive with, but... no."

"Do you... want to do that with me?"

Billy's heart stops still in his chest. He doesn't know what expression he's making but he knows that Steve is smiling. At him. His eyes are crinkled up at the corners, and he...

"I like you, Billy," Steve's hair flops down and it's so easy to brush it back behind his ear. "Thought you were finally gonna break my teeth in about it, so I thought I'd do it first."

And Billy can, so he does. And for the first time in what feels like weeks, Billy smiles back.

"I would never," Billy sucks in some courage with his next drag, so he can say in a dry whisper, "Your smile is the best part of my day."

[lycanlupins]

SFW Alphabet - Jimmy Darling

Warnings: None

AN: holy shit its been so long since i’ve written for the evan characters, sorry if its ooc but i missed this guy ♥️

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He’s very physically affectionate! He’ll hold his partner whenever he can, rub the back of their hand with his thumb, anything he can do to constantly be touching them.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He would probably be wary at first if they weren’t a “freak”, but he would soon seen them at every show or nearly every show and start to chat them up a bit. He knows they don’t treat him any different and he’d probably let his guard down.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

BIG cuddler! He likes to spoon or cradle his person for sure. He’d probably give little back rubs or soft kisses on their temple/top of the head.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He’s so domestic its actually probably annoying to everyone else. He wants to settle down, have kids, live the “american dream” life. Even if he adopts the kids, he wants the whole white picket fence and golden retriever vibes.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He would tell them gently but firmly. He knows its for the best, what with everyone in any town hating him for the way he looks, and maybe he knew that his partner wouldn’t have thrived living with the rest of them.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He’s down for commitment 100%. He’d probably take some convincing but about half a year at the very most would be how fast he’d get engaged, he’s an old school kind of guy. He sees something he likes and he’s gonna make sure he keeps it close by.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He pretends to be a hard ass but he’s really a softie. He wants to be loved and held and coddled just as much as he loves to do that for others.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He’s got a solid hug for sure. Probably warm and inviting but also one that shows he’s a safe space and a protector.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He’d say it so fast if he were drunk. Give him a bottle and he’d tell his partner after a few weeks of dating, but sober it might take him a month or two. He wants to make sure his partner is the one.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Big jealous man alert!! He’s one to hold his partner extra tight to him or kiss them around someone he’s a wee bit cautious of. He gets extremely jealous around people without a deformity flirting with his partner.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

They range from soft and sweet to passionate and hungry, but mostly they lie somewhere in between. He likes to kiss his partners hand a lot but he absolutely melts when his partner does the same for him. Especially when he’s feeling anxious, a soft kiss to his palm will soothe him immediately.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He’s good around children and wants them in the future, at least 2 to start, maybe 3-4 at the most.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Usually he’s up early doing physically intensive work but sometimes he likes to sleep in and hold his partner in the soft morning light.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Usually watching TV if he has one, if not he likes to relax with the radio quietly playing in the background and his partner by his side with cold beer in his hand.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He’s not an open book by any means. He’s cautious for a reason but after a few months he’ll probably start to open up emotionally. He won’t trauma dump immediately but you’ll learn a lot very quickly once he’s comfortable.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He’s not super patient, he has a quick temper and he’ll make sure he gets his point across whether the person likes it or not.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He takes in details super easily so he’d remember everything his partner tells him. He’d remember their favorite flower, favorite book, anything that makes them smile he would be sure to take note of.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moment is probably meeting his partner. He would remember every detail of their outfit, if they were wearing makeup, what style their hair was in, he’d reminisce on every detail of that day when he’s feeling sad.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He would die or kill for his partner no questions asked. He puts his money where his mouth is but doesn’t expect the same out of his partner, he just wants to be sure they know he loves them through and through.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He puts in a lot of effort, mostly physical labor, to make sure everything is perfect. He likes to work with his hands to show his love. Whether that be making something for his partner or driving them anywhere without letting them lift a finger, he wants to be sure they’re taken care of.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

His drinking habits he picked up are bad for a while. He also has an awful temper and he’s stubborn. So very stubborn.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He knows he’s hot so he keeps up with it a little but really he just goes about his day without paying any mind to it.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He would feel so incomplete without his partner once he has them. Its like he’s missing half of himself without them around.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He’s a sleep talker! Especially when he’s only half asleep or just barely fell asleep, he’d probably whisper cute or incoherent things to his partner which would make them giggle.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Someone who’s a sloppy drunk. He’s dealt with it enough from his own bloodline, he doesn’t need to add any more of it to his life.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He sleeps sprawled out on his mattress unless he’s with his partner, then it can go either way with his partner curled up in his arms or laying on top of him with his arms wrapped around them.

[yeowangies]

The end of the world

PAIRING: Suguru Geto/AFAB!Reader. CONTENTS: Explicit Sexual Content (Fingering), Sensory Deprivation (Blindfold, Bondage), Slight Dubcon WORDCOUNT: 2011

Summary:

The day was sunny, no clouds in the sky, warm, almost hot. Eerily dreamy for a late spring day. There were still some flowers in some of the plants in your front yard. A heavy contrast with the man in dark clothes, long dark hair, and even darker eyes, waiting outside your door.

Notes:

KINKTOBER DAY 15: SENSORY DEPRIVATION

There's just weird stuff going on here that i can't explain. I love being ambiguous about plots and stuff LMAO but Suguru fits all these things, and the plot is supposed to not make sense. So yeah, heads up. I was also a inspired by the story "where are you going, where have you been?". I would have loved to keep writing but I was already at my limit!

Not proofread cause i finished this last night.

@actuallysaiyan

divider by @/adornedwithlight

Looking out the window with trepidation, you breathed heavily at the sight of the person outside your door. 

The day was sunny, no clouds in the sky, warm, almost hot. Eerily dreamy for a late spring day. There were still some flowers in some of the plants in your front yard. A heavy contrast with the man in dark clothes, long dark hair, and even darker eyes, waiting outside your door. 

He stood on the porch, looking at you from the corner of his eyes. With a smile that sent chills down your spine. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” The man said with a calm voice. “My intention is only to check on you. The world is an insane place right now, it’s dangerous for a young woman to be all alone in a house, don’t you agree?”

“Leave me alone.” You demanded, the tone in your voice giving away your trepidation. “I’m perfectly fine, you can see me from there. Just leave.”

“I promise to let you be, once I see for myself that you’re safe, how does that sound?”

You shut your eyes closed, cold sweat running down your back. He was lying, you knew he was, even through his polite demeanor. Every word that came out of his mouth, no matter how well mannered they were, was dripping with disdain, you could feel it in your bones.

“No.” You asserted, opening your eyes again to focus on him through the blinds. “I’m fine right here. I shouldn’t open the door, no matter how considerate you are.”

Jumping back with a gasp, you were startled when he fully turned to you, taking a few steps closer towards your window. His eyes seemed to be looking through you, past your body and into your soul; it was unnerving, it made the alarm in your head go off.

“You’re a beautiful woman, did you know?”

You breathed in deeply, but didn’t reply, too nervous to say something out of place. His tone was slightly softer, not as tense as before.

“You don’t get compliments often?” He asked, seemingly offended. “What a shame, a pretty girl like you should be showered in them every single day.”

Your face heated up, despite the situation. There you were, in the middle of what could only be described as the end of the world, and this handsome man who had an eerie aura around him was giving you compliments and making you blush, as if you were a high school girl. You just hoped it wasn’t obvious through the glass of the window.

“Honey, open the door.” He demanded again. 

“No…” You replied, loud enough for him to hear, but not so sure of yourself at all.

“Have you seen the news? Heard the radio, maybe? You know, the radio is an old piece of communication, but it comes in handy in situations like these, it doesn’t even need electricity. How else would we know about the state of the world, right?”

“I don’t know where you’re getting at…”

“We should look after each other, more than ever now.” His soothing voice was like honey; even when he was obviously using a fake concerned tone before (was it fake concerned, though?). “You have to open the door for me.”

“Leave me alone!” You raised your voice, shivering. 

It was scaring you how convincing he was. You shouldn’t let anyone inside. It was an obvious statement; no matter what anyone said, it wasn’t safe. You had heard many stories through the radio about what had happened to the poor people that had tried to be nice and caring so they opened the door.

You mustn’t. You had to keep yourself alive.

“You can’t stay in there forever.” 

His tone shifted again, making your stomach sink. It was only a small change, deeper voice, slightly more demanding. Still surprisingly soothing and soft. 

How did he do that?

“You have to be brave during these times. I only want to help.”

You inhaled and exhaled several times, not as slowly and consciously to actually calm yourself down, but out of anxiety. 

“Isn’t being alone scary? Isn’t that why you are so nervous?”

You took a few steps back, away from the window. 

His words were slowly sinking. It was scary to be alone. But what else were you going to do? Nobody even knew exactly what was happening outside, only that it was a risk to let someone inside when you didn’t know where they had been. If you didn’t know if they were safe. 

Maybe you were being too paranoid. Ever since the current situation began, you couldn’t even believe anything was real. Was he actually being disdainful, like you initially thought? He sounded like it, but maybe it was just in your head. Alienation was the cause and consequence of what was happening. 

Maybe you had been listening to way too many gruesome stories. 

“Please, miss, I only wish to see that you are safe.”

His eyes shined through the blinds. Gazing at you through hooded lids. 

There was some ting of pain in your chest; guilt, fear, neediness. If he was actually a bad person, you had no way of knowing. You hated having to leave him outside if he was actually concerned for you. 

You craved some kind of comfort.

He had been nice. He had repeatedly told you about how worried he was for your safety. That couldn’t have been fake, could it? It must have been in your head, the shifts in his tone that you sensed. He had to be a good person, right?

Keeping your eyes on his as you approached the door until you no longer could see him, you carefully unlocked it. Pulling it open, you are face to face with this handsome man, whose name you still didn’t know. Tall, imposing, looking down at you with a dark gleam in his eyes. 

“There we go,” He showed you a wide smile as he took a step into your house. “Was that so hard?”

Only then you notice that you’re trembling, and you can’t actually muster the courage to answer. 

Was he naturally that imposing?

When he took another step closer, he was only a few inches away from you. You strained your neck to look up at him, swallowing loudly the longer he looked at you. 

You jolted in surprise when he gently grabbed your hand, chuckling when he brought it closer to his lips. 

“Still scared of me?” He asked, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, keeping his gaze on you. “There’s nothing to fear. My name is Suguru Geto, and I’m not going to hurt you.”

Cold sweat ran down your back. You couldn’t stop your body from trembling, unresponsive to the commands your brain was trying to give. 

It was in a single moment, when his hand hovered over your eyes and your world turned black, that you knew you had made a mistake. 

Suguru Geto probably wasn't even human. That’s the conclusion you got to. 

Your senses were off. You couldn’t see anything, a mask rendering your vision useless. You knew you were in a bed (you assumed it was yours), hands tied to what you guessed was the headboard. The skin of your body felt strange, tingly. Similar to the feeling you got when you were sitting in a fixed position for more than an hour. Even your sense of smell felt off, like it wasn’t even there. 

He wasn’t human. You were sure of it. 

“I know you’re awake.” His low voice resonated in the room. Suguru sounded so far away. “I tried to make you the most comfortable. I know you’re probably not feeling so good right now, but don’t worry, you’ll feel better in a second.”

When you felt something that must have been his hand graze the skin of your hip, you gasped, only then realizing you were naked. Your skin was numb when he touched it, throwing you off completely. 

“You were so nice for letting me in, darling.” His voice was dripping with lust; even through your current state, you could feel it, making your heart race. “I should reward you for it, don’t you think?”

Both of his hands slid up your sides, stroking and caressing so gently. You try to command your limbs to move, to try and resist, because this wasn’t what you wanted. Or at least, not like this. 

Suguru Geto was attractive, and he had awakened something when you saw him through the window. But this wasn’t even something you considered when you opened the door. 

You made a strangled noise when his hands reached your breasts, squeezing and kneading them together. When he ran his thumbs over your nipples, you gasped, arching your back. Heat bloomed in your lower abdomen when he kept playing with your tits, pinching and tugging at your nipples. 

“You’re sensitive, aren’t you?” Suguru chuckled.

His breath washed over your neck, only then realizing how close he was.

One of his hands trailed down your abdomen, finding your entrance between your legs. You would have been ashamed that he noticed how wet you were, but it felt strange to feel his hot, calloused fingers on your most sensitive parts. 

Your body was ablaze in a split second, even when Suguru was touching you without urgency, taking his time exploring your pussy with the tip of his fingers. Slick dripped from your entrance onto his fingers and down your thighs. You could barely utter a single word (probably due to what he had done to you to render your senses useless), reduced to moans and whimpers. 

His lips were pressed against your neck, barely kissing your skin, as he slowly pushed two digits into your pussy, using pressure against your clit with his thumb. 

“I didn’t think you’d enjoy this so much, but I’m glad I can please you.” Suguru purred against your ear. A choked moan left your lips, making him chuckle. “Still can’t talk? Don’t worry, honey, I know what you need.”

His fingers reached so incredibly deep, stroking your most sensitive spots. Your thighs trembled with every flick of his thumb on your clit, steadily increasing that warm knot in your abdomen. Getting you closer and closer to the edge by the second. 

There was something in his touch that simply ignited a fire in you. If you thought before that Suguru wasn’t human, you were sure of it then, but you couldn’t focus on the idea much, not when he started pumping his fingers into your pussy. 

Your hips jerked against his hands in aborted moves, probably due to whatever effect you were under. Your body still tried to seek more of him, looking for that wonderful release that awaited you once the knot in your abdomen unraveled. His lips planted kisses on your shoulder, occasionally whispering praises against your skin. 

You were too far gone to actually pay attention to what he said. When his thumb kept caressing your clit, with an obvious intent of making you come, you couldn’t stop the sounds coming from your lips. 

It was too much all at once, and you were confused, lost, but most importantly, turned on. Suguru was having some out of worldly effect on you, fingers curling so deep inside you, you saw stars through the darkness, every time he grazed a spongy spot inside you. 

With a particular loud moan, you came, reaching your orgasm as your toes curled, back arching into his touch. Your mind turned blank, skin still tingly and numb even as you reached your peak. He kept sliding his digits in and out, helping you ride out your orgasm, prolonging it until you could no longer take it, letting out a strangled sob. 

“You did so well, my pretty girl.” Suguru reassured you, pressing a kiss to your jaw. As you tried to catch your breath, still feeling the afterglow of an unexpected orgasm, he kept talking, kissing your cheek. “Will you do something for me now?”

[familyvideostevie]

october second

day two: remus lupin you and remus make soup on a fall day | fluff, a bit suggestive | 1.1k

Sometimes the best days of your life are the most simple ones. Today is one of those days.

It’s barely fall but you’re in the mood. You’ve swapped out your flowered dish towels for ones with bright leaves on them, put out the tiny ghost figurines you bought last year, and you’ve packed away your sundresses in bins under your bed. The windows are open to let in the cool air and you’re standing in front of your fridge in a sweater that’s almost certainly too ragged to wear for another season.

The front door to your place opens and you hear your boyfriend’s keys rattle. “Anyone home?” Remus calls.

“Kitchen!” you call back. You think he laughs but you’re not sure. You’re too focused on how you have…nothing resembling a meal in your fridge.

“You look troubled, darling.” Remus leans on the door frame, arms crossed as he smiles softly at you. “Did the milk do something to offend you?”

You sigh. “I can’t figure out what to cook for dinner,” you say. “I don’t know if I’ve got the right things for what I planned to feed you.” Remus often cooks but you’ve been trying to improve your skill and had claimed tonight as one of your nights.

He shoves off the jamb and makes his way to you. You tilt your cheek up and he brushes his lips against it. Before standing behind you, hand on your hip. “Hm,” he says. “Do you want me to go to the shop? I can. I would’ve if you’d told me before.”

“Well, I didn’t know I’d run into this problem, before,” you retort. He chuckles and you lean back into his chest. Remus is one of the most sure things in your life — yes, that’s his personality, but also he makes an effort to be so for you. And you for him. He is good at soothing your anxieties about things going wrong, about problems and your own fears of all the unpredictable things about life. You, in turn, remind him to slow down, to take moments for himself, to ask for what he wants even if it puts you out. (It never puts you out.)

So, sure, a thwarted dinner is something you can handle together.

“Hang on,” Remus says. He shuts the fridge door and moves away from you, one large palm dragging across your shoulder so he can keep touching you as he looks in one of your cabinets. “Just as I thought,” he says.

“What?”

He grins your favorite grin, the one that makes him look boyish and unburdened. “You’ve got everything we need to make Potter soup.”

“Excuse me?” you sputter. Remus laughs and starts to pull things from the cabinet.

“James’s mum has a really great dish thats basically potato curry but better,” he says. “And I’m good at it because she likes me best and taught me how.”

“I’ll be he loves that,” you say. He grins at you again.

“You should have seen his face when she asked me to help make it over the school holidays when we were 17.”

Remus regales you with stories of boyhood shenanigans as he instructs you on how to help him cook. You chop vegetables, simmer water, gather spices. He’s patient when you’re quite slow at peeling the potatoes and plants a kiss on your temple every time he moves around you. You turn on the radio and try to no avail to get him to dance with you, though he laughs.

“You’re a marvel,” he says once the soup is simmering. The kitchen is warmer than it was, the stove and your efforts heating it up despite the now-evening chill coming in through the open window. You hop up onto the kitchen island and he steps between your legs.

“I slowed you down,” you say. He shakes his head.

“No one has ever had a sous-chef as gorgeous as you,” he says. His palms stroke up and down the soft material of your pants. You brush some hair from his forehead and trace your favorite of his scars down through his brow and across his cheek.

“You know,” you say, dragging out the words. “You didn’t kiss me proper when you came in.”

Remus raises his eyebrows at you. Really? his eyes say. “You were a bit busy being cross at the refrigerator, darling.”

“Excuses, Lupin,” you say primly.

“Lupin?” he scoffs. “Wow, I see how it is.” His hands wander up to your hips and he tugs a little, pulling you forward on the counter. You swallow a yelp.

“And how is that?” you say softly. Remus trails his fingers up your sides, making you squirm, before curling them around either side of your jaw.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Your boyfriend is often considered the calm one compared to his friends. He keeps them in check, he’s levelheaded, he’s mature. But he’s also a flirty shit when he wants to be. Like right now, it seems.

“Don’t tease,” you whisper. Remus relents, leaning in to kiss you soundly. It’s the kind of hello kiss you’d expected when he came home, the kind he gives you in public. A firm press of his lips, thumbs stroking the soft skin of your cheeks. And then it turns into something else. You hook your ankles around him and pull him even closer as he licks into your mouth with a moan that could have come from either of you.

He kisses you deeper, pulling away only to get a different angle, to press a finger to your pulse point to feel your heart go wild. It’s so cliche, making out in the kitchen after you’ve cooked together, but you love it. You love him.

You don’t know how long passes but when the timer goes off you have to push him away. His lips are swollen and slick, hair a riot, eyes bright despite their blown pupils. “Well,” he says. “You look a bit disheveled.”

You smack his shoulder. “Speak for yourself.” He backs up and you hop down from the counter to check the soup. “Does this look right?

Remus follows you, hands petting down his hair, and nods. “We made a bit much, didn’t we?”

You hum. “We could call everyone to come over,” you suggest.

He laughs. “We just snogged in the kitchen for who knows how long and now you want to invite all of our friends over for dinner? Are you sure you don’t want…something else?” His hand drags up and down your spine.

You shiver and then your stomach rumbles. “I’m hungry,” you say. “You can be filthy later.”

His expression says who, me?

“Plus I want to see James’s face when he realizes someone else can make this better than he can.”

Remus laughs and heads for the phone.

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