#ttd fic

[courtney-deserved-better]

Emma is always two seconds away from a heart attack when Kitty says "Don't freak out, but…"

Written for Day 2 of Love/Friendship Week 2024. Prompt: Write a oneshot exploring a character and their family.

posted a silly little domestic sisters drabble in which kitty surprises emma! go check it out!

[basuralindo]

These Wicked Depths ch.4 is up!!

Editing again by the fantastic @kamikazequail

I don't have as much to say as usual, I'm just relieved to have finished it after so long, but there's still commentary under the cut (along with inspo image)

-I feel like Azul + baroque was fate, he's made for that shit, maximalist hoarder of precious things and all.

-lbr there is no way the tweels would let Azul get away with playing the cool guy in front of their new collective hyperfixation

-Azul is not remotely exempt from the theme of mermaids collecting random shiny human stuff and treating it like treasure. He's just acting like he's more sophisticated about it by using it for interior decorating. (I mean, I can't imagine there's a lot of mining or processing of metals under the sea, so all the silver houseware and everything popular back then must be impossibly fantastical to them, right?)

-Jamil literally out here ruining his own chances of escaping the Asims because Azul skeeves him out so much he won't admit he wants to

-I did way more research into the development of writing utensils than sane or necessary, but it's actually pretty neat! Fun fact, quills were a big european thing, but metal dip pens already existed before them! Also, before either of those, people all across the mediterranian and egypt were using small rods of lead to engrave wax tablets and mark papyrus, which were called styluses, as in yeah, using styluses and tablets has been around for literally thousands of years, which just makes it funnier. Also bone was used as essentially an erasable whiteboard for pencil before erasers for paper were invented! And pencils have always been made with graphite, but people thought graphite was a type of lead (specifically it tended to be referred to as "black lead"). The specific application of Azul's bone tablet and graphite …holster? thing?? weren't used in anything that I've read about, but seemed plausible to invent with the knowledge and technology of the time, so I just made that up wholesale

-Azul's magestone ring is based around this piece I saw in a shop window:

[katyswrites]

i think about summer, all the beautiful times

a ‘tis the damn season story

SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Fluff (like, tooth-rotting fluff), Smut (18+), smoking, alcohol use, no use of y/n, just two crazy kids in love

Wordcount: 2k

Author's note: So... I felt like writing a blurb. And, that blurb ended up being in the 'tis the damn season universe. I was inspired by summer and the 4th of July, so here you go! Please note that this takes place between the "now" (Winter 1988) and "later" (New Year's 1989) in the original fic. It's just a little glimpse into Steve and the reader's lives a bit into their real relationship, so enjoy, and happy 4th of July to my fellow Americans :)

LATER, Summer 1989

The day is hot. It was the kind of heat that you can’t escape from, no matter how hard you try. The humidity is brutal, settling around you like a thick, wet blanket you can’t pull off of you. It feels like it seeps into your very bones. The only option is to be in the shade, or the pool. Which is where you find yourself now, blissfully submersed in the water. Music plays through the radio, right behind where Steve’s dad is flipping burgers. Steve’s mother sits with the other moms, including your own, sipping sangria and gossiping as they look on at the scene before them.

The Harringtons are hosting their annual 4th of July barbecue, much to your delight. Not that you are particularly fond of Steve’s parents - but, you couldn’t say no to the enticing idea of the pool. Besides, it was tradition. As kids, you and Steve would play Marco Polo, or see who could make the biggest cannonball with the other neighborhood kids. You would play for hours, until your fingers were pruny and your nearly boundless energy completely spent. Now, of course, things are different. 

“For the lady,” his voice says behind you. You turn, squinting up at the boy through the sun. Steve has a beer bottle in his extended hand, which you accept with a grin.

“Poolside service? Lucky me!” you joke, turning fully to face where he stands on the patio. He sits, letting his legs hang over the edge and submerge in the water. Without hesitation, you rest your head on his knee.

He gazes down at you, eyes soft with a big smile on his face.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he says. “You just look really pretty right now.”

“Ugh,” a voice says not-so-subtly behind you. You whip around to see Dustin mimicking a gagging motion, with Max rolling her eyes behind him.

“Can you guys, like, not do that here?” Max asks, crossing her arms under the water. 

“Says you,” Will chips in from where he sits on the opposite edge of the pool. “The other night you and Lucas were -”

Before he can finish, he’s met with a facefull of water as Max splashes him.

“Hey!” he yells, reaching down to splash her back. She disappears under the water before he can get payback.

You giggle, turning back to Steve.

“Remember when they were actual kids?”

“Yeah, well, they’re heading off to college soon enough.”

You groan, taking a sip of your beer.

“Thanks for reminding me,” you grumble. “We’re old.”

“So old,” he agrees.

You lift your head from his lap, placing the bottle on the edge and swimming backwards, staring up at him mischievously.

“You coming in, Harrington?” you ask sweetly. “I’m all by myself in here, you know.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s up, pulling his t-shirt over his head and quickly discarding it. You laugh as he backs up, shielding yourself as he runs to jump in. It’s no use - you’re covered in water, shrieking as Steve re-emerges a few feet away. 

“STEVE!” you cry, wiping some of the water off of your face.

“What?” he asks innocently, swimming over to you. His normally voluminous hair is slicked back now, his toned arms cutting through the water until he reaches you.

“You know what -”

He doesn’t let you finish, pulling you by the waist and into him, kissing you gently.

Your bare skin brushes against his, you bathing suit-clad bodies leaving little between you two. Your fingers find their way into his wet locks, earning a sigh from him against your lips.

Steve just is summer, you’ve realized. Yes, there’s always a part of you that will be fond of him in his winter coat, rosy-cheeked with snowflakes in his hair as he holds his scarf in your hand, at a loss for words illuminated in your front porch light. But really, he’s sunshine and chlorine, late-night dew and sunscreen, his skin tanned and hair lightened. He tastes a bit like beer as you kiss him, his sun-soaked body warm against yours.

“Gross,” another voice calls - Robin. You pull away from Steve, rolling your eyes at your friend where she stands on the pool’s edge. You stare at her over his shoulder, your hands draping around the back of his neck.

“Piss off, Robin,” you say playfully. 

Sometimes, Robin jokes that she liked it better when you and Steve weren’t speaking - usually after a get a room comment. You know that even she doesn’t believe she means that, though.

“Look out!” she cries. Before you can stop her, she’s jumping in, showering you and Steve in her wake. It soon devolves into a fit of giggles, the three of you soon joined by the younger gaggle of teens in a war of splashes. 

*****

There was one problem with days like these. As the afternoon wore on, you started becoming more impatient. Because, all through the hazy afternoon, no amount of jumping in the pool or eating Mr. Harrington’s soon-to-be famous hamburgers could stop you from wanting to touch Steve. Seeing his broad back, tanned under the sun, droplets of water running down his chest… it was driving you mad. Other than a stolen kiss here and there, the pair of you were on relatively good behavior - how could you not be? Under the watchful eye of your parents, neighbors, friends who had known you since you were children, you had almost no other choice.

No even in the dark of night, when a game of Flip Cup started with the older teens on the lawn did you dare try anything. For one, you were competitive. Across the makeshift folding table, sticky with spilled beer, you stared at Steve with determination as you matched up cups.

“I’m gonna kick your ass, babe,” he said playfully.

“I’d like to see you try, Harrington.”

You ended up beating Steve three times in a row, outdrinking him and earning whoops and cheers from your team, Robin throwing her arms around you and shouting suck it, Harrington!

But, you just found yourself staring at Steve, whose eyes were locked on you. He was smirking, as if to promise payback later.

The rest of the evening is everything that comes with the 4th of July - s’mores, hot and saccharine as they stuck to your fingers, Steve wiping errant marshmallow off of the corner of your mouth; fireworks, visible in the distance over the hill, illuminating the sky with dazzling bursts of color; and, a late night bonfire. You had thrown on one of Steve’s sweatshirts over your now-dry swimsuit, your hand entwined in his as you sit side-by-side in lawn chairs.

The party is winding down, with most of the stragglers being on the younger side. Robin sits across the fire, chatting with Max as Lucas is engrossed in a conversation about Dungeons & Dragons with Eddie Munson. Eventually, though, they leave too, thanking Steve for having them and something along the lines of see you soon.

The night is cooler now, but the blanket of humidity still cloaks the air. The heat of the fire is almost too intense, but a welcome warmth. You already know that Steve’s sweatshirt is going to smell like campfire smoke tomorrow, which makes you only want to hang onto it for a little longer.

You’re starting to get a bit sleepy, satiated and exhausted from the heat, barbecue, and booze-filled day. Steve’s thumb is circling your knuckles.

“You okay?” he asks you softly.

“Mm hm,” you respond noncommittally, the fire lulling you to sleep.

“Good,” he whispers, the sound of his voice much closer now. You feel the warmth of his lips press against your temple, and you sigh contentedly.

“You know - we’re really good at holidays,” you comment.

“Mm - the best. I think we should just celebrate a holiday every day.”

“Agreed.”

He chuckles softly, kissing the crown of your head before leaning back in his chair. Some comfortable silence falls, the space filled with the crackling of fire, cicadas, and the distant boom of fireworks - summer.

Soon, though, there’s a different kind of sound - a distant rumble. You blink your eyes open blearily, groaning.

“Please tell me those are more fireworks,” you say, squinting over the treeline. Then, a flash in the sky, and a crack.

“Shit, a storm,” Steve says, jumping up out of his seat. “We should get inside before -”

Another boom. And, in cruel irony, the skies open up. The thick heat of the day finally breaks, rain suddenly pelting down on you in heavy drops. 

“Oh shit -”

“C’mon!” you cry, taking his hand and booking it to the back door, running through the downpour until you’re in the house. The cool air conditioning hits your now-wet body, and both of you are practically giggling like children. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re both still slightly drunk, or that you’re tired and starting to get loopy, but it soon devolves into the two of you falling into a fit of giggles in Steve’s kitchen.

“Shhhhhh!” you whisper, betraying yourself with another fit of laughter. You lean on Steve for support, laughing into his shoulder.

“You shhh,” he counters, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tightly.

He holds you like that for a moment, the two of you rocking and swaying in the empty kitchen. The storm rages on outside, rain pattering against the roof accompanied by the occasional rumble of thunder.

“Steve?” you mumble into his shoulder.

“Mm?”

“I love you,” you murmur.

A pause, and you can swear you feel him physically relax beneath you.

“Love you more,” he replies, soft and sincere.

“Not possible.”

He chuckles quietly. Then, he stops and pulls back, staring into your eyes like you’re made of stars.

“What?”

Instead of answering, he tilts your chin with his fingers, and begins kissing you softly. You sigh into the kiss, pulling him closer. Soon enough though, what had started as sweet becomes heated, Steve groaning as your tongue finds its way into his mouth. It’s becoming just a bit sloppy, Steve’s fingers gripping your shoulders so hard you’re afraid they’ll bruise.

“Steve -” you breathe into his mouth.

“Mm - yeah - baby -”

“Can we take this upstairs?” you ask, voice heated.

“Yeah, but my parents are asleep… we need to be quiet -”

“With you, Harrington? Not a chance.”

Before he can respond, you’re turning to the stairs and running up them two at a time. You don’t even need to look back to know that he’s following you every step of the way, just as he always does in everything.

And that night, as Steve touches you and makes you see stars, it dawns on you for not the first time in your life just how lucky you are. Now, Steve is a part of you, half of a whole. He always has been, in a way, for as long as you can remember. As you make love, you remember all of those summer and winter nights spent in his room doing exactly this, discreetly and “as friends.” How gentle he was your first time, taking care of you like you were the most important thing in the world. You remember how you broke his heart, how you told him you loved him for the first time, and everything in between. As he’s kissing your skin, and whispering sweet nothings and praises down your body, you realize that you can’t be without this boy.

It’s afterwards that you finally ask the question, hands intertwined in the dark under twisted bedsheets.

“Come to New York with me,” you whisper through the darkness. A leap of faith.

He pauses, and for a moment, you’re terrified that you’ve said the wrong thing. That is, until he pulls you into a fierce kiss.

“Okay,” he breathes. “You and me, babe. Always.”

Author's note: I know it's short and sweet, but I hope y'all liked it. Let me know your thoughts in the tags, replies, reblogs, etc. Happy 4th of July to all who celebrate!

[harrytheehottie]

‘TIS THE DAMN SEASON PART THREE

a/n: finally!!! the final part of ‘tis the damn season series. it’s a doozy! hope you enjoy! 

word count: 5.5k ⭐️ part one ⭐️ part two ⭐️  tell me your thoughts 

You wanted to say yes.

You knew you should have said yes.

You were standing in the pub where you first met. He rented the place out for the night - filling it with lights, candles and flowers. He had pictures of the two of you throughout the years placed on every table accompanied by a letter.

The first picture you took in this same pub was one neither of you were aware of. One of his friends took it upon themselves to snap a picture of the two of you talking in the corner and sent it to Harry the same night with a text, “I think you found your girl.” It was a feeling they got, he explained, a feeling that he brushed off but now, was thinking about how much of an idiot he was to not take the hint that night.

It took about 3 years for the two of you to get your shit together - Harry more so than you. It was fun at first, hooking up with no labels or “funny business” until it started to feel like you were someone he was ashamed of. And then one day, it all came out of Harry - his love for you, his deep regret for thinking you never wanted anything more with him and his eagerness to try again.

So, you did. You tried and you were happy, very happy. You and Harry spent 3 months dating slowly learning one another without the clouded judgements that come with sex. He was working on his commitment issues in therapy - something he shared with you quite often. You were proud of him for putting himself first and allowing himself the time to truly open up beyond the surface level. You were a unit, a very happy, solid unit.

Until tonight.

When you wake up that morning to an empty bed and a note next to your morning coffee that reads - “I’ll be out all day, meet me at the pub @ 7? Xx Harry'' you knew something was up. Harry wasn’t new to this random dinners and surprises thing, it was actually something you really loved about him. His ability to always make you feel like you were constantly on his mind. He would send you texts of things he saw throughout his day, a song on the radio you’d like, he’d pick up ingredients for dinner and have it ready when he had some time off and you’d been at work, if you mentioned an artist, play, movie that you’d like to see - he would have it on your calendar and you’d make it down to the O2, Royal Albert Hall, any venue across London with the best seats in the house.

You never really talked about marriage. You had been together for three years and never once spoke about marriage, the future? Yes, but never marriage. As far as you were concerned, Harry didn’t want to get married, didn’t believe that a piece of paper could ever sum up what the bond that the two of you had.

So, when you found yourself in your local pub with Harry down on one knee in front of you his hair parted down the middle - just like you always told him you loved because of the way it framed his face, wearing his olive green blazer with nothing underneath but the thin gold necklace with the banana charm you gave him for an anniversary shining off his chest.

“You mean the absolute world to me and I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Harry spoke as he pulled you in for a hug.

“What’s all this about?” You asked, unaware of what Harry was getting at.

“I love you,” he whispered into your ear before pulling away from the hug and taking a step back.

You could feel the sudden nerves that filled him. The way he started rubbing his hands together, his thumb and pointer finger pulling at his bottom lip, Harry looked down at the ground before looking back at you, his green eyes finding yours, taking a deep breath before falling down to one knee.

You were frozen.

Your heart dropped down when you realized what was going to happen.

Harry was going to propose to you.

“There is no one else out there for me. Will you please give me the privilege of calling you my wife?”

Harry looked up at you, the corner of his eyes beginning to fill with tears.

“Harry,” your voice trembled. You knew it wasn’t what he was expecting, you hated that you had to do this to him. “I…” you couldn’t finish your sentence but Harry knew.

He moved up from his position standing up in front of you, the tears that were supposed to be from happiness now streaming down his face for something much worse. You were still unable to speak. You felt the rush of guilt ruining this moment. You were more aware than ever that you were alone in this pub that had every detail of your relationship over the last 3 years in it.

“S’not how I really pictured this going” Harry snapped you out of whatever daze you were still in.

“Neither did I,” you admitted. “Harry, I am flattered beyond flattered, that isn’t even the right word for what I feel right now. I just never, I just. I feel so bad. I don’t want this to ruin us. I don’t want to regret this. ”

Harry let the tears fall, his brows furrowed his hand running through his hair before finding the way to pull at his bottom lip again. You’ve never seen Harry like this. The mixture of anger and sadness and you don’t believe this is that moment but if it was, you knew you deserved it.

“Believe me, my dear no one will regret this moment more than I will.”

“Harry don’t say that, please don’t say that. Can we just talk - can you hear me out?”

“I invited our family and friends. Planned this whole night with no doubt in my mind you’d say yes, we’d have time to ourselves before our friends and family surprise us in about 20 minutes.”

“They’re coming here?”

“Yes, here. S’why I rented out the entire pub. If I had any indication that you’d say no I probably wouldn’t have planned it this way.” He was being short.

You hated how much you deserved it.

“Harry, I love you so much. I just wish I had a heads up? We never spoke about marriage, I thought you didn’t want to get married when you told me about childhood and traditions and what we did or didn’t want you never once brought up marriage. I just,” you reached out in front of you to hold his hands, your thumb running up and down his knuckles. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you but,”

“You don’t.” Harry said in a low voice, his anger becoming more apparent as he refused to look you in the eye.

“Baby, please”

“Don’t.”

You wished you could take this moment back. Say yes and talk about it later. You wanted a future with Harry, you didn’t see a future without him in it. But there was something telling you to say no. You weren’t ready - you knew the both of you weren’t ready. Harry was about to embark on the craziest tour schedule that you have ever seen and you didn’t know what that meant for the two of you. And now, you were stuck, in the pub that you knew you’d never be able to walk by again, telling the love of your life you couldn’t marry him and trying to create a plan on what you’re going to do when your family makes their way over.

“We could just pretend?” You whispered.

Harry began to chuckle, clapping his hands together, “You want me to spend the next two hours in front of our closest friends and family pretending like you didn’t just… say no to a future with me?”

Before you had the chance to speak up and because timing was never either of your best qualities, the door of the pub opens, starting with Harry’s Mum and sister, Gemma and Anne walking through the door beaming with excitement. They have more flowers, balloons and what appears to be a congratulatory cake.

And it didn’t take long for their excitement to quickly die - the ring box with the ring in hand on the bar next to Harry, the clear distance between the two of you and if that wasn’t enough - the way Harry looked over to his mum and sister, with his brows furrowed, his lips began to tremble and like they were on cue, both women came rushing towards him.

You watched as they hugged and embraced him, the constant sorry’s slipping through their conversation. Neither of them even wanted to ask any follow up questions. If there was any shot of a reconciliation you had to get out of there as soon as possible.

“I’m going,”

“No,we will go, the two of you stay and work out whatever it is you need to. Mum and I will man the door and contact those we need to.” You were quickly cut off by Harry’s sister.

You nodded in agreement, the last thing you wanted was to give them another reason to hate you. They gave Harry one last hug and before the women started to walk away, Anne, Harry’s mother who you grew very fond of through the course of you relationship walked towards you with open arms, whispering “I know you love him, I’ve never been more sure of it and if that love is still there, allow yourselves the chance to fight for that love.”

“No matter what happens Anne, I’ll always think of you as family,” is what you could respond with. Gemma followed her mother, giving you a hug and reminding you that, “it’s your life and we’ll always love you.”

As you watched the two most important women in Harry’s life exit the pub that was supposed to be used to celebrate the next step in you and Harry’s life you wondered if they were trying to mask the disappointment.

“I don’t want to do this.” Harry said. He was short, rightfully so.

“Do you think I want to do this? Do you think I want to do any of this?” Your anger kicking in, “not once have we ever had this discussion. You have never brought up marriage until this very moment, you don’t just ask someone to marry you without bringing it up first.”

“Sorry, here I was thinking that proposals were supposed to be surprises,” he was pissed. You knew it from the second you rejected him. It always starts off slow, frustration turns to sadness and then into anger. You’ve never been the subject of that anger, until now.

“Do you know what a marriage is? It’s not a fancy wedding and an excuse to have a party. It takes work - what am I meant to do when you’re on tour for 9 months out of the year? Drop everything to be by your side? Give up my career so you could live out yours? We don’t even live together Harry, for fucks sakes. What shall I do with my house? Sell it and move into yours? Everything about our relationship from the day it started has been about you - when do you want me around, when is it time for you to want to take me seriously, and one day finally you came to your senses and apologized for the hell you put me through. Do you know how that feels? How does that mess with someone? I love you Harry, I love us. But I would be lying if I didn’t say that deep down something inside me will always wonder if I’m just here until you find your next best - no one makes the girl you've been stringing along for years the girlfriend, and now you expect me to say yes to being a wife?”

You were exhausted. You felt every emotion that you buried deep inside come rushing out.

“You’re still holding onto things from years ago and you know s’not fair. I was a dickhead, I owned that, I’m ashamed of that. I want you, I want every part of you for the rest of my life,” Harry’s green eyes meeting yours, you felt every word he was saying but you knew you couldn’t, not now.

“I believe you Harry and I love you so much, that’s why I can’t,” you were aware of how hypocritical you were being. You needed to think.

“You can’t even say it, s’pathetic, is this your way of getting back at me? If so s’working if that’s what you were going for.” His accent getting more thick stumbling over his words,  a sign that this conversation was far from over.

“If that’s what you think Harry then I don’t know if I have anything else to say to you.”

“S’not what I think? It’s what I know. S'pose to the love of my life and she can’t even say she’s rejecting me, s’pathetic, rented out this pub, bought a ring, got our friends and family excited.”

“You’re not being fair Harry.” You knew he was speaking from a place of hurt but you also knew, if you stood there any longer and allowed him to keep going - you’d both say something you could never take back.

“Fair? S’not fair?”

You moved closer to him, and when he didn’t step back from your advance towards him, it gave you hope that you’d be able to come back from this. You took his hands into yours, and looked him in the eye, searching for the familiarity and love that you always knew was there, even when you were going through the worst of it, “Harry, I want this to work, I love you.” You put your arms out to hug him and he fell into you - the comfort of his body embracing yours, your hands running circles around his back, you knew that it would take some work but you and Harry always came back to each other. “I’m going to go now.”

You pulled back, kissing him on his chest right where the first button of his blazer met. You looked up at him one last time and he couldn’t muster up the courage to look at you, mumbling his goodbye as you walked out the door.

&&

Gemma and Anne took care of letting everyone else that was invited know. Your parents came over with food and flowers and you tried to keep it all in. All you could think about was Harry, what he was doing or thinking and on the third night of radio silence from him, you began doom scrolling through the internet. You knew you shouldn’t have. You never allowed yourself to google yourself. It was never worth it. Once you became officially linked to Harry it was a breeding ground for rumors and gossip. Tonight was worse.

Harry Styles seen with a new mystery woman. Girlfriend hasn’t been seen in weeks. Trouble in paradise?

You clicked the link. Your stomach dropping at the sight of a very drunk Harry being escorted out of a club, a sigh of relief washing over you when you realized the mystery woman was one of the lesser known people in Harry’s inner circle. You kept zooming in and out of the images of him. The way he could barely walk, stumbling out with his security guards, his body looked limp. You haven't seen him like this since before you officially got back together. He kept partying for special occasions but never went overboard.

You wanted to reach out to him. Tell him that you could work through this. You wanted to be with him. You wished he would’ve waited. But that’s the man you fell in love with. His spontaneity was one of your favorite things about him. You never thought it would be the type to keep you apart.

During the years that you and Harry were in a limbo you would always wonder what he was up to on nights that you weren’t together. Your relationship always felt like it was in his hands. Does he want to see you? Did he ask you to come to a show? How fast can you get to his house? When were you going back home for the holidays? You felt like you had this duty to him even though it was no strings attached friends hooking up. The ball felt like it was never in your court.

And you could never escape him. When you’d go weeks and weeks of not seeing him you would inevitably catch his face somewhere. On your weekly grocery run there would be lines of magazines. It felt like you couldn’t escape. You would avoid the supermarket as much as you could so you wouldn’t be subjected to anymore of him. You immediately fell back into bad habits which made Harry constantly going out hurt more. You wondered what he told people. How those around him would react. The ones who knew you but had loyalty to Harry. What did his family think? You felt completely isolated.

And you really tried not to let your mind wander too far but you also couldn’t help but wonder how long it was going to take him to fall into someone else.

&&

You went out for one of your friend’s birthdays after being stuck at home for weeks. The last thing you wanted to do was be in a nasty club surrounded by drunk people. It had been years since that point of your life since you got into a relationship with Harry and now that your life felt like it imploded, it was the last thing you wanted to do. But you had to. Your friends had been your rocks through this experience and it was probably good to spend a night out trying to clear your mind of things.

So, you put on your little black dress paired with your favorite leather bomber jacket that Harry gifted you for your one year anniversary, kept the tears at bay once you had your hair up in a bun and makeup on ready to take on the night.

You took a shot of tequila before leaving your apartment to get your nerves in order. A second shot immediately as you got to the table at the club. Your third as you wished a happy birthday to the birthday girl. You were feeling the good type of drunk where you weren’t sloppy just a little loose. All of the worries of the last few weeks just went away, you felt good and present.

“I’m so glad you came out with us,” the birthday girl said as she embraced you for a hug. All your friends were happy to see you, they only knew bits and pieces of why you and Harry were in this current stage so they were being extra supportive tip toeing around your current relationship state.

Everything was good, you were all having fun.

Until, the birthday girl decided she wanted to leave the club and go walk over to a pub that she knows has karaoke. You walk in and the first song that you hear is one that had been a part of the ‘soundtrack’ of you and Harry’s relationship, The Way I Feel Inside by The Zombies. You remember it clearly, and can see it playing out in front of you like a movie. You were over at his. Harry decided to treat you to a dinner that ended up turning into a takeaway because he overcooked the pasta before you got there blaming it on his nerves.

“I make you nervous?” You teased as you watched him pour the both of you a glass of wine.

“Very,” the shy smile paired with the blush on Harry’s cheeks answered your question. Your heart beating out of your chest as you took his statement in. You felt like you spent so much of your early arrangement fighting for him to come to this realization and now that he was doing this all for you and letting you know how much you meant to him, you couldn’t help how much it melted your heart. Your relationship wasn’t perfect and it definitely came from unconventional circumstances but you knew he was it for you.

“Oh my god, are you Harry Styles' girlfriend?”

“What?” You were snapped out of your daydream and suddenly there were two very eager girls in front of you with their phones out.

“It’s you right?” They both said almost in unison before they flashed their phones in front of you, an image of you and Harry taken by a stranger illuminated the screen. You remember that day, you were both wearing each other's hoodies, a coffee in hand as you walked through the park. You had no idea that someone took a picture of the two of you.

Luckily, you were immediately pulled away from the girls by your friends. Your mind was spinning and you felt like you were out of your body. People taking pictures of you and Harry was unfortunately something you were used to. You have never been approached by anyone on your own and even rarely with Harry. He made a point to protect you from that and you were grateful.

But now, you were drunk, unsure about your future but hopeful that if anyone could make it work, it would be the two of you.

&&

You woke up from a text from Gemma, you hadn’t spoken to her since the incident and your mind immediately went to something being wrong with Harry.

Gemma: Hello! Are you doing alright? Just checking in.

Hii! As good as I could be right. How are you? Is Harry alright?

He’d probably say the same as you

If her motivation for checking in was to make you feel bad it was working.

I just want to make sure you’re okay and know you always have a friend in me, regardless of what happens.

Also, please don’t read any of the online bullshit. That’s a dark place to be and it’s not good for either of you.

Gemma was one of the first people to have a talk with you about the reality of being in Harry’s life. It was shortly after you accidentally ran into her after not so secretly leaving Harry’s childhood bedroom. She invited you to lunch once you were back in London to have a talk with you.

“I don’t know what you and my brother have and I’m sure he’s tried all he can to protect you from that side of the internet but I know how curiosity can creep up on you or anyone in your life and I promise it’s not worth it.”

You listened. You wanted to protect your bubble for as long as you could and you knew that allowing that outside noise into your life would do more harm than good. 

&&

You were woken up in the middle of the night by three rapid knocks at your front door. It startled you at first. It was too late at night for it to be someone you were expecting but there was also something soothing about your walk to the door. Your stomach filled with butterflies and anticipation, like your body knew who always knocked like that no matter what the situation. And when you opened your front door and saw Harry in front of you, slightly disheveled and clearly drunk from whatever bender he was on.

“Harry, what are you doing here?” You tried to hide the concern in your voice but knew you were doing a shit job at it.

``Ve been drinking at the bar across the street everyday waiting for you… walked over here a few times, s’just the first time I’ve made it up the steps. Think your neighbors finally took pity on me and let me up.” He was slurring his words and talking at a faster speed than usual, which were tell-tale tell signs since you were younger that he had a bit too much to drink and was probably going to regret whatever he was saying in the morning.

“You should come in.” You said making room for him as you opened the door wider, Harry stumbled his way inside. He was wearing a white button down and some brown trousers, his hair had grown out since the last time you saw him and the facial hair that you always loved was growing out too.

The silence in the room was heavy, the last time he was here everything felt natural. You were in a routine of dating, splitting time between your two homes, dinner dates, movie nights that you never made it past the first 30 minutes of any movie before your hands found their way to each other. The comfort Harry felt in your space was still there as he made his way into the kitchen, opening the right cupboard to grab two cups and plates.

“Making us a cheese toastie, you always loved a cheese toastie after a night out with a glass of milk.” Harry spoke before you could question him.

“Not sure if you’re that far gone but I didn’t go out.” You laugh as you watch him open your fridge for the ingredients. All the build up in your head of what the first time you would see Harry would be like suddenly disappeared. He was your Harry and no bump in the road was going to change that.

“S’gues I’ll just have both of them then?” He said.

“And leave me here to starve?” You walked across the kitchen island that you were standing at and took the pan out the dishwasher for him.

“You’ve always said you liked to watch me eat.” Harry teases you for a drunken confession you made years ago after a night out. You ordered in some burgers and fries and you made the mistake of telling him it was turning you on.

You fell into a comfortable silence as you watched him make a couple cheese toasties. You poured each of you a glass of almond milk and walked over to the coffee table, opting to eat while sitting on the floor. He was sobering up with each bite. You watched him eat, taking all that you missed in the last month. His skin was paler than you remembered, a sign that he hadn’t been out as much as you anticipated.

“Did you come here just for some food?” You broke the silence in the room. It was nice pretending that you didn’t just go over a month without speaking and now he was turning up after a few drinks to your front door.

“Obviously not,” Harry moves his body closer to yours placing his hands on your thighs - the familiar feeling of comfort in all of this.

“We have a lot to talk about.”

“Can we wait?” He asked his green eyes, finding yours, the familiar look and feeling of reassurance and comfort you always felt when he looked at you. You had come a long way from him not being able to look at you as you left the pub that night. “We have the rest of our lives to talk.” He whispered in your ear before pulling back and meeting your eyes again.

“I just want to say I’m sorry and I love you and I’m grateful that you’re here. You don’t know how many times I wanted to pick up the phone but thought you were just done with me and I don’t know how lucky I got to have someone like you,” you pause to take a breath, “I’m just so sorry.”

Harry leaned in closer and responded with a kiss. Your arms wrapped around him as Harry moves his to the back of your legs and thighs moving you so you’re now straddling his lap. Your mouth moved in a way that was so familiar, “I’ve missed this so much,” Harry said as he kissed down your neck, whispering how beautiful you are and how many nights he wished he would’ve just come over to yours. “You have no idea the things I want to do to you,” the roughness in his voice sends a flutter through your entire body.

“Hmm,” you quirk a brow at him.

A small smile on his face, as he pulls up your shirt and you help him take it off. Harry pauses for a second, repositioning you so you are now sitting down and he is in front of you, slowly working his way down from your lips to your neck before cupping your breasts and moving his mouth down your chest as he sucks on your nipple. Your slow moans filling up the room. You had a lot to talk about and this was always his way of feeling close to you and letting his guard down. And it was working. Your arousal grew as he continued to lick and suck up and down your chest. You squeezed your legs together in anticipation and it lit a spark into Harry as he moved down your body to where you wanted him most.

Harry pulls down your underwear and slips his thumb where you need him most circling your clit. You push your hands into his hair pulling the front ends away from his face so you can really see him work on you. He moves his thumb faster before shifting his to slip two fingers inside you. You close your eyes as you shift your body to adjust to the sensation. The feeling of comfort, arousal and home all wrapped into one. This was more than just sex with Harry - he was communicating all of his feelings for you through his slow and steady actions. The primal way he was watching how your body reacted to him. Always putting in the work for you before thinking about himself.

“Harry…” you moan.

“Missed that sound.” Harry mumbled as he continued working his fingers inside of you before moving down to find his mouth onto your center. You tightened the grip on his hair - pulling and tugging as he sucks and licks you into your first orgasm. Watching him working you up is turning him on -- your hands moving from his hair to his own waist, unzipping his pants and watching him grow - the more he was making you feel good it was making him feel better.

And that was the rest of your night, your bodies saying all the things that you couldn’t yet. The way you ached for him and he ached for you. As you drifted to sleep in Harry’s arms, you knew that no matter the distance and time apart you both knew this is was worth fighting for.

&&

You woke up the next morning to a familiar song playing throughout the house.

Should I try to hide

The way I feel inside

My heart for you?

Would you say that you

Would you try to love me too?

You walked downstairs and found Harry in nothing but his briefs, coffee brewing in the coffee maker with a stack of pancakes. A view that you were used to, a sense of calm and home.

“Morning!”

“What’s all this?” You questioned as you walked over to him and planted a kiss on his lips.

“M’just making breakfast for my girl.”

You quirked a brow at him, “I could get used to this, maybe I should reject you more often if it comes with these types of perks.” you teased.

“Ha, ha, very funny…” Harry deadpanned before breaking into a bit of laughter himself.

You spent the morning enjoying each other’s company and the breakfast feast that he made before spending the rest of the day putting all your cards on the table. Harry was going to reroute his tour to make more time to fit your schedule so you weren’t the one that had to constantly rearrange yourself to fit into his. You were going to move into his at the end of your lease. You created a plan on And most importantly, you talked about how a ring and a wedding was never the end goal for you.

“My goal has always just been you,” Harry finished your sentence before you could.

And for you, it’s always just been Harry.

[circle-with-me]

‘tis the damn season - part 5

Pairing: Will Ramos x OFC (Gen/Viv/Vivvy)

Content Warning/Tags: 18+ MDNI!!! nightmares, psychological abuse, verbal abuse, implications of physical abuse, menacing/threatening behavior, toxic relationship with parent (father), mentions of death, mentions of car wrecks, mentions of alcoholism, panic attacks, unprotected vaginal sex, creampie.

First part of this may be rough for some but after that is pure FLUFF I swear! Tooth rotting. They’re adorable, I love them so much.

Word Count: 3k

tag list: @concretenoah @deathblacksmoke @sitkowski @bngurngheart @malice-ov-mercy @witchyweeb34 @lyschko666 @cookiesupplier @lilrubles @meekahy @lacktoesandtoddlerants @sammyjoeee @collective-heartbreak @agravemisstake @catharsis-in-darkness @0fth34byss

Authors note: PLEASE PLEASE READ THE TAGS BEFORE YOU READ THIS PART!

There is a nightmare scene that can be pretty rough for some and I want to make sure everyone is prepared. You do not have to read that part to know that is going on with the rest of the story so I have divided it up so you can scroll through it. The scene is in italics. Once you reach the snowflake divider you’ve made it to the rest of the story. Love you guys and thanks as always for reading my thing ♥️

thank you to @deathblacksmoke and @concretenoah for being the best beta readers/listening to me go on about this fic incessantly. They’re my biggest helpers and supporters and I wouldn’t know what to do without them 🤍

warning divider by @cafekitsune, snowflake divider by @saradika-graphics, t. swift lyrics dividers by yours truly

“Genevieve! Get down here NOW!” 

She stiffens at her father’s booming voice calling for her downstairs. Even with her door closed it sounded as if he was right next to her. Gen sits at the edge of her bed, dreading what would happen next. He would become angrier the longer she made him wait but fear kept her frozen.

“GENEVIEVE!” The voice boomed again. “Don’t make me come up there!”

She whimpers at the threat, knowing if she doesn’t get up immediately he’ll make good on it. Wiping the tears from her cheeks she gets up and opens her door, padding down the hallway to the staircase.

Gen stands at the top of the stairs and peers over in an attempt to catch a glimpse of him. She hears noises from the kitchen, shuffling around followed by shattering glass and a string of curses. He’s drunk, but what else is new? 

“God dammit Genevieve, you don’t fucking li-” She jumps as his large frame stampedes out of the kitchen and to the bottom of the stairs. He halts when he sees her, the fury in his eyes turning to annoyance. He grips the railing, taking a step up. 

“Mija, why did I get a call from school today telling me you’ve been skipping class?”

Gen feels her heart start to race. 

“Daddy, I-I..” She stammers, tears welling up in her eyes. “I only skipped class once so I could..”

He slams his fist against the railing and Gen freezes in place, wrapping her arms around herself for comfort. 

“Don’t lie to me, bitch.” He spits.

“I’m not lying to you, daddy! I promise. It was just one time! I wanted..”

He takes another step up.

“What the fuck is so important that you had to skip class for, huh?”

Gen whimpers, she knew he’d be furious to find out the truth but if she lied it would be ten times worse. She doesn’t even look up when she speaks.

“Tomorrow is Will’s birthday and I wanted to get him something special. He likes manga and the only place that sells it around here closes early. So, I left before the last period started so I could get there on time.” 

“You skipped school to buy that stupid boy a comic book?” Gabriel sneers, narrowing his eyes at his daughter. 

“Daddy, he’s not..”

“And whose fucking money did you buy that with?” 

“Mine.” She sniffles. “Mrs. Hart has been having some trouble getting around so she asked me to help her with some housework. I told her not to but she insisted on paying me.” 

He barks a laugh but there’s no humor behind it. In fact, it’s so cold it makes Gen’s skin crawl. 

“Always taking advantage of people. What would your mother think of you?” Gen winces. He loves to use her mother against her. “I bet you went over to the neighbors begging for money. Just like when you cry to Will about how terrible I treat you.”

Gabriel ascends the step once more, taking two steps this time. 

“Maybe I wouldn’t drink all the time or be so ‘terrible’ if I had a better daughter. Did you think of that? I lost my wife and I get to look at her spitting image every single day. You will never be half the woman she was… It should have been you that died in that wreck.”

If he had said that a year ago, his statement would have devastated her. She reasons that in some way it probably still does, but her bitterness and hatred for the man she calls her father usurps that feeling. 

Gen looks in his eyes— eyes that have been lifeless and cold for years. She knew the risks, the consequences, the days of recovery ahead of her but she didn’t care. If he was going to sink that low then so was she.

“No, daddy. You can blame your drinking on me if you want to but you had a problem long before mom died. If you weren't such a drunk that wreck never would have happened. It should have been you that died.”

Gabriel’s lips curl in anger, a snarl coming from his chest. “You little fucking bitch!” He bounds up the stairs towards her, reaching out to grab her and—

Gen’s eyes fly open and she pants looking around the room. Her vision is so blurry she can barely see anything and it doesn’t help her racing heart. She lays her head back against the pillow, trying to slow her breathing. 

“It was just a bad dream. It’s over. Breathe.” She whispers to herself. After a few minutes, she opens her eyes, her vision much clearer. She feels something shift slightly next to her and she looks over.

Beside her, as far away from her as he possibly could be, was Will. His brown eyes stare at her like she’s a wounded puppy and he wants to rescue her. From day one, he was always her protector, but he had witnessed enough nightmares to know he needed to stay away until the coast was clear.

Gen smiles meekly at him, body still trembling and tears falling freely. She stretches her arm out towards him. He was so far away from her that her fingertips barely brush his chest. 

A strangled “baby” is all she can get out but that’s good enough for Will. He envelops her in his arms, pulling her into his chest, softly kissing her face. She sobs into his arms while he rubs her back, soothing her with sweet words. 

“I’m here, baby. I’ve got you.” He whispers. 

Will doesn’t need her to tell him what happened. The whines and cries in her sleep were enough. He remembers all of the sleepless nights for both of them, navigating through the nightmares and trauma plaguing her. Will thinks about the years of nightmares she has had with no one to comfort her like he is now and his heart aches.

Gen clutches onto him, burying herself deeper into his chest, gasping sobs wracking her body. Will holds her tightly, knowing it always gets worse before it gets better. He gently strokes her hair, crooning a song he’s done his best to forget in her ear.

“I look back to the one and only summertime

When my girl was the envy of every friend of mine

She slept safely in my arms

We were so young and invincible”

Will feels her shuddered breaths calm a little. The grip she has on him relaxes, her hands still shaking but lightly rubbing at his sides. He takes that as a hint to keep going.

“Closed lips

She was never one to kiss and tell

Those trips in the summer never went so well

Young love was such dumb love

Call it what you want

It was still enough”

Gen’s body continues to calm as he sings. He stops singing and hums as he takes a peek at her. He notices she’s not crying anymore and wipes the remaining tears from her face. She cracks an eye open and sniffles, hugging him even closer and nuzzling into his neck whining for him to continue. He smiles softly. There’s my girl. He thinks.

“And it's still out of my reach

And you're still

All of the things that I want in my life

How could I ask you to leave me?”

And we were just kids in love

The summer was full of mistakes

We wouldn't learn from

The first kiss stole the breath from my lips

Why did the last one tear us apart?”

His singing becomes quieter as he processes the lyrics. They were fifteen when they first heard this song. It came out the summer they started dating and it seemed perfect at the time. Will heard it first and declared it “their song” immediately. Gen had complained at first that the song was too sad but Will told her to focus on the sweet parts. He reassured her the sad verses would never apply to them.  

Fourteen years later the realization that they not only do apply to them but almost mirror their situation perfectly was almost too much for Will to bear. 

“We're falling down

Can we pick up the pieces?

We're at an all-time low

How do we get it back?

We're falling down”

The last few words come out a cracked and broken mess as tears stream down his face. He attempts to hide his pain from Gen but she hears it and can feel his heart pounding. She looks up at him, tears of her own returning, but the look in her eyes is no longer panic. Instead, it’s heartbreak, empathy, and longing. 

Gen smiles at him, adjusting herself so that she can wrap her arms around his neck. She kisses him gently. It’s so gentle that he can barely feel it and he wants more but doesn’t want to rush her. 

They lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms for a while, their lips meeting with little intention besides soothing the other person. Will’s hands roam her back and sides, staying in neutral areas until she’s ready. 

 When Gen deepens the kiss, he lets her have control. He can feel that she needs more by the way she pulls at his neck and rubs herself against him. He smiles into the kiss and plays with the frayed ends of her shirt.

“Is this okay?” He breathes, rubbing his fingers only barely under the hem.

She nods and he slides his hand under her shirt, his thumb brushing her ribcage just under her breasts. She lifts her leg over his hip and pulls him in closer, moaning as she feels how hard he is against her. Will cups her breast in his hand while he grinds into her slowly, swallowing every moan she gives him.

“Turn around for me.” Will requests and she obliges, rotating in the opposite direction and making a point to place her ass right up against his crotch as she settles down. Will chuckles and grabs her hips, grinding into her hard. Gen giggles back at him, gasping softly. 

“Are you ready for me, baby? Need you.” He says slipping a hand in her panties and running a finger through her slit. He curses at how wet she is and quickly shoves his boxers down, hiking her leg over his. He pushes her panties to the side and slips inside of her.

Will slides his other arm underneath her and wraps it around her chest, pressing his body as close to hers as he can get. He presses kiss after kiss on her face and neck, slowly dragging his cock in and out of her. 

Gen reaches back to card her fingers through his curls, bringing their lips together. She whimpers against his mouth, begging him to go faster. Will increases his movements, the sound of her stuttered moans already forming a knot in his stomach.

“Touch yourself for me, Vivvy… please” Will pants into her neck. “Need to.. fuck, want you to finish with me.” 

Gen snakes her hand down her stomach, circling her clit with the pads of her fingers. Will watches her from over her shoulder, squeezing her hip so hard  he’ll be shocked if he doesn’t leave a mark. 

“Will.” Gen cries, moving her hips to meet his thrusts. With every new thrust inside of her he can feel her getting closer. The muscles in her belly are tensing and her legs are beginning to shake. Will watches as she practically bounces on his cock chasing her release.

“I’m here, baby. Let go for me. I’ve got you.” He coos, feeling his own climax coming on quickly. 

Gen stills in front of him, crying out his name, shaking and moaning. Will pulls her so close he can barely breath and continues thrusting until he spills deep inside of her. 

For some time, neither of them move or say a word. Will curls around her, still holding her tightly while Gen places featherlight kisses to his fingers. Both actions, while truly sincere, have hidden meanings. 

One of them is trying to keep the other as close as possible in fear of them retreating. While the other is remembering for the first time in years what it’s like to experience a safe place in the form of a person.

Gen feels the bed dip beside her and a warm hand runs up her arm. She makes a contented sound but keeps her eyes shut. Will removes his hand and replaces it with his lips, kissing up to her shoulder. 

“Time to get up, sleepy head.” He hums. 

Gen pulls the covers over her head groaning and he laughs, fighting to get them off of her. 

“Viv, It’s almost 2:30. We’ve been sleeping all day!”

The vice grip Gen has on the comforter stays as Will hears her grumbling something underneath them.

“What’s that?” He says, tilting his head and putting his ear to the blanket. “I can’t hear you, you’re gonna have to whine louder!”

A hand reaches out of the comforter and pinches Will’s side and he yelps. A satisfied snicker comes from below the fabric barrier as her hand retreats but he’s quick to grab it.

Gen squeals as he rips the comforter off of her and grabs her other hand, pinning them above her head. He watches her as she giggles uncontrollably; She’s trying, but not really to remove herself from his grasp. He kisses her face repeatedly and he lets her remove her hands so she can wrap her arms around him. 

“We need to get up, Vivvy.” Will says between pecks. 

“Whyyyy?” Gen drags out, giving him her best pout.

“Well, for one.. we haven’t eaten all day which is just not acceptable. Especially for a lazy day. And two…” He stands up and walks over to the window and peeks through the blinds. “It’s snowing.”

Gen sits up on her elbows, a baffled expression on her face. 

“And…?” 

Will rolls his eyes. 

“And.. If I recall correctly someone used to love playing in the snow. At least before she turned into a big grump.” He teases.

Gen’s eyes light up and she scrambles to the window. She looks out as Will holds the blinds open for her, noticing how much it snowed overnight. Gen estimated there were probably five to six inches outside. It was perfect for a fun day in the snow.

“Can we go outside now?” She asks, buzzing with excitement.

“Food first. Snow after.” He replies.

After they eat, Gen practically runs to get dressed, stealing clean clothes from Will’s dresser to layer with. Seeing her in his clothes, the way his sweatpants cling to her hips and accentuate her curves makes him short of breath. 

He considers the option of pulling them off of her and bending her over the dresser she was standing at but he knew not to mess with a woman and her snow plans. Even if sex was involved. Besides, there was always afterwards.

Will decides it’s best to distract himself so he walks into the living room to finish getting ready. Gen follows him shortly after, grabbing her boots and putting them on.

Will zips up his puffer jacket and turns around, watching as Gen puts on her pathetic excuse for a coat. He stands and watches her for a moment, an amused expression on his face. When she looks up, she sees him and grins.

“What?” 

“You spend a few years in L.A. and forget how to dress for the weather here.” Will snickers as he gets up and assesses her outfit. He shakes his head and tuts at her. “Unacceptable.” Gen sticks her tongue out and Will laughs as he walks to his closet.

He brings her his extra puffer and beanie, placing the hat on her head and letting her put the jacket on herself. 

“At least you brought a scarf, you monster.” He teases, fixing it around her neck. “Can’t have my girl freezing out there.”

Gen feels her cheeks flush, surprised at how quickly she accepts it. Was there a point in fighting it though? She was his girl. That had never changed, no matter how long she tried to combat it. In the back of her mind, she’s reminded this is temporary, but she stubbornly pushes it away. For once, she’s going to let herself have what she wants. 

Will zips the jacket up for her, adjusting the scarf and making sure she was nice and snug. “That’s much better.” He says as he leans in and kisses her nose. He wraps his arms around her waist and rubs his nose against hers, grinning as she giggles uncontrollably.

“Ready to go, baby?”

Gen peers around the corner of the tree she’s hiding around. Will stands a few feet away, his back facing her. She sneaks around the tree, as quietly as the crunch of the snow would allow and runs toward him, throwing the snowball in her hand at him and hitting his back. 

“There you are!” Will yells, running after her. He gathers up snow, throwing it back at her while he chases her. Shrieks of laughter permeate the cold winter air as they sprint around like little kids. Will finally catches up to her and grabs her, pulling her down on top of him.

Gen pulls down the scarf around his face, covering his face with kisses, focusing specifically on his cold red nose. She doesn’t miss the quiet giggles he lets out between each peck. His arms squeeze her tightly against him and despite the 20° temperature, she feels warmer than ever.

Will removes his arms from her suddenly and she sulks. He beams at her, spreading his arms and legs out in the snow, attempting to move them in a sweeping motion. 

“It’s very hard to make a snow angel when you’re on top of me.” 

Gen scoffs and rolls off of him, landing on her back next to him. 

“That’s the first time you’ve ever complained about me being on top of you before.”

“First and only time, Vivvy.” He winks. “Now, are you gonna make one with me or is mine gonna sit here out in the snow all by itself?”

Gen and Will make their snow angels, and Will hops up to help her off the ground. They stand in front of them to assess their handiwork.

“Looks good to me. What do you think, babe?” He asks, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

“Perfect.” Gen responds, nuzzling into his chest. “Absolutely perfect.”

[giratina-plushie]

i've been tricked by the waddle doo

[mischas]

If the O.C. reached it's 100th episode, how would it play out in terms of Ryan + Marissa?

Hmm, that's a great question. This would be the fifth season right? If we're going with episode counts in s1 (27), s2 (24), s3 (25). I imagine it as the finale of a Marissa-filled s4 or a premiere for s5.

Though I don't really love pregnancy cliffhangers I've seen discussion in the past mentioning that the SS pregnancy scare from s4 was supposed to be RM's. I have NO idea if that's true but it makes some sense, especially given the parallel to s1 and as I imagine RM to still be emotionally constipated with one another in a show with these same writers that are only ever able to throw them contrived drama and third party interference. That said, if they're in college, I think it would've been interesting to see that be a cliffhanger for them. And it could go a few ways but I think it would've been forward-thinking for Marissa to get an abortion if she was indeed pregnant. Maybe a little like Obvious Child where it brings she and Ryan closer and they can truly start unpacking all their baggage afterward. This is probably too progressive for 2008, though, lol.

Another idea I have is that Trey dies, probably from an overdose or from something as innocuous as crossing the Strip late at night and getting hit, and seeing how that forces Ryan and Marissa to confront that particular trauma. Maybe Dawn reenters the picture and tries to get Ryan to be sad with her and plan the funeral etc and it becomes about unfurling Ryan's trauma with her too. There is so much unsaid on this show and I would like to think that with enough time Ryan could approach the things that have shaped him and speak about them more. Not with the flick of a wrist but a direct communication about his abandonment issues, his rush to violence, his hero complex, etc. Maybe Trey's death could propel that. Marissa would be reticent to get into all of their personal history trauma because I don't think this show would've had her be on the healthy journey I myself would give her but her knowing Ryan inside and out would break down her walls to discussing the things with him she's needed to discuss with him since 2003.

[etchedstars]

lavender reverie living for the memory oh im forgetting things feel a feelin fleeing me

[geralehane]

i love that laenas husband is established to be there with the targaryen/velaryon family and is not named or really acknowledged at all lmao. while this is of course completely normal bc you can just write around him he's just there so baela and rhaena can be there as well, it does make me chuckle a bit to imagine the pov character alicent being so laser focused on rhaenyra that she fully just. ignores laenas whole-ass husband.

lmao dude i literally just forgot about his entire existence because i was so focused on getting every rhaenicent interaction as soft yet believably careful as possible

[jesevans]

I love a mafia Steve, a dark one is even better 🖤

Feeling bratty on this fine Thursday (and possibly the upcoming weekend).

[freak-accident419]

The Little Things

Josh Futturman x GN!Reader

Summary: Upset that Josh has been overly stressed and traumatized recently, you decide to surprise him with a short getaway, a temporary escape—you were going to take him to see a dinosaur.

WC: 1.8k

Content: fluff, mentions of death, gender neutral reader, short but sweet, kissing, listening to music, quiet yet comfortable company, few curse words

(A/n: this oneshot is heavily inspired by the movie Palm Springs which was brought to my attention from something @rynsfandomsfun reblogged—it was a sweet movie. Also, don’t play the preview of the song attached, but listen from the beginning when it plays in the fic :) )

-

“Hey. Wake up…”

Your gentle voice and light shaking seemed to do the trick as you sat patiently on the edge of his bed. “Y/n?” Josh grumbles drowsily, gradually waking up as he rubs his eyes with his fingers. “Shit… what time is it…?”

You chuckle amusedly at his demeanor. “Approximately two a.m. But that’s not so important,” you answer, watching him use his arms to lift himself up against his bed frame, now in a sitting position.

He faced you with groggy bewilderment until his eyes suddenly widened once they inevitably trailed over to your lap. “Shit—Y/n, is that the TTD?” Josh gasped. The revelation seemed to have woken him up completely, his shock clashing with your nonchalant smirk. “But that would mean—”

“Yes, I stole it from Tiger and Wolf while they were sleeping. And yeah, I’m aware they’d kill me if they ever found out, but they’ll never know we even left, ’cause lucky for us, now we have a damn time machine,” you grin softly.

“‘Left’? Wait, what—what are we doing?”

You chuckle, admiring the adorably confounded look on his face. You were so thrilled to break the news to him, anticipating his reaction. “I’m gonna take you to see a dinosaur.”

You didn’t mean to get tied into all of this. Well, technically, none of you were meant to. However, Josh was your best friend, and one day, you two hung out in his room as you watched him play and attempt to beat his favorite game Biotic Wars. And you never would’ve guessed the shit you both would go through after that.

As his best friend, you knew him very well and were able to read him even if he was across the room from you. Therefore, you could always sense when he was upset and miserably exhausted. So when those two airheaded dipshits from the future constantly mistreated and belittled him, you couldn’t help but feel resentment towards them and pity towards your best friend. And the moment you saw him covered in his co-workers’ blood after him witnessing his colleagues brutally chop them up to shove inside a possum incinerator, you were just about done with all of this bullshit.

So when the day became night, you snuck into Tiger and Wolf’s weird sewer hideout, stealing their TTD. And then you snuck into Josh’s house, planning to steal him too.

Josh’s face beams as he heard your proposal, and it was probably the first time you’ve seen him genuinely smile ever since he got involved in that savior crap.

“I’m gonna see a dinosaur?” You answered him with a smug nod. “You’re not fucking with me? I’m gonna see a dinosaur? H-holy—holy shit!”

You knew he wanted this before, hell, you were right there when he begged Tiger and Wolf for it back in 1969. And so, because of all the bullshit he undeservingly had to deal with, you wanted to give him a break or reward. You just wanted to see your friend happy again, like how he was before this entire mess.

In life, you had to enjoy the little things—which says a lot about your lives right now, considering that traveling back in time to see a dinosaur could be considered as such. The two of you needed a break, even just for less than a day where you didn’t have to worry about saving the world or killing people.

You take out an index card and found a pen on his desk. “What time is it?” You ask him, taking the cap off of the pen with your teeth.

“Uh, two—uh, two thirty-four,” he answered after glancing at the clock. “Am I—Am I seriously going to see a dinosaur? Are—are we actually going to the jurassic period?”

You scribbled down the time so you’d know when exactly you should get back, just to avoid any complications. “Yes,” your answer was muffled as you laugh softly, taking the cap out of your mouth to place it back over the pen. You shoved the note in your pocket then took Josh’s hand, helping him get up from his bed to stand up in his room. You open the TTD and began to play around with the controls.

“Do you even know how to use that thing?” He asked, looking over all the cryptic symbols and confusing interface, then back at you.

“Uhh, general idea,” you reply, clicking around the device some more until you finally placed your arm around his shoulder. “You ready, Josh?”

He blinked, then nodded eagerly. “Are you serious? Hell, yeah! Holy shit! No way! I’m gonna see an actual, fucking dinosaur!”

You weren’t quite used to the feeling of traveling through time, but at least it got easier every time you did. Bright blue lights and volts surrounded the two of you, feeling a gust of wind blow into your face and whole being, and even heat from the electrical currents. And then, in less than five seconds, you two appeared in a jungle, late at night, in the late jurassic period.

***

You two sat down on a thick branch of a tallish tree, the soft light of the moon kissing your faces. It was dangerous to be in such a wild and unpredictable time, surrounded by deadly, barbaric creatures, so the tree would be a pretty safe place to watch the dinosaurs from. Except the surrounding area was practically empty, so you just waited for them to emerge.

Your shoulders brushed as you enjoyed the silence between the two of you—which was actually ceased fairly quickly once Josh communicated a thought that had practically gnawed at him for days.

“Hey, I just wanna say I’m, uh… I’m sorry that I dragged you into this, Y/n,” he finally says, looking at you pitifully. He looked really nice in the moonlight, you thought. “Wolf and Tiger, they’re insane, and I—shit, if I never invited you over then none of this would fucking—”

“Hey, hey, shut up, will you?” You snickered, offering a forgiving grin. “You didn’t drag me into this. The both of us never would’ve expected any of this bullshit, okay? Like, genuinely.” Josh nodded, but you still sensed some remaining guilt in him. “Hey. If I was gonna be wrapped into this crazy fucking mess with somebody, I’m glad it was with you. You’re my best friend. My ride or die.”

The corner of his lips curled into a sweet, appreciative smile. “Thanks,” he replied coyly. “And, uh, thanks for this. I know there’s no dinosaurs right now, but… I really appreciate the gesture. Like, Tiger and Wolf, they would’ve—”

“They definitely would’ve killed me, yes,” you laughed softly. “But… you’re worth all the crazy fucking discipline.”

With this lighting, you could never see how his cheeks flushed pink. But you knew he was blushing, from how the corner of his eyes crease and the way his wide smile accentuated his cheeks, revealing his pearly white, perfect teeth. He lets out a quiet giggle, and the two of you continued to watch the horizon of the dark, yet mesmerizing prehistoric view.

You two held each other’s hands, interlocking one another’s fingers warmly, placing the clasped fists between each other. There was some kind of unspoken thing between you two that you never had time to figure out, mainly because of the recent things you’ve been dealing with. But it was still there, that strange, lingering feeling.

And then…

“Holy shit!” Josh gasped abruptly, sitting up, patting onto your shoulder repeatedly, then pointing his finger far out into the distance. “Y/n, look, shit, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n—”

“Wh—” Your breath hitched as you saw it in front of you. “Shit…”

The several long necks and small heads of brontosauruses were in the distance, peeking out of the whole jungle and its trees, walking slowly towards the left in front of the iridescent moon.

It was beautiful. You never expected it to be. Actually, you really didn’t expect anything, you thought it’d be too surreal to even process. But they were exactly like the history books. They were like the CGI graphics in film and games, the images displayed near their exhibits at museums, the small long, plastic figures that come in clear tubes, and hell, a scene from Spielberg’s Jurassic fucking Park.

“They’re beautiful…” Josh sighs in complete awe.

“They really are…” you mutter, still fascinated by it all, watching the family of dinosaurs walk slowly together, letting out low moans and stomps with each heavy step.

Abruptly, you take out your phone from your pocket, as well as some earbuds. You plug it in, help Josh with the left earpiece and put the right one in yours. And then, you clicked onto a song that you had downloaded prior.

The gentle song began to play softly in your ears. The two of you were mesmerized by the beauty and magnificence of these creatures that you never thought you’d ever see. Your head moves down to rest on Josh’s shoulder as you two admired the dinosaurs from afar. The light pressure of you against his shoulder tickled him slightly, which he gulped at, heat rising to his cheeks. Your contact against him felt warm and you felt safe. Even though this was a place where you would most likely get mauled brutally by ‘clever girl’s, you felt nearly invincible with your best friend by your side.

“This is amazing…” he whispered, astonished.

“Yeah,” you sigh, mocking his quiet speech.

A pause.

“You’re amazing…”

You slowly pull away from his shoulder curiously, your eyes leaving the direction of the large, majestic animals. Your eyes look deeply into his, again, the moonlight shining exquisitely on the side of his face, bright enough to reveal some of the hazel tint in his irises. You felt your eyelashes flutter each time you looked from his eyes to his lips. He, too, looked at you intimately and fondly. And then your eyes closed gently once you feel his lips press against yours, hearing the song continue in your ears. The entire moment felt so magical, that you weren’t sure if it was because of the fact that you were in a place where dinosaurs existed or that you were kissing the person you’ve always admired.

You pull away slowly, a silent exchange of eye contact, before kissing him again, with more passion and less hesitance, letting your hands rest behind his neck.

There were no more words between the two of you after. In a good, serene way. Parting from his lips, you rested your head back onto his shoulder, feeling his arm around you from the back and his hand holding your waist. And you two continued to watch the dinosaurs under the stars, holding each other’s hands once more. Enjoying the little things, for now.

You could let this moment go on forever. After all, with the TTD, you had all the time in the world.

[basuralindo]

These Wicked Depths chapter 3 is up!

Babble under the cut

-I keep telling myself I need to stop apologizing for late chapters, but this took over a month @_@ I had to pull this one outta me like a tooth by the end of it, but I hope it's still a fun read. Thanks for waiting so long on this guys

-Sorry I really like the idea of Jamil getting kidnapped but finding that it's actually more chill than his usual life

-Oh yeah, Azul making it sound like the tweels were planning something awful last chapter? Absolutely intentional and out of spite. He and Jamil are not having the warmest of first impressions

-One thing I learned while researching the ships is that Galleons were Extremely wobbly cause of the rounded bottoms, so they rock back and forth a lot more than most other ships and were known to be hell for seasickness. So I figured, Jamil hasn't been at sea very many times, boats are still very much not his comfort zone, soooo RIP.

-I'm actually not tryna compare which culture has superior anything in this story, I just think it would be realistic for the time and circumstance for Jamil to start out with some inherent xenophobia, made a lot worse by spite over being kidnapped. So it's intended as a thing specific to his perspective. Same with thinking of and referring to everyone as monsters, since he grew up in a culture that's hostile towards mages and nonhumans.

-Jamil: "Everything about this captain is awful and tacky and disgusts me" *memorizes his outfit and thinks about it aggressively*

-Easy guess who the office belongs to, but yeah, he decorates like I used to as a kid

-Do not come at me about the era accuracy of the cutlery and etiquette. …Unless you can also link me to a detailed source, because that would actually help me out a lot lmao. I really wanted to have the tweels be confused about silverware both as a Little Mermaid reference and because it's endearing, and hoooooooly shit is it hard to find ANYTHING remotely precise about cutlery in that era. Like anything at all. Especially outside of England?? I was able to learn that modern fork use started in Italy and made its way to France, but I couldn't find a single thing about the etiquette around them. It was just endless ads for french or italian silverware. And I tried multiple browsers and search terms. The internet is more of a nightmare every time I use it. This isn't even about the story anymore I'm just ranting sorry…

-Also, I chose not to refresh on which utensil is for what when writing this. It felt more realistic to have Jamil potentially be wrong since he's rusty too, so if there's inaccuracies there it's intentional.

-Moving on. I'm picturing most humans being more hostile to other races in this time period, so there's way less information shared between them all. The result is Jamil being just as strange to the crew as they are to him, and everyone being curious and a little clueless about each other.

-Floyd: Bangs loudly on the door and waits to be allowed in. Jade: Knocks very politely and lets himself in without asking. Yes this is an analogy for their general behavior.

-Also Jamil: *Watches a swarm of monsters invade his ship* "Yeah, okay, I'll go with these guys." / *Ends up on a ship full of strange monsters* "How could this happen to me?"

-He's gonna choose violence with those hot peppers if he gets the chance

-idk where to fit it into the story, but Jade's thinking on the forks was that they came in different sizes so you could twist your hair into different sized curls (he's doing his best)

[katyswrites]

'tis the damn season

PART 4 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), angst, friends-with-benefits, parental neglect/abuse, smoking, alcohol use, two fools who can’t just say what they feel

Wordcount: 9.1k

Childhood friends-to-lovers-to-strangers-to-lovers again, broken promises, and roads not taken, lots of angst, soft smut, illicit affairs, what-ifs, and it’s always been you. And it all leads to your hometown, during Christmas break.

Part 4 | the warmest bed I’ve ever known

THEN, Spring 1988

“Wait, what?” Robin cried in disbelief.

You sighed, twirling the phone’s cord in your hand.

“Robin, look -”

“You mean I’m not going to see you at all? You’re killing me here -”

“Robin! It’s just… this is a really big opportunity. And, I’ve got my own place here now, and flights have gotten crazy expensive -”

You heard Robin laugh through the phone, then a sigh.

“You know I’m fucking with you, right?”

A small wave of relief washed over you - you had been dreading this call, so much that you’d been putting it off for over a week.

“You are?”

“Yeah! I mean - I’m not going to lie, I’m pretty bummed that you’re not coming back to Hawkins. I miss you like crazy. But, that’s so exciting… like, an internship with the New York Times? I mean, you’re really doing it - making it in the big city, all of that -”

You smiled, and flopped down on your bed, clutching the phone.

“Yeah, well, it’s not exactly glamorous - it’s an unpaid internship, and I’m taking extra shifts at the coffee shop to make it all work, with two roommates -”

“Yeah, but… it’s all pretty amazing. You’re really getting out, doing what you’ve always wanted. And I mean, me and Steve are still stuck back here -”

You twinged inwardly at the mention of his name, and were suddenly thankful that Robin couldn’t see you right then.

“Oh c’mon - don’t talk like that. I mean, you said the semester’s going well, right?”

Robin sighed, and you could picture the way she was probably rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, at Hawkins Community - but, I’m thinking of transferring next year. Not sure if I can afford it though.”

“There’s nothing wrong with community college, Robin. I’ve told you that like a million times -”

“It’s not the school itself, you know that. I just… you actually got out, away from Hawkins. The most interesting thing here is the movie theater, and only one screen is working right now, did you know that?”

You bit your lip, and searched for the words - you couldn’t argue with her there. But, Robin carried on, the way she often did:

“But, to be honest, it’s probably good that I’m sticking around here - without me here, God knows what would happen to Steve. I think we’re a little codependent, to be honest - did you tell him yet, that you’re not coming back for spring break, or the summer? I can, if you want, but I didn’t know -”

“Oh, uh - I mean, you can, if you want,” you answered quickly. “No need to make a big deal out of it, but, um… I don’t care if he knows, I guess. He’ll figure it out, when I don’t show up, anyways.”

You were aware that you were stammering, your heartbeat quickening and palms growing clammy at the thought of Steve. In the days following your argument, you had found yourself spiraling, thinking of nothing but Steve. There were a million times that you thought about calling him, or driving to his house, or even writing him a letter - but the idea of facing him again was enough to make you sick. In the end, you had headed back to New York in the new year, and subconsciously made a vow to never see him again. When you had received the summer internship offer, and the chance to renew the lease on your apartment, you had jumped at the opportunity. 

You hadn’t told Robin about what happened between you and Steve - it felt wrong to lie, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to talk about it. But you had somewhat assumed that he would say something - those two were inseparable. If she knew anything, though, she wasn’t letting it on. In fact, she was talking about Steve like things were completely normal, which was lending itself to awkward conversations like this. 

“Um, okay… by the way, just between you and me, I think he really misses you.”

You stiffened, and cursed yourself for your sharp intake of breath - Robin probably heard that.

“You think so?” you asked, trying your best to keep your tone steady.

“I mean, yeah - whenever I bring you up, he gets kind of weird… I can’t really explain it. He usually talks to me about these things, but… it doesn’t matter. I love him, but he can be such a guy sometimes, you know? But, I think he’s going to be sorry to hear you’re ditching us, that’s all.”

No, you thought. He’ll actually be thrilled to know he doesn’t have to see me again.

The thought alone was enough to make your eyes start to burn with tears, and you soon had to make a lame excuse to hang up the phone. And once again, you were alone. 

NOW, Winter 1988

For the two days following your conversation with Robin, where you had confessed everything, you find yourself spiraling. Maybe it’s just the run-in with Steve that had done this, the reminder that he’s real and here, only minutes away - in New York, it had been easy to keep him off of your mind. But, now, everything reminds you of him - driving past your old high school, the small Methodist church on the corner, the movie theater at the center of town, or the footprint of where Starcourt Mall used to be, bringing you back to that one summer when he scooped ice cream in that ridiculous sailor uniform. You feel him in the chilly winter wind, in the bare trees lining the sidewalks, in the smell of fireplace smoke drifting through the atmosphere on especially cold nights. And you hear him in the music on the radio, when that one Wham! song comes on, and you picture him rolling his eyes and smiling endearingly and you belted it in his face.

You had thought that being back in Hawkins would feel strange, after being away so long. But no, it’s worse - it aches. 

But, Christmas is on its way, and you throw yourself into holiday prep in full force. You decide to not think about Steve, to the best of your ability. You gather and wrap gifts, help hang lights over the fireplace, and finish addressing the last-minute Christmas cards that your mother forgot to send out. Then, comes the baking - you’re always tasked with it, making cakes and cookies and confections for all of the parties, including your special lemon cake, saved for an indulgent breakfast on Christmas morning. It’s what brings you to the grocery store in the afternoon, with a long list of baking essentials. The store is a bit of a zoo, with Christmas only about a week away, and you find yourself shouldering down the aisle labeled ‘Baking Needs.’ It’s slim pickings, and you inwardly groan as you have to get the more expensive brand-name baking soda. You’re so preoccupied that you’re intentionally drowning out the sounds of the people around you, scanning your handwritten list with a furrowed brow. 

Okay, you think, I’ve got the eggs, lemons, flour, sugar, unsalted butter -

It’s why you hardly see him, not until you’re looking up and moving again, nearly crashing your cart right into him.

“Oh my - oh, hey,” you say, your voice getting caught in your throat when you realize who it is.

Steve stares back at you, mouth hanging open, eyes wide. He looks just as he did a few days ago, a bit changed from the boy you last saw a year ago. But, he’s still Steve, and he’s standing in the middle of the grocery aisle right in front of you. The mundanity of it all somehow makes it seem more unbelievable, more exasperating. To his credit, he’s frozen in place, looking like he’s seen a ghost.

“Hey,” he replies softly.

You both stare at each other, almost filling the silence, then stopping - what is there even to say? Shoppers weave around you, muttering to themselves, crackly Christmas music playing through the store’s sound system. But you may as well be able to hear a pin drop, because you can’t find a single thing to say, and neither can Steve.

“I - um - what are you doing?” Steve asks. You glance down at you cart, full of chocolate and flour and absolutely nothing practical, then shrug.

“Oh, you know - buying stuff for Christmas baking. My parents are busy with work, and I’m the one who knows what to get anyways, so… yeah.”

It’s stiff, and awkward, and a ridiculous exchange to even be having. He just nods.

“Oh, yeah - the great Christmas baking extravaganza.”

Right - three years ago, Steve had been there to help you, letting you instruct him around the kitchen, and the cookies had nearly burned because you two got… distracted. You shake the memory, feeling sick.

“Oh - yeah. I think I’m making my chai cookies for your party, actually… your mom told my mom that she really liked those.”

He raises his eyebrows at that, curious.

“You’re - you’re coming to the party on Saturday?”

“I - well, yeah. I didn’t think I was, but… my mom was pretty insistent.”

Something flickers across his face then, something unreadable, then his expression hardens.

“Right, yeah -makes sense. I mean, that you’re coming because of your mom.”

His words are clipped, his voice sharp. Fuck.

You just wish, more than anything, that the ground will open up beneath you and swallow you up, if it means getting out of this encounter. But, miracles don’t happen often, so you have to swallow your pride and face him instead. You sigh, looking down at your cart. 

“Steve, I - that’s not what I meant. Well, I guess it is, but - I figured you didn’t really want to see me. And I’m not going to make you uncomfortable in your house, that’s not fair.”

Just silence from him, and you can’t look at him. You just find yourself focusing on a bag of flour in the cart, reading the label as you try to figure out something else to say.

“But, it seems the world just wants us to run into each other anyway, apparently,” you mumble.

“Hm, yeah, I guess,” Steve says coldly. Another moment passes, just the two of you in the grocery aisle - somehow, of everyone in the store, he’s the only one who truly seems like a stranger.

“Well, uh - I guess I’ll see you on Saturday,” you say quickly, finally bringing your eyes back up to meet his. “I - I’ll try to stay out of your way, though. It’s the least I can do.”

You make a move to keep pushing your cart, but Steve just sighs.

“Hey, wait -”

Despite yourself, you stop in your tracks, frozen. You look back at him, and there’s a question in his eyes, searching your face for… something.

“Yeah?” you reply.

“I, uh - are you free later today?”

You furrow your brow, and nod cautiously.

“Um, yes - I mean, I think I should be. I have a couple of other errands to run, but I don’t think it’s going to take super long -”

“You want to meet at Gateway? And like, get a coffee, or something?”

You feel your stomach twist and turn into knots - there’s something in his voice, the harsh edge softened just a bit, pleading for you. And he’s staring at you with those honey brown eyes, and you know one thing - if you say no, that’s it - the nail in the coffin. So you swallow, and nod slowly.

“Yeah - sure thing.”

He nods curtly, and glances at his watch.

“Okay, well - it’s noon, so want to say like, around 2?”

“Mm hm - that’s fine. I’ll meet you there, I guess.”

You let your gaze linger on Steve for a moment longer, then turn and walk down the aisle, pretending to look at your shopping list. You wonder if he’s still staring at you - but you don’t dare to turn around to find out.

*****

You arrive at Gateway Diner at 1:56 pm. Steve is never on time for anything, that much you know - so you sit in your car for a moment, gathering yourself. You take a few deep breaths, shutting your eyes and resting your head against the wheel. You feel a bit sick, your mind in a haze ever since the conversation in the grocery store a few hours ago. Coming back to Hawkins was a huge mistake, Christmas be damned -

You take a moment to glance at yourself in the mirror, and sigh - if you had known this was happening today…

You fish around in your bag, silently thanking yourself for always carrying around a little concealer and mascara. You do your best with your finger to cover the dark circles under your eyes, hastily dabbing in the concealer until it’s deemed good enough. As you quickly run mascara over your lashes, you laugh to yourself, feeling like a fool - but, it doesn’t stop you, nor does it stop you from finally getting out of the car. You take one more deep breath in the chilly December air - you can do this.

When you enter the diner, your cold cheeks burn as they meet the warm air. It’s thick with the sounds of chatter and silverware, the smell of greasy food wafting from the kitchen. It had been so long since you had last been here, and somehow, you actually feel like you’re somewhere familiar for the first time all week.

You try to catch the eye of the girl behind the counter to be seated - someone new, she might even still be in high school - but before you can, you hear an all-too-familiar voice call your name. You whip your head towards it, and see Steve sitting at a booth by the window, waving in your direction. 

You nod and head over, each step feeling impossible as you grow closer to him. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve run into him, you realize - you’ll never quite get used to the sight of him, not anymore.

He already has a mug of coffee in front of him, halfway done, by the looks of it. He got here early, and waited, you realize with dread. Fuck.

“Hey,” he says, offering a small smile as you slide into the vinyl booth.

“Hey,” you parrot. He’s just staring at you, and you suddenly find yourself fidgeting. Unsure what to do with your hands, you just fold them flat on the table, suddenly making this whole thing feel like a business meeting between colleagues. No, worse than that: you’re strangers.

“Thanks for coming,” he says quietly. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

You shrug, staring down at the full cup of coffee sitting in front of you - he must’ve ordered it for you.

“To be honest, I wasn’t sure I would, either.”

It’s brutal, but honest - his face falters slightly, but to his credit, he recovers quickly.

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

Silence again. Heavy, awkward. You fumble with one of  the little creamers, pouring it into your coffee and avoiding eye contact as you busy yourself.

“So,” he starts, “uh - how’s New York been?”

You shrug, stirring the coffee with a spoon.

“Fine. I mean, good - really busy. I’m still interning with the Times. And, working at this coffee place downtown. But, it’s cool, because I’m actually doing stuff. Like, I don’t just grab coffee - I get to sit in on meetings, they listen to my ideas, let me look over stuff as it gets edited - I’m learning a lot.”

You find yourself rambling, carrying on with details he probably doesn’t care about, because somehow it’s better than that godawful silence. Steve, to his credit, is at least pretending to be a good listener - he’s looking at you intently, hanging on each word as you carry on about your apartment, your roommates, the breaking news article you practically stayed overnight in the office to help get published.

“- I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was exhausted, but it was worth it - there was this thrill to it, knowing that I helped to make that happen, and it was on the front page. Below the fold, but still -”

“That’s amazing,” he says quietly. You stop, and meet his eyes. He’s just looking at you, face soft, and something tells you he actually means it. Bastard. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s what you’ve always wanted - for as long as I remember. So, that’s awesome, really. Did they put your name?”

You raise your eyebrow, confused.

“What?”

“Your name. On the byline? You always said that was your dream - to have your byline on the front of the Times.”

You hesitate for a moment, completely caught off-guard - you don’t even remember telling him that. But he does.

“Oh, that. Well, no. But, I didn’t write it, exactly - I called some sources, did some editing, but… it wasn’t exactly mine.”

He shakes his head as he raises the coffee mug to his lips.

“That’s still not right - you deserve it. I’ll march down there and tell ‘em that myself.”

You feel something flutter in your chest, in a way that’s achingly familiar, because it’s so Steve. 

“Yes, well - I think I can handle that for myself, thanks.”

It’s meant to be a joke, but sounds more defensive than you intend - did you intend it that way? But, you can't think on it, because the wall is put back up. You can see it in his face, how it hardens, how he straightens up a bit - he was just starting to relax, both of you were, but that iciness remains.

Before you can say anything, a waitress is approaching, carrying a tray full of food. You vaguely recognize her - middle-aged, with a friendly face and massive perm. Is her name Joan, maybe? You feel just a little sad, starting to feel more detached from the town you grew up in than you ever have before.

“The full breakfast for you, young man - and a full stack for you, with extra syrup,” she says enthusiastically.

You look at Steve, and raise an eyebrow. He just offers a small smile, and shrugs.

“I ordered before you got here - I figured you’d never say no to pancakes, right?”

“I - yeah, no, that’s great. Thanks, Steve.”

You set yourself on pouring the side of syrup over the plate, and Steve just shakes his head.

“So I was right - you still like to drench everything in sight in syrup,” he says playfully.

“Shut up,” you retort, earning a chuckle from him. It’s slightly forced, but still nice to hear - you hadn’t been sure if you remembered what his laugh sounds like anymore. 

“Thanks, though,” you add. “I’m actually pretty hungry.”

You both sit in silence while you eat. It’s strange, how something can be simultaneously so uncomfortable yet familiar. The booth is the same, with its worn vinyl, the sticky tabletop, the smell of coffee and syrup and eggs settling wrapping around you like a warm hug. But then there’s you and Steve, the only unrecognizable thing in this diner - still technically the same people who had slid into this booth as teenagers, but a bit older, more hardened, and something irreparable separating you.

“So,” you say after a while. “Uh, I realize I talked a lot about myself, but… how are things with you?”

He glances up at you for a moment, and shrugs.

“Oh, you know - the same. Working at Family Video, hanging out with Robin, the kids - I guess they’re hardly kids anymore. But, you know me - not much to report.”

There’s an edge to his voice, and it takes you a moment to remember why. You had managed to block out most of your argument from last winter, because the memory of it riddles you with an immeasurable guilt. But, you remember now:

Uproot your life? Be serious Steve - you couldn’t take a week off from your minimum wage job, chauffeuring a bunch of teenagers, and maybe being Daddy’s punching bag?

You suddenly want to sink into the floor, because if Steve is intentionally giving you a cold shoulder, you can’t say you don’t deserve it. But, wasn’t him asking you to meet him here, his way of extending an olive branch? Or, was it just to get some closure?

It’s an elephant in the room, this great big thing making it impossible to be near him, making your stomach turn intermittently. So, it has to be addressed, eventually - it needs to be ripped off like a band-aid.

“Hey, Steve - I… I’m sorry.”

He looks up at you, meeting your eyes properly. 

“What for?” he asks quietly.

You sigh, placing down your fork.

“You know what for,” you say firmly.

“Do I?”

He’s playing a game, his words a little more biting. This is going to be even harder than you thought, you realize - and you had already been prepared for it to be godawful.

“I - last time I saw you… I said some things I regret. Some really shitty things. And, you didn’t deserve that. I -” you steady yourself for a moment, taking a deep breath to combat the heaviness in your throat. Your chest is tight, your palms clammy.

“I just, um - I’ve played that argument in my head, like, a million times. And, I’ve felt a lot of things. Sometimes I get angry, upset, or just plain sad. But most of the time… I just feel shame. Like, utter, fucking shame. So, it may not mean much at this point, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fix this but… I’m sorry.”

You do mean it, every word, and there’s something unbelievably cathartic about finally saying the words that have been playing through your mind for a year. You’ve played this conversation in your mind a thousand times, and for once, you think that maybe you’re not screwing it up.

Steve’s face is unreadable - you can tell he’s thinking, and listening, but it’s hard to gauge what he’s really thinking. 

After a moment, he simply asks, “Then why did you leave?”

“What?”

“Why did you leave? When you didn’t come back this past summer, I - I thought you were gone for good. That I’d never see you again.”

He says it matter-of-fact, blandly, like he’s trying to stave off any emotion. You don’t really know what to say to that - did you think you’d ever actually see him again? Did you want to?

Honesty, you decide - at this point, it’s the least you owe him, even if you don’t actually know what the truth is.

“I - I thought I was, too. Gone for good, I mean. It wasn’t an actual choice - like, I didn’t think I wanted to stay away forever. But, you were right about one thing - I’ve always wanted to get out of Hawkins, and leave it all behind for something else. Any yeah, whenever I was gone, I missed you, Robin, my family… but then, when - well, when that happened… I got the internship offer, the chance to stay in my apartment, to start my life in the city. So, I decided to stay there. I ran, because… because I’m a coward. And, because I figure you hate my guts, and it’d be easier if you didn’t have to deal with me anymore.”

Because I couldn’t bring myself to face you, because I’d rather miss you than be hurt even more, because I -

“No,” he whispers.

“No what?”

“No, you’re not a coward,” he says firmly. “You’re a lot of things - Smart. Talented. Stubborn. Honest. A terrible singer, and a sugar addict -”

Despite everything, you find yourself laughing at him, because there he is again, the Steve you know.

“- but a coward? No, no way. Maybe you were scared but… that’s not the same thing, not really. I mean, you got out of Hawkins, you’re kicking ass at your dream job before you’re even done with school - that’s not a coward, got that? And… I don’t know how you could ever think that I hate you. Ever.”

He leans back in the booth after that, some tension visibly leaving his body as he gets it off of his chest. You just feel yourself freeze, your ears roaring, eyes burning.

“I - Steve, don’t -”

“I mean it,” he says. “I was hurt, and pretty pissed - maybe I still am, I don’t know. But hating you… that’s not something I could do.”

For not the first time in your life, you feel the sudden urge to protect this boy, to want to give him everything, to make sure nothing ever hurts him again. But you can’t say it, because it’s not quite a feeling you can put into words, unless -

“Promise?” you ask, perhaps a bit pathetically.

“Promise,” he says. 

With Steve, it’s easy to believe him, even if it’s only for a moment.

*****

When you’ve both drank your bodyweight in coffee, cleared your plates, and exhausted conversation, you make a move to leave the diner. Steve insists on paying, dropping bills on the table as you both re-emerge into the cold December air. After the warmth of sitting inside, the outdoors bites your skin, flushes your face. You wrap your scarf just a little tighter, shoving your hands in your pockets as you both walk to the parking lot. 

The day is already starting to dull, and thanks to the peak winter season, you know that there’s probably only about an hour of daylight left. Neither of you speak for a while, not until you reach Steve’s car. The familiar red BMW makes you want to cry, and you suddenly feel stupid for even feeling so attached to something like a car. But, it’s not a car - it’s an extension of Steve.

“Well, thanks,” you say carefully. “I - I’m glad we got a chance to talk properly. To clear the air, I guess.”

There’s still so much to be said, so many questions you want to ask - but maybe you’d never really know the answers to those.

He just kicks at the gravel, scuffing his Nikes as he contemplates.

“Me too. I mean, uh - do you have anywhere you need to be?”

You shake your head cautiously.

“Um, no? I already dropped my groceries at home, but I’m probably not going to start baking until tomorrow… I think my parents are out tonight, anyways. Wait, why?”

He shrugs, leaning back against the side of the car.

“Well… wanna go for a drive?”

He asks it so simply, as if no time has passed at all. In your high school days, and when you’d visit for college breaks, going for an aimless drive was a frequent occurrence, just an excuse to spend time together. But now, it feels like more than that - a peace offering, an attempt at normalcy. 

“Oh! Um - yeah, sure. Why not.”

When you slide into the passenger seat, everything is the same - not that you had really expected anything else. The dusty dashboard, the worn-leather smell, the crackly radio - all the same, like you had never left.

“Where are we going?” you ask casually as Steve backs out of the lot. You pull off your big red scarf, tossing it into the back seat as heat wafts through the vents.

“Dunno. Wherever we feel like, I guess.”

The answer is the old parking lot adjacent to Hawkins High, tucked right between the school and an old Methodist church. It’s basically deserted, the middle of the work and school day making you and Steve one of the only cars here.

After he parks, the boy just sighs, leaning back in his seat and shutting his eyes. You let him just do that for a while, the Christmas music on the radio serving as the only form of company. You stare ahead across the street, at the old high school building. The girl and boy who walked those halls a few years ago don’t exist anymore, not really - instead, there’s the versions of you and Steve sitting here in this car, changed.

“D’you ever miss it?” you ask.

“Hm?”

“High school. I mean, I know a lot of it is bullshit, and I think I’d die if I had to take another algebra test, but… do you ever miss parts of it.”

He thinks for a moment, before sighing and straightening up in his seat.

“Yes and no. I do think some things were a lot more simple back then. I mean, I was an asshole, but I kind of got my shit together towards the end. But, to answer your question - do I wish that my biggest problem was winning the next basketball game, or which girl I was going to take to prom? Yeah. Of course.”

You think about his words for a moment, and echo a similar sentiment - a desire for a life that was simpler, more carefree than you had realized at the time.

“We’re getting old,” you joke.

He laughs heartily, nodding in agreement.

“Oh, yeah - we’ll be in the old folks home, soon enough.”

You both laugh at that, the feeling and sound of it nearly foreign.

“Do you think we’re all going to end up like our parents?” you ask, voice a bit firmer.

He pauses again, staring straight ahead out the front window.

“No,” he concedes. “I hope not.”

The hours pass, the dusk quickly turning into the heavy cloak of night. The pair of you mostly sit in silence after that, occasionally swapping an old memory from childhood, laughing at a story from your high school days, occasionally wondering aloud where some of your former friends and classmates are today.

“I wonder if Tommy H. and Carol are still together,” you wonder aloud.

Steve groans. “Ugh, don’t remind me of them.”

“Why not? You guys were friends -”

“Yeah, that’s the problem. I wasted so much time with them, and people like them, just to be something I’m not. I just wish I had figured that all out sooner.”

“Why?” you ask. “I mean, I know they were kind of dicks, but… there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be popular in high school.”

“Maybe not,” he says. “But, I didn’t realize that what I really wanted - what I needed - was there in front of me, the entire time. And I didn’t need to chase anything.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, because you know what he’s getting at - you think back to that conversation years ago, in the haze of early summer, when he confessed to regretting distancing himself from you in high school. The same night he’d kissed you for the first time, when a lot of things happened for the first time -

You find yourself looking at the boy in the driver’s seat, and you want to reach across and just touch him - run your hands through his hair, brush along his face -

And you don’t realize that you’re leaning closer to him, you hand half-reaching out towards him. You catch it, pulling it back and settling it in your lap. But he’s looking at you with those big brown eyes, warm like honey, and they feel just a bit like home. And he’s leaning towards you, too, closer than he probably should be.

“Steve?” you ask, softer than a whisper.

“Yeah?”

You can feel the heat radiating off of him, contrasting with the cold fogging up the windshield glass, and he’s so close, the familiar smell of him becoming too much -

“I -”

Then, a screeching HONK, loud enough that you jump, your head nearly hitting the ceiling.

“Oh, fuck -”

“Jesus, sorry,” he says, realizing it just came from him, elbow pressed too hard into the steering wheel of his own car.

“It’s fine,” you say. Your eyes flit down to the clock on your dashboard, and you let out a shaky breath.

“Oh, wow - look at the time! I - I know my parents are out, but, it is pretty late -”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says hurriedly. “Let me just drive you back,  I guess.”

“Sounds good!” you say, your voice a little too shrill, too enthusiastic. “Just bring me back to Gateway, actually - we left my car there.”

“Right, of course - I’ve got you.”

You two don’t say much else on the way back, letting Baby It’s Cold Outside and Sleigh Ride fill the silence instead. When Steve brings you back to the diner, you offer each other a curt nod, and you manage to get out a thanks again, I’ll see you at the party.

Before you can close the door, you’re stopped as he says “Hey, wait -”

“Mm?”

“Are we - are we friends again?” he asks. His voice is soft, pleading, his eyes wide and shining through the dimness of the night. You cross your arms and pull your coat tight, thinking carefully about your answer.

You want to say yes, of course, I don’t think we could ever not be friends, Steve. But then you remember what he had said all those months ago - those three words, which somehow crossed a line more than any amount of sex ever could. It’s what stops you, makes you hesitate, even as the boy stares at you expectantly.

“I - I don’t know,” you admit. “I guess I just - I need some time still, to figure stuff out. I don’t know if things can ever go back to the way they were, but -”

“They can’t?” he asks, sounding a bit defeated. You sigh, kicking yourself internally. You’re barrelling down a familiar path, and this whole thing could blow up again in an instant. So you gather yourself, measuring your response.

“I mean - not exactly as they were, no. But… I do miss you, Steve. More than I realized. So… I think it’s a start,” you decide.

He thinks for a moment, then slowly nods.

“Yeah, okay - I can do a start.”

You both just stare at each other for a moment, and you ultimately decide to step back. Before slamming the passenger door closed, you add, “Well - thanks again. I’ll see you on Saturday. At the party, I mean.”

He nods curtly, offering a semi-forced smile.

“Yeah - Saturday.”

When you’re back in your car, and you’re certain he’s driven away, you let your forehead rest on the steering wheel, wishing you could just melt into it and never come out again.

*****

It’s difficult to say whether you actually feel better after your day with Steve. Most of you says yes - apologies were made, the air was cleared, and for brief moments, it had felt as if nothing had happened at all. But, it also brought back memories - far too many memories. Little things, really - Steve’s laugh, they way his eyes glint in the sunlight, the smell of his cologne, the cigarettes he keeps in his glove box; the way he looks at you, the look he gets when you make a joke, the way he sounded saying I love y-

You’re pulled from your thoughts by the sound of your doorbell ringing. You glance at your bedside clock - it’s a little past 10pm, but there’s no way your parents could possibly be home yet…

You swing your legs over the side of your bed, shrugging on a sweater as you pad down the hallway to your front door. The doorbell rings again, and you roll your eyes - probably a last-minute late night delivery from out-of-town, because your mother always forgets something until a few days before Christmas.

When you open the door, the last thing you expect is Steve Harrington to be standing there in the dim porch light. His face is flushed from the cold, the flurries of snow dusting his hair, and he looks just a little too handsome. The sight of him makes you ache again, in a way you can’t quite explain. His eyes widen at the sight of you, as if you’re the last person he thought would be standing in the doorway of your own house.

“Steve! Hi! I, uh - what’re you doing here?” you ask with surprise. 

“Oh, um, you know,” he says, raising up a flash of red in his hand. “It’s just - you left this. In my car, I mean.”

You look properly at what he’s holding, and you make out what it is: your scarf. You hadn’t even realized it was missing.

“Oh! Um, thanks,” you say, taking it from his outstretched hand. Your fingers brush his, just for the briefest second. And, despite how cold his skin is, it feels like it lights you on fire at the contact. You pull back quickly, as if he’s actually burned you, and sling the scarf over your arm.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies, shoving his hands into his coat pockets.

You both stand there for a moment. Two. The wind howls a bit, and you both shiver.

“Was there anything else?” you ask, hardly daring to raise your voice above a whisper.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, but he doesn’t sound too sure. “I mean maybe?”

“Maybe?”

“No, I mean, yes - that’s all.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms.

“So, you drove out here in the middle of the night, as the snow is starting, just to bring me my scarf back?” you demand.

He just stares at you, long enough that you wonder if he somehow didn’t hear you. Then, he’s taking a step forward, and whispering, “No.”

You’re not sure who moves first, but he’s crashing into you, arms tugging you into each other as his lips find yours.

You gasp as he kisses you, surprised by how right it feels, how easy it is. Your hand is fisted in his coat, and he brings his hands to both sides of your face as you back up through the doorway, pulling him with you.

He kicks the door closed behind him, hardly breaking the kiss - it’s desperate, and messy, and nothing is gentle about it. He kisses you like he’ll die if he doesn’t, enough to knock the breath from your lungs. And you don’t want him to stop, not ever, not if it means that you’ll never have to lose him again.

You stumble your way through the house, until you’re searching frantically for the door of your bedroom, the pair of you barrelling through it in a whirlwind and slamming it shut.

It’s the first time you’ve stopped kissing since he came through the doorway, and you both just stare at each other, chests heaving, hearts racing.

“I,” he starts. “I swear, I’m just trying to -”

“I know,” you whisper, bringing one hand up to card your fingers through his hair. “I’ve always known, Steve.”

He furrows his brow, confused.

“Always known what?”

But you don’t answer, and just pull him in for another kiss instead. It’s gentler this time, just a bit sweeter, and he’s sighing into your mouth.

He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer, the kisses becoming desperate again. With every kiss, you’re trying to say a million things: I’m sorry, I missed you, I need you, I could never hate you, I lo-

But neither of you speak, because it’s just desperate moans and gasps, wandering hands and and tongues, and trying to touch anything, everything.

You don’t know when he shrugged off his coat, but you’re tugging at his sweater, perhaps a bit too desperately. He chuckles and steps back for a moment, pulling it off in one swift movement before bringing his hands to your head again, pulling your lips to his. It’s like you’re both addicted, unable to go more than a moment without touching each other. The distance and times is washing away, with every kiss, every brush of skin, every piece of clothing shed. 

He’s pulled your own sweater off of you, making a point to kiss the exposed skin of your shoulder and down the valley of your breasts, and you moan.

“Fuck, baby -” you gasp. “I - I”

“What do you need?” he asks, voice wild and desperate. “Tell me, anything you want, baby.”

“Just touch me, dammit,” you breathe, earning a laugh from him.

“I thought you’d never say that,” he growls, gently pushing you so you’re walking backwards. You let yourself fall as soon at the back of your knees hit the bed, and he’s hastily fumbling with the button of your pants.

In any other situation, you’d want him to take his time, to take it slowly, sweetly. But you don’t have the patience for that, not right now. SO you help him, popping the button and shimmying your pants down your legs, reaching around and unhooking your bra for good measure. As the straps slide down your arms and it falls off of you, he groans.

“Fuck - you’re so fuckin’ perfect, you’ve no idea -”

Your heart flutters at the praise, but you just pull him close to you, crashing his lips into yours again.

“Steve - please -”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he concedes, guiding you backwards. “Lay back, baby.”

You oblige, breath hitching in your throat as his lips wander along your throat, your breasts, swirling his tongue around your nipple. You gasp and arch your back, and the sounds you’re making only push him further, his lips traveling down, down, down -

Then he’s pulling your panties down your legs and kissing you everywhere - your ankle, the inside of your knee, your thigh, and then -

When he first licks a stripe along your slit, you let out a strangled cry, practically flying off the bed as you arch up. He practically growls, pressing his lips to his clit as he does, and you’re pretty sure you’re whimpering.

“Oh, fuck - Steve, that’s it - right there. I - ah! - add your finger there, yes -”

He’s working on you like it’s his job, lapping at you like a starving man. His tongue circles slowly around your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you, and you hear the sound of your slick, your heaving breaths and pleas filling the room. You grip the sheets, bringing your heels to his bare back to press him closer into you.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he breathes into your cunt. “It’s so hot, baby - you taste so good -”

He’s speaking nonsense, half muffled as he licks at you, but the praise is enough for you.

You can’t even warn him, your orgasm hitting you embarrassingly fast. You come hard, screaming his name as you throw your head back and practically buck into his mouth. He continues licking at you softly, gently working you down from your high.

“That’s it, there you go - God, I love how you sound when you come,” he whispers, his breath fanning over your core. When it becomes too much, you gently tap his head, signaling him to come up for air. He pulls himself up slowly, hovering over you with a big grin on his face.

“Hi,” you breathe.

“Hi.”

His chin and lips are coated in your slick, but you don’t care. You pull him down into another kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“You doing okay?” he asks as he pulls back, taking a moment to brush some hair from your face. You nod, unsure if you’re able to speak quite yet. So instead, you reach downwards, fumbling with his belt and button, biting your lip as you fumble in the dark between you two.

“Whoa, okay, hang on,” he says, pulling back to stand up for a moment. He rids himself of his pants quickly, his boxers the only remaining clothing between you two. Then he’s hovering over you again, smiling as you start kissing him. You reach down and start palming at his clothed bulge, straining against the confines of his underwear.

He groans into your neck, and shakily places his hand over yours and pulls it back.

“Wait, wait, baby - as much as I want you to touch me… I think this is gonna be over way too fast if I let you do that.”

You feel pride surge in your chest, the idea that you can have that kind of effect on this beautiful boy above you. So instead, you say nothing, and move to sit up. You wordlessly guide him, coaxing him to lay back against the mattress so you can straddle him.

He’s looking at you like you might not be real, and in that moment, you’re not sure if he is, either. So instead, you help him pull off his boxers, letting his hard cock spring free. It looks nearly painful, and you want nothing more than to make him feel good, to give him anything he wants.

So, without much ceremony, you take his cock in your hand. He hisses at your touch, and as you raise yourself over him, you meet his eyes one more time - are you sure?

He just nods, and you lower yourself onto him, enveloping him inch-by-inch. You both moan at the feeling, moving yourself slowly as he stretches your walls. He screws his eyes shut and throws his head back, groaning at the feeling of you around him. After what feels like a painstakingly long time, he bottoms out, filling you so completely that you think you might cry. 

You sit there for a moment, both getting used to the feeling - it had been a while for you, and if you had to guess, it had been for him as well.

“Can I move?” you ask after a moment. He just nods, eyes finally flying open to focus on you.

You being rocking back and forth, slowly, and he looks as if he’s died and gone to heaven. Soon enough, though, you begin to pick up the pace, bouncing on his cock as he rocks into you. He shifts until he’s nearly sitting up, gathering you close to his chest and you continue to rock in his lap. He snakes his hand down to where you meet, rubbing fast, messy circles on your clit. The sounds filling the room are just the slapping of skin, heaving breaths, and a slew of dirty words falling from both of you, incoherent and out of control.

“Oh, fuck - baby, you feel so good - so fuckin’ warm and tight, just for me -”

“I - oh, God - you’re amazing. Your cock is so big, filling me perfectly -”

“So beautiful, riding me like this - I can’t believe you came so quick before, babe - can you do it again?” he whispers, mouthing at the skin behind your ear. You just nod, burying your face into the warm skin of his shoulder, meeting his thrusts as he fucks up into you.

Then he angels himself perfectly, hitting that spot inside of you, and you start to cry out.

“I’m close, oh god, Steve - right there, harder, please, fuck me harder -”

You feel his cock twitch inside you, and feeling just a little bit evil, you squeeze around him. He sounds as if you’ve killed him, pressing his teeth into your shoulder.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna -”

“Come for me, Steve,” you whisper. “Come when I do.”

He mouths at your neck, and as you feel the familiar hook pulling in your abdomen, it hits you - what both of you need, right now, in this moment. You slow your movements slightly, pulling back to look him in the eye.

“Steve?” you breathe.

“Mm?”

You take his face in your hands, kissing him sweetly, completely in contrast with the way he was roughly fucking up into you. You’re both growing more sloppy, more desperate, chasing your respective highs.

“I - I love you,” you whisper.

That’s enough for both of you. You snap, throwing your head back and screaming as you squeeze and convulse around him. You’re seeing stars, the warmth spreading through you and your orgasm hits your like a train.

Steve follows a second behind, cock twitching and spilling into you as he cries out your name like a prayer, mumbling sweet nothings into your skin as you slow your rhythm, riding out your orgasms together. His hips stutter, then still, only the sounds of your rapid breathing and racing hearts to accompany you.

He still has his arms wrapped around you, chests flush to each other. Steve starts pressing gentle, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder, his hand slowly rubbing your back. Neither of you say anything, not for a while - the wind howls outside, the snow falling a bit more now.

Eventually, he starts to soften in you, and you pull yourself off, clambering to the other side of the bed. He wordlessly reaches for the unmade comforter and pulls it over you both, noting the goosebumps forming on your skin.

You both just lay there, side-by-side, staring at the ceiling as you wait for your breathing to return to normal. It’s him who finally breaks the silence, because it always is.

“That was -”

“-amazing,” you finish breathlessly, turning your head on the pillow towards him. It’s a tiny bed, and you’re practically nose-to-nose. He’s smiling softly, still blissed-out from what happened only moments ago.

“So… what you said,” he says quietly. “Did you mean it? Like, really mean it?”

And he looks terrified, like your answer might break him, and it makes you want to cry. You want to crack open your chest and draw him inside, keeping him safe right next to your heart. You reach across and gently brush your fingers along his face, ghosting over his cheek and jaw.

“Yes,” you whispered. “Of course I did. I think I have for a long time, Steve.”

His face crumbles, and he sighs with relief, turning up to kiss your palm.

“Did you?” you ask, anxiety creeping into your chest. You’re not even sure if he remembers when he said it last year. He looks confused, but only for a moment.

“Wait - did I - I did, didn’t I?” he says, shaking his head incredulously.

“When I said that, I - it was in the moment, and I almost swore I didn’t - I’ve played that moment, that entire night, in my head almost every day. And - and never knew for sure if I actually said what I felt.”

You feel your heart flutter, your stomach doing somersaults.

“So - you meant it?” you ask cautiously.

He smiles again, big and wide, and gently presses his lips to yours.

“Yes,” he breathes. “I’ve loved you as long as I’ve known you. I was just waiting for you to catch up.”

“Since we were five?” you ask, feeling like the wind has been knocked from your lungs. He just nods. You nuzzle your nose into his, and softly whisper, “Well, I love you too, Steve Harrington.”

LATER, WINTER 1989

It’s loud, warm with bodies, and hazy from smoke - you make you way through the crowd, drink in-hand. You glance at the clock - it’s 11:57, where is he -

“Hey you!” a voice shouts. You laugh as RObin slings her arm around you, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek.

“Hey!” you laugh, pulling her close into a side hug. “Where’ve you been?” 

“Well, I was talking to Nancy, but there’s only so much canoodling with Jonathan that I can handle.”

You chuckle, glancing over at where the couple stands in the corner, practically devouring each other.

“Well, where’s Vickie?” you ask, searching over the crowded living room.

“She went to get more champagne, but I don’t - oh! Look, they found each other!”

You follow her gaze, and settle on Robin’s redheaded girlfriend - talking to Steve. You relax at the sight of him, even though he had been by your side only a few minutes ago. He smiles when you spots you, holding out an arm to wrap around you as you sidle up to him.

“Hi,” he says softly, quietly enough that you hardly hear him over the music. 

“Hey, you,” you reply, earning a kiss on the crown of your head.

“Is it almost time?” you ask. Robin glances at her watch, and practically jumps.

“Oh, gosh, yeah! Okay, everyone!” she shouts, scrambling to stand on a chair. Most of the room directs their attention to her, raising their glasses and letting out a few whoops and cheers.

“Alright people, grab someone pretty, make a few resolutions - and say goodbye to the 80s!”

Everyone cheers, and Robin looks down at her wrist again.

“Okay! Ten! Nine -”

Steve pulls you close by your waist, gazing down at you like you’re his whole world. Though, you know that there’s a good chance it’s true. He brushes your hair to the side, and whispers, “Ready for 1990?”

You know what promises the new year will bring - you, starting your full-time job in New York, in the apartment that you and Steve are getting together, with the promise of always coming back to Hawkins for the holidays. A life, that you’re building together, after so many years of dancing around it. It makes sense that you’ve ended up here, ringing in a new decade after being a part of each other’s lives for nearly as long as you’ve known.

“Five! Four! Three -”

You grin, bringing your hand to the nape of his neck.

“As long as it’s you and me, Harrington.”

“ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Robin screams, followed by a series of applause and cheers.

Steve meets you halfway, and kisses you like he always does, enough that you melt into him like you’ll die if you aren’t attached to him. There’s no need to run anymore. Because, as long as you’re with Steve, you’re home.

Author’s note: well, that’s the end of TTDS. I’m sorry for the wait, but I hope it was worth it! I’m diving into my new Steve series next, and working through my inbox for some blurb requests. But, if you’d like to request prompts/blurbs based on this story, I’d be happy to do that - I think it’s be fun to see other scenes from throughout or after the events of this story. I appreciate every like, reblog, comment, and message - I read every single one. Let me know what you think of the story! Merry Christmas to all who celebrate, and I’ll see y’all in the new year!

Taglist: @cityofidek @decadentwastelandtrash @fallingwithoutcaution @selfdeprecatingnerd @scream-still-screaming @le-who-zer-her @freezaz123 @andrewgarfieldsupremecy @shireentapestry @divinelovers @thatstoomuchman @buckleysbitch @evansflowers @untoldshortsofthefandoms @godcreatoreli @hotelfohn @thesillynonsense @itsfloorcry @dullsocietyy @draynmelol @the-winter-spider @suniloli @livid-euphoria @iknowrocknroll @tsundere-exe @palmtreesx3 @boxofsmittens @bradleysgirl @etherealforever234 @jxackles

[harrytheehottie]

tis the damn season part 3 preview - read part 1 & part 2. coming soon.

“Harry, I am flattered beyond flattered, that isn’t even the right word for what I feel right now. I just never, I just. I feel so bad. I don’t want this to ruin us. I don’t want to regret this. ”

Harry let the tears fall, his brows furrowed his hand running through his hair before finding the way to pull at his bottom lip again. You’ve never seen Harry this, the mixture of anger and sadness and you don’t believe this is that moment but if it was, you knew you deserved it.

“Believe me, my dear no one will regret this moment more than I will.”

“Harry don’t say that, please don’t say that. Can we just talk - can you hear me out?”

“I invited our family and friends. Planned this whole night with no doubt in my mind you’d say yes, we’d have time to ourselves before our friends and family surprise us in about 20 minutes.”

“They’re coming here?”

“Yes, here. S’why I rented out the entire pub. If I had any indication that you’d say no I probably wouldn’t have planned it this way.” He was being short.

You hated how much you deserved it.

[circle-with-me]

‘tis the damn season - part 2

Pairing: Will Ramos x OFC (Genevieve/Viv/Vivvy)

Content Warning: 18+ MINORS DNI, angst, hurt - no comfort, brief mentions of child abuse, panic attacks, mentions of death/dying, brief mentions of violence/threats of violence, Will Ramos is stubborn as hell.

Word Count: 3.3k

Taglist: @concretenoah @deathblacksmoke @midnight-eternals @bngurngheart @malice-ov-mercy @witchyweeb34 @lyschko666 @cookiesupplier @lilrubles @meekahy

If you would like to be added to my tag list for this series or my other work, please click here.

Author’s note: There’s a lot more Will in this part and I promise there will be even more in future parts. Also, this one is probably going to hurt because it hurt me while I wrote it. Soooo…. Sorry 😬 Enjoy 😊

Will’s POV

The snow crunches beneath Will’s feet as he heads towards the cafe. That morning, he woke up with a sore throat and decided he’d grab some hot tea before practice that morning. He couldn’t afford to lose his voice now. Lorna was going on tour next month and they had a lot of kinks to work out with their set.

Leaving the cafe, Will heads in the direction of the warehouse. Traffic in front of the cafe was absurd. He could walk down the opposite way to a slower intersection, cut across and then walk back up. The only problem was that it would take him past the park.

He avoided the park as much as he could

“Man, it’s been eight years. Get over it.” he says out loud to himself.

As he walks past the park, he sees the gazebo. There was a light dusting of snow on the roof and the stairs. Christmas garlands were attached to each railing. Icicle lights were hanging from the top railings and Christmas wreaths were adorning each post.

It looked like something out of a Christmas card.

Will walks up the steps and stands in the middle of the structure. He couldn’t remember the last time he had come here. It looked the same but had a fresh coat of paint. A moment of panic sets in as he sets his tea down and steps onto the railing. Hoisting himself up he stands on his tiptoes to look into the rafters.

The entirety of the area had been painted white. Fuck, where is it? He couldn’t see it. It had been forever but he knew it was on this side. He couldn’t see it. His heart sank. It was gone. He started to lower himself down but something caught his eye off to the side. A faint etching into the wood that he would have missed if he hadn’t turned just so.

“W <3’s V 4eva”

Will let out the breath he was holding; a sharp pain shooting through his chest. It was a pain he hadn’t felt in a long time. The feeling struck him so hard it made his knees weak and he had to hold on to the post next to him to keep from falling off the railing.

It should have been a meaningless little thing. He had made that mark when he was a teenager, barely sixteen. Thirteen years later and he can still remember every moment of that day. How she smelled of cinnamon and cherries. The way her dark red hair fell in waves and would get tangled in the buttons of her coat. How red her nose and cheeks got from the cold. Her green eyes sparkling as she looked at the Christmas lights.

God dammit, he hated this time of year.

Will arrives at the warehouse to see Moke and Austin standing outside.

“Get here when you can, brother.” Moke exclaims, grinning.

“Fuck are you talking about, dude? I’m early as always.” Will responds.

“Practice was supposed to start 20 minutes ago, dumbass.” Austin pipes in.

Will checks his phone and he in fact was not early at all. His detour took a little longer than he thought. He looks up sheepishly and both guys burst out laughing.

“Sorry, guys.”

Adam slaps him on the back. “Don’t worry about it, man. Adam and Andrew are inside arguing about guitar stuff.”

“That’s why we’re out here.” Moke adds. “If I had to hear them fight like an old married couple for one more second I was going to shove Archey’s drumsticks in my ears.”

Will laughs loudly as they dramatically act out the guitarists argument.

Initially, he doesn’t see the woman with long dark red hair pass by but he notices her stop suddenly. For a split second he figures that she’s lost but then it hits him. The scent of cinnamon and cherries.

The scent is all-consuming. It fills his nostrils and in a millisecond seven years of memories flash before his eyes. She turns around slowly, making eye contact with him and he’s sure he’s fucking dreaming because it can’t be her.

“Shit.” he hears her say and that’s her voice. How is she here? Why is she here? After all this time..

He calls after her and she doesn’t stop. In fact, she picks up her pace. So, he takes off after her.

“Will! Where the fuck are you going?” Austin yells at his friend as he takes off running but it was no use. Will was on a mission.

Will continues to call after her and she refuses to stop. He feels dizzy, nauseated, and desperate because if he can just get a hand on her. Just touch her so he can know she’s real and he’s not crazy.

“Goddammit, Genevieve, stop!” Finally catching up with her, he grabs her by the arm and spins her around to face him.

They stare at each other for what seems like an eternity. He wonders what’s going through her mind. He can’t seem to gather his thoughts because he’s still trying to grasp onto the fact that she’s actually here in front of him.

Somehow, she was even more beautiful than the last time he saw her.

The last time he saw her.

Will recalls the moment she left and the shooting pain in his chest returns. Anger rushes through him and without thinking, his grip on her arm tightens. Tears begin to form in the corner of her eyes and she shifts uncomfortably. Realization settles in and he lets go, internally chastising himself. It doesn’t matter how long she’s been gone. He knows better.

He glances at her again and even though the tears are still there he can tell she’s not panicking anymore. Her tears are for an entirely different reason. The moment is so overwhelming he can nearly feel his own forming but being the stubborn man that he is, he blinks them away. Will is not going to give her the satisfaction of thinking she still has that much of an effect on him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” she states matter-of-factly.

Will laughs humorlessly. “Seriously? After all these years, that’s all I get?”

Gen narrows her eyes and folds her arms across her chest.

“Right, because ‘what the fuck are you doing here?’ is so much better?”

“I think I have every right to be frustrated, Viv.”

“Don’t call me that.” she says firmly.

Will raises his eyebrows. “And what exactly am I supposed to call you?”

“If it’s all the same to you, Will, I’d prefer it if we just didn’t interact at all. I’m only here because I wasn’t given a choice and I plan to leave as soon as possible.”

A mixture of anger and desperation rises in him again. He wasn’t expecting her to jump into his arms but he didn’t think she’d blow him off like this. He needed something. More than this. He didn’t know how she could just pretend like this moment meant nothing to her when it meant everything to him.

Would he actually admit to that, though? Of course not.

He laughs and shakes his head. “Always in such a hurry to leave. Of course, I'm not surprised. It’s your favorite thing to do.”

This time, Gen laughs, but it’s the coldest laugh Will has ever heard. She steps closer to him and their faces are so close they are almost touching. Her perfume fills his nostrils again and he wishes he could start their conversation over. Tell her he was sorry for everything and kiss her breathless but it was too late. He ruined everything, once again.

All because of his goddamn pride.

“As much as I would love to stand here all day and rehash old wounds, Ramos, I have better things to do. Like bury my piece of shit father, for starters.”

Will doesn’t even get a chance to speak before she’s walking away from him. She never looks back at him for a moment but he watches her until her figure disappears.

Gen’s POV

Gen walks until the tears falling down her face begin to burn and her lungs start to hurt from the cold air. She was two blocks from the lawyer’s office but she couldn’t move anymore. She stops and sits on a bench in front of a random store in an attempt to collect herself.

She scrubs her shaking hands over her face and tries to control her breathing. She’s barely been back home for a few hours and she already ran into him. She hated being from such a small town.

“Always in such a hurry to leave… it’s your favorite thing to do.”

Will’s voice echoes on repeat in her mind until her head begins to pound. He knows damn well why I left. Gen thinks to herself. Who the fuck is he to throw that in my face?

Through the years she must have rehearsed their first conversation upon reuniting a hundred times. It was never something she expected to actually happen, but she was always preparing for shit like that. She knew it would be overwhelming and emotional but when she imagined it, she always handled it in a calm and practical manner.

Clearly, it’s much different when the person who broke your heart is standing right in front of you. It didn’t stop her from regretting the way she reacted. The way he grabbed her and the emotional whiplash from their sudden reunion had her adrenaline pumping. Agitation and being defensive were her go-to responses.

Gen knew that he didn’t intend to grab her like that. He knew better. It was embarrassing that it still affected her the way that it did.

Gen sighs shakily and checks her phone. She had five minutes to be at Mr. Shaw’s office. Her pity party would have to wait until later.

“Ms. Castillo, I’m Nathan Shaw. Thank you so much for coming in on such short notice.” The man extends his hand to Gen and she accepts it. He was younger than she expected, late thirties at the oldest. His dirty blonde hair was slicked back and his eyes were a piercing blue. When he flashes a smile at her, she concludes that feature alone wins a lot of his cases.

“It’s Taylor, actually. I told your secretary that on the phone yesterday. Anna, I believe?”

He glances down at the paper. “Oh, yes! She’s written it right here. My apologies, Ms. Taylor. Or is it Mrs?”

Gen has to bite back a laugh. “No, sir. It’s definitely still Ms.” She holds up her left hand to show him her bare ring finger.

Mr. Shaw smiles softly. “Very good, Ms. Taylor.”

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “If you don’t mind. How did you find me? My father and I haven’t spoken in years.”

“He had your phone number and address listed for us to call in the event of his death.”

Gen pauses for a moment, unsure how she feels that he actually had her address this whole time. “It’s just that… I changed my name and my contact information years ago, so that he couldn’t find me. I just don’t understand how he even had that information to give to you.”

Mr. Shaw looks at her over his glasses, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. He flips back to the front page of the packet in front of him and turns it around to where Gen can look at it. She scoots up to the end of her chair to get a better look as he points to a particular paragraph.

I, Gabriel Fernando Castillo, am a widower. I was married to Margaret Anaïs Taylor Castillo on September 13, 1993, who died on August 9, 2007. We had one child, Genevieve Gabriela Castillo, who was born on August 11, 1994.

Genevieve Gabriela Castillo. Her eyes read the one line over and over again. God, she despises that name.

“What are you showing me this for, Mr. Shaw?” she asks, pointedly.

An amused look spreads across his face. “Ms. Taylor, with all due respect, if you wanted to change your name so your father couldn’t find you.” He pauses for a moment, considering his next statement carefully. “Your mother’s maiden name maybe wasn’t the best choice.”

Three hours, one panic attack, and a lot of kleenex later, Gen’s appointment with Nathan Shaw was finished.

Gabriel left her everything. His house. His car. An oddly large sum of money that was left in his bank accounts that she didn’t dare question its origin. Before she changed her name and number for good, he had called her relentlessly asking for money. No doubt having drunk it all up.

According to Mr. Shaw, that was what killed him. His liver failed and he chose to waste away at home instead of in the hospital waiting for an organ transplant. Mr. Shaw warned her that the house wasn’t in the best shape since he spent the last several months bedridden and would rarely let anyone in. He assured her, however, that “the mess” from his death had been cleaned up so she wouldn’t have to worry about that.

Oh, right. If it wasn’t enough for her to inherit her childhood home that held enough traumatic memories for a lifetime, it’s now potentially haunted by the ghost of her father? Nope. Nothing to worry about at all. She didn’t even believe in ghosts, but if anyone would come back to haunt her, that fucker would.

Considering her options, she decided to sell the house and the car. They were of no use to her. The money in Gabriel’s accounts would go towards whatever repairs were needed to make the house sellable and the rest she’d donate to charity.

Gen didn’t need him or his money. Dead or not she sure as hell wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of thinking she did.

So, now, it would appear that her whirlwind trip home would be much longer than anticipated. The realization of which caused her panic attack. Mr. Shaw’s sweet secretary, Anna, came rushing in his office with kleenex and water to help. Once she calmed down, Gen told Anna whatever Mr. Shaw was paying her wasn’t enough. Anna just smiled sweetly and headed back to her desk.

Another hour and a half later, the funeral arrangements had been made. The visitation would be Sunday at noon with the funeral immediately afterwards. A four hour affair where Gen would have to smile and pretend to care as people she hadn’t seen in years told her how wonderful her father was and how they can’t believe she’s been gone so long.

She felt nauseous already.

She took a deep breath, cracking her neck and massaging her jaw in an attempt to ease the tension from the day. She was in desperate need of food and a shower. She decided to head to her hotel, order takeout, and call it a night. She couldn’t bring herself to go to Gabriel’s house tonight. She would go tomorrow when she was rested and her head was clear.

As Gen laid in bed, she reflected on her day. Now that it was over, it all felt like a fever dream. She thought of Will’s face. The way it shifted from frustration to guilt when she told him why she was there. She had called him Ramos. She only called him that when she was mad and he hated it. She knew that, though, and said it on purpose.

She did it for the exact same reason he took a jab at her for leaving. There’s an ache in her. An ache caused by all the years of pain from her mother dying, her father drinking to cope with the loss and the abuse that followed afterwards. Will became her escape. He was always there to protect and comfort her.

One night, Will nearly beat her father unconscious after he had broken Gen’s ribs again for not cleaning the dishes the way he liked them. He was only seventeen at the time. Gabriel was an asshole, but he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t going to put himself at risk of an investigation, so he didn’t say anything. After that night, the physical abuse stopped but the psychological abuse became worse. Will promised Gen that as soon as she turned eighteen, he was moving her in with him.

The day of her eighteenth birthday, Will moved her into his apartment. He had saved for months and managed to get one just a few weeks before her birthday. It was small and they barely had any furniture, but she didn’t care. Gabriel tracked her down and tried causing a scene but Will told him if he came near her or touched her again he’d make sure he didn’t wake up that time.

Gen was finally able to heal. She felt safe and secure at home for the first time in five years. They were both working and making enough to pay their bills with a little extra. She started college. For once, everything was going well.

The only problem was that she hated Westwood. It was too small for her and despite the memories she made with Will, it was filled with too many bad ones. She wanted out. She had a degree and had developed a strong skill set in music as an audio technician at the small recording studio she worked at and wanted to pursue a career as a recording engineer.

The owner of the studio had connections all over the country and was able to get her a job in New York. Gen was ecstatic and ran home to Will to tell him the good news. He had been supportive of her dream and told her he’d go anywhere for her.

However, when she told him it was finally happening, his face dropped. A silence fell between them that she had never experienced in all of the years they had been together. He stood from his seat on the couch, looked at her firmly, and told her no.

No? What did he mean “no”?

He meant no. She wasn’t going. He wasn’t going. They weren’t going.

Will’s reason was that she could do the same job in New Jersey that she could in New York. She argued that, while true, New York would give her a lot more opportunities to work with different artists and producers. Not to mention a lot more money.

He continued to refuse. Telling Gen it was a waste of time and attempting to educate her on how expensive New York is but it just came out as condescending. She explained how much extra she would be making and it may be hard at first but it would be worth it in the end.

When that didn’t work, he tried to explain that he had finally become comfortable with his band and didn’t want to mess that up by leaving. He also mentioned his family was in Westwood and they couldn’t just abandon them. She called him selfish and pointed out that New York was less than two hours by train. Not across the fucking country.

Gen was distraught and confused. Where was this coming from? This was not the Will she had known for so long. He had never tried to hold her back or tell her she couldn’t do anything. If she didn’t know any better, he almost seemed desperate to keep her in Westwood with him. But why?

After hours of arguing, he became silent again. He stood in front of the glass door that led out to their patio and just stared into the darkness. After what seemed like forever, he raked his hand through his curls and exhaled harshly like he had to prepare himself for what he was about to say.

“I love you, Vivvy… but you’re not going to make it in New York. You’re good at what you do but they’ll eat you alive up there. You’re not going and that’s final.”

Part Three

[giratina-plushie]

i love to put my favourite characters in my writing when they just do not need to be there