#wedding band cheshire

[ddejavvu]

Wait Omg the thought of bau!reader and Aaron being secretly married but reader forgetting to take their ring off?? (Opposite to Spencer’s LOL). Everyone instantly zeroes in on it like ?????

You're not sure why you're on the receiving end of Prentiss's cheshire cat grin, but she's somewhat of an office prankster, so you assume that when you open the top drawer of your desk, a rubber band will fly out and whack you in the forehead. When no such thing happens, and JJ greets you with her own wide-eyed smile, you know something's wrong.

You retrieve the handheld mirror that you keep stashed away in your purse, trying to appear nonchalant as you glance over your face for any possible makeup smears. There's no smudges of eyeliner down your cheeks, mascara isn't dotted on your eyelid, and your lipstick is perfectly lined around your mouth; nothing is wrong.

You reach up to flick a wayward strand of hair away from your eyes, nothing big enough to attract the stares you're getting, but undesirable nonetheless. When you do you catch the glint of your wedding ring in the fluorescent lights of the bullpen, and your stomach drops.

That's not supposed to be there.

You snap the mirror closed and slide the ring off of your hand but it's too late, and both girls are snickering at your piss-poor attempt at concealment.

"Sooo," JJ hums, leaning over her desk with her chin propped on her hand, "When were you gonna tell us about that?"

"It's just a ring," You scoff, shoving it into the depths of your purse. You'll regret that later, when you're digging through napkins and lotion to find it, but for now evasion is key.

"Please," Emily scoffs, "That rock looks like it could pay my rent five times over. Are you seriously married?"

"No!" You gush, and you're sure they regret phrasing it as a question, because it gave you the opportunity to lie in answer, "No, I am not married, it's just a regular ring."

"Yeah, that's why you hid it from us," JJ drawls, "Morgan, did you know about this?"

"What?" The man's head pops up from his desk, "What do I know?"

"JJ, please-" You beg, but Prentiss is the one who answers, "Y/N's hitched!"

Derek's brows shoot comically high on his face, "Married-hitched?"

"No! I just wear rings sometimes," You insist, "Guys, I'm not married, this is ridiculous!"

"No one wears a ring that big unless it comes from a man who's equally endowed," Prentiss winks, that devilish grin on her face ever-present, "Come on, don't make Penelope deep dive, who's the lucky man?"

"What am I deep-diving for?" Garcia peers around the corner of the kitchenette, and you shoot Rossi a pleading look where he stands behind her. He'd been on his way back to his office, but apparently your drama has piqued his interest.

"She's married." Derek jerks a thumb at you, and it actually drops Garcia's jaw; you've always delighted in how cartoonish her reactions could be. Now, though, it provides enough silence for Rossi to speak, setting one of his hands on Penelope's shoulders.

"Don't waste your talents, Penelope. You don't need a deep dive to figure it out."

"Dave," You start, your voice sharp, but JJ cuts you off.

"Come on, you told Rossi before you told us?"

"She didn't tell me," Dave shakes his head, amusement glimmering in his eyes. You know he's absolutely ecstatic to be the one to let the cat out of the bag, and you resign yourself to slumping back in your chair as he changes the BAU forever more with two meager words: "Hotch did."

[heechwe]

canine intuition | 𝐬𝐣𝐲

୨୧ pairing: sim (jake) jaeyun x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 1.4k ୨୧ genre: fluff, hints of comedy ୨୧ tags: established relationship, marriage!au, expecting!reader, layla's basically the smartest girl in the room ୨୧ synopsis: Sometimes your dog knows what's going on before you do. And shenanigans ensue when she uses her knowledge to protect you, whether you want her to or not. ➸ For the birthday boy and his beautiful fur baby ♡

“Layla, you’re not coming back inside until you use the bathroom, missy,” you warn the pup. With her head angled to the side, staring up at you in confusion, she must be wondering why you’re refusing to let her back into the house. And you typically would cave if it weren’t for the fact it wasn’t so early in the morning.

When you began dating Jake, you wondered if and how Layla would warm up to you. It scared you more than meeting his parents, if you were being honest. Canines, like their feline counterparts, had a supernatural intuition about people. If she didn’t like you, what did that say about where your relationship would end up in a few months?

Luckily, you both got on perfectly. The two of you were practically thick as thieves by the time Jake proposed and eventually added the wedding band to your finger.

Now, with a beautiful house and adjoining backyard, walks with Layla have become a less-frequent occurrence. She gets more than enough exercise in her new, grassy oasis. It’s only when she needs to go out and come in that either you or Jake have to get up and tend to her physically.

Today, though, she has yet to use the bathroom. Jake had to head out early for a meeting with his business partners and left you to take over the household duties.

Despite your orders, she doesn’t seem to budge on her stance to come back inside. Her persistence mirrors her father’s to the letter, making you smile.

“Layla, once you use the bathroom then I’ll—“ You feel a sudden rush of bile hit the back of your throat, causing you to press your hand to your mouth. Was it the coffee you just drank, or the quick breakfast burrito you scarfed down before letting Layla out?

“I might have to—“ The next second, you’re running to the bathroom at lightning speed. Your knees slam against the tile floor as you bury your head inside the toilet, the contents of your stomach emptied out in a second. Layla scratches on the back door with rapid paws. You can hear a whine behind the screen as you wipe your face with a piece of toilet paper.

Layla runs through the door once you’ve cleaned yourself up, and she jumps up to check on you in an instant. Her paws press lightly on your stomach, her head tilted again at that signature angle when she’s concerned.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’m alright.” You scratch her behind the ears, hoping to appease her anxiety. There are lingering traces of queasiness, but you decide to rest on the couch for a while in hopes of making it go away. Layla doesn’t leave your side for the rest of the morning, forgoing her breakfast to keep her head nestled warmly in your lap.

Layla’s odd behavior continues into the next day.

It’s a modern marvel for Jake to leave work early. Client meetings run long enough as it is, so getting alone time with him at this point in his career is a gift you contable treasure.

You’re cooking a quick lunch for the two of you when Jake wraps his arms around you. Your husband presses sloppy kisses into your neck, his hands exploring your body as he holds you snug against him.

“Honey,” you chide him, trying to mix the macaroni in the pot without letting any stick to the bottom. It will be a bitch to clean—and much less scrape out—if you don’t keep a close eye on it. He knows this, but he clearly has other plans on his mind.

“We can eat later. Right now, I’d rather have dessert,” Jake whispers into the crook of your neck. He reaches around you to turn the stove off, his mind made up.

When you turn around to face him, you’re met with his signature grin, the cheshire cat smile that made you fall in love with him without much effort plastered across his face.

“Maybe I wanted to eat mac and cheese, how about that?” You counter as you run your fingers under his shirt. His skin is warm to the touch, the ripples of his muscles igniting a fire deep in your stomach.

“I think I can change your mind,” he teases.

When he grazes his lips against yours, pressing you harder against him, that’s when Layla loses it.

She begins barking loudly at her father, making him immediately take his hands from your body to lean down to her level. She stands in between you two with fierce attention, the fur on her back brushing your legs.

“What’s wrong, girly girl?” He asks, all sensuality gone from his expression. His concern for her welfare and yours was one of the many reasons you loved him, his affection and loving words for “his favorite girls” always squeezing your heart in a vice grip.

Layla nuzzles her snout against Jake’s palm, but she makes no move to stray from her spot against you. You cross your arms, frowning. “Layla, what’s up with you lately? Mommy’s fine,” you assure her.

“Maybe she wants to go for a W-A-L-K.” Jake spells out the words, wiggling his eyebrows and walking in the direction of the hooks that hold his coats and her leash. “Is that what you want, baby? You want to go for a walk?”

Layla’s ears perk up instantly, her tail wagging in all directions before Jake puts her in her harness. The moment forgotten as the two of them head out the door, you wonder what’s up with her and how to help her feel better moving forward.

The next week, you feel worse for wear. You think back to that day in the kitchen, realizing how oblivious you were to the way your body would turn against you. The nausea was something you could handle. But now, your body is all kinds of sore, mostly in your chest and pelvic region.

You would pass it off as normal premenstrual symptoms, but the pain is foreign on some level you can’t explain. If only you could put a proper name to it, maybe it wouldn’t nag you so much.

Layla whimpers the entire day, snuggled into your side as though she believes her body can provide some relief for your aching one.

By the afternoon, you call Jake to take your mind off of the overbearing discomfort. He begins to talk about the newest project at the firm and his role in landing the contract, but once he hears Layla’s array of cries, he changes his focus.

“Is something going on?” You hear the concern in your husband’s voice immediately, and your heart clenches at his tone.

“No, no, baby, I’m fine. She probably just needs to pee.” At the worst time possible, a cramp makes you gasp in pain.

“I’m coming home,” Jake says with finality, no room for any further discussion.

By the time he makes it home, he brings a large bowl of chicken noodle soup and a brand new heating pad to your bedside.

He runs his hands through your hair as you cry, reminding you to eat as much of the soup as you can stomach.

“Next time, please don’t make Layla the messenger,” Jake jokes, kissing the crown of your head. The girl in question sits nestled against yours and Jake’s feet, satisfied she’s done her job to make sure you got the help you needed.

The sun peers into the bathroom and shines down on the two pink lines staring back at you. The truth of what’s been in development for the past few weeks hits you with full force. Any normal woman would be hyper emotional at the news or terrified at her life changing as she knows it. For you, all you can do is stare down at your dog and laugh.

“You knew this entire time, didn’t you?” You ask Layla although she can’t reply, tears of joy and humor running down your cheeks. She just looks up at you with the same cocked head and wagging tail.

You turn back to the three pregnancy tests that rest on top of the marble counter, all of them confirming what the pup knew to be true many days ago.

Call it canine intuition, feminine senses, or a little bit of both. It’s anyone’s guess.

What isn’t up for debate is whether or not you’ll tell the man you love the news when he gets home.

When he does, he carries a bouquet of flowers in his hands. “Saw these on my way home and thought of you,” he says, beaming.

You grin and press your mouth to his softly. “I actually have something for you too.”

You guide him into the bathroom, his eyes immediately locking onto the tests near the sink. In classic Jake Sim fashion, his eyes go wide and his billion-megawatt grin appears on his lips. “Are you serious?”

You nod your head, the waterworks from earlier coming back.

He encases you in a tight hug, his body shaking with his own barrage of emotions. His voice is trembling when he says, “I’m gonna be a dad.”

He kisses every free space of your face, landing finally on your lips in a tear-stained but beautiful kiss. “How long have you known?”

“Just for a few hours.” You see Layla in the doorway, your pup smiling at the two of you. “But someone actually knew a long time ago.”

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics that involve characters using sign language as requested in this ask. You can find my other fic recs here. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments. Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

💜 All About Us by LHStylinson

(G, 137k, kid fic) Throughout the night and protests from their daughter, Louis and Harry reminisce about how they met and overtime share their story with the boy that seems to look at their daughter the same way Louis once and still looks at Harry.

💜 All Your Dreams Are On Their Way by @1diamondinthesun

(NR, 73k, Caribbean) Louis Tomlinson is a grieving author with a deadline. Harry Styles is afraid to realize his potential. The Caribbean is the perfect place to dream bigger.

💜 Shout It From The Rooftops by therogueskimo / @bravetemptation

(M, 70k, PTSD) Plagued by memories of the worst day of his life, Louis Tomlinson feels like he’s constantly living in darkness. Harry Styles might just be the person to bring him back to the light.

💜 Dog got your Tongue? by seducedbycurls

(NR, 50k, dog walker Louis) Person a spills coffee on person b when they trip AU

💜 Two Hearts Drawn Together by Chelsea Frew / @chelsea-frew

(E, 46k, famous/not famous) Louis Tomlinson is 1/3 of a world-famous boy band. Harry Styles is a deaf university student. When they meet each other at a book signing, they experience an instant connection.

💜 It Feels Different When You’re With Me by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings

(M, 45k, deaf Louis) Harry fell in love with sign language as a kid. He never imagined the first love of his life would lead him straight to his second.

💜 You Came Just Like A Flower In My Darkest Hour by graceling_in_a_suit

(T, 44k, fantasy) Harry had spent a thousand years as the king of a false kingdom, no one but his empty-minded subjects to distract him from his loneliness. Then, he saw a stranger in a mirror to another world. 

💜 Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds by @2tiedships2

(M, 38k, omegaverse) the one where Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry.

💜 Stargazer Louis by thecheshirepussycat / @the-cheshire-pussy-cat

(T, 36k, high school) Louis has been deaf ever since a he was a little kid. Some of his only comforts now are the colors and fragrances of flowers. Harry could care less about flowers and prefers the beautiful melodies of his music. 

💜 A Life Turned Upside Down by Chelsea Frew /  @chelsea-frew

(E, 29k, exes) Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson were madly in love from the moment they met. Their contracts would not, however, allow them to publicly announce their love. Forced to take part in stunts, they persevered. Until one stunt became too much, and Harry left.

💜 Is it a sign? by bluegreenish / @greenblueish

(E, 25k, omegaverse)  the one where Harry meets a certain handsome alpha at his sister's wedding and learns that speaking verbally doesn't have to be the only means of communication.

💜 Whipped Cream by @writingstylinson

(T, 24k, pining) Harry is a deaf photographer in charge of taking Lottie's wedding pictures. Louis is determined for Harry to be his plus one.

💜 Don't Act Like It's a Bad Thing to Fall in Love by nightwideopen / @themarshalstale

(G, 23k, high school) Louis was born blind, completely blind, leaving him with nothing but the absolute blackness that his lack of vision produces. Harry, on the other hand, is deaf. No sound can be registered by the two tiny ears his rowdy, chocolate curls obscure so well.

💜 Never Too Late by dimpled_halo / @comebackassholes

(M, 18k, kid fic) Just having come out of the closet and recovering from vocal surgery, famous recording artist Harry Styles needs to get away from LA to work on new music needing to prove to his label that his career isn't over.

💜 Worth a Thousand Words by TheIfInLife / @larryismyotpuniverse

(NR, 7k, high school) Harry went deaf at 5 years old and Louis just wants the chance be heard.

💜 Fingers Crossed by Moriartied

(T, 5k, uni) Harry's been deaf since he was born. Louis is newly graduated after studying sign language, and Harry hires him to translate for all the classes he'll be attending.

💜 The power of Silence by WordsOfHeart

(T, 1k, mpreg) an AU where Harry is mute and pregnant and Louis is the best boyfriend he could possibly be.

💜 My Hands, Your Hands by croisblue / @forwhatiam

(G, 1k, canon divergence) It was something of a joke within Louis’ fandom that he never carried his own luggage. The theories were never too serious, mostly leaning towards him being too much of a princess to do it himself.

- Rare Pairs -

💜 say it out loud by ieatravioli

(M, 25k, Zayn/Liam) Liam has a younger sister who is deaf and he meets Zayn; an alumni from his sister's school. Zayn has just found out that he's qualified to receive a Cochlear implant and decides to go through with the procedure.

💜 Whiteboard by lostinsanity

(T, 5k, Zayn/Niall) Niall’s a musician, Zayn’s an artist. Music and art are their lives, respectively. And the story shouldn't be much more complicated from there. But it is, because Zayn is deaf.

[aziraphales-library]

hi, i was wondering if you know any (aziraphale/crowley) enemies to friends to lovers/enemies to lovers, with the fake dating/marriage troupe fics? slow burn would also be nice but if not its okay! any rating will do, but preferably explicit!

Thank you :)

We have both #enemies to lovers and #fake dating tags, so check those out. Pretty sure most of these are on there somewhere...

The Trojan Horse Virus by Greenathena (T)

Aziraphale owns a bookshop in Soho. Crowley leases the space next door for his nursery. And their first impressions are not exactly positive. But when Crowley needs someone to pretend to be his fiance, who better than the bastard next door who already dislikes him? No feelings to mess things up means no problems, right? Right?

wasteland, baby by john1513 (M)

“Listen. Fell. I...I might, uh, have an idea.” “You do?” Aziraphale said, and hated the hopeful way he said it. “I’ll do it.” “You...won’t like it.” “Will it keep me out of prison?” “Maybe. Maybe the both of us. For now. Ideally.” “Then yes.” Crowley’s expression tightened, and Aziraphale wasn’t sure if Crowley wanted to cry, or laugh. “You really, really won’t like it.” “I’ll like prison less.” He responded plainly. Crowley’s face twisted into something soft at first, just for a second, before searing into a careful little smirk, and Aziraphale knew that smile, that Cheshire cat smile, much too well to not be cautious. “Crowley, dear. What are you doing on the floor?” He cleared his throat. “Angel. Remember when I said you wouldn’t like it? Well, uh, here we are.” His smile grew awkwardly, apologetically, and Aziraphale had a sinking feeling about it. “Angel. Will you marry me?” ----- Crowley and Aziraphale plan a fake marriage to avoid having to testify against each other in court...they get much more than they bargained for.

The blesséd language of flowers by elf_on_the_shelf (E)

Crowley has given up on her life in the big city and decided to retire early to the lovely village of Tadfield. She expected a run-off-the-mill early retirement. Maybe playing bridge with a couple of old ladies and maybe taking a part in organising some of the village fetes. What she did not expect was actually competing against the woman she had developed a crush on in the village floral competitions and hence that particular woman instantly taking a dislike to her. She also did not expect that for the sake of the village's reputation they would have to band together and participate as a couple for nationals, because why not...

Love to Hate You by Caedmon (E)

When Dr. Aziraphale Fell meets Dr. A.J. Crowley, sparks fly immediately: the wrong kind of sparks. For five and a half years, they snipe and snark at each other while secretly pining. Then, at the annual Christmas party, a drunk Crowley propositions an equally drunk Aziraphale. They slip off together - and get caught by the administrators of the hospital. To keep them out of trouble, Crowley announces that they're married... and now they have to keep up the ruse to keep their jobs.

Married at First Sight by Aracloptia (T)

“Well, that was a thing,” Crowley said once they were out of earshot. Without talking about it, they were both heading down the field, towards the lake where the photographer (and likely a few more people from the TV crew) was waiting. “That was a wedding,” Aziraphale replied, surprised at his own annoyance that somebody called a wedding a ‘thing’. “Yeah, obviously, didn’t miss that part,” Crowley said with a shrug, and waved abruptly in Aziraphale’s general direction. “Neither did you, from the looks of it, since you’re dressed like a wedding bride and everything.” “Excuse me, I am a—“ Aziraphale stopped himself, and started over. In which Aziraphale ends up marrying a rude stranger who wears sunglasses.

The Curve of Old Bones by Jenanigans1207 (E)

Aziraphale watches as Crowley’s smile grows, sharpens and turns distinctively dastardly. And even though Aziraphale knows what he’s in store for, he’s entirely unprepared for the words that slip out of Crowley’s mouth next. “Name’s Anthony Crowley, Aziraphale’s husband.” Aziraphale is eternally grateful that he wasn’t taking a sip of his tea at that exact moment for he would’ve surely choked on it. -- When Crowley claims to be Aziraphale's husband to ruin what he assumes is a date, he doesn't think anything of it. But a day later it comes back to bite him in the ass when Crowley finds out that the date in question is, in fact, his new boss, who is looking to hire Aziraphale and hoping that Crowley, his husband, will put in a good word for them. Now Crowley is caught in a tight spot: either admit to his new boss that he was lying, or convince Aziraphale, his sort-of enemy, to pretend to be his husband to save face.

- Mod D

[runnning-outof-time]

K, congrats again on your milestone! I'm here to request a 3 word prompt sentence--"Don't you dare" with John. That seems quite fitting for him, doesn't it? 😜 Looking forward to reading what you come up with!

Thanks for sending this in, Lee! Oh yes - this prompt absolutely does scream John! I hope you like what I did with it! Also I’m sorry the title’s a little lack-luster…I was bound to use the prompt I’m writing for it at least once though, right? Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Part of my 3.5k celebration — find other stories here!

Don’t You Dare

John Shelby x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 741

Summary: It’s no surprise that things have to get a little messy on John and (Y/N)’s wedding day.

The night had gone off without a hitch. The ceremony was smooth, no interruptions happened before John and (Y/N) were named man and wife. Then the crowd rolled right into the reception, which was happening on the grounds of the garden they got married in. But of course, something was bound to go a little off-kilter. It just came with the Shelby name.

So when the band leader made the announcement that it was time to cut the cake, and (Y/N) took one look at John’s suspicious smirk, she worried that this might be the time.

Everyone had gathered around the newlywedded couple, who were standing beside the extravagant wedding cake that (Y/N) meticulously picked out. (Y/N) looked around at the smiling faces, glancing over to John before adressing them.

“I wanted to thank everyone for coming to celebrate with us tonight. John and I are lucky to have so many amazing people in our lives…you’ve helped make this the most special day,” she started off, smiling widely before she looked to John, hoping that he’d continue.

“Right,” he nodded, catching his wife’s drift, “we’re happy to have ya!” he added on, holding his glass up to initiate a toast. The crowd followed suit as (Y/N) shook her head, her lips pursed to hide the smile.

She waited for the noise to dull down before she spoke again: “it’s now time to cut the cake,” she announced, earning more cheers from the on-lookers.

She was given a cake cutter, John two plates, and she sent him one last smile before she went about cutting two small pieces; one to put on each plate. She set the cutter down and accepted the plate from John, feeling eager to try the cake that she’d truly been dreaming about.

“Oi! You’ve gotta feed it to each other!” Arthur’s booming voice came from the crowd before the couple was able to get any further. His exclaimation was, of course, met with many shouts of agreement.

That was when (Y/N) looked to John. She could immediately tell by the cheshire cat-like grin on his face that he was plotting something. This was not the time that she wanted things to go off-script. But with each second they looked each other, his grin grew.

“John Shelby…” she started, a warning tone laced into her voice as she raised her eyebrows at him. “Don’t you dare.”

John heard what she had to say, looked down at the cake on his plate and then rolled his eyes, his smirk still ever present as he located his older brother in the crowd. After sharing a brief glance with Arthur, he found (Y/N)’s eyes again, seeing that they were still wide and serious. “I’d never,” he told her, although his grin made her think otherwise.

“Get on with it!” Arthur yelled, obviously becoming impatient with the time they were taking. His statement made (Y/N) zero her intense gaze in on him, silently telling him to knock it off.

“Come on, baby,” John’s voice made her finally break and look back at him, and when she did, she noticed that he had already taken a small piece of the cake into his fingers.

She sent him one last ‘don’t try it’ look before mimicking him and taking a piece into her fingers as well. She held her breath and hoped for the best as they got closer to each other, close enough so that they were able to cleanly place the piece of cake into each other’s mouths. Cheers sounded off around them as they stepped back, smiling at each other.

“See? I wouldn’t try anything,” John said to her as he leaned in to press a sweet kiss to her lips.

“Yeah,” (Y/N) answered, a relieved smile now on her face. She glanced down at the remaining bit of cake that she had on her plate then, not wasting much time to grab it and smear it across John’s face. More excited cheers coursed through the crowd of onlookers as John’s jaw dropped at her actions. “I never said I wouldn’t,” she told him with a grin before leaning in to kiss the icing off of his lips.

John couldn’t do anything other than smile as (Y/N) looked back at him with a smug grin. Hey…she was a Shelby now, this should’ve been expected.

Tagged: @the-anxious-youth @mystcldydrms @look-at-the-soul @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @stevie75 @dark-academia-slut @zablife @cillmequick @letal-y-poetica @depxiety @shelundeadxxxx @areyenotfondofmelobster @padfootdaredmetoo @crabat-the-queen @sebastianstangirl01 @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @papichulo120627 @brummiereader @adaydreamaway08 @kissforvoid @raincoffeeandfandoms @wildheartsalwaysburn @dragons-are-my-favorite @jessimay89 @slaymybreathaway

MASTERLIST

[thinkingofausername]

Here are some random (fun/informative) facts about Roy Harper I just felt like sharing:

(Possible spoilers below)

- used to go by "Speedy" (Oliver Queen's sidekick; they met when Roy stole his wallet)

- has an adoptive brother Bird and daughter Lian (with Cheshire, whom he was supposed to capture but fell in love instead)

- former member of the Titans (and Teen Titans)

- former mercenary (a teacher after that)

- lived on Spokane Indian Reservation

- lived in a mall (after his adoptive father - Navajo medicine chief Brave Bow (rebooted Big Bow) was murdered and he ran away)

- designed Green Arrow's arrows

- benched while Speedy because his grades were slipping

- got addicted to painkillers (to deal with chronic pain) which turned to heroin; Oliver kicked him out because of this, came back to reconcile but was disgusted and left Roy again, came back yet again but Roy refused help

- after Jason died, his addiction got worse and he tried to die by Croc's hand (Croc caught on and refused)

- Killer Croc sponsored his recovery program

- lost an arm and was in a coma because of it

- he formed a team of mercenaries but had to kill them as they killed an entire town while trying to take over

- Jason and Starfire saved him from a death sentence due to war crimes (that's how they teamed up)

- he and Starfire got captured by the League of Assassins as they were trying to rescue a kidnapped, amnesiac Jason

- he was going to ask Oliver and Dinah for help but didn't get to

- he helped Jason after his fallout with Bruce

- accidentally killed at a rehabilitation center (Wally tried saving him; his last words were for his daughter; he was buried at the place he decided to get sober)

- Bruce resurrected him (Roy didn't contact his friends)

- he was the Black Lantern (the ring possessed him) and Red Arrow

- the Titans tower was turned into a school with his name

- titled World's Greatest Marksman

- he can ride horses, hack, fish with a bow and arrow, speak Japanese and understand Russian

- struggled with alcoholism since he was 10

- had ADHD and tattoos he didn't remember getting

- his father was a forest ranger also called Roy (he died in a forest fire)

- never knew his mother (in the rebooted version she also died in the fire)

- dated Donna, Hawkgirl, Starfire, Huntress

- Black Canary helped him with withdrawal

- he was a private detective

- lived in Ireland (where his ancestors are from)

- Dick helped him reunite with Lian (that's when Cheshire gave him full custody)

- unwillingly led the Titans in Dick's place after Dick and Kori's wedding was stopped

- he and his daughter were almost harvested for organs

- shaved his head after Donna's death

- survived getting shot in the chest five times and having his throat cut

- formed a children's shelter "Lian's place"

- let a man beat him (he didn't fight back) and he was rescued by a bartender who looked like his daughter

- was a drummer in his own band, volunteered a lot

- Mia Dearden took on his mantle of Speedy (he helped her)

- he was gunned down while searching for his daughter

[zyonsay]

i have a scenario.. imagine max confirming his relationship w his bf, the m!reader, and not only are they been together for years and years, but they also married in secret! i cant stop thinking abt this.

Le mariage MV1

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: Artist y/n l/n and Max Verstappen reveal their marriage

Reader: Male

Warnings: Slighttttttt Angst, Max Emilian Verstappen

Now playing: 'Blue Velvet' by Lana del Rey

AN: Hey anon! I paired this request with another request. I hope thats alright! I just thought the two prompts fit together quite well. I hope you enjoy! Who's your favorite artist? Mine is Jan Vermeer <3

(The other request)

The gallery was stunning. You had specifically ordered to have as many plants as possible in it. White and light green, pearlescent fabrics adorned the walls while the soft sunlight flooded the rooms of the art exhibition. The paintings reflected lots of emotion and made the viewers think about the story behind them, even after leaving the gallery.

But there was one very special painting that attracted a lot of attention; It was two men, both in tailored suits, kissing. The little plaque next to the canvas read ‘Our wedding.’ And that’s when two worlds collided. One of the men was obviously identifiable, this was Y/n L/n; A world famous artist, who this exhibition was dedicated to. But as far as the public knew, you were unmarried. Strange.

Then there was another man on the right side of the picture. You had painted beautiful light hues onto the mans face, with the utmost care he was portrayed on the canvas. Art fanatics knew a lot of people, whether it was Claude Monet or Umberto Boccioni. But this person wasn’t part of the art universe. Or at least if you don’t count speed as art in itself.

But only a minute of research would show that this was Max Verstappen – though what does that mean? You two weren’t connected in any way shape or form. Or at least not publicly. What does an esthetic, artful genius have to do with the dominator of the pinnacle of motorsport?

Max was gently holding your waist; this was about to be interesting. Once you both entered the fancy building, you were immediately spotted by Paparazzi. He was THE Max Verstappen, obviously they were keen on snapping a picture of him. What they didn’t expect to see was a man by his side, holding onto him like they were a… couple?

This was like light to a moth; they took as many pictures as their cameras allowed them to take. The media was absolutely going to love this. The event you two were attending had a restricted number of Interviewers allowed, but the ones that were present had already set their eyes on you like eagles.

Quickly hurrying away, you found the table at which Christian and Geri were sitting at. Those two were the only people you’ve trusted to talk about your… relationship. Christian offered Max and yourself an understanding smile while Geri began chatting about how lovely the setup was.

You had to admit, the event was well planned. The food was amazing, the drinks tasted wonderful, and the décor was stunning. But you couldn’t shake that uncomfortable feeling of being watched with every step you take. Max noticed your stressed expression and slid his hand onto your thigh while offering you a slight smile. The atmosphere darkened as the lights slowly dimmed and the stage lit up. A man stood on it, thanking everybody for coming. He then shortly introduced the band that would play a few songs after his speech.

This was the moment you were scared of the most, now you had to participate in Interviews. Max pulled you to his side, giving your hip a gentle squeeze, as if to assure you. The grey-haired interviewer was smiling, if you squinted lightly, he looked like the cheshire cat. “Max Verstappen! Great to see you and your…?”, he glanced at you, still smiling. “My husband.” Now the Interviewer looked startled, his eyes widened at Max’s words while his gaze shifted towards the dutch again. The rumors of your painting had spread into the corners of the press, but not really taken seriously, after all there’s many lunatics in this world. The man’s unsure expression was replaced by a smile again. “Ah yes, the painting.”, he looked back at you.

“Y/n l/n, apparently that painting was made in 2018? Now considering it’s depicting your marriage, did you two in fact get married in 2018 or was it more a… artistic expression?”, he stunk of cigarettes and cheap perfume. You tried masking your disdain with a smile. “We did indeed get married in October 2018. Around the same time i made this painting.”, your tone was polite and lighthearted, like a feather in the wind. The grey-haired interviewer seemed to think for a second before speaking up again. “What was the specific reason for not publicly announcing your spouse?” His ice blue eyes now peered at Max, though your husband seemed unfazed. “The public doesn’t need any information about mine or his private life. This information is not essential for the media.”, Max dismissed, excusing himself and you.

With a sweet smile on his face, he guided you towards the terrace to the side of the building. The night air was fresh and clear. Max leaned his back against the railing, studying your features in the soft moonlight. You took a step forward; both of your noses were almost touching. “We did it.”, you then closed the distance between the two of you and caught your husbands’ lips in a sweet kiss. You could feel him smile into the kiss.

[butyou-callmewhenyourebored]

Matty Healy Imagine

Summary: In which you "dated" Matty pre 75 fame (2011-2012) and bump into him seven years later (late 2019) never realising you meant more to Matty than you could ever imagine.

Warnings: Swearing. Vulgar language somewhere around the middle because there is a tiny section of smut my friends!

Author's Note: Hope you enjoy this one. This was the 'Matty realising who his person is/in love with' piece that you all voted for next. Not entirely sure if it's any good to be honest but I hope you like it. A short blurb might be posted at a later date. Ross and George stuff coming up next! Enjoy! x

P.S If any of you can think of a 1975 song that we could use to title this bad boy I would be highly appreciative because currently I have nothing!

4.8K Words

When you met Matty Healy you were just shy of turning twenty one years old, you were still at uni and you were at a wedding of a friend of a friend that you only knew kind of through work and he was captivating from the off. He had a stunning set of curls and a cheeky charm about him, that had you knocking back whatever shots he was offering, laughing at all his stupid jokes (read chat up lines) and letting him feel you up as you danced until the early morning. You would have followed him into whatever trouble he got himself into without a single question asked.

He told you he was in a band with his mates from school to which you humoured him, nodding your head as you hummed in vague response. Of course he was, this was the noughties, every boy in your age range was or had been in a garage band doing covers of Blink 182 and hoping to make it big one day. What made Drive Like I Do or whatever weird name he told you any different from the rest of the kids?

Except they were different. They were fucking brilliant and when you found out they were from a small town in Cheshire not far from where you were from, you thought it might have been fate that you two would find each other.

You “dated” for roughly six months. You use the word loosely because looking back at that time in your life, it seemed like it was just a flurry of a lot of sex and a lot of fighting. Fighting about the states he would get in when he’d do drugs with his mates. Some of your most profound conversations were with him when he was high or you were both drunk out of your minds. But you probably fought more in those last two months than you did in the entirety of your next relationship. Which is a shame because you could have really loved him.

When the two of you finally admitted defeat and decided to go your separate ways. You didn’t hear from him or the boys again. Not that you ever expected to as he was busy becoming the front man in the biggest band in the world and you ended up moving to London for work and working up the ladder at your law firm and living with your boyfriend for the next seven years. You couldn’t escape him though, the band were the biggest thing to come out of the North since Arctic Monkeys and they were on every channel, every magazine, their music attached to every social media post.

Even though you weren’t on speaking terms with any of them because you had too much respect for Matty to make it weird. You knew George, Adam and Ross deserved the success they had achieved over the past seven years. Matty too, this was his dream and he was living it to the fullest.

You expected the success to find them. What you didn’t expect was to run into Adam and his girlfriend on your walk home from work one late October evening in 2019. He spotted you first, the two of you just standing in shock in front of one another for the first time in so long, in silence. His girlfriend highly confused as to what was happening until one of you finally spoke.

“Hi.” Adam immediately smiled sweetly at you before embracing you. “How are you doing Ads? Congratulations on everything! I knew you’d do it!”  You told him, your happiness genuine for him, he was one of the nicest people you had ever met.

“Thanks. Carls this is y/n an old friend of ours. Her and Matty dated what…” He paused a moment, whist trying to figure it out. “How long has it been since I’ve seen you? Seven years now?”

“Sounds about right!” You managed to chuckle. “I ehhh heard about what happened with him a couple of years ago. I wanted to reach out but didn’t know how or if it’d be weird or not?  Is he doing okay?”

“Better than ever.”  Adam smiled warmly at you at your concern.

“Will you pass on the message that I’m glad he’s well.”  You had started to ask but before either of you could say anything else. You heard the dulcet northern tones of a man that you shared your life with many moons ago, rupture through the evening air.

“Hann! What you doing mate? Who are you talking to…”

Words died on his tongue the moment he took in the sight of you in front of him for the first time since your last fight in the spring of 2012. Very rarely did Matty not know what to say. But there you were, his muse for some of his most beloved songs. As he lived and breathed, dressed in tight leather pants, a smart white blouse tucked in and stiletto heels that looked like they could kill him if he got in your way. Shock etched across your face but you looked more beautiful that Matty ever remembered.

“Hi” 

Your voice came out a little less confident than you anticipated and it made you want to shoot yourself in the foot but when Matty let out a breathy “Hi” like he was unsure of what to say it made you feel a little better. The pair of you continued to stare at one another, not completely sure how long neither of you weren’t saying anything but Adam coughed awkwardly and prompting you to look over in his direction.

“Well it was lovely to see you again.”  Adam leant down to press a deft kiss to your cheek before throwing a look over his shoulder at his best mate. “Hopefully it won’t be seven years next time.” He laughed, squeezing your arm gently as Carly sent you a soft smile and a wave as they both headed off in the opposite direction to you.

“You look good Healy.” 

You broke the silence, smiling at him sincerely as you took in how good he looked. He looked happy and healthy, had this glow about him and that’s all you ever wanted for him, was for him to be well. Matty grinned at your compliment before shaking his head, laughing as his curls fell in front of his eyes.

When he finally looked back up at you, you noticed the crinkle in the corner of his eyes were still prominent in his features when he laughed and this overwhelming feeling appeared heavy in your chest. A soft tingle rushed up your face, through your nose and prickling at your eyes. You didn’t want to cry but the softness of his face made the nostalgia wave over you so strongly that you didn’t know if you could keep composure for much longer if he didn’t say anything.

“Shit sweetheart! So do you! Sensational!”  

Matty’s words made you laugh, that feeling instantaneously washing away as you both laughed with each other for the first time again. Tentatively he took a step closer towards you. Opening his arms almost awkwardly gesturing for a hug as if he was unsure you would. You immediately stepping into his arms; his finding their way around your waist as yours naturally found theirs around his neck. 

His body felt warm against yours; hands pressed flat against your back, his curls tickling the side of his face as you curled up against his neck, squeezing him that little bit tighter as he attempted to step back and trapping him in your arms for a little longer. The smell of cigarette smoke and his signature aftershave the same after all this time, invaded your senses, making you relax into him. The pressure on your waist automatically tightened as he reciprocated your affection before you both finally took steps to move away from one another before it got awkward.

“It was really good to see you sweetheart.” Matty smiled; shoving his hands into his coat pockets. You noticed him shuffling his feet awkwardly, unsure of why he seemed nervous. It was just you. “But I’ve got to…”  He gestured in the direction Adam had left. “It’s a work thing. But I’ll message you.”

Nodding, you assumed after he pressed a messy kiss to your cheek and was jogging off after his band mate, that you probably wouldn’t hear from your rockstar again. But the notification from trumanblack not a hour later that just said ‘Call me x’ and his number had stupid butterflies swimming in your stomach that maybe if anything you’d be able to make things right with him, even if it just meant he was apart of your life.

That was eighteen months ago. It was now Spring of 2021 and I think it was fair to say you were fully submerged back into The 1975’s world. There were times when you could see the jealousy swimming through his brown eyes when you hung out with the other members of the band. Laughter echoing around whatever room you were in as your laugh intertwined with Ross’ infectious giggle.

Jealousy that this time around, your attention wasn’t solely focused on him. Which lets be honest a decade ago, the two of you were completely infatuated with one another. You were friendly with the boys but your entire world was Matty and Matty you. You can’t believe you missed out on this type of love that the boys were giving you. George was happy to have someone to entertain his horrendous dad jokes. Adam to have meaningful life talks with. Ross to go to when work was stressing you out, he always knew what to say to ease your mind. He had quickly become your best friend. All of them happy to have someone on their side to help wind Matty up!

You don’t even know what you and Matty were. Not long after you were reunited, the boys headed off on their American tour and you spent every night speaking to Matty over FaceTime once he got in from the gig. It was always middle of the night/early morning for you and after a certain amount of calls, you didn’t care what you looked like anymore.

Your conversations always ranged from what the tour was like, travelling, stupid things the boys had done whilst on the road to your work, missing him, him missing you, missing home and his mum and just wanting a good cup of tea. He of course was naughty as always and sometimes you found yourself wearing less and less just because you could and if he could tease so could you.

Yet once they returned home and they headed out on their UK tour, you found yourself working remotely and tagging along. This was everything you had dreamed of for him and it made your heart ache with so much joy you weren’t sure if it was pure happiness for them or you were slipping into the nostalgic feeling of being around him 24/7.

Then covid hit the world and you were forced apart again. You were currently living alone since your ex had moved out of your apartment six months prior but by some sort of miracle your neighbour one street over happened to be one Ross MacDonald. Him and his housemates so graciously offering you to move into their spare room for the next few months. Living with Ross felt like a better idea for your sanity than entertaining the idea of Matty if he had got in there before him, somehow you knew you had made the right decision.

Ross MacDonald was a fantastic housemate plus knowing it meant Ross had someone on his side when ganging up on Matty was worth it on its own. You lived for that shit! You and Ross also made a great team during your weekly zoom quizzes, having coming top of the leaderboard almost every time much to Matty’s dismay. Him proclaiming the two of you were clearly cheating on more than one occasion, which only made you laugh harder, the more he continued to rant. There is one thing you should know and that is Matthew Healy is a sore loser! This of course always goes down well with the rest of the band when he throws a strop like the man child that he is! 

Matty on the other hand wasn’t impressed by the speed in which your relationship with his bassist was forming. 

“You moved in quicker with Ross than you did me!”

“We never lived together Healy!”  You laughed at his pouting through the phone.

“Exactly!”

“To be fair mate. You were kind of a nightmare to live with back in the day!”  Ross’ voice could be heard from the other side of the living room.

“I don’t like that you two gang up on me!”

“Stop pouting at me!”  You laughed loudly at him, “To be fair to him, the rate in which we were going ten years ago. If we lived with each other. We would have killed each other and I’d hate to be the person to have deprived the world of your talent.”  You tried to soften the blow a little with a compliment.

“Yeah.” Matty sighed, before shooting you a soft smile. “Thanks sweetheart. Can’t wait to see you.”

The softness in his voice, made your heart burst and you hated how you knew how this was going to end up. “Me too babe. Me too.”

“Plus I need to make up for lost time.”

“What do you mean?”

“I need to accumulate the same amount of hours you’ve spent with Ross once we’re allowed out of the house.”

“You’re ridiculous. You know that right?”

“So I’ve been told! But you love me anyway!”

“Sure. Whatever makes you sleep better at night Healy!”

You laughed at the dramatic gasp of horror from the man on the opposite side of the phone. A roll of eyes definitely happened from both you and Ross who was drinking a cup of coffee on the other end of the couch.

That was a year ago. You were currently in the studio with him and George, just quietly watching them work. Adam and Ross long gone and happily tucked up in bed and you were currently falling asleep on the sofa and being held hostage by their lead singer. George threw you a sympathetic smile over his shoulder as you struggled to keep your eyes open, nudging his mate and gesturing towards your slumped frame.

Immediately standing up; Matty made his way over to you, kneeling down next to you and brushing your hair behind your ear so softly. That if you were actually awake, you would have leaned into his touch but you were completely wiped out. “Lets get you home sweetheart.” His voice soft as he pulled you up and he dragged you gently out of the studio and into his car, George’s goodbye muffled by your sleepy brain as he headed towards his own car further down the street.

Matty drove to his, your shit already there and tucked by the side of the bed in his spare room, despite the fact the past two days you had fallen asleep curled up next to him as you watched documentaries in bed together. You still don’t know what you were because friends don’t continue to sleep in the same bed with one another and not go any further than that. Scientifically impossible especially with the history the two of you had, a tension of the sexual kind always tethering the two of you together, no matter who was around, you always toed that line. 

That was all about to change.

When you woke up the next morning, Matty’s face in your neck, hands up the t-shirt you were wearing for bed, body wrapped around you as he spooned you from behind. The kiss he pressed to the back of your neck before moving away was enough to stir you from your sleep to search for him again in the sheets. Rolling over; you slotted into his side seamlessly, foot automatically intruding between his legs as your leg draped over the top of his waist.

“Don’t want to go to work. Tell the boys you’re not well. I’ll ring in sick.”  

You mumbled into his neck. His skin vibrated against your lips, his chuckles dying quickly in his throat as you pressed kisses to the upside of his jaw. Leaning down slowly he caught your lips between his own, neither of you bothered by whatever morning breath you may have, having seen each other in worse states than this. 

Matty’s hands moved from your face, dancing down your body as you tugged at his curls. Hands grabbing at the globes of your ass roughly as you kissed lazily in the morning light that was seeping through the curtains. Time was not a concept for either of you as you made out like a pair of love struck teenagers. You had gone nine years without him and now you didn’t want to let him go now you had leapt over that line.

A particular tug of his curls had him moaning into your mouth as he squeezed you against him, your ass firmly between his hands as you straddled him. “Babe gonna have to piss. Sorry.”  He mumbled against your lips, before wiggling out from beneath you. The both of you yawning as you both stretched properly for the first time that morning. “Maybe coffee too. Shit I’m tired as balls. Come on sweetheart.” He held out his hand for you take, finally leaving the confines of his bedroom.

Coffee brewed, breakfast eaten and teeth brushed. You and Matty happily trudged back to his bed after you called in sick to work and Matty text George some bullshit excuse as to why he wasn’t going to the studio today. The pair of you continuing to make out like horny teenagers until your lips were swollen and you were desperate to be under him and your wish was about to come true.

The hum of contentment left your mouth as Matty’s hands bunched up his shirt you had slept in the night before, soft kisses making their way down your stomach until he reached the top of your lacy knickers. Thank fuck for always thinking a head, you’d pat yourself on the back later for that one. Matty continued to press kisses to both of your hips before continuing his assault everywhere but where you wanted him to.

Looking down at him, Matty leant against the inside of your thigh, his eyes swimming with permission and when he looked like that between your legs, you’d happily give him anything he wanted. “Please.” You managed to whimper as his fingers tucked underneath the lace and dragging them down your legs quicker than you anticipated.

Matty held your legs apart as he looked up at you, hearts appearing in his eyes as he looked up at your heaving chest before delving in. Fingers wrapping around his curls, you couldn’t help but tighten your grip as his tongue swept through your folds to lick at your clit before sucking it into his mouth. Your back arching into his touch as he devoured you,  the pornographic moans you let out as he lapped up your mess enough to make him cum in his pants like a teenager.

“Fuck how have you got better at this?” You moaned; throwing your head back into the pillow as you groaned at his ministrations as he mouthed at your pussy. “Jesus fuck! That’s good!”

“Loads of practice.” He hummed against you, a soft kiss to your inner thigh before running his tongue over you again, before pressing his middle and index fingers into you too and pressing against that spot he loved so much.

“Don’t want to hear about other girls Healy.” You huffed, just as he sucked your clit into his mouth again, causing you to groan loudly. “Fuck going to cum.”

The grip you had on Matty’s hair was impossibly tight, the feeling of your nails indenting into the palm of your hand proof of that as your legs started to shake either side of his head. Matty doubled down on his efforts as you started to tingle all over, his fingers rapidly moving in you had the brunette holding your hips down as you started to gyrate against his mouth in a hurried effort to cum for him.

When you finally did, it felt like you were cumming forever. Your legs still shaking as Matty slowly made his way up towards your face, pressing kisses in the wake of his path before pressing a deep kiss to your lips. The taste of yourself now on your tongue making you hum as you pulled him closer.

“Could fucking stay between your legs forever baby.”

“I’d let you. That was fucking good Healy.”

“Hmmm.” Matty hummed into your neck, as he pressed delicate kisses to your skin as you ran your fingers through his hair. “Ringing in sick, best idea ever.”

After that; you too couldn’t keep your hands off you. You had opened the floodgates and you were never not having sex of some sorts. It was constant which was saying something because when you were both in your early twenties the two of you were at it like rabbits! 

Now that the two of you seemed to have established that you wanted to be with each other, life seemed to fall into place so easily. You went to work during the day, working with high end clients in the law firm you worked at and being a bad ass bitch by day and went home and fucked your sexy, talented ass man when you got home and hung out with the other boys in the studio at the weekend/days off. You couldn’t complain really and neither could they when apparently Matty was tuning out material so good, that George claimed that he was just playing him a song that was an old classic and not something new.

You had already become a constant within the boys’ lives at this point but it was when you were chilling in the studio, draped across the sofa and atop of both Ross and George as Matty faffed about at the sound board with one of their sound technicians that you realised you were all way too comfortable around each other.

The sound technician had been out of the room all of two seconds before he was sending you a suggestive look from the spinning chair he was currently occupying. His eyes drifted from you to his crotch and back again, raising an eyebrow to challenge you. But you weren’t playing these games today. You knew you were falling for him, 99% sure you already had and there wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do for the stupid fucker. But you wouldn’t play these games in front of the lads.

“No.” You tilted your head up from where it was leaning against George’s leg, to shoot your boyfriend a look.

“Why not?”

“Babe I’m not sucking your dick when the boys are here. Don’t be gross!” 

“Baaabe” He whined dramatically at you.

“Yeah. I object to that sort of behaviour.” Ross piped up from the other end of the sofa with a chuckle.

“I love you both but I don’t want to see your dick mate.” Adam looked up from his guitar in the corner.

“Agreed, we put up with a lot of shit but do I want to see your dick in our sweet innocent friend’s mouth. No.” George joked from above you. You pinched his thigh much to his annoyance, hitting you with his flailing arms in reflex to your assault.

“Your dick is practically in her mouth now. Shut up! Come on baby, let’s quickly sneak out.”

Your boyfriend’s unfiltered mouth, seemed to think he was funny. But his joke didn’t settle with any of you the way he thought it would. Especially you and George and it was the first time you made an effort to sit up and move away from the friendly giant you called your mate. As the awkwardness settled between the five of you, you quickly dropped your legs from Ross’ lap too and sat up. 

The atmosphere in the room had quickly shifted and you made an excuse to make a “work call” and left the room.

That was the first disagreement you had with Matty since you had gotten back together. You were up for a dick joke as much as the next lass but making you the butt of the joke like you were some type of slut was where you drew the line. 

Although to give Matty’s his dues, he let you talk it out with him after giving you the space you needed. He apologised immediately and promised he’d not slut you up in front of the boys again. Which if it had happened ten years ago, you would have screamed about him being “such a boy” and how he would have screamed about “how you just don’t get his humour and to get over yourself.”

“I’m sorry baby. I forget I don’t have a filter sometimes. Won’t happen again.”  He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, hands draped around your waist. “I’ve never been this happy. This is the happiest I’ve ever been and it’s all because of you sweetheart. Don’t want to mess this up.”

“I know baby.”  You kissed him back harder than before, twirling his curls around his fingers before pecking your lips against his over and over again, just wanting to be close to him. If you could see yourselves, you’d hate the two of you. “You won’t, I know you won't.” You whispered against the side if his neck, as you mouthed at his jaw and pulling a groan from him as you pressed just underneath his ear.

“I fucking love you sweetheart.”

You felt like your heart stopped as his words entered your ears, his forehead resting against yours as he pressed you up against the wall.

“Yeah?”  Matty nodded. “I fucking love you too Healy!”  You grinned.

Matty pressed you further into the wall, kissing you so deeply you thought you’d go through it. The moan you tried to suppress as you felt his thigh press between your own echoed through the corridor in the studio and it was only when you realised where you were, your mates just on other side of the wall. Had you pulling aways as sense invaded your brain.

“I love you but not here. When we’re home.”  You laughed at his pout.

“Only because I love you so much. Don’t think I ever really stopped to be honest.” 

Matty had the nerve to look demure as he said it but the giddiness as he bounced on the balls of his feet, you knew he was anything but as he looked like he was ready to burst. You rolled your eyes as you know what he wanted but you sent him a soft smile all the same. God you were down bad for the silly fucker!

“You can tell the boys! Go!” You shoved him playfully. Your laugh reverberated around the hall as he pressed a kiss to your mouth once more before running back towards the room you had both disappeared from. “She fucking loves me mate!”  You heard him shout as he burst through the studio door.

Not far behind him, you stopped to lean against the door frame as he bounced around the room. The boys patting him on the back with smiles equally as big as they voiced their congratulations. 

“We know!”  Ross cackled, rolling his eyes when he spotted you.

“Fuck knows why! You’re a pain the arse!” George smirked, pulling his best mate into a tight hug.

“I’m happy for you both.”  Adam spoke from his corner, a bright smile on his face as he nodded at you in the doorway. Adam had this all knowing look on his face, having been there the moment you reunited. You think he always knew deep down, this was where it was heading. You both loved hard and fast, he saw it first hand ten years ago and had seen how happy his best mate had been just by having you in his life again. He knew there was no way you weren’t going to realise that the two of you were meant to be.

Your boy turned to look at you. Leant against the doorframe, arms folded across your chest and the softest look on your face as you watched his energy bounce off everything he touched, it was so infectious that you couldn’t help but feel your eyes gloss over. The overwhelming feeling of love hitting you square in the chest as the four of them teased one another. Teased Matty for being soft. You caught each others eyes, Matty beaming as he took you in.

A chance meeting at a wedding ten years ago. A fleeting love affair. Nine years apart. 

A chance reunion between an international rockstar and the one who got away.

Yeah you were fucking so down for this man.

He was your person.

[noxtms]

❝   MR AND MRS HEATH PARKINSON request the honour of your presence at the marriage of their daughter pansy bedelia to marcus tybalt the 3rd, child of mrs bora flint at ilkley, cheshire on wednesday, the 25th of december, 2024, starting at 1 o'clock with dining, dancing and happily ever after to follow. black tie is essential, and it is the happy couple's request that children outside of the family members fulfilling named roles on their special day be kept at home. please rsvp as soon as possible to mrs vana parkinson, and if attending, complete the meal card attached with your preferences !  ❞

IN CHARACTER :

the parkinson / flint wedding ( promised to be the event of the season by witch weekly way back at the very start of the year ) has been a long time coming, and no one wishes more than pansy & marcus that it had kept coming ! arranged by their parents some years ago as a way of both bolstering marcus in public opinion after a disastrous media run and ensuring that heath parkinson's daughter was no longer living on his dime, preparations for their special day have taken years. everything from the overall theme to the location to the people that are making up the wedding parties has changed a hundred times over in the time it's taken to get them to this day, but here we are, and here they are on december 25th, 2024.

held at a POPULAR wixen venue just outside of ilkley, cheshire, the couple have cleanly avoided any temptation they may have had to inject some christmas cheer into their special day by giving strict instruction to the organisers to keep the snow and the cold snap at bay. stepping into the lantern & candlelit woods is like stepping into another world; the temperature is kept toasty enough for guests to walk around barearmed thanks to several powerful charms operating around the area, and the woodlands themselves are untouched by the snow that settles on the outskirts of them. wander too far off the beaten track and you will, of course, wander out of the range of all the protective magic being employed - but with so much to enjoy right there, why would anyone want to wander ?

guests are welcome to grab an espresso martini - the first of several wedding favors that also include personalised matchbooks, a strip of photos from an old style booth and bubbles to blow as the happy couple walk back down the aisle, arm in arm - as soon as they arrive, and are invited to mill around the dinner and ballroom areas until it comes to time to take their seat by the aisle. the orchestral band hired for the start of the event will be playing covers of popular love songs - wix and muggle alike - for now, and leaving sometime after the ceremony concludes to make way for the dj, a popular witch you might recognise from her stints at amortentia. a four course meal will be served promptly at 6, with the five tier cake decorated with flowers and foliage not nearly as exciting for everyone involved as the champagne tower that'll be filled, sometime after. all in all, it's set to be a traditional wixen ceremony with a traditional sort of afters, though anyone who knows pansy and marcus knows that the likelihood of everything being exactly as it seems is slim !

OUT OF CHARACTER:

we delayed for some very good reasons, but it's finally time for the wedding of the season ! with lucius malfoy's death earlier this year ( in our season two finale ), i always figured we'd have to take our first ever break from the malfoy family ball, and the parkinson & flint wedding has been in the works for a good long while, so what a good replacement it makes ! once complete, we'll be transitioning into 2025, and i've got a couple things up my sleeve before our five year anniversary period ! <3

this event will begin tonight, the 10th of january and run for two weeks, bringing us up to the 24th ! it'll be run in two parts, with the transition to the afters happening after a week - you'll have to keep an eye out for that post ! in character, it's taking place on december 25th !

no character is actually required to attend the wedding, nor are you yourself required to take part, but everyone's encouraged to find a reason to be there ! whether they'd have actually gotten an invite of their own isn't really that important, since it can be assumed that a lot of invites went out at random and there's always the option of coming as a plus one !

like our bach parties, this event will run both on discord & dash, just to make it a bit easier for people to take part since we're currently in what i always consider a busy period ! any posts going onto the dash should be tagged with nox.event046, and the location for anyone who tags it is ilkley, cheshire.

if you have any questions, comments or concerns, just send them through to the main ! and please give this post a like once you've read it !

[curiositydooropened]

Better Off - Part One

Four years since Argyle's wedding, Robin invited you and the gang to her boss's lake house. Hoping good memories will be made, you're forced to wrestle with some ghosts of your past.

This fic runs in the same Universe as My Whole Life, Too.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader

Wordcount: 11,019

Warnings: second chance romance, angst, fluff, sex and sex adjacent (minors DNI, thanks!), recreational drinking and drug use, mentions of pregnancy and parenthood, mentions of the loss of loved ones

Navigation • Masterlist • Part Two

---

The paper garbage sack slipped against the slick chiffon of your floral skirt as you fumbled for the brass door handle.  When the door swung open, you hoisted the sack back up your hip like a sack of flour, catching a rogue apple with the crook of your chin before it went rolling off the pile. 

“Hello?” You called out, stepping into a warm house. Windows were open on either side, a breeze trickling through the foyer and tickling your upper thigh where your skirt had ridden up, caught on your haul. You toed out of your sneakers and huffed your bangs from your eyes. “Anyone home?” 

To no response, you sashayed through the cramped dining room to the kitchen entrance to find a figure hunched in the warm glow of the refrigerator lightbulb. Blue checkered boxers stuck out from the waist band of painted-on black jeans, a black t-shirt loose around a slender build. You waited for him to stand before you slumped your groceries to the wooden countertops with a dramatic sigh.

“It’s fine, I’ve got ‘em.” 

Eddie Munson spun on bare feet to face you, a look of genuine surprise flashed before the corners of his lips turned up in that iconic Cheshire grin, all teeth. You were disappointed to find his dimples hiding behind the patchiest goatee anyone could grow. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” He cracked the beer in his hand and kicked the fridge closed. 

“Uh huh,” you practiced an unimpressed demeanor, despite everything in your body screaming to launch yourself into his arms. “Help me with the groceries.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted with two fingers and his beer can before taking a long gulp. His eyes never left yours, so you rolled your eyes and broke the contact, dipping into your bags to start putting things in a bare pantry and refrigerator. 

Eddie sidled up behind you, all spice and cigarette smoke and warm, arms snaked around your middle while his head rested on your shoulder. You cried out and swatted at him as his stubble came to tickle the skin where your jaw met your ear, but he only tightened his grip. “I haven’t seen you in months, and you thought you could get away without affection? You wound me, sweetheart.” 

With a resigned sigh, you gave in, sinking into him nearly deadweight, and he heaved dramatically to hold you upright, swaying back and forth as he pressed lithe kisses to the tops of your cheeks. 

“I missed you,” he graveled, that vibration in your back that sent your knees weak every God damn time. 

“Missed you too,” you rubbed his forearms before patting at his wrists for release. “Now put this meat in the freezer before it goes bad.”

He did as he was told, albeit like a teenager, balancing a steak on top his scraggly hair and one in each hand. He tossed them in and they landed on the frosty interior with thumps. “D’you run into him?” 

“Who?” You breathed, glancing sideways back through the dining room. Your heart began to race in your chest. 

“Steve,” Eddie answered.

You shuffled flour and sugar, baking soda, and lined it up against the wall, eyes still fixed on the front door you left open. “No, should I have?” 

“He and Nance went to the store.” Eddie picked three apples from the top and began to juggle them. “Figured your paths might have crossed.” 

Your shoulders relaxed, and you caught one apple midair and walked it to the fruit basket nearest the breakfast nook on the opposite side of the kitchen. “Could you not play with your food?” 

“You never had a problem with it before,” Eddie tongued at a molar, cheeky grin spread across his features again. His eyebrows waggled. 

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth. “I thought Robin made you promise not to be gross this week.” 

He shrugged, added butter, eggs, and bacon to the refrigerator. “Mom’s not home, and we’re both consenting adults.” 

You barked a laugh and glanced around the corner once more. The breeze swept in through billowy, white curtains. After a moment, they fell to expose the long gravel driveway. Your car was parked out front next to another you didn’t recognize. Out of state plates signified it must be a rental. “Yeah where is Robin? She left her boss’s vacation home in your hands?” 

“Ouch,” Eddie snickered, leaning against the back counter to sip his beer again. You shot him a look. He grinned, shaking his hair from his eyes. “She went to pick up Jonathan and Argyle from the airport. She left Nancy in charge.” 

“Ah,” you smiled, folding the paper bags in on themselves to stash under the sink. You hadn’t realized your hands were shaking until now, didn’t feel the tremor of your knee cap as it bounced in place. You licked your lips, glanced once more toward the entrance hall. “When do you think they’ll be back?” 

“Any minute,” Eddie answered behind you.

“Cool,” you breathed.

He laughed. “C’mere, sweetheart. Let’s get you a drink.”

You spun on your heel with a smile, nodding fervently.

Eddie’s eyebrows raised, and he tucked his fingers around your hip bone to pull you in closer. 

You slipped his beer from his other hand to sip. It was cheap, and a little stale, and the rim tasted of Eddie, cigarette smoke and spice. “I don’t think I’ll survive this week sober. Do you have anything else to help me out?” You smirked, trailing your fingertips from the guitar pick on his sternum down his chest and past protruding hipbones to the tight front pocket of his jeans.

He wriggled out of your reach, but you managed to sneak two fingers in to procure a rolled up piece of paper. Holding it between you, you were disappointed to find a one dollar bill in place of the joint you were hoping for. “Told you, sweetheart. I don’t do that shit anymore. You’re going to have to ask Argyle.” 

“Traitor,” you admonished. 

He chuckled, fingertips finding purchase under the flow of your t-shirt, just where your flesh rolled above the elastic waistband of your skirt. “But I can offer your something harder than expired beer.” 

You cocked an eyebrow. “Keep it in your pants, Munson.” 

And then, you were launched across the room. Not quite launched, but had the hard wood been a little slicker, your socks might have betrayed you under the shove Eddie gave you. Some beer sputtered from the can in your hand and splashed the ground. He stood up straight and flashed you an apologetic look before you heard the ruckus in the next room.

“Hey, assholes. Want to help with these groceries?”

Your heart fell into your toes. You hadn’t heard those tones in four years. Not that clear, at least. You’d forgotten how Midwestern he sounded, the long As of his profanities. It hurt, ached somewhere within you you didn’t know existed. Your mouth was dry, and your hand shook too hard when you tried to take another sip, so you placed the can to the countertop.

“Dude, seriously, there’s like three more bags in the car - “ Steve’s voice cut off the moment he entered the claustrophobic kitchen, and he froze right in the doorway, blocking your only exit.

You swallowed and mustered the courage to look up, and there he was, Steve Harrington in all his glory, arms full of plastic grocery bags teeming with snacks. “Hi,” your voice cracked, betrayed you.

“Uh… hi.” His pink lips quirked in a strained smile, and suddenly he was far too close, all encompassing. His face was clean shaven, but his hair remained long and voluptuous. You couldn’t help but notice the pepper graying his temples, the wrinkles at the corner of those honeyed doe eyes. It hurt in that spot again, emotion dammed at your throat, blocking you from making any more noise. 

“Awkward,” Eddie snorted in a singsong.

“Shut up,” you snapped, while Steve simultaneously groaned, “fuck off!” And at least that had the three of you snickering.

“Car, you said?” Eddie pointed past Steve, and the latter had to shuffle further into your space to let the other man through.

Steve smelled the same, expensive cologne and a bit of whisky, and you had to grip the countertop with your fingertips to stay upright when his bicep brushed your own so he should schlep his overfull bags off his arms. His forearms were thick and tan and veiny, and you busied yourself with helping him empty the bags just to keep your mind occupied on something other than being within touching distance.

“Oh, someone bought eggs.” His voice broke through the awkward swish of plastic and squish of styrofoam and cardboard and ting of tin cans.

“Yeah, me. Sorry. No one told me.” You trailed off, tonguing at a canker sore near a back molar that you’d manifested in the stress of the week leading up to this trip, the anxiety of this very moment.

“No it’s cool. We just had to get out,” he offered as an explanation, and that stung a bit too. “I mean… stretch our legs. Me and Nance.” 

You glanced his way, and he ducked back into the fridge. “Where is Nance?”

“Upstairs. I guess she’s not feeling well. Food poison from the airport, she thinks.”

You hummed and turned back to the bag, nearly empty in front of you. You felt a bit panicked, closed in, like your face was too close to the plastic and it was all you could breathe. You dipped shaky hands inside to find the last glass jar, white lid, full to the brim with the florescent brine of maraschino cherries.

You heard the suction of the refrigerator door close, and you felt Steve’s eyes on you, but you couldn’t look away from the cherries, each of them slamming into one another like buoys after a storm. Your heart thundered in your ears and your chest, and all of you rattled when Steve muttered the syllables of your name.

“Hey, look who I found!” Eddie burst through the door with arms full of the last three grocery bags, and the ruckus of the entrance hall startled the cherries from your hand to the countertop beside your baking supplies. You moved aside to give him room to drop his haul, and you glanced around his lean frame to see Steve scratch at the stubble on his chin, a far-off look in his eyes. 

“Is my best friend in there?” You heard a screech and the stomping of feet, and you plastered on a smile and stepped into the line of fire to catch Robin as she came sliding into the room.

She was all limbs and hair, and she cackled in your ear as she enveloped you in a hug, rocking you back and forth too many times. “Ohhhh, I’ve missed you.” 

“I talked to you yesterday,” you laughed, running your fingertips down her slender shoulder blades. 

“Yeah, but that was on the phone. I haven’t seen you in person in ages. Did you cut your hair? Did you get a new perfume?” Robin held you at arm’s length to shower you in compliments. “You look incredible. Doesn’t she look incredible?”

Instinctively, your gaze met Steve’s over Robin’s shoulder. Your face heated, and his lips fell open to say something. 

“She looks incredible,” Jonathan interjected from behind you, grabbing your wrist from Robin’s waist to sweep you into a warm hug. He always smelled of leather and the metal of the New York subway, and was the refreshing breath of home you needed in that moment, centering, calm. You and Jonathan had grown close over the years, seeing each other every few months for coffee or bagels or a slice at 3am between the bar and home. “You good?” He mumbled in your ear, and you nodded, giving him an extra tight squeeze. 

“This house is super nice, Robin,” Argyle commented, admiring the setting of your little reunion. He’d aged the most, but perhaps aside from Steve, it’d been the longest since you’d seen him. A sleek of grey framed his face, long hair tucked back into a low ponytail. His mustache nearly met his sideburns, and his dark eyes crinkled in a smile when he caught your eye, reaching to envelope you in greeting.

The room shuffled around to allow everyone to say hi to one another, and Eddie began emptying the final bags and clinking things around, and Robin yammered on about her boss letting her using his summer home before the season, and the lake, and Argyle and Jonathan crowded countertops and sidestepped Eddie, and soon you were sandwiched beside Steve. You leaned back to catch yourself, and caught the meat of his thigh in your grasp, both of your jolting upright at the sudden contact. 

“Alright,” you huffed. “There are far too many people in my kitchen right now. If you idiots want buns for your burgers and an apple pie for dessert, I’d recommend you all find somewhere else to congregate.” You wiped your hands on your skirt, the warmth of Steve’s denim leg sent all nerve endings ablaze.

Jonathan chuckled, hands up, eyes sparkling as he backed slowly out of your way and back into the dining room.

“Okay, Your Highness, Geeze,” Robin laughed. “Come on, gents. I’ll show you to your rooms.” 

“Oh!” You crossed to the purse you’d managed to drop some time ago and fished around the bucket for your keys. “If anyone could please get my suitcase and pillow out of the trunk for me, I’d love you forever.”

“I got it, sweetheart,” Eddie tugged the keyring off your finger, mischief flashing in his dark eyes. 

“Don’t even think about looking through my stuff, perv,” you jabbed at the pick around his neck.

“Nothing I haven’t already seen,” he winked, voice low, and twirled his way out of the room. 

You rolled your eyes and pulled the flour from its spot against the wall. 

“I’m going to check on Nance.” A voice muttered from behind you, and you startled long enough to see Steve’s towering frame rush from the room. 

You exhaled, brushing your bangs from your eyes and made to pull down a large mixing bowl. This was going to be a long week.

—

Robin’s boss had taste, or at least his wife did. Lakefront views, west-facing so every angle of the house was bathed in rich reds and burnt auburns as the sun dipped into tranquil waters on the horizon. The cottage-style home stood at the top of a slope downward, a deck with barbecue and place settings sat a level down, and the dock on the third level below, bobbing calmy in the wake. 

You licked condiments from the corners of your lips, fingertips stretching through a paper napkin, hunger from a long day satiated. Everything smelled of smoke and summertime. You tipped your head back, sunglasses gliding up the bridge of your nose, and basked in the warm glow of evening, breathing in the chatter of family, of home. 

“So, Jonathan, I hear you’ve finally sold out like the rest of us.” Steve commented, bringing his beer bottle to pink lips.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jonathan nodded, stretching himself out in his own chair beside you. “Kids call me Mr. Byers and everything. It’s disgusting.” Jonathan started teaching in the fall, photography at NYU. Freelance wasn’t paying the bills as he’d hoped. 

“I shudder to think that today’s youths are being taught by you four,” Robin pointed in disdain at each of the men in front of her. Argyle taught shop. Steve taught gym at Hawkins High. 

“Hey, I don’t teach. I hold extra curricular jam sessions and spend my time picking notes out of locker doors. Have you seen Mr. Harrington’s ass today? He’s soooo hot.” Eddie snickered, sloshing beer with every dramatic gesture. You swallowed around his words, trying not to imagine Steve in his track suit, hands on his hips, tonguing the whistle between his lips.

“Dude, gross,” Steve tossed his napkin at the other boy. “Those are kids. Literal children.” 

“Oh yeah! Nancy told me Holly was your student this year.” Robin cackled. “Nancy, what was it she was saying about him over Christmas?” 

Steve groaned, and the group turned to Nancy for an answer, but she was caught in her own world, staring off into the sunset behind designer glasses. Her hair was cropped short, sleek, perfect pink lips pursed in a pout. It took Eddie’s bump of her knee to realize she’d been called out.

“Um… what?” 

“Earth to Nance,” Robin snapped her fingers. “You good? What the hell did you eat?” 

Nancy had barely touched her hamburger, lettuce and tomato remained untouched and wilted to the side of her bun. “Nothing,” she snapped, pushing out of her chair. The metal feet scraped against wooden floorboards. “I’m going down to the water.” She grumbled and bolted for the staircase, sandals clacking against her heels with each step. 

“Jesus,” Robin grumbled, pushing up from her own chair with a huff, resigning to apologize, but Steve beat her to it, hand to her shoulder.

“I’ve got it.” He reassured, soothing her back to her seat so he could head off after Nancy. You allowed your eyes to trail his frame as he left, watching the shift of his shoulders, the slight limp in his walk still prevalent after all these years. 

“So…” Jonathan bumped you with his elbow. “How’re you?” 

“I’m good,” you replied, simply ignoring the implications in his tone. 

“They’re both freaking the fuck out,” Eddie translated. You shot him a glare. “Oh, don’t act like everything’s fine, sweetheart. You guys should have seen them say hi to each other. They were staring, mouths wide open like a couple of fish, man.” 

You groaned and tipped your head back again, praying the heat of the sun would disguise the warmth crawling up your chest and throat. 

Robin’s groaned matched yours. “You guys said you’d behave. This was a mistake, wasn’t it? I just wanted a good vacation with my best friends after ten whole years, and I guess I should have known better.” Robin Buckley was the master of guilt trips. 

“It wasn’t a mistake,” Jonathan offered. 

“Sure,” Robin chided. “Then why haven’t you spoken a word to Nancy all day?” 

You rounded on the boy with a smirk, the tables turned his direction. 

He gaped back at you both, peeling at the label of his beer bottle. “We’ve talked. We said hi. I see Nancy all the time. We’re good. The last time you and Steve spoke, he asked you to marry him.” He smirked.

“Cheers, asshole,” you grumbled into your drink, finding the disappointment of the last few drops of beer, now warm under your clammy touch.

“Whoa, my dudes, chill,” Argyle pushed his sunglasses up and off his face as he leaned forward. “We’re all adults here, and Robin invited us to this beautiful lakeside oasis to have a good time. Everyone’s going to get along, even if it takes a little encouragement.” He fished in the breast pocket of a technicolor shirt until tanned fingers exposed the stark white paper of one of the largest joints you’ve ever seen. 

“Robin,” you grinned, plucking the cigarette from the man’s oversized hands, “you’ve just been replaced as my favorite person here.” 

“Hey!” Eddie and Jonathan argued, but you watched with delight as Argyle leaned toward you, flame of his lighter a royal blue. 

—

With the sun went the warmth, and a blunt between seven people, no matter how big, quickly dwindled to giggles and hummed songs and playing with Robin’s hair between your fingers with her head in your lap. You wore someone’s well-loved sweater, the duck on the front no clear indication of owner, and savored the morsels of apple pie that stuck to your molars while you sunk deeper and deeper into the couch, your head light and your heart lighter. 

“I appreciate that you’re all happy high,” Eddie snorted, running fingertips over your freshly shaven shins. He meant what he said about not partaking, despite all of your whiny peer pressure, and you admired him for it. He was a good babysitter anyhow, and he smoked a cigarette while the rest of you passed around saliva and anecdotes about the daily life. 

“Dude, we appreciate you, man,” Argyle nodded slowly, patting his sternum in devotion. He confessed he hadn’t been high in two years, not since the first baby was born, and it was clear as his pupils grew wider, slap happy smile across his features. 

Eddie patted him on the shoulder in solidarity. 

“Dude, do you remember prom?” Steve chuckled.

Your ministrations on Robin’s scalp stopped, and you could feel the tingle of your heartbeat against your ribcage. You’d never forget prom. Steve wore a turquoise cummerbund and bow tie to match your taffeta dress. His hair was slicked into that perfect coif, and he met you at your front door with a corsage in hand. He smelled of peppermint toothpaste, and didn’t even flinch when mom pinched his cheek, or when dad gave him that hard ass handshake.

He danced every song with you, swayed under the lights and banners, until your feet hurt, and then he brought you a mouthful of bright red, spiked punch. That was the first bit of alcohol you’d had, a cherry floating to the top of your paper cup. 

Eddie snorted. “Holy shit, do you remember prom?” 

You sunk further under Robin’s frame, and she made a humph of protest at being stirred, tucking her cheek further into the underside of your boob. 

“What was prom?” Jonathan chuckled, but you could see his mouth continuing to pronounce the letters of the word ‘prom’, like it was some foreign word to him. You’d laugh, if it weren’t for the panic. 

“Couple months ago, I was cleaning up after prom, and I found this massive stash under the bleachers. So I brought it home, and since I don’t partake…” he gestured with a lazy grin toward Steve.

“I was fucked up. I don’t know what kids are into these days, but I almost - “ He met your gaze from across the coffee table, mouth quirked in the softest of smiles, until it coughed it away, running a hand through his hair. He shook his head and looked back at Jonathan. “I almost did something I’d regret.” 

“‘Prom’s a funny word, man,” Jonathan giggled. “Prom. Prom.” And although his laughter was contagious, had the room going, you couldn’t help but feel the familiar pit of heartache in your stomach that hurt somewhere new every time Steve looked at you. 

“Okay, dickheads,” Robin announced, pushing herself off of you with surprising force. “I love you, but you’re all being so loud, and Nancy’s trying to sleep.” She pointed to the floor above, disgruntled expression not unlike a toddler.

“Maybe it’s time for all of us to turn into pumpkins,” Eddie started a chain reaction of yawns and stretches, lanky arms over his head to expose a bit of pale skin on his stomach. 

The cold water was refreshing on your face, hair tucked into a stretchy headband and teeth brushed. You weren’t sure if you’d partake in another round of Mary Jane this week. This high went from cozy to anxious far too quickly, and sometimes melancholy wasn’t the ideal way to trudge to bed. You passed Eddie on your way out of the bathroom, receiving a slap to the ass that had you blowing him a kiss before you slipped into your designated bedroom to turn in for the night. 

Your room was small, with a double bed and a little nightstand, a chair in the corner that hosted your open suitcase, contents already strewn in piles around the room in the search for your pajamas. A small window faced the front of the house, moonlight filtering in, and the antique lamp on the bedside provided a warm glow. The ceilings were vaulted, a little nook of wood and plaster that peaked above the headboard, and the patched blue quilt was handmade. 

Steve sat facing the door, hands in his lap, socked feet firmly on the floorboards.

You jumped, grasping at your chest as you slammed against the closed door behind you, nearly chucking your toiletry bag at him. “Jesus Christ, Steve,” you scolded.

His eyebrows shot up in apology, head ducked. He looked small, unsure, like the kids he used to cart around. He didn’t say anything, but you watched doe eyes trail your face and linger downwards. 

You felt hot, exposed in a t-shirt and tiny bed shorts, and you shifted uncomfortably on the balls of your feet. “What uh…” You swallowed. “What’s up?” What’s up? Really?

“Do you remember prom?” This time you knew which he meant. 

He stood from his spot, took a step toward you, and out of fear he’d pull you in for a dance, you made about organizing your mess of a suitcase. 

Steve cursed under his breath. “I just mean… we were best friends once, weren’t we?” And God, did that hurt too. “I know I fucked up, I fucked everything up so so bad last time, and maybe I was stupid thinking that we could come here and it’d be like no time had passed, like nothing had happened.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, released a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. 

“And now I’m just in your room, rambling about what a dick I am, when you know that. Of course you know that. And you probably don’t care or want to forgive me, or - “

“What do you want, Steve?” You were surprised at the evenness of your own voice, folding a t-shirt, back still turned, maybe terrified to look at him while his hesitation rang like a bell in your head. 

He sighed. “Civility? I guess. I want a truce. Just for this week. For Robin.”

You glanced over your shoulder, saw his demeanor shift from desperation to something stiffer, unnatural, salesman Steve. You swallowed and folded your arms over your chest, turning to face him. “What does this truce entail?” 

He shrugged, arms mirroring yours. “You could talk to me every so often. Let me take interest in your life, maybe even take some interest in mine.” You cocked an eyebrow, but you could tell his facade was breaking, the corner of his lip quirked upward. 

“No referencing us, or Louisville,” you gestured between the two of you, watched his smile falter. “If someone else brings it up, we act like we have no clue what they’re talking about.”

He stood a little taller, hands to his hips. “You quit acting like I have cooties, sit next to me, interact with me, laugh at my jokes.” 

“Deal’s off,” you scoffed.

It took a second for your sarcasm to hit him, but you felt your lips tug up in mirror to his own. He snorted, shook some hair into his eyes. 

You wanted to reach up and push it from his forehead, to trail your fingertip down the ridged edge of his nose, to cup his cheek. You noticed his eyes scan your features, trail once again down your front, to your exposed thighs. You swallowed and hugged your arms closer. “And we reserve the right to go back to normal come Friday.”

His eyes snapped back to yours, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob before he offered a curt nod. He wiped a hand on his thigh before extending it toward you, brows furrowed in determination. “Truce?” 

You clenched your fist a few times before crossing to meet his gesture. “Truce.” You slid your hand into his for a firm shake, and you almost melted at the way his digits enveloped yours. Just like prom night, corsage sliding to your wrist. You broke away quickly with a nod toward the door. “Now get out of here, creep. I’m beat.” 

“Yeah,” he scratched at the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry. I mean… you know… goodnight.” 

“Night,” you smiled, and as he left, you couldn’t help but feel something was missing from your exchange.

—

Your midmorning scones were a bit too salty for your liking, no doubt a sabotaging tactic of Eddie’s. Everyone argued with you about how perfect and delicious they were until you waved them off, refilling your coffee mug and joining Nancy on the terrace while the rest trudged to the rickety dock for a morning zoom on the boat. 

Nancy wasn’t looking much better, although the pink had returned to her cheeks, and a shower did a lot for the bounce in her hair. She sipped water from a glass and held slender fingers to shade her eyes from the sparkle of lake water. Even sick, she was a super model, stretched a satin robe across a chaise. 

“How was last night?” She pulled an abandoned journal from your chair to make room, and tucked it under the rolled towel at her back. 

You sighed and stretched out beside her, accepting the morning breeze across warmed skin from yesterday’s sun. “Steve snuck into my room last night.” 

“What?” Her eyes went wide. 

You waved her off. “Nothing happened. I think he just wanted to corner me. I guess we have a truce, for the week.

Nancy settled back into her seat. “Thank God. I don’t think I have the patience for that right now.”

You snorted and sipped your coffee, bitter from a second drip, again a sabotage on Eddie’s part. You made a note not to allow him in the kitchen for the rest of the week. “Yeah, what is up with you? Did work just like go to shit since I saw you last month?”

“I’m pregnant.” 

Nancy was lucky you’d swallowed when you did, but you held your coffee mug aloft and blinked into your reflection in the sludge until your brain picked up on the meaning behind her words. Setting your drink to the deck, you swung your legs to her side of your chair and leaned forward. “Excuse me?” 

There were tears in her blue eyes, welling just around the edges, an emotion Nancy rarely portrayed. She was tough as nails, would rather lash out in violence than in tears. Terror flashed through her features.

You scrambled to meet her on the chair, pulling her into your neck before she could meltdown. You were at a loss for words, your mind just racing with images of Nancy in Boston, the least-tied down of the group, even less than you. She never stayed in an apartment longer than six months, always begged for stories that took her out of town, traveling the world, chasing the exact opposite of that American Pie life her parents raised her in. 

After two seconds of tears, all she’d allow herself, Nancy pushed off from you and swiped at her nose with the back of her hand. “I missed my period, which is whatever, sometimes it’s late. And then I threw up on the plane, but I just thought it was motion sickness of whatever, but something was off. Like I just kind of knew. So when Steve said he was going to the store, I tagged along and bought five tests at the pharmacy. Every single one was positive. Every God damn one.” That familiar anger flared in her eyes, and you thought her wrath might explode on the pregnancy test factory workers.

A thousand questions buzzed in your mind, but none of them bubbled to the surface, so you just ran light fingertips down her arm, hoping it provided some form of comfort.

“Steve found me catatonic in the bathroom, and I asked him to get rid of the evidence. So he knows, but no one else.”

Instantly, your heart sank for the man. All he wanted was a family, a full brood of Harringtons. First with Nancy, then with you. You couldn’t imagine how he took that blow. 

“Can we keep it between us please?” 

You nodded fervently. “Hand to heart. Are you…?” You didn’t even know how to end that question. 

“I’ll live,” she shrugged. “I’m just grateful I found out here, with you guys, instead of on a job in South Africa or worse, at my mother’s.” Nancy groaned and buried her face in her hands. “My mom’s going to have an aneurysm.” 

You rubbed between her shoulder blades and stared off at the shimmer of sunlight across the lake’s water, a little metal boat casting its wake your direction.

—

Light filtered through the kitchen window soft and slow, a breeze billowy gossamer curtains. You washed and peeled potatoes in the sink, an old apron tied around your waist that you’d found in the pantry cupboard. You hummed to yourself, some obnoxious tune Eddie had been singing all day, stretched out in his sun lounger, pale skin turning a deep shade of lobster pink.

Each friend had filtered in and out as you cooked, complimenting the scents of onions sautéing on their pan or offering unwanted help rolling out the pastry dough for the potato pies you were making. You reassured Robin you’d be fine on your own and ushered her back outside for an evening stroll to the nearest convenient store for liquor. 

You thought they’d all gone, surprised when a large figure loomed behind you to see the potatoes in a strainer over your shoulder. 

“Smells amazing in here,” Steve commented, stepping quickly out of your space to open the refrigerator. 

You hummed in agreement, basking in the waft of coconut suntan and expensive cologne he left in his wake.

“So, you uh… talked to Nance?” Steve sidled to the countertop beside you, thankfully a few feet away, and cracked into a beer. 

You offered him wide eyes, noticing the patch of red that rimmed his eyes like a mask from where his sunglasses sat. “Yeah, what the actual hell?” 

“Crazy right?” He shook his head, dipping back for a swig, exposing the tanned column of his throat.

You licked your lips and turned back to your potatoes, not wanting to slice yourself with the peeler. “How are you taking it?” 

His long pause almost had you regretting the question, wondering if you’d toed over the line, over the parameters of your truce. It was hard to fall back into acquaintance territory when you knew so many truths about him, his deepest desires, his biggest fears.

“Yeah,” his voice sounded small. He cleared his throat. “Yeah I mean it’s weird, right?”

You glanced his direction again, watched the pink of his tongue wet his lips.

He leaned a little closer, tilting his head your direction. Your heart began to race at the low rumble of his voice, breath fanning your cheek. “Do we know who the dad is? Is it… Jonathan?” He whispered the other man’s name, a sound for your ears only.

You shook your head, wiping your hands on your apron before elbowing Steve out of your way, transporting the strainer of peeled potatoes to the cutting board. “No way. They haven’t hooked up since like Argyle’s wedding. No, she’s been seeing this guy… Robbie. He lives in Hartford, and Jonathan just started dating this girl, Joanie or Julie?” You reassured, trying to disconnect any tacked yarn Steve had built on his mind bulletin board. Long gone were the days of Nancy and Jonathan meeting at your dad’s on the weekend from a friend trip turned third-wheel romp.

He seemed to relax at your reassurances, swigging his beer while he watched you work. He stood in comfortable silence, a sturdy frame with a silk shirt and board shorts, peeling at his label until you’d reached into the bucket for a third potato.

“And you?” He asked, voice a low rumble again.

“Me what?” You raised your eyebrow his direction. 

“Do you have a Robbie in Hartford?”

Your knife slid easily into the flesh of a boiled potato, making a dull thunk against the wooden cutting board. Steve had angled himself your direction, blocking any light from the kitchen window. He was too close, all encompassing, warm breath against your cheek. 

You glanced upward through your lashes find honeyed eyes, too much hope lingering in the way he watched you. There was something knee-weakening about the way he licked his lips. 

“Steve,” a cry of anguish separated you. The sun filtered back in with the breeze. Nancy slumped herself to the door frame, wiping sweat from her brow. “Robin fell and skinned her knee, and the blood is going to make me puke. Can you handle it?”

Steve elicited a sigh your dad would have been envious of, and he pushed off the counter to take care of his eldest child. You tried not to watch him go, tried not to offer a sad smile when he glanced back your direction, tried not to wish he hadn’t gone. 

“Are those carrots?” Nancy pointed to the pile beside your knife. You smiled and slipped one into her outstretched hand.

—

The crickets chirped their asynchronous tune, and the campfire crackled and glowed auburn off the water’s edge. Gravel  and damp planks carved grooves into your asscheeks, but the cheap cinnamon whisky Robin found provided inner warmth and good company. 

“Whoa there, sparky,” Eddie caught Robin as she swayed his direction, kneecaps covered in oversized band-aids. 

“Yeah, Rob, you know the rules. No standing when you’re this flammable,” Nancy chided from her spot beside you. She was huddled in close for warmth, licking the chocolate off s’more stained fingertips. 

“I just love you guys, okay?” Robin allowed Eddie to coax her back to the ground, knees curled to her chest to form the perfect mould for her chin while she sent heart-eyes around the campfire circle. “I just wanted to have a nice week with you all, like old times, minus the fighting monsters and setting the city on fire bullshit.” 

You all snorted. A chill wracked your spine, eyes unfocused on the blaze in front of you, much smaller than the one that engulfed City Hall. You didn’t often let your mind wander that way, hearing the screams of loved ones against the dull roar of those things. Every time you were transported to that moment, reaching out for Mom, Steve’s strong arms around your waist, hauling you back to a military tent. 

Feather-light fingertips stirred you from your daze, soft pads against the gooseflesh prickling your thigh. You blinked to find Steve watching you, worry etched into warmed features. Instinctively, you wrapped your fingers in his, the curl of his knuckles in yours, the steady sweep of his thumb across your wrist. 

Maybe it was fruitless to think you could shrug off a lifetime of history just like that.

“I just wanted you to all come here and get along, and we could just laugh and get drunk and just act like nothing ever changes.” Robin continued her drunken ramble. 

“Robin, everything good over there?” Argyle called from his edge of the circle.

“You tell me, bud,” she sighed, cheek pressed to the peeling edge of her bandage. “Everything good with you? What’s new? How’s life? Tell me something… juicy. A secret.”

Steve’s hand never left yours, circling a steady rhythm against the edge of your arm. Familiar nerve endings prickled. He shifted his weight to be closer, to hide your hands, all warm bicep against yours. If you wanted, you could rest your chin to his shoulder, if you wanted. You felt like a school girl again, stomach flipping like you were in a satin dress, watching out the front window for BMW headlights. 

“I don’t think I have any secrets, my dude. I’m an open book. What do you want to know?”

“Ugh!” Robin threw her hands in the air. “Eddie, tell me a secret.” 

Eddie leaned forward, gaunt featured shadowed devilishly in the firelight. He scrubbed at the goatee on his chin while he thought. He flashed a Cheshire smile before he responded. “I told Henderson you didn’t invite him. He’s pissed.” 

“Can confirm,” Steve voiced from beside you, lifting his glass with a nod. “I also told him.” 

“You guys suck!” Robin groaned, burying her head in her hands. 

Your entire body vibrated with the rumble of Steve’s chuckle, you licked your lips and hid your smile behind your glass. 

“What about you three?” Jonathan called from across the circle. “Any secrets?” There was a mischievous glint in his eye, and you yanked your fingers from beneath Steve’s while Nancy bristled stock straight beside you. Your heart thundered in your ears. 

“I’m moving to France!” Robin cried out, hands in the air, whisky fleeing her glass skyward, luckily in the opposite direction of the fire.

“What?” Nancy breathed from beside you, instantly deflating in relief. 

“It’s true. I’m moving to France, and I’m scared shitless, and I didn’t know how to tell you guys,” and with that, the poor sweet dear began to cry. Sob, actually, loud wails that wracked her tiny frame. Eddie was first to wrap an arm around her, pressing her into the crook of his shoulder and rubbing a strong hand up and down her spine, silver rings glinting in the firelight. 

—

You held Robin’s soft waves while her stomach evacuated itself, and wiped the mascara from the corner of her eyes, off freckle-ridden cheeks. You lay on the pillow beside her, nose-to-nose, breathing in her minty toothpaste while she hiccuped herself to sleep, reassuring her that no one was mad and that you all loved her, and were proud of her for being an amazing change in the world. She’d feel better in the morning. 

Her staggered breathing deepened, and her grip on your hand went limp, and the sounds of busied houseguests silenced over the floorboards, everyone having taken their turn in the bathroom before bed. You slipped from beneath soft covers and tiptoed out of your best friend’s room to gather your own toiletries for a late night shower. 

Just as you reached for the bathroom door, however, you saw the wiggle of a brass handle before the door opened to expose Steve in a burst of steam, towel around his waist, toiletry bag in one hand, gripping the fold of the waistband. He smelled intoxicating, like expensive aftershave and toothpaste, and you watched a drop of water from his hair hit the plane of his chest and glide all the way down a chiseled abdomen to the v of his hipbone.

Your mouth filled with saliva. Sputtering, face burning from the steam, you side-stepped, but he bobbed and weaved the same direction.

“Jesus, sorry.” 

“Excuse me, sorry.” 

Finally, you managed around one another, your socks wetting on the drip of his bare feet against the tiled floor. Your reflection in the fogged mirror betrayed you, pupils blown, bottom lip forced under your top row of teeth. 

“Hey,” Steve muttered.

You squeaked a hum, trying to stare at the darkness just over a freckled shoulder. 

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line tonight,” he offered, but you couldn’t hear past the hum in your ears, couldn’t see past the sturdy grip of his fingers against the door jam. You missed those fingers. Christ, maybe you should have declined that last shot. “I just thought I saw you going back there, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

You swallowed, blinked, tried to focus on his words. “Back where?” 

“Home.” 

You met his gaze then, honey eyes dark, eyebrow furrowed to crease in the middle. Home. It’s how you used to refer to him, the only piece of that Godforsaken place you clung to, the only positive memories. ‘Come home’ he’d coaxed, in that swanky hotel room in Louisville, fingertips bruising your triceps, same honey eyes pleading.

Your throat dammed with emotion, and you pulled away from him, glancing back at the look of hurt etched across your own features. You turned on the faucet and squirted toothpaste onto your brush.

“So are we good?” His voice came thick from beside you, too close, a looming stack of meat.

You pressed your toothbrush to your molars and hummed, feigning nonchalance with a shrug.

“Okay…” He seemed unconvinced, posted up against the door jam, fingers gripping his towel to keep it upright. 

You tried to hold back your eye roll, spitting foam into the sink, and thought of Robin craned over the toilet. You cursed internally and turned to the man, gesticulating with the bright green utensil in your hand. “I’m good, Steve, really. Today was just a lot with Nance and now Robin, and I’m just tired.”

“Yeah?” He still had that lost puppy look in his eyes. 

You shrugged and continued to brush. “Who knows,” you sipped dribble before it fell from the corner of your mouth. You turned and spit, rinsing your brush. “I might even let you knead some of the pizza dough tomorrow.” 

He chuckled at that, that sound that hurt somewhere within you. “I’m holding you to that.” 

You snorted. “Goodnight, Steve.” 

And then he reached out, linking his fingers around your wrist, feather light. “Goodnight.”And he was gone, floorboards creaking into the darkness of the hallway.

—

Midway through the third day, when the sunlight glinted off dark waters, and the bob of a boat brought a lull of contentment over the group, the homesickness crept back in.

You curved yourself into the bow, legs outstretched and glistening from your dip in the cool waters, head back against leather seats, basking in the warmth of the sun. Eddie sat at the other side, ankles tangling with your own while he wrapped a rhythm on his sternum with nimble fingers. Jonathan and Argyle splashed and laughed, somewhere just out of sight, too close to the vessel to be seen over the edge, but their cackles made your mouth upturn to a warm smile. 

And just a few yards away, Steve popped up from a swim, head swung back in a gasp, droplets cascading in pools around him. He swiped at his eyes and nose, treading water to stay afloat, all tanned and toned, a grin spread across pink cheeks when he spotted whatever ruckus the other boys were getting up to. His smile hurt. 

All at once, you were transported to the last pool party in Hawkins, the last time you’d all been there, before Argyle went home, and you moved, and everyone went off to college. Steve did his laps, surfacing at the shallow end to push his hair from his face, grin making you weak at the knees. It hurt then, too, knowing you might never see him again. 

He’d taken you for a drive that night, just out of city limits, to an abandoned farm house. You’d broken in, sandals crunching on broken glass, blowing dust from mantelpieces. It was there, you’d let him kiss you, let him touch you. You realized that even if you left Hawkins, you’d always have him. He’d be your anchor, your guiding light, your home.

Eddie toed at your ankle, stirring your attention from the sparkling water, from the boy breast stroking your direction. Your eyes focused again, and you cleared past the emotion stinging in the back of your throat. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” 

You nodded and shimmied upright, fanning yourself. “I think I’m getting roasted alive.” You pulled a tube of sunscreen from beneath your towel, the plastic soft and smelling of coconut. “Do my back?” 

“With pleasure,” Eddie smirked and took it from you.

You rolled your eyes, but gave him a soft smile while you cleared any hair from your shoulders and turned your back toward him. 

Eddie Munson was a life preserver of sorts, the buoy you needed in the storm. You’d felt guilty to cling to him, at Argyle’s wedding, when your internal storm thrashed at every sign of what-could-have-been. You apologized a dozen times, tangled in sheets and curled hair and tattoos, and Eddie laughed and trailed fingertips to your skin and understood. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” He grumbled, calloused hands pressing out the knots between your shoulder blades. You tilted your head to expose your left trap, sucking in a breath when he thumbed at a particularly sore spot. “Sorry.” 

You sighed, watching Steve reemerge from the depths, closer now than before. “Why are we here, Eds?” 

“I think this was a test.” Eddie responded, certainty etched into his graveled tone. “To see if you could be in room together and get along. I think it was the reassurance you both needed that you aren’t monsters.” 

You scoffed at his accusation, but his words rang true, cut a little too deep.

“You were both too proud to call each other, to apologize for being assholes to each other, so I think you both needed this to prove you were adults who could put the past behind you.” He squirted more lotion into his hands and lathered to heat it up before applying it to the backs of your arms, sliding lithe fingers under the straps of your bathing suit. 

“I can’t put it behind me. It’s all I can think about.” You confessed, chewing at a sore spot in your cheek.

“So talk about it,” Eddie offered, catching the back of your neck with one oversized palm, thumbs pressing into the pressure points on your skull. You curved under his touch, closing your eyes to the soothing pressure of his hands. “I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve caught him by the phone.” 

You frowned and glanced back out at the water. Steve was watching you, a crease formed between his own brows. When he caught your gaze, he turned around, dove back in, ear to the water as he stroked away. 

“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty,” Eddie sighed, squeezing your shoulders. You reached up and locked your fingers in his.

“I know.”

—

The dining room table was a graveyard of rustic pizza toppings and marinara in ramekins, empty wine glasses, tossed napkins, a clutter of silver spoons in ice cream bowls, the last bits melting into vanilla soup. You’d all moved onto harder things, pulling whisky bottles to the table to top off glasses, maraschino cherries staining lips cherry red when everyone cheersed to Argyle’s eldest son, Rami.

Eddie had been humming something all day, a tune you couldn’t mess through as the carbohydrates and the alcohol warmed beneath your skin, tingling at your fingertips and thighs and the tips of your canines, which you tongued in laughter, humming the tune alongside him.

“Will you two shut-up?” Robin groaned, tossing her napkin your way. “I’ve had that stuck in my head all fucking day.” 

“Me too,” Nancy sighed, swirling her cherry from the stem. You’d been sneaking drinks of hers for her, hoping no one would catch you, but getting tipsy twice as fast as the rest of them. “What even is it?”

Eddie shrugged, a wide grin etching a dimple into his cheek. He waggled his brows at you.

“Elvis,” Argyle answered, arms swaying like a wild conductor. “The King. Can’t Help Falling in Love. My wedding song, remember?”

Your cheeks warmed with familiarity, but you sunk into Eddie’s arm as he swung it over the back of your chair, giving a little shimmy when he sang the words to you, breath hot on your cheek.

“Never have I ever hooked up at somebody’s wedding!” Robin announced, well proud of herself, as though she invented high school drinking games. You all chorused various groans of protest. “Stop your bellyaching and drink up, bitches!” 

You smiled as Eddie clinked his glass to your own, and as you brought the drink to your lips, all sweet syrup and the kick of alcohol, you noticed Steve watching from across the table, thumb tapping the side of his glass. His gaze flitted from Eddie to you, and when you noticed you watching, he quickly stared at the ice cubes bobbing in his discarded drink.

“Never have I ever been eighty-sixed from a bar,” you sputtered, your mouth moving faster than your brain in the slog of your inebriation. 

Steve looked back up at you then, and a private moment was shared between the two of you as the others squawked various words of protest you couldn’t hear. Steve searched your face for something, you weren’t sure what, maybe some evidence that you meant what you’d said, some understanding of this olive branch, a truce. Then, you watched him shake his head, grin stretching across his pretty, pink lips. “Yes, you have.” 

You blinked, trying to remember what you’d said and how you’d said it, wondering if you’d misunderstood the parameters of the game, or maybe you’d misremembered that moment in Louisville, when things were at their peak, days and unending memories before the end. “What?” The room echoed with the same sentiment, although the rest of your comrades were cackling at your demise.

Steve cleared his throat, choked on an awkward laugh, wrapping his knuckles against the table. “Remember that tiki bar? We were hashing bets all night, and I bet you wouldn’t get up on the table…”

The room erupted in laughter, and chants of “drink, drink, drink!” until you extended your glass in a cheers of surrender and drank. Steve kept his eyes on you, settled back in his chair, but there was still that contemplation playing on his features. You had broken the rules of the agreement. You brought up Louisville, and if you were being honest with yourself, the consequences stirred something within you.

“Okay, my turn,” Eddie leaned forward, running fingers through his shaggy hair. “Never have I ever lived outside of Hawkins.” 

Everyone but Steve booed and drank, and you avoided his gaze as you went for another sip. That was too big a wound to prod right this second. 

Nancy shifted in her seat, sighed, giving into the game. “Never have I ever been in a band.” Robin, Eddie, Jonathan, and Argyle drank, mumbling under their breath about how bands were cool. 

“Never have I ever had sex with a man,” Jonathan chuckled, and no one was surprised when Eddie drank beside you and Nance.

And on and on the game went, targeting one another with hyper-specific memories, until you were all toasted and giggly, the game devolving into other silly little quips and anecdotes. You’d fallen back into Eddie’s embrace, finger spinning the chain of his necklace while you struggled to keep your eyes open, too blissed about because you were home again. 

“Okay, I dare you to tell me about the last girl you slept with,” Robin crossed her arms over her chest, narrowed her gaze at her target.

Jonathan paled. “What? Why?”

“Robin,” Steve bristled from across the table, his tone a warning, protection mode activated. 

You frowned when he met your gaze in warning, before glancing at Nancy. She sat stiff beside you, her own lips pursed and arms crossed, water glass empty in front of her.

“It’s fine, dingus,” Robin shrugged. “I just wanna live vicariously through you. I haven’t had sex in months.” 

Jonathan chuckled, ran a hand through his hair. “Alright, what do you want to know?”

“Her name?”

He swirled his ice in his glass, staring straight into it before muttering, “Julia,” and crunching down on anything remaining. 

You allowed your gaze to flit to Nancy, and she didn’t show any physical reaction, eyes watching him, waiting for him to look up at her. 

“Julia,” Robin mused. “Sounds sexy. Italian?”

Jonathan hummed a response. 

“The last person I had sex with was Jonathan.” Nancy’s voice cut through the room like glass, every hum of warmth and intoxication buzzed like live wire. There was a moment of recognition before the table erupted in questions. Jonathan wasn’t looking at Nancy, staring at his hands in his lap, but her gaze was unmoving. “Jonathan is Robbie from Hartford.” She offered as clarification.

“What!?” You, and Robin, and Steve chorused. She’d been seeing Robbie for ages, a regular basis, trips back and forth, something serious. You never expected her to lie to you about it. Secrets kept between lovers, you supposed. 

“Is Nancy Julia?” Eddie asked with an uproarious laugh, but the look of guilt on Jonathan’s face said it all. “Oh, shit.” 

You cursed under your breath, and reached for Nancy’s hand, but she swatted you away, teeth grit.

“I’m pregnant, Jonathan.” 

You buried your face into your hands and sunk further into your chair as the other voices in the room erupted in questions. You felt Nancy push out from beside you and rush from the room. Steve told Robin to sit down, and when you peaked from between your fingers, Jonathan tossed his napkin to the table and rushed after her, feet stomping up the groaning staircase.

“What the fuck just happened?” Robin looked to you for answers, and then to Steve.

“Well that’s one way to harsh a mellow.” Argyle grinned from his side of table, standing to start collecting plates and bowls to take to the kitchen. 

“No kidding,” Eddie grinned, pressing a kiss to your temple before he got up to help clear the table. 

Robin stood from her spot too, napkin falling from her lap to the floorboards below. “What the hell else is going to happen on this vacation?” She turned to you with a pointed finger. “You two better not be hiding anything from me. You aren’t sleeping together, are you?” 

“No!” You squeaked the same time Steve repeated her name in that Dad voice, your entire body warmed.

“Who’s the last person you had sex with?” Robin asked, point-blank, arms crossed over chest. “And be honest with me.” 

You sucked in your cheeks to avoid a laugh, the absurdity of the situation bubbling in your chest.

“Eden,” Argyle nodded, matter-of-fact, sliding back in to stack glasses. 

“Thank you, Argyle. I believe you.” Robin scoffed before blowing out the candles dripping wax to the center of the table. She shot you a death glare before stamping up the staircase. 

You shuffled in your seat, uncomfortable as Eddie hummed that stupid song, peeling the candlesticks from the tablecloth and bunching it up. Your mouth tingled, and your fingertips, and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. Eddie glanced down at you and winked, and you swat his knee until he scampered off to the kitchen where Argyle had the water running. 

That’s when Steve said your name, low and slow, and in seconds, your smile was wiped from your face. You watched the bob of his Adam’s apple, and he nodded toward the entry way. “Can I chat with you outside?” 

Your mouth went dry. You swallowed, nodded, pushed out from your chair on wobbly limbs, and followed him outside. 

Steve stood against the porch railing, hands shoved into the pockets of his Levis, soft blue sweater hugging the swell of his bicep, the expanse of his chest. The glow of the moon cast everything in blues and lilacs and silvers. Crickets chirped over the sound of rocking boats and the softest waves. 

With a deep breath, you closed the front door behind yourself and sidled up beside him, basked in the warmth radiating from him. You waited for him to speak.

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” He asked softly, after a long moment. “Jonathan and Nance?”

You licked cherry syrup from your lips, stared out at the expanse of trees and twilight. “I think so.” Your heart fluttered in your chest, the buzz blurring your vision and lowing your inhibitions. “Things tend to work out for people as close as them.”

He turned to you then, and you wondered if your eyes mirrored the hope in his. After a long moment, he coughed a laugh, scratched at the back of his neck. “I actually was thinking about our truce.”

“Oh yeah?” You smiled, turned to face him completely.

“Yeah,” he let out a shaky breath. “I was wondering if I could… add something to the terms and conditions.” 

The sweet breeze fanned your cheeks, and you closed your eyes, leaned into it, hummed for him to continue. Warmth from your chest bloomed up your throat, to your cheeks. You hoped he’d cup your face, cool your skin with his strong fingers. You hoped he’d pulled you in tight, press his lips to your own, tell you how he feels. 

“Just for this week, while we’re here, and we’re getting along. Could you maybe… not be so cuddled up to Eddie.” 

Your eyes blinked open. 

He ran his hand through his hair, shrugged. “Like I know you guys are friends, and I love that, you know I love that. And I know you slept together at Argyle’s wedding, and that’s cool. Whatever. You’re consenting adults, but it just makes me feel a little uncomfortable to have to like… see and be around or whatever.” He was rambling, and all you could hear was the rushing of blood through your skull. Here, you thought he wanted to kiss you, wanted to forget the truce, wanted to go back to the way things were. 

“We slept together a few times.” You don’t know what possessed you, but it just came spilling out, and the second something heartbroken expression flashed across his features, you wished you could inhale it all back in. Your mouth slammed shut, and you tried to regulate your breathing, your heart rate, the panic at its boiling point. 

Steve took a step back, nodding slowly as his gaze drifted to the toes of his sneakers. “Right, sure. Again, like I’m glad you’re comfortable with each other. I’m just asking for you not to like… rub it in my face.” 

“When did I rub it in your face?” You were embarrassed, mortified even.

Steve shrugged, avoided your gaze. “Just now, at the table with the song, the Elvis song,” he grumbled. “And earlier, on the boat, I saw him giving you a massage.” 

Now, a laugh bubbled out, a bark, dry. “He was applying my sunscreen,” you explained, and suddenly all of your anger from the last four years surfaced, bloated and gruesome, untethered from the depths. “And what gives you the right? I can’t spend my life coddling your comfort, Steve. I came here to spend time with old friends. We’re comfortable around each other. We have love for each other, and I’m not just going to stop acting how I’m going to act because you’re jealous.” 

His nostrils flared at that, and you watched the steady rise and fall of his chest and shoulders. He grit his teeth, nodded, shrugged. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s just so typical,” you cried out, fists clenched at your side. “You never considered what I want, or what makes me happy. You always had this picture painted of what our life would look like together, of the perfect wife I’d be for you, and I’m sorry but I can’t just do whatever you want, Steve. I have to live my life.” 

And God, the hurt in his eyes made you want to take it all back, but it’d just been growing for years, festering, peeling apart, and now it finally had an outlet, an escape, and you couldn’t hold it back if you tried. So you left. Before any more could spill out, before he had anything to say, you stormed back inside, slamming the door behind you.

“All good, buddy?” Argyle called from the kitchen.

“Fine,” you breathed. Your hands shook, your lungs burned, your jaw ached from clenching. With a deep breath, you stormed up the stairs until you found a bedroom door, and you slammed it open to find Eddie slipping his socked feet out of his jeans. 

“Whoa, you okay?” He asked, standing upright. He was all limbs and inked skin, scraggled hair, pale skin, checkered boxers, the perfect outlet.

You grabbed the front of his t-shirt and pulled him down into a fervent kiss. It was all teeth and surprise, but Eddie sunk into it for a moment, grunting and groaning as his cold hands slid beneath your t-shirt at your waist, and you dug your fingertips into his scalp, relishing in the sounds he made into your mouth. 

“Sweetheart,” he breathed when you came up for air, lips finding his jaw, his throat, the lobe of his ear. He whined, guttural, low in his chest, and gripped your hips. “Fuck, no. Stop.” 

“What?” You breathed, biting a mark into the curve of his collarbone. You pushed his boundaries, sliding a hand down the front of his boxers.

He yelped and used the strength of his sinewy arms to push you away, holding you at arm’s length. He cursed again, running his fingers through his hair. “We can’t.” He licked his lips, pupils blown.

“What do you mean?” You sucked your cheeks in, your chin raw from the stubble of his goatee. The inside of your mouth tasted metallic. 

“You know I want to,” he offered, watching you. He reached a hand out to push your hair behind your ear, but you stepped out of his reach. He sighed, crossed his arms over his chest. “I just won’t. Not when Steve’s here.” 

“This isn’t about him,” you scoffed, but your voice wavered, your jaw trembled. 

“Then tell me you don’t want to make him jealous.” Eddie responded, even-toned, and the hurt in his eyes was worse than Steve’s.

You swallowed and shook your head. “Fuck you,” you whispered before you left, the hallway a blur of too many doors and the sounds of your housemates readying themselves for bed. You knocked blindly, knuckles trembling, and Robin greeted you with open arms, ducking you into her chest and clearing your hair from bleary eyes. 

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A/N: This is part one, be sure to click over to read part two. Thanks, so much, for reading xo xo

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[puellamagifashion]

Kyoko Online masterpost

Cheerleader - White Christmas - Animal girl - Onsen kimono - Casual

Casual kimono - Santa outfit - Cultural dress - Swimsuit - Winter casual

Winter casual - Fancy kimono - 2nd swimsuit - Wedding dress - Cheshire cat

Kung fu gi - Casual - Big bad wolf - Gothic lolita - Casual

Festival kimono - Valentines - Animal casual - Springtime - Casual

Hinamatsuri kimono - Halloween - Maid - Reindeer - Band outfit

Courage test (Oni) - Football uniform - Raining casual - Lolita dress - Nighttime kimono

Idol - Historical play - Florist uniform - Springtime casual - Chef

Bar shirt - Miko bunny - 3rd swimsuit - Snow play - New years

White winter - B-ball - Clown - Musical

[your-divine-ribs]

White Wedding

Words: 2k (was supposed to be a blurb whoops!)

Van eats you out under your wedding dress right after the ceremony // Inspired by 🤍 anon’s horny thoughts… xxx

Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist

"Good afternoon Mrs McCann."

You didn't register for a second, didn't realise Van was actually talking to you, but as you lifted your head at the sound of his voice and saw him beaming at you, the realisation hit you.

That was your name now. You'd done it. You'd actually got married... to the love of your life.

"Mrs McCann," you whispered to yourself, an excited giggle bubbling up from the back of your throat and bursting free. You were giddy with it, drunk on the heady feeling of the love that you felt for the man who was standing before you, the one who you'd just vowed to spend the rest of your life with... for better or for worse... and if it got any better than this then you were in heaven for sure.

"Feels funny you calling me that," you laughed. "Doesn't feel like you're talking to me at all."

"Well you'd better get used to it love, 'cause this is it now... for the rest of our lives."

He reached out his hand to yours but didn't take it, he simply slipped it to rest under yours, your matching wedding bands on display, the polished gold glimmering in the sunlight which streamed in through the chapel windows.

The smile stretched wide on your face, you couldn't help it. Your cheeks were starting to ache with the way that you'd been grinning like a Cheshire Cat all day. "I'm such a lucky girl," you said, reaching up a hand to brush Van's hair out of his face, letting your fingers trail tenderly down his jawline.

"Reckon I'm the lucky one," he replied, leaning in close to you, your lips connecting in a soft kiss that rapidly became heated as your hands moved down to his bum, squeezing firmly as you pulled his body closer to yours.

"Mmm... keep that up and I'm gonna have to whisk you away somewhere and have my wicked way with ya!"

You both chuckled as you broke away, a little breathlessly. You were alone in the small country chapel, all your family and friends having moved on to the reception in a nearby hotel whilst you awaited the arrival of the photographer. The grounds here were stunning and you knew they'd make a gorgeous back-drop for your wedding photos.

"I'm sure you can wait," you tutted at him, hands resting on his hips.

He shook his head, still smiling. "That's just the thing, I really don't know if I can..."

You were sure he was only joking but as you looked at him that afternoon, all kitted out smart and handsome in his suit, eyes simmering with love and affection and just a hint of lust, you started to entertain the idea. It was just the two of you after all. No one would know a thing about it.

But you couldn't... you were in a church for gods sake... You pushed the inappropriate thoughts away, busying yourself with straightening his tie. "I'm afraid you're gonna have to Van... first it's the photos and then the car's coming to take us straight back to the hotel. We're not gonna have time for one of your quickies today!"

"Where there's a will there's a way," he smirked, a hand smoothing down over your hips to grab a fistful of the silky layers and netting of your wedding dress. "Don't tell me you're not tempted. I can see it in your eyes love, I know you're thinking about it. I know that look all too well."

He gradually began to lift your dress upwards, grinning mischievously.

"Oh my god! We're in church remember?" You giggled, not making a move to stop him, your breath hitching as his cool touch connected with your thigh, his fingers moving upwards to alight on the soft lace of the frilly garter you wore.

"What's all this?" He exclaimed, eyes widening in delight as he pulled your dress up higher, exposing your white lace-topped stockings. He tugged on the garter, letting it snap back gently against your skin. "Fuckin' 'ell, just look at you! Now I know I'm definitely the lucky one!"

"It's tradition," you grinned, laughing at his awestruck expression. "You know... something old, something new..." you indicated your grandmother's antique tiara and your dress in turn. "Something borrowed..." you slid a finger along the row of tiny freshwater pearls that you wore around your neck that your best friend had lent you. "And something blue..." you said finally, Van's eyes falling back to the garter and the delicate blue ribbon that was threaded through it.

"My beautiful wife," he grinned proudly. "You really do think of everything huh?"

Then all of a sudden he released your dress, firmly grabbing hold of your hand and pulling, urging you to follow him. "C'mon babe, come with me... I've had an idea."

"What are you doing now? Where are we going?" You asked, letting him tow you down the narrow aisle you'd just traversed nervously an hour previously, your satin-covered stilettos clacking loudly on the stone flooring.

"Reckon we've got about fifteen minutes before the photographer arrives," he called behind him as he pulled you into the far corner of the church and urged you to sit down on a small wooden pew pushed up against the wall. "Just enough time for a little appetiser..."

If his words didn't tell you what he had in mind then the mischievous smirk on his lips and his next actions certainly did. You watched on, excited and stunned as he quickly sank to his knees before you, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he looked up at you to gauge your reaction. He placed his hands on your thighs, easing them apart. "What d'ya say huh, Mrs McCann? We got time for a little bit of fun?"

"We can't do it in here! Are you bloody crazy?" You uttered in disbelief, imagining the wedding photographer arriving early and catching you in a compromising position, pristine wedding dress hitched up around your hips whilst Van had you bent awkwardly over a wooden pew whilst he pounded into you from behind. It didn't matter that the deliciously naughty thought lit a fire between your legs, there was no way you could risk it.

"I don't mean like proper shagging!" Van laughed, gripping the hem of your dress, bunching it up in his fingers and raising it, fixing you with a smouldering look. "Just wanna make my gorgeous new wife feel good don't I? You know I can't resist ya."

As he spoke he leaned in, pressing a featherlight kiss to the inside of your knee, eyes still on yours, your heart starting to race as his filthy intentions became clear all at once. "Can't believe you wanna do this now... in here of all places!"

"C'mon love," he pleaded, pausing to drag his soft lips up your inner thigh, catching the garter in his teeth to tug on it gently. "Now's the perfect time. I know what you'll be like after a few glasses of champagne at the reception, you'll be falling asleep before I've even got your wedding dress off. At least this way I can make sure the smile you wear for the photographer's genuine!"

"Of course it'll be genuine, silly!" You giggled, easing your legs further apart as he started planting warm, lingering kisses all over the skin of your upper thighs, his nose nudging temptingly against your lace covered core. "I just don't wanna get caught that's all. What would people say?"

"Not a problem... no one'll even know what I'm up to," he chuckled, and then to your surprise he pulled the voluminous layers of netting and silk up and over his head, nestling himself neatly into the small space between your spread legs.

"Ahhh shit..." you breathed, sucking in a gasp as you felt his fingers curl firmly around your thighs, his lips grazing over your covered clit. You couldn't quite believe what you were doing... and where you were doing it, but you shouldn't have been surprised. Van's fun-loving, reckless and incorrigible naughty streak was one of your favourite things about him, that and his ability to reduce you to a moaning, whimpering mess with his skilled fingers and tongue within minutes.

You could feel him under there now, his breath hot on your core, his tongue teasing you over the sheer lace of your panties, making you shiver.

"Van..." you sighed, an appreciation and a plea all rolled into one, your hands curling tightly around the edge of the wooden pew. You could just see his legs and his well-shined shoes sticking out from underneath the layers of your dress and the comical sight made you snigger to yourself, but your laugh was soon cut short when you felt him snare the lace of your panties in his teeth as he began to tug them down your thighs.

You were bare under the dress within seconds, fretting fleetingly that he'd torn the delicate lace in his haste, but you couldn't dwell on your inconsequential worries for long. Not when the heavenly feel of his tongue was a euphoric distraction, laving purposefully over your folds, seeking out your clit.

"You taste so good babe... so fuckin' sweet for me," you heard him murmur from under the layers of your dress, your cheeks flushing rosy red in response. There was something so deliciously naughty and arousing about not being able to see him but feeling his tongue fervently exploring you, every tender kiss and warm, wet lick intensified as you felt your toes curling, your eyes fluttering shut.

He grabbed harshly at the flesh of your thighs, fingers digging furrows into your tender skin, the roughness of his hungry touch a thrilling contrast to the soft blissful drag of his tongue. If he'd not been under your dress right now you'd have your hands buried in the roots of his hair, pulling and twisting his locks between your fingers. You had to settle instead for gripping the edge of the pew tightly, your fingernails digging into the wood as Van honed in on your sweet spot, tongue drawing slippery circles over your bud. He did it over and over, spurred on by the way the muscles in your thighs clenched up tight, the soft moans and sighs you tried so hard to hold back spilling forth anyway.

"Fuck... 'm gonna come," you squeaked out, your legs starting to shake. "Please don't stop... there... right there..."

You bit down hard on your lower lip to stifle your sounds, feeling Van press his face even further into your slickness, eager to lick up every last drop of your sweetness. Lightening bolts of pleasure coursed through you, zipping up your spine and radiating out along your limbs, your core on fire. You'd have screamed out loud if you weren't currently in a chapel, even the muffled whimpers you were making were amplified acoustically as they bounced off the stone walls.

"Shit... shit... shit..." you cursed as the waves of your climax peaked and then started to recede, your legs still trembling as Van released his grip to tenderly stroke your skin.

"Oh my god... that was unreal... now I know why I married you!" You giggled in between panting, your head tilting back to rest against the wall, trying to catch your breath.

There was a moment of fumbling under your dress, some incoherent muttering as Van manoeuvred himself out from beneath the silky layers, his hair all disheveled and his eyes bright, his red lips glistening with your arousal as he licked at them proudly.

"So it turns out my wife's a dirty little minx... who'd have thought it huh?" He smirked, giddily getting to his feet and brushing down his suit, adjusting his tie which was askew. "And there was me thinking you were all innocent in that pretty white dress."

"It's all you... you're the bad influence," you chided playfully, rising up on still shaky legs, reaching out to rest your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself.

The wedding photos taken that afternoon turned out perfectly, some would even go so far as to say they were magical. The photographer was overjoyed, enthusing about the pretty flush staining your cheeks and the sparkle in Van's eye, saying it added that extra little 'je ne sais quoi' that he always strived for when he photographed couples in love. Of course, you and Van knew perfectly well what the secret to that was... 🤍

[gothamslostboy]

Jervis Tetch w/ Alternative S/O

I know he’s a bad person but I’ve kinda built this blog on bad ppl/villians

I don’t support his creepy ass relationship with his sister

He was a bit shocked at first

He expected his Alice (male or female) to look like

well

Alice!

Light colors, long blonde hair, subtle makeup

You certainly were not that

But he knew when he first saw you

mostly black clothes

face covered in bold make up, particularly the designs made from eyeliner

Your wild hair: one part the brightest red he’d ever seen and the other a pastel pink

Every step you took making countless chains, pins, rings, necklaces, earrings, and whatever other accessories you had clink together

But you were his personal Alice

And he needed to talk to you

To have you

He was surprised at how easily you spoke to him- most people found him rather odd

He knew many ppl in Gotham dressed like you, but they didn’t live in this part of the city

Maybe that’s why you were so friendly

Jervis and you can be odd together

Before he even had the chance to consider well he did think about it a bit hypnotizing you, he had already been asked to go to the local movie theater with you tonight

You told him it was a movie you’re sure he loved by his “vibe”

He didn’t fully get what you meant, but he was fairly certain it was a positive thing

Jervis was delighted you had already been thinking about him, much more so that you could pick up on his tastes so soon

He said yes, hopefully not too quickly for his dear

He had already decided you were more than his Alice, you were his soulmate, future spouse, his Y/N

He was so nervous getting ready that night

He knew you didn’t care he was the Mad Hatter, being as perfect as you are you had figured it out early in the conversation that morning

not exactly hard to figure it out since he had just fled the scene in his full outfit

But he was nervous about someone else telling that murderous Officer Gordon where you two were

He couldn’t have his last shot at love be stripped from him again

So he hypnotized hired some guards

Arriving at the theater, his breathe left his body when he saw you

You had on a white skirt, reminding him so much of the dress Alice wore in the original story

But you’d also made the outfit so very Y/N

A black T-Shirt torn into a crop top, safety pins attached across a rip on the shoulder, your make up featuring the same blue from the Disney version of the tale, black combat shoes, little designs painted on in white that he couldn’t discern yet, and black ribbon earring dangling from your earrings

And his favorite part, embroidered on the skirts hem, was many different things from the story: a pocket watch, a bottle with “drink me” written on it, mushrooms, the Cheshire Cat, and several other little details

Somehow he fell even more infatuated with you

If that was possible

Even though he could tell from your outfit, he was still giddy when you confirmed you’d be watching Alice in Wonderland that night

The night was wonderful and the two of you began your relationship very soon after

You did all the stuff he imagined for the relationship, with a slight twist

Tea parties were had with black dish ware instead of white

Instead of calling you darling you seemed to prefer “love from darkness”

Movie night tended to be horror movies

Or

of course

Alice in Wonderland

you were so perfect, you even helped get revenge on Jim Gordon, though you did talk Jervis out of the murder

No

his Y/N was to merciful & sweet to kill

You just had the beautifully cruel plan to turn those close to him into his enemies

With a little hypnosis here, a little of you playing an innocent shoulder to talk to, and a little help from others Gordon wronged, you two had managed to leave Jim with no one to love him

Jervis couldn’t be prouder of his vengeful Angel

And you did it all just for him? Someone call the church bc I hear wedding bells

The 2 of you introduced each other to new bands and artist to listen to

Jervis even hypnotized convinced one of your favorite artist to give you a private concert on your birthday

Oh, and there is one more thing he LOVED about having an alternative partner

The hair

No matter what you did to it

Shave it? How wonderfully easier it is to see your face and the artistic make up you apply

Dye it? How many colors? What a surprisingly brilliant color combination! He’d of never thought those shades could look so perfect together

Any hairstyle you try has him giddy

And he LOVES when you ask him for help with your appearance; clothes, hair, accessories, makeup, all of it

Eventually he works up the courage to ask you to style him one day

It’s the best idea he’s ever had

It make his Dark Love so happy, practically skipping as you dragged him to your bedroom

Combining some of his clothes, some of yours, and making a small list of things you’d want to buy him to complete the outfit

You were absolutely radiant

He particularly enjoyed how close you got to him while doing his make up

Jervis only got nervous at the hair part of it all

He trusts his Y/N, of course, you always had his best interest in mind

But he didn’t know if he could rock outgoing hair like you could

So he created a compromise

No cutting, and only spray on or pastels could be used to color his hair

You happily agreed, and once you were done, Jervis was surprised at how much he fit the style

So much so he actually let you buy real hair dye

You began to give him trims, and later full hair cuts

The two of you working together became Gotham’s number one power couple

Any one who got in the way or gave you a funny look was hypnotized and had their dirty laundry aired to all

Occasionally the ppl who said especially rude things to you mysteriously vanished

But Jervis Tetch denied any involvement

I mean, all he did was swing a pocket watch at someone

If they happen to get the urge to kill the idiot who had the audacity to insult his Angel

that’s on them

[cassiopeiagarcia]

Wrote this for the Drug Cartel AU @cheshire-shuntaro created. Cass is a painter with perhaps too much imagination? A little help from above? Hope you like it. ♡

'He wants to do... what?'

An unplanned explosion of laughter, tears running down her cheeks. Dark eyes that looked for confirmation in her older sister's features, not believing what she was hearing. Cass had always known her brother-in-law was mad, but this... this really was something else. Stealing an Andean Cat.

'At least one of us finds it funny.'

'Come on! You have to admit it is kind of hilarious. I wish it had been my idea...'

But no joy could be found in Andro's perfect face. Not since that day in which she had answered "Sí, quiero" to the priest's question: do you, Andrómeda García, take Takeru Danma to be your wedded husband and live together in holy matrimony?

Worst mistake of her fucking life, if you ask me.

After wishing her a good night, Andro had left, ready to endure Hatter's emotional torture for one more night, the silence that haunted their bedchamber. He was fucking on the side, of course. Everybody knew it, but pretended they didn't; a blindfold covering their eyes, not seeing the honey-blonde woman sitting on his lap late at night, drinking from his cup, kissing his lips. That didn't stop him, however, from trying to get it on with his wife (or better yet, his appendage, because she was nothing more than that), if only because of his desire to get her pregnant, even if she wanted to claw his eyes out and spit in his face every time he was near.

But a King needed a Heir. Even his kingdom was made of nothing but white powder and counterfeit money.

Cass shook her head, feeling, once more, terribly sorry for her sister. It was not the first time thoughts of running away plagued her mind, but she knew they weren't realistic. She could get out, no problem. Hérc? Most likely. But the Queen was under constant vigilance, even if the only thing she did was tend to her garden. Blue, blue, blue.

The blonde woman went back to the painting she was working on.

A dreadful scene; a beheading. Her father, Fernando García, the executioner, holding the blade. Behind him, Orión, with sadistic eyes, capillaries bursting. Her sister, Andrómeda, the executed. Dressed in white; like a martyr, a symbol of purity, even if she had a child clinging to her chest. No tragic face, but defiance, on her expression. In the crowd, Hatter, with a smile. Aguni, horrified. Hérc and her, screaming in terror.

Was nobody going to stop this?

Could they not see how unfair this was?

After thinking about it for a few seconds, she grabbed the thinnest brush she had and dipped it in paint. Stroke after stroke, she formed a figure. A white rabbit. With its long ears and soft tail, looking at the scene knowingly. A wedding band on one of its paws, engraved with letters she couldn't make out. Did it say Fate, maybe? Next to it, a mask with six eyes and a red sigil. A card, the ace of Hearts.

Why? Divine inspiration.

A deity speaking into her ear, over the murmur of the wind: the tale is not yet over.

You can still win.

[thefairestfangirl13]

Okay but wait. From what I understood, Gabriel put the akuma in the wedding band. Which is half of what holds Adrien’s amok. The two rings together hold Adrien’s. Felix’s father’s ring is what holds his amok. Which he took when his father died. So the reason he wants the wedding bands so bad is because he wants to free Adrien. But in order to get rid of the amok, both bands would have to be together. So it’s harder to kill him. But Kagami and Felix? Theirs are both set to only one ring. Which could end horribly for them. And I also think that the cataclysm on Gabriel’s arm might be part of why Adrien is losing his temper so much. Cause maybe it’s corrupted the ring? Idk about that one but that’s just how I understood things to happen. I think the record in crocoduel was an Easter egg of how someone would have to get rid of Adrien’s amok. Put it back together, then break it. So in cat Blanc, the fact that Gabriel was completely destroyed, explains why he was acting so bizarre. He was almost acting like the mad hatter mixed with the Cheshire Cat. Which it would make sense if half of his personality had been destroyed along with Gabriel. So if my theory is right, Felix was fighting it off to protect Adrien from losing his mind. Though it would be fixed by ladybug with the lucky charm. Since only part of the feather is in it. Like I said with the record. But idk maybe I’m thinking too much. lol.

Gabriel didn’t just threaten to kill Felix, he actually attempted it.

With what we know now, putting the akuma in his ring was a death sentence.

If Felix hadn’t rejected the akuma then not only would Ladybug and Chat Noir have to break the ring but when they did they would have found both a feather and the akuma and WHO WANTS TO BET THEY WOULD HAVE HAD THE KNOWLEDGE TO NOT PURIFY BOTH.

Poor kid had to fight for his life, literally. We know how hard it is to reject the akumas but he didn’t have a choice, did he?

Also, consider this both proof that Gabriel was aware of this fact AND proof that Gabriel is just so so stupid..so stupid.

[whatilistenedtoatwork]

From October 23rd to October 26th, 2023

23-10-23

DAVY SPILLANE & KEVIN GLACKIN “Forgotten Days”; BLINK-182 “Cheshire Cat”; ALY BAIN & THE BT SCOTTISH ENSEMBLE “Follow The Moonstone”; NEW ORDER “Technique”; STEPHANE GRAPPELLI “Stephane Grappelli 1935-1943”; LOS LOBOS “By The Light Of The Moon”; THE FOLKSMEN/MITCH & MICKEY/THE NEW MAIN STREET SINGERS “A Mighty Wind”; OZZY OSBOURNE “Down To Earth”; BLOWZABELLA “Vanilla”; TELEVISION PERSONALITIS “The Painted Word”; THE BEATLES “Anthology 1”; THE FIELD “From Here We Go Sublime”; EMINEM “The Marshall Mathers LP”

24-10-23

SLY STONE “High On You”; SPACEHOG “Resident Alien”; RICHARD THOMPSON “Amnesia”; SUPER FURRY ANIMALS “Guerilla”; DAVY SPILLANE “Atlantic Bridge”; RAY CHARLES “Ray Charles”; ROY BAILEY & LEON ROSSELSON “Love, Loneliness, & Laundry”; SPIN DOCTORS “Pocket Full Of Kryptonite”; AUDIOSLAVE “Out Of Exile”; FRED AGAIN.. “Actual Life 2”; THE YARDBIRDS “Roger The Engineer”; DEPECHE MODE “Construction Time Again”; BO DIDDLEY “Bo Diddley Is A Gunslinger”; B.B. KING “The Soul Of B.B. King”; GRANT GREEN “Sunday Mornin’”

25-10-23

LOUIS PRIMA “The Wildest!”; ARCADE FIRE “Funeral”; B.B. KING “More B.B. King”; VARIOUS ARTISTS “Dr. Demento’s Basement Tapes #1”; THE VENTURES “Walk, Don’t Run”; AMAARAE “Fountain Baby”; THE CORAL “Nightfreak & The Sons Of Becker”; REUBEN WILSON “A Groovy Situation”; LUCINDA WILLIAMS “Essence”; SCOTT BRADLEE’S POSTMODERN JUKEBOX “Swing The Vote!”; CLIFF RICHARD & THE SHADOWS “Summer Holiday”; TUNNG “Mother’s Daughter & Other Songs”; EMMYLOU HARRIS “Quarter Moon In A Ten Cent Town”

26-10-23

THE GLOAMING “The Gloaming 2”; CLIVE GREGSON & CHRISTINE COLLISTER “Love Is A Strange Hotel”; THE BOOKS “The Lemon Of Pink”; AFRO CELT SOUND SYSTEM “Volume 3: Further In Time”; THE ROBERT CRAY BAND “Strong Persuader”; KID606 “Down With The Scene”; THE WEDDING PRESENT “Bizarro”; BMX BANDITS “Life Goes On”; THE GLOAMING “The Gloaming 3”; SEAN SMYTH “The Blue Fiddle”; QUINCY JONES “The Dude”; SUM 41 “Does This Look Infected”; EMINEM “The Eminem Show”; PET SHOP BOYS “Very”; MADONNA “Like A Virgin”