#white high gloss coffee table

[forever-lunasea]

Living Room Enclosed

[bluefuzzball]

Sun Room Large Idea for a large, contemporary sunroom with beige flooring, no fireplace, and a glass ceiling

[fashiongifs74]

Contemporary Family Room - Family Room Family room: large, modern, open-concept design with a bar, white walls, a ribbon fireplace, a tile fireplace, and a wall-mounted television.

[storyarcade]

Los Angeles Modern Family Room Example of a mid-sized minimalist enclosed linoleum floor family room design with white walls, a ribbon fireplace, a metal fireplace and no tv

[donatellawritings]

🎀 ྀིྀི

౨ৎ introducing babydoll!reader and dealer!rafe

loud trap music boomed through the speakers, bass echoing through the air of tannyhill as rafe adjusted his hips, throwing his head back with a shit-eating grin, his nostril dusted with a remanence of the finely cut coke that once laid neatly lined up on the coffee table beside his titanium amex card. running a hand through his stringy strands, rafe lets out a relaxed huff as he straightens himself out, bringing his intoxicated gaze to the flimsy wad of cash that rested in his free hand.

you were a bit skittish about trying coke for the first time, let alone purchasing it on your own, so having to do it in the midst of a party left you all shy and timid.

everything about you screamed fabulosity — you always wore the finest of vintage designer clothes, your shiny hair remained in a bouncy bombshell blowout — perfectly trimmed layers framing your face just right, your acrylic nails remained long, the tapered edges sharp and glazed with a glittery polish. you weren’t all that spunky, as some would say, but you packed quite the attitude, if you didn’t get your way. you were doused in the shiniest of jewelry, your fingers covered in dainty diamond bands. and every accessory you owned, just so happened to be a variation of a soft powder pink! i mean, you absolutely loved pink! to the point where even the reusable straw that sat at the bottom of your birkin had to be pink. your volume set of lash extensions always remained filled in and perfectly curled, your filled lips always swelled from the shimmery plumping gloss that you smeared on them every fifteen minutes or so.

so, seeing a dainty little thing like you approaching the coffee table left rafe a bit taken aback, “um, excuse me,” you called out, suddenly too aware of just how high the slits of your baby pink ruffle tube dress sat. forcing a smile, you squirm just a bit at the strong gaze of the young man who sat before you, a joint sat behind his ear as he cocks his head to the side, “i, uh — can i buy some c—” you began, immediately silenced as he looks up at you through lowly hung eyes and a slightly opened mouth.

“y’even old enough to be here, kid?” rafe questions smugly, stealing a quick glance at your nipples that poked through the thing fabric of your dress, money still in-hand as he flicks his eyes back up to meet your shy gaze, “can’t talk now, huh? well, i don’t sell to little girls,” he adds, his pink lips remaining parted as he continues to silently sift through the countless wrinkled dollar bills that sat in his hold.

pursing your sticky swollen lips into a pout, you lightly stomp your miu miu kitten heel into the flooring of the patio, your doe eyes silently pleading with your godbrother who stood leaned against the wall, rolling his eyes knowingly, “yo, country club she’s a’ight — only a line though — s’my godsister,” your godbrother barry tuts at the young man, motioning towards you with a nod.

now still, you watch as the blue eyed man quickly flits a glance between you and barry, a chuckle of disbelief leaving his mouth as he tongues the inside of his cheek, before straightening his posture, “shit — yeah man, let me cut one up for her,” he smiles, carelessly leaving the stack of wilted bills to his side as barry motions for you to take a seat.

“eek! thank you barry, thank you, thank you, thank you!” you shriek excitedly, rushing to swing your arms around your unamused godbrother’s neck as he stiffly pats your back with pursed lips.

“yeah, yeah — one line, don’t get used to this shit either, a’ight?” barry pulls away, pointing a scolding finger at you.

feverishly nodding, you sink your top teeth into your bottom lip, all peppy and anxious as you politely take a seat beside rafe, “this is my first time,” you breathe out with a coy laugh as rafe nods wordlessly, carefully pouring a small pile of coke on the glass table.

carefully slicing into the white mound with his credit card, rafe glances over at you, “yeah? m’surprised barry even allowed you to come here, pretty girls like you shouldn’t be around this, hm?” he questions, sliding his tongue over his lips and he meticulously cuts the coke into three tight lines.

“i just — i wanted to try it, just one time—” you began.

“in your pretty mouth or up your nose?” rafe sighs, leaving you wide eyed and dumbfounded. you were entirely new to this kind of thing — you were always taught that drugs were icky.

parting your lips, you shrug, your glassy eyes darting all around for your godbrother who was nowhere to be found. nervously flipping your hair over your shoulder, you watch as rafe snorts a line clean off of the glass surface, rolling his shoulders back as he swipes his nostril clean of any residue.

“i don’t kn—”

bringing a strong hand to clamp around the back of your neck, rafe smiles, his pupils blown to hell as he carefully looks you over — he could ruin you so easily, but he wouldn’t … not yet, at least.

“open your mouth, kid,” he speaks sternly, stringy strands of fringe covering his eyes as you nod obediently, parting your swollen lips, “atta girl, now this s’gonna be the first and last time y’do this shit, so enjoy it, yeah?” he decides, bringing his hand to lightly grin your chin as two fingers on his free hand gather some of the coke that rested on the table.

forcing your eyes shut, you whimper as rafe’s thick fingers slide underneath your top lip, gently smearing the powder across your gums, “gross,” you whine, your small hand latching on to rafe’s wrist as he pulls his fingers from your mouth, his eyes carefully watching the way your pupils slowly expand.

privy to the way your eyes glaze over, rafe nudges your jaw with a rough knuckle, “gotta keep those pretty eyes open, kid — s’alot the first time but y’can take it,” he tuts, earning a slow nod from you as he makes the bold decision cup a hand under your chin, lightly squeezing your cheeks and ever so gently kneading into the soft skin with his fingers, “better not catch y’doin this shit after today, either — y’got that?” he questions, his bright blue eyes narrowed as you lick over your suddenly dry lips.

“i won’t!” you squeak.

“good, because now y—”

“country club, y’better back the fuck up off my godsister, before i knock y’rich boy ass out,” barry warns, causing rafe to flinch slightly as you gaze up at barry with wet eyes, your heart racing in your chest, “c’mon babydoll, m’takin you home,” barry whistles, your eyes quickly darting to rafe with parted swollen lips as you sent him an apologetic pout.

jumping to stand on your mule-clad feet, you take a steadying breath before sending a perky wave towards rafe, “bye!” you chirp, spinning to follow barry, your dress blowing up to give rafe the quickest peek at the hot pink thong that clung to your plump ass.

rafe was going to get himself killed messing around with you, but fuck, it would be so worth it.

[vaaaaaiolet]

You accidentally throw a monkey wrench into supermodel Leon's Calvin Klein photoshoot, but you can't sweet-talk your way out of this one. Kennedy's got your tongue and your panties in a bunch.

Better hope you've got a fix up your sleeve.

f / m, slight nsfw, you just thirst over leon + you're REALLY awkward, fluff + romance, stupid one-liner attempts at humor + hunnigan mention!! I GIVE MYSELF THE ICK.

word count: 913 // read on ao3

a/n: @chesue00 made this GODLY ART. and i RAN INTO PEOPLE in PUBLIC looking at it because it got me so dizzy. i don't know what to DO WITH MYSELF 😭

find more drabbles in my collection: sketches for my sweetheart the drunk!

You’d passed all your English classes in college, but right now? It’d be a hell of a lot more useful to have taken a few in sign language.

“What’s wrong with her?” 

The camera crew’s never been able to perfect the art of the whisper. 

“Did she lose her voice or something?”

You fumble with the reflectors for the millionth time, bright material projecting your flushed face to high heaven on all three of the cameras’ viewfinders. 

There’s a really unfunny joke that starts like this: a photography intern walks into a bar.

Said bar happens to be supermodel Leon S. Kennedy’s back because you weren’t watching where you were going on the biggest day of your career, a Kennedy x Klein collab shoot starring the man you’d only been crushing on for, what, ever since you picked up your first fashion magazine? You’d left a sizeable smear of makeup on the pristine white of his T-shirt as a parting gift, and after that, you’d lost your ability to form words in shame. Mortifying, paralyzing shame.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

And as if in agreement, Leon’s agent bristles on the break couch behind you. 

He’s still in that stained shirt, by the way. Sipping thoughtfully from a bottle of water while his agent sounds off beside him, but the only thing on your mind is what you’d give to be on his drink’s business end. Condensation drips onto the coffee table when Leon sets it down, drop by tantalizing drop sliding down his fingers, ice melting in his palm that’s just big enough to grab a plush handful of your- 

His agent tears through your daydream, madder than a wet hen. ”There’s no time to order an exact replacement!”

“It’s just a shirt,” Leon chuckles, and you hear rolling thunder on the horizon. You’ve got it bad.

“It very clearly states in the Kennedy x Klein contract that we need a picture of you in a white T-shirt.”

“A tiny bit of lip gloss-” 

“An obvious stain!” the spectacled woman squawks. 

“Stain, whatever – just stop freaking that poor girl out, yeah?” 

Your ears perk up rabbit-style.

“Look at her, Ingrid,” Leon continues, and every cell of your body lights on fire because he has to be training his gunmetal eyes on right on you. “Poor thing hasn’t said a word since you started going off about that tiny mark. Turn around, sweetheart, just a moment.”

Who put your feet on a turntable? 

“See? Eyes bigger than the goddamn moon.”

And you just might faint, too. But you’ve got to fix this before you do. 

“Uhm, we…we could…” he nods when you stutter, patient as a saint, he’d talk you through it for sure, “take…the shirt…off?” 

A tilt of his handsome head. “Come again?”

You need to put your money where your mouth is. Even if the latter’s on strike right now. Pointing your chin back towards the set, you jerk your head for him to follow. Leon’s agent pinches the bridge of her nose, mumbling something about leaps of faith from chandeliers and not again, but the man in the stained shirt couldn’t seem to care less. His eyes gleam.

“Hands-on, then.” Leon cracks a grin, rising to his feet. “I’m all yours.” 

Leon is desire painted monochrome.

You nearly throw yourself over the table at the back of the shoot the minute Leon pops up on your monitor. The printer spits out picture after picture that couldn’t be safe for work in your wildest dreams, but here you are, getting paid to take softcore of Calvin Klein’s newest poster boy, and your jaw is about to make friends with the floor.  

You didn’t know eyes could talk before Leon Kennedy. 

In one shot, he’s gazing at you from the glossed page, bedroom blues sizing you up. He’s daring you. Drag your eyes down the page. Go on.

And oh, if the the journey doesn’t reveal the ridged muscles lining Leon’s stomach as he reaches to shuck the shirt off his shoulders. The stain is a forgotten memory replaced by a new one burned into your brain for the rest of eternity, and you’re not the talking about the cologne. You’re staring at the patterned Calvin Klein waistband of his boxers. Slung dangerously low over his hips, begging to be relieved of their duty, so close you could pull them off with your teeth. 

“Any closer and you’re gonna lick the page, doll.” 

And mess up his pretty face? You wouldn’t dream of it.

Leon laughs when you go ramrod straight. “Seriously. You did amazing with that shirt-pulling save,” he says. “I know it’s a little intimidating to work with Ingrid and my team, but you handled it like a champ.” 

He tugs the photo out from under your fingers, uncapping a nearby pen to scribble something onto its backside. His tongue pokes out when he writes. He’s the cutest Adonis you’ve ever seen when he hands it back. “I knew you could,” he adds.

And then all too soon, just as your own tongue regains feeling, Leon leaves amidst the flurry of post-production. Leaves is the polite way to put it; his agent practically hauls him out by the collar by the time you muster up the courage to wave goodbye. 

Really? After everything’s all done? 

Well, almost. You flip the photo to read his note.

Pretty eyes, pretty mouth too. Put that second one to use next time? :)

They do say practice makes perfect.

click for my full drabble collection, and find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Steal Your Heart (Part 1)

When the calling card of the infamous Knave of Hearts arrives, he’ll rob his victims blind of their most treasured items on the appointed date. Enter ace detective Yuu accompanied by rookie cop Deuce Spade, both seeking to apprehend the Knave and bring him to justice.

Will they succeed, or will the phantom thief steal their valuables--and their hearts--first?

This was originally meant to be one fic, but it was getting to be WAY too long. I decided to split it in half and release this part now and the second part (which I am still working on!) later. This first part focuses more on Yuu and Deuce; the second part will be more Yuu and Ace.

(Please note: there are slight romantic implications in the form of an Ace/Yuu/Deuce love triangle, but those elements could also be interpreted as platonic or as just playful teasing with no additional meaning. It’s all in the eyes of the reader!)

Imagine this...

The police station’s waiting room was a familiar sight.

With time, the shiny checkered floor had grown matte, marred with scratches and scuffs from the boots that crossed it on a daily basis. Someone had taken to attempt to pretty up the otherwise dull space by hanging out abstract paintings on the cream-colored walls, and a vase of white roses dripping with red paint at the check-in desk. There was as even a glass tank which housed a small family of colorful hedgehogs.

Maybe they were meant to be welcoming—but really, they were more clashing than anything. Certainly not a fit for the stiff atmosphere of the station.

Still the fluorescent lightbulbs buzzed faintly, flickering in and out on occasion. The sound distracted from the old television mounted in a corner to entertain guests. It seemed to play commercials on a loop more often than it played actual shows. Currently, an Olympus Corp. branded tablet was being toted as the next big technological marvel—though the TV’s audio was fuzzy at best, and the image half static.

A coffee table pushed to the wall, stacked with a new stash of magazines. Whoever updated the reading materials—most likely the friendly senior officer with orange waves for hair—was into the latest trends, often selecting fashion magazines with high gloss finishes. A dangerously beautiful man graced the covers of many of them, dressed in the hottest summertime styles while looking the part of an untouchable ice queen.

As usual, the station was scented with coffee and tea, the beverages of choice for many officers burning the midnight oil or working overtime. The chief demanded it at times to meet deadlines and goals—he was such a stickler for them—and the caffeine helped those under him stay sane as they went about their duties.

In the afternoons, most were either out on lunch or on patrol, lessening the foot traffic at HQ. There was only one man in uniform, seated behind the desk and filing some papers.

Yuu shifted in their own chair, adjusting the rim of the baseball cap upon their head. They were suited in an inconspicuous jacket and sneakers, fingers toying with a badge in a pocket, hidden out of view. To the common man, they were a jogger--but one flash of their lilac gemstone bound to a black and white striped ribbon, and there would be no doubt as to what their true identity was.

The smell of coffee and tea grew stronger, and Yuu glanced up from behind the bill of their hat.

The bespectacled man from behind the fro

nt desk had approached. He had a sheepish smile, bearing a paper cup filled with hot brown liquid and a napkin with a donut laid upon it. Bright pink icing dusted with sugared violet petals crowned the golden fried pastry.

“Detective.”

“Mr. Clover.” Yuu nodded—a terse, polite greeting. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Please, just ‘Trey’ is fine.” He offered the treats, which they readily accepted. “Sorry for calling you in on such short notice. I’m sure you’re busy juggling your other cases—but I think I speak for the entire department when I say we’re thankful that you were able to make it.”

“No worries, I’m used to it in this line of work,” Yuu replied. “It must be something pretty urgent this time around. The Chief sounded frantic over the phone.”

Trey rubbed at his chin, grasping for the right words. “Let’s just say he’s not in the best of moods right now. You’ll need that sugar to get through this in one piece.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Just trying to avoid any trouble. You’d better finish them before you step into his office. You know how he hates it when there are crumbs or spills in there.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Yuu gave a joking salute before starting to pack away at their snack. The drink was the instant kind, and practically scalding, but it was easy to tell that the donut was homemade. The pastry, flaky on the outside and fluffy on the inside, dusted with sugar granules and sweet icing. “Wouldn’t want the Chief to be blowing a fuse again.”

“No, definitely not. He’s done too much of that lately.” Trey carefully eyed Yuu’s donut, now only half of it left. “Oh, but be sure to brush your teeth a thorough cleaning tonight, or I might have some problems with you. Cavities and staining are real dangers, you know.”

“Are you Assistant Chief of Police or my dental hygienist?” Yuu took a generous swig, then a bite just as big. “You worry too much about everything.”

“Ahahah… Do I? It’s a habit, I guess. Comes with the job.”

“That stressful, huh?”

“Well, I do what I can to smooth things over. Hopefully you can too. It’s been difficult on our department with the Chief all rattled up about the… situation.” He stopped himself. “I’m sure you’ll hear all about it from him.”

So the case is top-secret, Yuu concluded with the last of their donut. Not to be discussed in the public.

They ran their tongue across the length of their mouth, lapping up the remains of sugary residue. “I understand. The details are not to leave his office.”

“You catch on quickly. No wonder why the Chief thinks so highly of your abilities.”

“Flattery’s a part of your tool kit as well, Trey?”

He raised his eyebrows. “… You’ve worked long enough with us to figure these things out. Nothing gets by you, it seems.”

“UGIGIGIGIGGGGHHHH!!”

The remainder of Yuu’s drink sloshed around in its cup, set into motion by the bloodcurdling scream.

A familiar man with orange waves erupted from the chief’s office, hurriedly slamming the door shut behind him. His typically relaxed features were arranged in panic, his hair frazzled.

“How did trying to calm him work out, Cater?” Trey inquired half-heartedly. It was a courtesy more than genuine curiosity.

“What do you think?” the senior officer groaned, sinking where he stood.

Yuu quickly finished their drink, tossing their trash—the evidence they had been there—away and then stood, adjusting their jacket. “That sounds like it’s my cue.”

“Yeah, it is.” Trey sighed, frowning. “He’s in a tough spot right. Be kind to him, will you? That’s all I ask.”

“You got it.” Yuu tipped their baseball cap as they passed the officer. “Thank you for the pick-me-up. I’ll be seeing you, then. Officer Diamond—get some rest.”

“Good luck.”

“You’ll need it, Yuu-chan! Brace yourself.”

The Police Chief was a small but serious man.

His character came through in his office space: books on law and order neatly arranged on shelves, papers and files alphabetically organized in their cabinets, and pens evenly spaced apart and arranged in rows. A crystal vase with deep red roses was poised beside his writing implements. A plate polished to a fine shine was propped up at his desk, reading: Riddle Rosehearts, Chief of Police.

Perched imposingly despite his short stature in his seat, he impatiently tapped a finger on an arm. Riddle’s face was a telltale red and veiny, proof of his earlier outburst, but was beginning to cool into a faint, smooth pink.

There was already another man in the office, sitting across from the Police Chief. He was pale and jittery in a suit the color of the night and sewn with blue sequins and glitter. A top hat rested upon his raven locks, the brim of it shading his hauntingly golden eyes.

Yuu removed their hat and, keeping it to their chest, gave a shallow bow as they entered. “Sir.”

One move out of line, one hair out of place, and they suspected he, in his volatile and vulnerable state, would explode anew.

“Welcome, Detective. I’m glad you could join us today.” Every word was a gruff puff of air, a leash with which to wrest control of his rage. Riddle gestured to the empty chair beside the nervous man. “Sit.”

Yuu obeyed, sinking into the seat offered. They casted a glance at the stranger adjacent to them, who was fiddling with his velvet-lined gloves.

“Mr. Crowley, this is the independent detective from Stray Cat Investigations that I had previously mentioned to you. The force has collaborated with them for a number of difficult cases in the past. Their wit and strategic skills have made them an invaluable asset. I thought it prudent to have them return to join us for your case as well.

“Yuu, meet Dire Crowley. He is the esteemed director and curator for the Sage’s Island Museum, and he’s come to us with his woes.”

“Hello, Mr. Crowley,” Yuu said politely. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He responded with a tired attempt at a smile. “Yes, you too.”

“Now that we’re all acquainted with one another...” Riddle produced a file from beneath his desk and placed it before himself. “Do you care to explain, or shall I?”

“I-I’ll elaborate!” Crowley crowed. He picked at a collection of keys belted to his waist, glistening gold under artificial lights. “The Sage’s Island Museum is planning a new exhibition on the Great Seven. As part of the exhibit, we are having many priceless artifacts flown in from all over Twisted Wonderland. We have donations from even Briar Valley’s royal family!!

“There will also be a great number of important VIP guests present for the grand opening of the exhibit. Royalty, wealthy benefactors, important diplomats, businessmen, celebrities... All individuals who wish to see their history on display! This is very important, you see!! M-My reputation--er, I mean, the museum’s reputation--is on the line here!!”

“Right.” Yuu nodded as they parsed through the information. “I’m following what you’re putting down. And where does your problem arise, Mr. Crowley?”

“Ah, now that,” Riddle smirked, “is the question of the hour.”

He opened his file, pulling out...

A single playing card, its back facing Yuu.

“I trust you’ve been keeping up with the news?”

“As any good detective would. There have been several robberies lately. Terrible, really.” Yuu’s expression clouded with concentration. “Hmm... but if it’s a potential robbery that you’re concerned about, Mr. Crowley... Doesn’t the Sage’s Island Museum boast a state-of-the-art security system from Olympus Corp.? I doubt the average thief would be able to bypass it.”

“That’s just the trouble,” Crowley loudly lamented.

“We are dealing with no ordinary thief,” Riddle clarified.

“It’s not?”

“No. Far from it.” The Police Chief exhaled sharply. “The string of robberies from before--they’re connected by a single thread, perpetuated by the same lone culprit. And now that scoundrel intends to continue his crime spree.”

“I’ve never heard of this before.”

“You shouldn’t have. It was a top-secret operation within my force since the first of its kind.”

“Why am I being told of it now?”

“Because, loathe as I am to admit it, the culprit has managed to outwit us and elude capture each and every time, He employs a bag of cheap parlor tricks and smoke and mirrors like the coward he is,” Riddle confessed begrudgingly. The blue-grey of his eyes were steely and stubborn. “A case as important as this needs the additional man—and brain—power, Detective.”

He placed the playing card down and slid it toward the detective. “This arrived in the morning at Mr. Crowley’s desk, the same as all the prior robberies. It gave him quite the fright. He rushed all the way to the station to beg for our assistance.”

“This is...” Yuu gingerly turned the card over, revealing a message scrawled on the other side in bright red gel ink. Each letter was big and bubbly, bursting with cheek and pomp.

Their heart jumped.

To the Old Crow that safeguards the Museum,

Heyo~

Your pockets look a lil’ heavy there, so I’ll help you out. (Aren’t I so kind?) Three days from now, I’ll claim one of your most prized treasures at the stroke of midnight.

Stand back and watch as I perform the greatest magic trick you’ll ever see... and make the portrait of the Queen of Hearts vanish before your very eyes. It’ll be a show-stopper!!

Until then,

Phantom Thief Knave of Hearts <3 ;3

P.S. Send the cops my regards, they can’t catch me lol (especially when their teapot tyrant’s patience is in SHORT supply geddit)

“They’re just flat-out announcing what their intentions are,” Yuu realized. They were half impressed, half shocked at the gall. “You said all of the victims received messages like this?”

“Calling cards, yes.” The fury had returned to Riddle’s features, causing his voice to spike and strain. “It’s infuriating!! What does he get off on, misappropriating magic as cheap parlor tricks for crime, writing notes in such a cocksure manner, taunting us to pursue him?!

“Not only is he poking fun at my height and committing a crime, but for mere SPORT?! For the THRILL of it?! He’s making a mockery of the good people of this island and of my men and our efforts to secure the peace!!”

The Police Chief slammed a fist down on his desk, rattling his glass vase and setting his perfectly straight pens askew. Crowley shrunk back in fear. “That Knave of Hearts...!! He must be stopped at all costs!!”

“Y-Yes, absolutely!!” Crowley chimed in. “For my--er, I mean, for the museum’s sake, this criminal must be put behind bars!! That’s why I’ve come to you, my good people!

“My taxpayer dollars help fund the police force, so I’ve come to collect on what its promise to protect and to serve the community!! Well, here’s the community at your doorstep asking you to protect and to serve!!”

“That’s why you want to put me on this case,” Yuu concluded, clasping the calling card to their racing heart. “To prevent this from going down tonight.”

“And furthermore,” Riddle added, “to investigate the identity of this so-called phantom thief once the museum is safely secured.”

“That’s a tall order, sir.”

“You’ll have access to our force’s resources, and to my officers. You will assist in overseeing this operation, with maps and outlines of the museum’s security detail from Mr. Crowley. We’ll cooperate to create a plan of attack to apprehend the Knave.”

“You misunderstand me. I never said I wouldn’t take the job,” Yuu coolly informed the Chief. Their mouth cocked upwards with confidence. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Oh, blessed day!! From the very bottom of my oh-so-generous heart, thank you very much!!” Crowley cried tearfully.

For the first time the entire briefing, Riddle smiled back at Yuu. “Hmph. That’s what I like to hear. Happy to be working with you again, Detective.”

“Likewise, Chief.”

The sun had already set when Yuu exited the station, the stars blinking into existence. Several hours had been spent picking the museum curator’s brain with a fine-toothed comb, looking over layouts, and memorizing security detail. The information had been well-stocked, and now came the time to let it marinate and bloom into plans.

Stuffing their hands in their pockets, Yuu shuffled down the sidewalk and past rows of parked vehicles. Ahead, neon lights flashed in and out, and the trains rattled on their well-worn tracks, buses and cars honking at each other, the chatter of street vendors filling the air.

And something different than the usual tonight.

The city never slept, always buzzed with energy. Yuu had become accustomed to its sights and sounds, finding them even comforting. Their best ideas were conceived against the hum of the cityscape. It was just soft enough to not fully distract, but just noticeable enough to tug at their thoughts for long enough to stray into new territories and concepts.

Light from lonely streetlamps created tears in the darkness, illuminating the path to their favorite downtown thinking spot: the Mostro Lounge. A good (albeit overpriced) drink would chase away their tiredness.

Yuu continued with that promise in mind, every step catlike. First quick, next slow, then quick, moderate, slow, quick, slow, quick, moderate. Their speed, ever alternating.

Their ears strained against the sounds of the city, slowly parsing through the individual elements.

Trains, buses, cars, chatter… and the soft footsteps masked by them. Footsteps which matched Yuu’s pace.

There was no mistaking it now.

I’m being followed.

They didn’t look to see who it was—the first rule of tailing a target was to never alert them to your awareness. Yuu would know (as oftentimes they were the one in the position of tailer).

They cast their eyes across the street, which was busy with bodies. Once Yuu merged with the crowd, they could easily shake off their stalker.

Their feet picked up their pace again, hurrying to the crosswalk. It was a glaring red, advising pedestrians to stop.

Shoot, Yuu cursed.

They felt a presence step up beside them. From the corner of their eye, they could make out a dark form--clothes. Yuu pretended to check the time on their phone, and glimpsed him in the reflection.

He was in a hoodie, with the hood pulled up and head down to conceal his features. His hands, too, were out of sight, a sea of baggy fabric hiding identifying features, save for his frame. Lanky, but reasonably packed with muscle to keep up with Yuu.

The man shifted, and his sight grazed theirs. His eyes were hard and icy, a silent threat.

Yuu quickly focused on the crosswalk light. Their heartbeat became as loud as the surrounding sounds. Screeching above the vehicles, shouting from the rooftops. THA-THUMP, THA-THUMP, THA-THUMP.

At last, the light turned from red to white.

Walk.

They started--and so did he.

“Excuse me.” A hand came upon their shoulder. The other pulled at something with a sinister glint. “Do you have a second?”

No walking, Yuu corrected themselves. Run!!

They sprinted down the crosswalk, jostling pedestrians with a hasty “sorry!” thrown back at them. As Yuu weaved through the crowd as fast as they could, they could not completely shunt out the man after them.

“Hey, please wait!! Where are you going?! C-Come back, I need to talk to you!”

His voice carried above the others. People jolted back, the crowd parting to make way for the man to charge forth. His volume swelled louder and louder as he gained on them.

Towering apartments seemed to bear down on Yuu. Their windows, glaring.

A shop. Find a shop and get inside!!

Yuu pumped their arms, pleaded for their legs to move more efficiently.

Again, a weight fell upon their shoulder. It was a clamp, fingers biting Yuu’s skin through their jacket as they dug in and held firm.

The other hand wielded the same shining object that it had before. Yuu looked more closely this time, and the unease in them dissipated. It was not the pointed tip of a knife, but the glint of a familiar officer’s badge wreathed in golden roses.

The man tore off his hood with a sigh--though Yuu noticed that he wasn’t one bit out of breath. Navy bangs fell across his forehead, his eyes a peacock green-blue, much friendlier under the streetlamps than the crosswalk signs.

He smiled at Yuu as though he were greeting an old friend. His grip turned into a tender squeeze. “I finally caught up with you!”

The detective awkwardly pulled away, confusion scrawled on their face. “Um... Sorry, who are you? I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

“Oh! Uh...” The man jumped, retracting his hand. “That’s because we haven’t! Er, not officially anyway, but I’ve heard a lot about you!!”

Yuu pointed to his badge. “That. You’re an officer?”

“Yessir!” The man offered the proof of his identity and stiffly saluted. “Officer Deuce Spade, sir!! I’m a new recruit...!! I just joined the force a few weeks ago!”

Yuu mustered a faint smile. The darned fool was going to give them away. “... Am I in trouble, officer?”

“Nossir! Not at all!” His entire face shone with eagerness, earnest, and a slightly nervous energy. Maybe Yuu would have found it adorable (in the same way that a child trying hard was adorable), were he not blasting your occupation to the public. “Why would you be in trouble, sir?! You’re working with...”

“Okaaay, that’s enough out of you!” Yuu slapped a hand over Deuce’s mouth, silencing him.

Curious onlookers murmured amongst themselves. Some had taken to halt and full-on gawk. Children pointed, adult narrowing their eyes with suspicion.

Yuu frowned, removing their hand to shoo pedestrians away. “Nothing to see here, folks. Just a misunderstanding. Move along, Wonder Boy and I can settle this ourselves.”

“Wonder Boy?” Deuce, in a daze, pointed to himself. “Is that... me?”

“Who else would I be talking about?” Yuu folded their arms. “I assume you’re free now?”

“I am, sir! I was just let off my shift a little while ago, sir!”

“First, drop the ‘sir’. It’s giving me a headache,” Yuu instructed. “Second, if you’re free, then you’ll be joining me for a drink and a chat. We have things to discuss--chief among them being why you were following me.”

Ring-a-ling!

A bell sounded as the door to the Mostro Lounge swung open. Deuce stepped into a new world, Yuu at his side.

The interior itself was dim, but glass lights fastened in the shape of jellyfish projected swimming incandescent lights in purple, blue, and pink. Velvet booths lined one half of the eatery, the other, a glossy bar with tall, narrow stools, the shelves behind it healthily stocked with bottles in jeweled tones. Strangers poised with drink took residence in most of the seats.

The entire back wall had been repurposed into a massive aquarium teeming with aquatic plants and exotic creatures. Seaweed and coral gently swayed to the rhythm of the smooth jazz floating through the lounge, fish frolicking among them.

“Whoooa,” Deuce gasped, craning his head to drink in every detail. “I’ve never been to a place as classy as this. It looks so expensive. You think my salary’s enough to cover at least an appetizer?”

“Hang on tight to your wallet,” Yuu warned. “This place will squeeze you for every thaumark you’re worth and then some—and they won’t feel a bit of remorse about it.”

The detective raised an arm, flagging a nearby waiter.

Their uniform was simple yet sleek: dark dress pants, a white bow tie, spotless gloves, and a cummerbund and suspenders over a lavender button-up shirt. It allowed for slight variation—one waiter skidded by with his shirt buttoned as low as food safety regulations deemed safe. Another jotted down orders with a jacket thrown over his shoulders and a pair of glasses tucked into the crevice of his buttons.

The waiter Yuu called out to approached like a shark fin cutting through still water, neatly bowing to greet their waiting customers. He was prim and proper compared to the other servers, not a button out of place.

When he raised his head, Deuce marveled at his mismatched olive and gold irises, the teal of his hair marred by a stripe of black. Three diamond-shaped scales dangled from his left ear, as sharp as his eyes.

“I bid you welcome to the Mostro Lounge, honored guests,” the waiter said smoothly. He gaze immediately cut to Deuce. “I see you’ve brought a friend with you, today, Yuu-san. How delightfully rare.”

“Acquaintance. We just met outside under… less than ideal circumstances.”

“Oya, how quick you were to seize on that chance encounter. I may even deem you a bigger opportunist than our dear manager.”

“… Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Deuce inquired.

“Perhaps you will find the answer to your question, should you act as a patron at our establishment for long enough.”

“Quit toying with him, Jade. You know what we’re here for,” Yuu grumbled. “My usual.”

“If that is what you wish. And for this gentleman acquaintance of yours?”

“Just ice water is fine, sir!”

Jade maintained his polite smile. “Very well. One glass of ice cold water for you. I will bring you a menu as well, in case you begin to feel peckish late into the night.”

“Oh, thanks!”

“Right this way then.” Jade gestured for the two to follow him.

“He’s upselling you, you know,” Yuu pointed out under their breath. “Hoping that you’ll buy something when presented with the opportunity to spend.”

“E-Eh, he is?! I didn’t even realize…”

“Fufufu. Please, do not let your worries consume you. You have come to relax, correct? We at the Mostro Lounge ask that you put your fins and your feet up and enjoy yourself while the night is still young.”

They were escorted to two empty stools in a (relatively) quiet corner of the bar. The glass jellyfish lights were clustered in the center of the main dining area, leaving the corner like a slice of dark, uncharted waters. Jass music and conversation filtered into a muffled melody.

Yuu plopped down with relief, followed by an apprehensive Deuce. He slowly sank into the cushy seat.

“I will be right back with your drinks. If you will excuse me.” With another bow, Jade rounded the bar and rolled up his sleeves—the transition from waiter to bartender. Presenting his back to the duo, he set to plucking bottles off of the shelves.

Deuce blinked. He still hadn’t taken to fully processing his new surroundings. “Are we really going kick back and have drinks when there’s a serial thief on the loose?”

“We can’t talk about that in public, or risk blowing my cover. It’s safe to talk here,” Yuu reassured him. “What happens in the Mostro Lounge stays in the Mostro Lounge. Say what you want about the slimy staff, but they know how to keep their patrons’ secrets. Client confidentiality and all.”

The young officer brightened. “Ooooh, I get it!”

“… You’re not the sharpest tool in the shed,” Yuu remarked bluntly. They slipped off their baseball cap, letting loose their hair. “So? Let’s have it.”

“Have what?”

“Your reason for following me.”

“Oh!! That.” Deuce nervously scratched at the back of his neck. “That’s kind of…”

The detective drummed their fingers on the polished counter. Methodical, deliberate. “You mentioned that you recently joined the force. However, only senior officials in the police department and myself were privy to this operation. How did you come to learn about it?”

Deuce stiffened, thrown off his beat (if he had any to begin with). “Th-That’s…!”

“I’m asking you a question, Mr. Spade. Please answer me truthfully.”

“I… um… Truth is, I…” Deuce stared at his lap, unable to meet the detective’s eyes. “I might have eavesdropped when I returned from my patrol shift…”

“Go on,” Yuu coaxed.

“There was a report I had to submit to the Chief, but it sounded like he was busy in his office. It’s hard to not notice him when he raises his voice, sir. I decided to wait outside until he was done, and… well, I got curious.”

“Wasn’t Assistant Chief Clover also present? He just let you do that without a single protest?”

“Assistant Chief Clover was very nice to me! He laughed a little and said ‘make sure you don’t get caught with your hand in the cookie jar’!”

Darn it, Trey!! You could’ve been a LITTLE stricter with this guy…! Yuu groaned, massaging the bridge of their nose. “Okay, I think I’m starting to get a better picture of what went down. You followed me wanting to learn more about the operation.”

Like a curious child chasing after a white rabbit. Still immature, still wondering, and still way over their head.

“Yes, but that’s not all!” Deuce insisted. He abruptly stood from the table. “There’s an even more important reason than just satisfying my curiosity, sir!”

Yuu quirked an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

“I had to talk to you—without the Chief around. I had to. That’s why I followed you in secret.” The officer nibbled his lower lip, as if biting back something harsh and bitter from coming up.

“Out with it, Mr. Spade.”

“Pardon the intrusion,” Jade coolly interjected. His tone was nonchalant but his bemused smile was a telltale sign that he was relishing in every second of the hot gossip. “Your beverages.”

He slid two glasses between Yuu and Deuce before departing. One was tall and slim—a highball—loaded with carbonated water and fruity gummies. Yellow for jeweled pineapples, red for ruby berries, green for frozen mint, black for floral cacao, and blue from pure azure salt. It was Yuu’s usual, the famed Mystery Drink. The other glass was, by comparison, an ordinary drink of water, a single large, clear cube of ice floating in it.

A bead of sweat ran down Deuce’s jawline. Condensation forming and racing on his glass of water.

Suddenly, the officer slapped both hands on the counter, slamming his face down upon its surface. His navy hair splayed, forehead touching the table in a display of humility.

Yuu almost spilled their drink. “What are you doing?”

“I’m begging you, sir!! P-Please put me on the mission!!” Deuce pleaded, his voice shaky but resolute. “I… I want to help catch the Knave of Hearts too!!”

“If that’s all you wanted, why ask me? Go through the proper channels to…”

“I can’t!! The Chief would never allow it.” His expression creased with shame. “He says rookies need to work their way up from meter maid to working on cases.”

“He’s right. You need to grow into these things, not rush in head-first in a burst of passion.” Yuu made to take a sip of their drink—but the officer’s fist collided with the counter, the liquid inside the glass sloshing overboard. Seltzer water splashed onto their pant leg, leaving a sticky wet spot on a thigh.

“P-Please reconsider! I know how to handle myself in a fight! I’m fast, I could easily catch up with him if it’s a race on foot!”

“Look,” the detective said irritably, “I don’t know what you’re hoping to accomplish here. Fact is, no matter how much you ask, I wouldn’t want to take you on for this case. You’re too green behind the ears—and sorry, but I just don’t see you as an asset.

“You may be strong and quick on your feet, but it’ll take more than strength and speed to catch the Knave of Hearts. There’s a reason he hasn’t been caught yet.” Yuu tapped at their temple. “It’s this. He’s got smarts, and we need to combat that with smarts of our own.”

“I-I can be smart!! I can try to, at least! Please, just let me try…!!”

Frustrated, Yuu scrutinized the young man again. Their eyes roaming, searching, for detail wrong, a hair out of place.

Years of sleuthing had built up a great amount of cynicism and distrust in the detective. How many times had they pulled back the curtain, revealing the ugly truths hidden out of plain sight? How many bruised egos--both clients and coworkers--had they encountered? People seeking status or to feed their own pride.

Yet when they looked at Deuce, none of that ugliness or ego came through. Here was someone who stubbornly stared right back at Yuu, unwilling to back down, even when his dignity lay in tatters on the floor the instant he prostrated himself.

Another selfish bid for recognition? They ventured, toying with the idea. Maybe personal ambition, looking to climb up in the world.

“... One reason,” Yuu said, holding up an index finger. “Give me one good reason why I should take you on. Convince me.”

Deuce recoiled--as though even he hadn’t expected to have made it this far, or to be taken seriously at all. His brows creased with effort as he racked the recesses of his mind to find the right phrasing.

A second later, he let out a piercing shout.

“GAAAAAAAAH!!”

With a grunt, Deuce grasped his cup of ice water and lifted it to his lips. He hammered the drink in a single swig, releasing a satisfied hoot. The liquid courage had revived the man, returning the spark to him.

In a voice as clear as the drink he had just downed, Deuce said, “It’s for my mom. She’s just about the sweetest, most hard-working person I know.”

He hung his head and slammed his empty cup down, shaking the entire table.

“She raised me as a single parent. Mom never once complained, only wanted the best life for me.” Deuce glared into his glass, speaking with scorn and anger--not at others, but for himself. “And how did I repay her? I... turned to delinquency.

“I acted out because I wasn’t man enough to do the mature thing and work on myself!! She blamed herself for my stupid decisions! I made mom worry for me so, so much...”

Plip, plip.

Deuce faltered, letting quiet tears dribble down his cheeks and landing on the cube of ice left in his glass. Once they made contact with the frozen block, it was impossible to tell what was water and what was salt.

“I swore to myself that I would turn my life around... to show mom that it’s not her fault, that she did all she could to raised someone who could contribute to society!! So I studied really hard at the police academy, and even though my grades were crappy, I managed to graduate...!!”

He choked up, a concoction of fiery passion infused in his stuttering words. “I can finally be that model officer and make a change in the community! But I haven’t done a damn thing...! I just play meter maid while bad guys are out there running free, when I could be out there making this city a safer place for mom and everyone that lives here...!!”

The noises of the lounge seemed to fade into a stoic silence around Deuce. His declaration reverberated loudly. “I have to do this. I need to do this.”

He bowed again, his forehead pressed hard against the surface of the table. The single word he uttered was hoarse, desperate.

“Please.”

Deuce pried himself up almost painfully. The eyes were aquamarine, wet with hot tears. Something shone through them in shades of blue and green, priceless as any treasure: an honesty that burned like an eternal flame.

Yuu startled, striken by a single, haunting revelation: He’s telling the truth.

“... I don’t think I’ve met someone like you before,” they said cryptically. “I don’t doubt your story—but as touching as it is, I don’t know if...”

Hesitation reared its head, and Yuu forced themselves to look away. Couldn’t bear to see him, that wide-eyed sincerity.

Emotion clashing with their sound logic. Two things that shouldn’t have belonged together colliding. 

Wait... things that don’t belong together? Things I didn’t expect, surprises and twists to the tale...

A ex-delinquent turned into a policeman. A selfishness turned selfless. An anticipated lie turned into a truth. Something there that hadn’t been before.

The detective’s mind raced, quickly outpacing the words leaving their mouth. A solution which subverted expectations, a trap laced with honey for a man with sticky fingers.

That’s it. We’ll pull a trick of our own.

“Okay, I’ve changed my mind,” Yuu abruptly announced. “You’re in on this operation, Mr. Spade.”

“R-Really?!” Deuce’s face nearly tore in half, his volume revving up like a motorcycle engine. “You mean it?!”

“I do.”

Yuu took a cool sip of their Mystery Drink. Flavors from all over Twisted Wonderland cascaded over their tongue—a triumphant, fleeting pleasure.

They set their glass down and bent over, gripping Deuce by the strings of his hoodie. Yuu tugged, bringing the policeman lurching forward.

His clammy forehead against theirs. Centimeters away, his eyes widened. A flushed heat climbed to his cheeks, his voice set in a stammer.

“S-Sir, what are we...”

“You’ll have to follow my instructions very carefully,” Yuu replied with a devious grin. “Listen up, rookie: cuz you’re going to be the star of this show. Here’s the plan...”

The ambience of the lounge drowned out Yuu’s whispers. From afar, their words could only be read through the shapes of their mouth, the increasingly confused and alarmed expressions that Deuce pulled.

Jade observed them patiently, chuckling to himself. “My, my, it seems like our genius detective has found yet another solution.”

CLATTER, CLATTER!!

A tray piled high with empty plates and dishes was slammed down. Jade’s twin peered around the stack, leaning lazily against the bar.

“Eeeh, but I bet against them this time.”

“Playing the contrarian runs its risks.” Jade picked up a glass, staring at his brother through it. The golden orb called his left eye was clear as a topaz. “As for myself, I’m excited to see how this plays out.”

PLAP.

A notepad came down on the table as a third waiter joined them.

“Both of you need to stop gossiping and get back to work,” their manager chided, sliding the notepad—scrawled with fresh orders—to Jade. “Leave the customers to tend to their own business. We’ll soon know the outcome.”

[To be continued...]

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 8-Mori/Reader with prompts Fingering and Doctor Kink

Notes: Mori was getting dangerously attractive in that Yosano flashback…and obviously your ob-gyn should absolutely never do anything our doctor Mori is gonna do, this is a fanfiction, so, fiction. Anyway, enjoy(also im totally glossing over some of the less sexy bits of a normal appointment lol)

The familiar tickle of the bell welcomes you as you enter the familiar lobby of your Gynecologists. You check your watch, noting that you're a little early, so you set your purse on the coffee table and scroll through your phone absentmindedly. The office is surprisingly empty, only one other person sits in the lobby, a middle aged woman who smiles kindly in your direction, before Anne, the receptionist, calls her over with a wave. She’s definitely not new, you’ve known Anne since she started working here, and she’s still as pretty as ever, with long red hair and green eyes. She sends you a wink and a smile, and you smile back. 

You fiddle a bit with your necklace, bored. It's a new one, a classy thin gold chain with a single, red ruby. It winks prettily between your collarbones, drawing all eyes. You paired it with a white blouse, and a dark red skirt, as flashy as you could get away with at work, anyway. Your boss liked it when her employees quote unquote, ‘expressed themselves’, although you still got written up occasionally. Although it was probably Brad, your boyfriend, still salty about the shopping spree you had gone on when you found he cheated on you.

You're so bored you find yourself staring around at the familiar decorations for the thousandth time. The familiar fake flowers on the table, the tabloid and other magazines, the chairs around the front office, the pictures on all the walls. Your favorite one is a watercolor painting, naked fairies and female elves dancing around an enchanted forest. It was just so whimsical and pretty it had always fascinated you. 

“Miss Name Last-Name?” The receptionist smiles when you look up, gesturing at a pretty blond Nurse with a clipboard. She’s also young, maybe early thirties and she smiles as she leads you back into the room. Janet, the Nurse’s name she had informed you, quickly and efficiently takes care of the weight and height measurements, before she gives you a small smile and nod, and leaves the room. It's the same room you’ve been to before, ever since you were sixteen.

It's embarrassing but you've lived in the same town for most of your life. Your parents had moved you and your siblings here when you were seven years old, because your mom wanted to be by the sea and your father loved your mother a bit too much perhaps. But they were your parents and you loved them, no matter how embarrassingly lovey dovey they insisted on being. 

But anyway, this was your hometown. You had gone to school here, made lifelong friends here, and all of your doctors appointments had been in this town, including the Gynecologists. Your ob-gyn, Maya, had known you since you were young, and was a kindly middle aged woman, an old friend of your moms. It would be nice to see her again. You're sitting on the chair, legs not hooked but swinging in front of you when a knock on the door sounds and Nurse Janet peaks her head in. 

“I'm sorry miss Name, but Maya, your usual isn't available.” You frown in concern. “Is she ok?” The nurse steps in completely, her clipboard clutched to her chest. “Yes, she just has a cold. I can either reschedule your appointment or assign you another doctor temporarily. What would you prefer?” The way the nurse speaks is a little peculiar, but you just brush it off. A new doctor, temporarily at least. You're tempted, just out of comfort to reschedule, but , and you've already driven here and gas prices are so high nowadays, it just feels like such a waste. You nod, coming to your decision. “I'll proceed with the appointment.” Janet nods, checking her clipboard. “Alright then, Doctor Mori will see you in about ten minutes.” The door closes and she’s gone.

Doctor Mori. You’ve heard the name, Maya has mentioned him in passing. And if Maya recommends him he has to be good, you have a lot of faith in your old friend. Your phone rings, loudly and with tha familiar ringtone that signifies your sister's calling. You check the clock on the wall, you have about even minutes, and quickly answer the phone. 

“Leila, i'm in the doctor's office.”

Your sister giggles. “I know.” She says, yelling over the chaos you can hear faintly in the background. “I'm calling because mom told me to tell you that Maya is out with a cold. So you should reschedule your appointment for next week or something.”

You sigh, as usual your mothers a little too late. “Um, it's too late for that. Couldn't you have told me like yesterday or something?” 

 “It's not my fault, blame mom.” Your sister scoffs.“So did you reschedule?”

“No, I decided to see another doctor, at least temporarily.” You pick your nails, checking the clock. Five minutes. “The new nurse called her Doctor Mori? You know, the other doctor that shares the building with Maya.”

“Oh yeah, I always remember Maya talking about him.” You can faintly hear your mother yelling in the background, and then your sister yells back, pulling the phone from her ear. “What mom? He? What? Just come here and tell her yourself!”

“Honey? That you?” Your mom’s voice interrupts your sister. “How are you honey?”

“I'm great mom.” You sigh. “Why didn't you tell me about Maya earlier.”

“Oh you know, i forgot.” Your mom giggles, shouting over the Bob Marley playing in the background. “Anyway honey, your sister told me you decided to see Doctor Mori?”

You check the clock. “Yeah, it seemed like a waste to just leave. And you gotta hurry mom, I'm almost out of time.”

“I see, I see.” Your mother makes no attempt to hurry, but then again she never does. “Well, Maya introduced me to Doctor Mori one time, and honey, he’s very handsome!”

“Yeah, yeah ok.” You check the clock one more time, you need to go. “Well I gotta go mom, i'll see you later then.” 

“Yeah, see you later Honey. Say hi to Anne for me. Oh, and tell her congratulations on her marriage.” And with a click, she’s gone. You sink back into your seat with a sigh, and then, something your mother said finally clicks. He. you shoot up in your seat, just as the door creaks open, and sure enough and man makes his way into the room. 

Your mother was right, he is handsome. His hair is slightly long and slightly messy with loose strands falling around his face. The dark strands tickle his neck, just barely brushing his shoulders. He’s clothed in a lab coat for some reason, underneath which is a gray purple button down and a slightly loose black tie. His eyes are dark, and slight wrinkles at the corner betray his age. He has a pair of small, rimless glasses hooked on his collar. 

“Miss Name? I'm Dr. Mori, I'll be filling in for Dr. Henderson today.” He blinks at you with a slightly absent smile. It feels unreal honestly, of course your replacement is a handsome older man who, in a few minutes, is going to have his hands all over your pussy. You curse every evil god who put you in this situation. And you hope, pray or anything else you can do that you won’t get wet. You sigh.

“It’s nice to meet you Dr, Ma-er, Dr Henderson has mentioned you before.” You smile, wishing that you weren’t currently at a gynecologist appointment with a man who was probably married who you were definitely thirsting over. “Although I thought…never mind.”

“You thought I was a woman?” You nod and the doctor laughs a little. “Yes, I’m not surprised. I’m actually partially retired, I just do Maya the occasional favor now and then.” Mori puts on his glasses, squinting at a clipboard. You try to subtly look at his hands, checking for a wedding ring.

“It looks like Maya took care of most of your checkups a few weeks ago?” He says. You nod. “Yes, we just ran out of time for the last few. She was going to do them today but…” The doctor nods, confirming your thought. He flips through the papers on the clipboard, before setting it down on the small desk next to a picture of a pretty blond girl with blue eyes, the doctor next to her in the picture. “Dr. Henderson already did most of the necessary tests. Looks like you guys didn't quite get around to the physical?” You give him a nod in responds and he smiles. “Alright, well I'll step out for a moment, can you please take off your underwear and hook your legs up in those—well you know what to do. I'll be back in a few minutes.” You give him a nervous little nod and laugh combo, and he steps out of the room, closing the door behind him. You sigh, standing and rolling up your tight office skirt, and ridding yourself of your boring white panties. This is going to be so embarrassing, because you just know you're going to get at least a little damp. It's very different to have a fifty ish woman who you’ve known for years poking around your vagina, versus a finely aged dilf, with no wedding ring to speak of. You sigh again, climbing up into the strange reclining chair and hooking your knees in the stirrups. With your skirt rolled up like this, you can feel the cool air brushing your bare pussy, and you shiver a little. 

The door opens and Mori steps back in, noting your position on the chair with a nod. “I see you're ready to begin?” The doctor has a pair of plastic gloves on and he’s hooked his reading glasses back on his collar, the tie somehow slipping even more. You give him an affirmative, doing your best to nip any problems in the bud by focussing your thoughts squarely on your pet Cat. And it works too, as the doctor's gloved hands begin to feel surely on your pelvic bone, dancing around the lips of your pussy. Then, he starts to talk, distracting you from the cat.

“So, Miss Name, seems like you’ve known Maya for a while, huh.” He says. “Yep,” You reply, still trying to think of your cat. “I've had her since I was about seventeen. I assume you guys are old friends as well?”  

“Yes, we used to work together.” The doctores sure fingers pull at the lips of your pussy, and he squints. “That was until my ex-wife decided she didn't want me touching other women all day long, even if it was my job.” Your ears catch on ‘ex-wife’ and all thoughts of your cute pet cat fly from your mind. Your thighs twitch slightly, and you change the subject quickly. “That must be your daughter then, in the picture? Sorry if I snooped.” You bite your lip and avoid eye contact, it makes it all worse when you watch him prod at your pussy. Thankfully, for now at least, his fingers have left the more sensitive areas and are now poking at your pelvic bone again. 

“Yes, my little girl Elise. She’s pretty isn't she?” You nod, and he continues. “What about you? Any kids?” 

You shake your head with a laugh. “No, not quite yet anyway. I just broke up with my boyfriend actually.” Your tone turns a little resentful, you can't help yourself. “He cheated on me.” Mori makes a noise of surprise, cocking his head up to meet your eyes. “He cheated on a girl as pretty as you, huh. Spread your legs a bit for me darlin.” You almost choke, ninety nine percent sure you misheard. That damn pet name, Darlin’, and the complement? God you're doomed. The doctor chuckles at your silence, his dark eyes leaving your own as they dart back to your pussy. One hand spread your pussy lips apart, and two gloved fingers poke at your hole, pushing in slowly. You bit your lip, hard. You can hear the slight squelching his fingers make, and you literally want to die. Maybe if you pretend nothing is wrong, he will spare you the humiliation. 

“So, do you miss your job?” You clear your throat as his fingers reach deeper, pressing around looking for something. 

“Oh, a little.” The doctor's other hand goes higher, pressing down slightly on your lower stomach, feeling around. “Although, I usually don't get such pretty patients to work with. You're making this old man blush.” Oh, he knows, he’s definitely noticed how wet you are and he’s teasing you. You still can't quite tell if he’s flirting or not. He can't be, right? He’s a really handsome man, he must have a girlfriend or something. 

He withdraws his fingers from inside you, and you sigh with relief. But all your embarrassment comes rushing back as he reaches for the familiar speculum, slowly inserting it into your pussy with a squelch. You blush at the sound, but the doctor doesn't bat an eye as he ever so slowly opens it, peering inside for a few long, agonizing seconds. And then, he’s pulling it out with an embarrassing sound and placing it on a tray beside him. 

“Well, looks like we have no problems.” He takes off his gloves, balling them together and placing them on the tray beside the Speculum. “Everything looks good and you're plenty…” He pauses. “…Sensitive.” You blush, way too embarrassed to even complain. He clears his throat a little, dark eyes still darting back and forth between your pussy and your face. His eyes are dark, and they have a strange shine as they meet your own again. With a leap of faith, you decide to throw caution to the winds.

“I don't know doctor, you might need to check a little more thoroughly.” He eyes you for a moment, and an embarrassing silence fills the room for a moment. And just as you're about to backpedal, Mori stands, and with a click, locks the door. “You know…” He says, a new kind of gleam in his eye. “Maybe I should. Do you have any particular concerns?” This is absolutely crazy, and you love every minute of it. 

“Oh, I don't know, Doctor.” You shoot him a flirty little wink. “Maybe you should feel around in there some more, check for any irregularities?” 

“That's a good idea Darlin.” He pulls a stool over, and hangs his coat over a nearby chair, rolling up his shirtsleeves. “Well, I'll start with an oral check up, then maybe use something a little longer to really check you out, that sound good?” You nod, your reply dissolving into a moan as he leans closer, the flattened length of his tongue coming in contact with your clit. He starts out slow, flattening his tongue against your clit, dancing around the edges of your hole, teasing you with his little smirks. He looks way too hot like that, face buried in your pussy, your hands tugging at his hair. 

“You know Doctor,” You choke out, as the naughty slurping sounds fill the room. “My insides feel a little tight, maybe you should check those out.” Mori pulls away from your pussy, shooting you a spit slicked feral grin. “I was just thinking the same thing.” And then, he slips two fingers inside. Your head falls back against the chair, as his head disappears again, tongue licking your clit. He had his fingers inside you before, but it feels different now that he’s really trying to make you lose it. He scissors his fingers open, prying your hole open for future activities and your going to lose it. You need him inside you, right now.

“Doctor.” He looks up at you, fingers pausing inside of you. “I need you inside of me. Now.” 

Mori chuckles at your enthusiasm, withdrawing his fingers from inside you with a squelch, and moving to the cabinet. He pulls a foiled package out, and waves it in your direction. You giggle, playing with your tits through your shirt. “My my doctor, do you always fuck your patients?” 

“Nope, you're this old man’s first in a while.” He offers as a reply, unbuckling his pants. “We give free condoms to teens, to encourage safe sex.” He doesn't even pull down his pants, just pulls his erect cock out and strokes it a few times. You watch, licking your lips as he slides the condom down it. It's big, and you know he’ll stretch you out nicely. Maybe another time you would like to have it down your throat. But for today, you need him inside you.

Mori seems to share your enthusiasm, as he hurriedly lines his dick up with your hole, and with one last look of assurance, starts to slowly push in. The stretch is a lot, but with all that preparation it just barely stings. It also helps that he goes slowly, allowing for you to fully adjust to his hardness. He grips your thighs with his big hands as he fully shields himself inside of you, pulling out and using your thighs to pull you right back onto his dick. Your voice comes out in little pants and moans, joined by his grunts. 

“So doctor, everything alright?” Your voice is far from steady, but you can't really bring yourself to care. “How does it feel?” 

“Heavenly darling.” Mori’s mouth crashes onto yours, practically inhaling your face. He kisses with a wild kind of desperation, so different from the unhurried tone of voice he had taken up before. It's hot, the juxtaposition. And you can feel the coil of an orgasm curling in your stomach. “I'm close.” You pant out, as Mori nuzzles your jaw, his hair tangling with your own. “Same.” The doctor pants out, his steady rhythm speeding up a little, and you moan out especially loud as his calloused thumb works at your clit, rubbing little circles into it. 

The tangle of orgasm is building now, and then, the tip of his dick hits that spot, the spot that makes pleasure explode though your body. You shudder, and cum around his dick, gripping his shoulders and moaning out a garbled mix of his name and some moans. He continues thrusting, working you through your orgasm and just as you're about to come down he thrusts one more time, and with a small little moan in your ear, he withdraws. 

“So doctor.” You pant, leaning back against the chair. “Everything healthy?” 

“Very.” Mori says, disposing of the condom in the garbage and doing up his clothes. He scratches his neck awkwardly, watching you put on your underwear and roll down your skirt. “So, Miss Name? Do you maybe want to get coffee together or something?” 

You grab your purse, and turn, planting a bold little kiss on his lips, and pressing your business card into his hands. “I’d love to.” And with a ‘call me’ you close the door behind you.

End Notes: It's been a long time since i had an appointment lol, the details are hazy at best. Also barely got this one done in time

Taglist:@mulit05ho3st4n

[impala-dreamer]

Cherry Wine

A Tale from the 'My Bloody Valentine' Universe

~Tom left town in a hurry, escaping capture by faking his death. On the run and distraught, he finds comfort in the arms of a stranger.~

Tom Hanniger x Rose (OFC)

2,453 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Sexual Scenes. Torture. Bondage. Psychosis. Movie Level Blood and Gore.

A/N: Written for @jacklesversebingo "Be good for me and I'll untie you."

This takes place immediately after the film and shows Tom still dealing with his issues, namely murder. If you're unfamiliar with the movie, I doubt it will matter. Just know that he is insane and dangerous. Hope you enjoy!

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he couldn't go home.

He didn't even know where home was anymore. Was it back in Harmony surrounded by memories and the corpses of his childhood? Or back in the hospital with all of his twisted pain and overly medicated thoughts?

He didn't know.

So he drove.

He drove until the sun rose and hung high in the sky, blossoming over the Pennsylvania landscape like the face of God. Bright and warm, it beat down on the maroon truck as trees blurred in his peripheral.

When the gas tank was as empty as his stomach, he pulled off of the interstate and parked, taking only his wallet and jacket with him.

The late afternoon was warm. February had been uncharacteristically mild, and he tugged at the collar of his sweatshirt, readjusting the hood behind his head.

Bill’s Diner was open and crowded. Tables lined the big front window, each red vinyl booth filled with locals who chatted over never-ending cups of coffee and plates of over-done french fries.

A little bell rang overhead as he walked in, and a pretty brunette with long hair pulled back into a tight bun smiled.

“Sit anywhere, hun,” she called to him while navigating the sea of tables with her hands full.

Tom nodded and looked around for an empty spot before deciding on a stool at the counter. He sat and slumped forward, clasped his hands on the sticky linoleum. He stared at his hands, willing the trembling to cease, but it never really went away. He was always just a little bit anxious, some part of him always shaking even if no one else saw.

Trauma had slashed at his soul and the scars ran deep.

A deep breath steadied him and Tom looked up as the waitress came into view.

“Hey there. Welcome to Bill’s. Can I getcha something to drink?”

Her smile was captivating. Her two front teeth were adorably bigger than the rest and her plump bow lips were tinted gently with a red gloss that made them look forever wet.

He couldn’t help but stare.

She blinked and looked away, pale skin blushing a soft pink under his gaze. Bright blue eyes gleamed when she turned back and Tom’s chest ached.

She reminded him of Sarah but a little plainer, a little softer all over.

“Hello?”

She waved a hand in front of his face and Tom startled, sitting up straight and shaking his head to clear his vision.

“Sorry,” he said with a sigh. “Long drive.”

The waitress nodded and grabbed a mug from below the counter. “I bet.” She filled it with coffee and slid it to Tom who smiled and closed his hands around the cup. “You coming or going?”

He bit his lip, wondering how to answer. Where was he coming from? Where was he going? To hell, probably.

Tired green eyes swept over her. The plastic buttons on her white shirt were tiny and struggling to keep the thin fabric from pulling open across her breasts. Her dark jeans were tight and dusted with flour and a few drops of marinara that had slipped past her black apron. Her curves were decadent and she smelled like vanilla.

He cleared his throat. “Just passing through.”

She smiled kindly and laid a plastic covered menu next to his coffee.

“Well, alright then, stranger. My name’s Rose. When you’re ready, just holler.” She winked and turned away, leaving him to scan the day’s specials alone.

The giant clock in the corner ticked the hours away. Customers came and went. Coins were dropped; tips were thin. Empty plates smeared with ketchup stacked up in the kitchen; spilled salt was wiped from table tops with a dingy rag.

Rose was busy most of the evening, but never too busy to stop back at the counter and talk with Tom. She lingered near him, pretending to clean while they chatted about how it hadn’t snowed in a few weeks and how the price of gas was going down a bit. She was sweet and Tom liked being near her. She was beautiful and her voice was like a calm breeze that lulled and comforted him.

When the windows were dark and the fuchsia neon glowed bright, Rose set her hands on the counter and looked down at him.

“Closing time, buddy. You don’t have to go home, butcha can’t stay here.”

He looked up through thick lashes and smiled flirtatiously. “Already?”

Rose licked her lips. “Sadly, yes. All good things must come to an end. Or so I’m told.”

“That’s a shame.” Without looking away, he drained the sweet swill from the bottom of his mug. “There any place to get a drink around here?” He paused, calculating her interest, and then went for it. He had nothing to lose. “Or maybe I could walk you home…”

Rose’s cheeks burned and her smile was impossible to hide. “Maybe both.”

Tom rolled onto his back and stretched, rolling his head on his shoulders and taking a deep breath. He hadn’t slept so well in a long time; hadn’t felt so good in forever.

Rose had been just what he needed.

They sat on her cinnamon couch and drank sparkling pink wine. Tom hated it, but the bubbles felt nice and each sip seemed to loosen her up a bit more.

When the bottle was empty and the glasses drained, Rose scooted closer and set her hand on Tom’s knee. He bit his lip as her fingers climbed higher, held his breath as she palmed his dick through his jeans, let his eyes close as she climbed into his lap.

She was heavy and warm. He ran his hands down her sides, slid his fingers around the curve of her waist. She pressed her ass down over him and rolled her hips.

He hissed at the friction and pushed a hand through her long hair, dragging her down for a kiss.

Her lips were plump and delicious. The gloss on her mouth tasted so familiar to him but he couldn’t place it.

“I never do this,” she whispered, half laughing as she ran her hands down his chest.

Tom grinned and traced the soft flesh above her jeans. “I don’t know, you’re pretty good at it.”

She chewed her lip and blushed. “I mean, take customers home. I haven’t done this in forever.”

He stared deep into her eyes and popped the bottom button of her shirt. “Well, I’m glad you decided to.” He scraped his nails down her sides and Rose’s head tipped back, her eyes fluttered shut, she hummed lustfully.

“Me too…”

He smiled and tossed the sheet off of himself; sat up and scrubbed a hand down his face. He’d have to shave soon, but it wasn’t a priority. He scratched at his scalp and yawned.

“Mornin’.”

Tom sucked a strawberry nipple between his lips and melted at the sound she made. Rose arched her back, pushing her tits against his face and grinding down on his cock.

They were mostly naked, shirts and jeans tugged away and tossed into random corners of the small living room. Only thin fabric separated them now, and Tom rubbed his middle finger against her covered slit. Her raspberry panties were soaked.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

Rose nibbled on his ear. “Wanna see the bedroom?”

He jerked his hips, bounced her in his lap. “Absolutely…”

The bedroom was flooded with mid-day sun that filtered through the thin curtains, and he stood up in a sun puddle, feeling the warmth instantly. He sighed and walked to the adjoining bathroom.

The tile floor was freezing and he tiptoed in, pulled back the shower curtain and turned on the tap.

“You don’t mind if I take a quick shower, do you?”

She was total perfection.

Stretched out over the bed, her pale skin looked like fresh cream against the burgundy sheets. She moaned as he tied the silken sash tight around her left wrist, squirmed as he leaned over her to secure the right.

“Another thing I never do,” she teased, reaching with her mouth to catch a kiss.

“What’s that? Let a stranger tie you up?” His smile was devilish yet sweet and he gave in to a deep kiss.

“Not exactly a safe thing to do…”

He licked into her mouth; savored the taste of her. “No,” he laughed, pulling back to look down at her. “It’s really not.”

Blue eyes fluttered as Tom drew his hands down her nakedness. He cupped each breast, pinched her nipples, scraped his teeth against the stiff buds.

“Fuck, you’re driving me nuts,” she whimpered, tugging at the restraints, needing to touch him.

He settled between her thighs, his broad shoulders pushing them open wide. “That’s kinda the point.”

His tongue burned like fire against her clit. He nuzzled into her, lapped at her slick heat, teased her to the edge of ecstacy.

Rose bucked her hips into his handsome face, held her breath as he slipped two thick fingers inside. Her body tensed. Her mind blanked. Her pulse quickened.

“Fuck. Please…”

Again, she tugged at the sashes holding her tight and Tom lifted his eyes. He grinned at her struggle.

“Be good for me,” he breathed, “and I’ll untie you.”

Heavy, warm steam filled the room as Tom lingered by the sink. He toyed with her toothbrush, sifted through her medicine cabinet. There wasn’t much inside and everything was expected. Floss, antibiotic ointment, a few hairpins. Half a bottle of aspirin, tweezers, lotion.

He smiled. Her skin was so soft.

He slipped in like a knife through warm butter, filling her up with his thick cock.

Tom thrust against her; dug his fingertips into the soft flesh above her hip bones. “Fuck, you’re amazing,” he moaned, his eyes closed, head thrown back as her body tightened around him.

Rose held her breath, wriggling harder beneath him with each jerk of his hips.

“Please!”

He looked down at her wet, ruby lips and smiled. Leaning down, he folded her nearly in half and scratched hard down her sides. She squirmed and garnet lines erupted in his wake.

“So gorgeous…”

His pace quickened. She moaned loudly over the sound of his thighs slapping against her ass.

“Please!”

Each scream egged him on. Every twist of her body beneath him made his heart race.

Rose was panting, choking on her pleasure as he fucked deep into her.

“Tom-”

He closed a hand around her delicate throat, massaged the sacred arteries on either side.

She thrashed against the bindings; eyes wide and lips growing pale.

He squeezed harder and he felt her cunt pulse as she came. Blue eyes were fading in a sea of wine, blood vessels bursting as his grip tightened.

“That’s it,” he grit, riding her through the pleasure. “Just like that. Fuck!”

Tom closed the cabinet door. He swept away the fog with his palm and looked into his own eyes. He was happy, sated and beaming.

His lips were ruddy and swollen a deep red. He pressed his fingertips to them and sighed. He could still feel her kiss, taste her on his tongue.

She tasted like cherry wine.

He kissed her gently yet deeply, memorizing the feel of her plush lips against his and the way she melted into him. His cum ran down her leg, warm and messy.

He pulled away and rolled onto his side, yanked the thin sheet up around his shoulders.

She slept soundly; he mumbled in his sleep.

Tom stepped into the hot water and moaned happily. The pressure was sublime. Water pounded his aching muscles, burned his skin blissfully.

He ran his hands through his hair and turned around to face the spray. It washed down his cheeks, flowed into his mouth. He looked down at the drain and gasped as a whirlpool of crimson swirled around the chrome and disappeared.

“The fuck?”

His mind raced.

His hands were stained with dried blood; his forearms scored with claw marks.

He panicked, panting as the water washed the night away and his memory returned.

He ripped through her skin like a knife through warm butter.

Tom jabbed the blade into her; dug the tip into the soft flesh above her hip bones.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growled, green eyes wide as he watched the blood flow from her sides.

Rose gasped for a breath and wrenched her arms free of the silk sashes. She slapped at his chest, shoved his face away.

“Please!”

He looked down at her gaping ruby lips and smiled. With a murderous gleam in his eyes, he scratched hard down her side with the knife and watched the garnet stream erupt in his wake.

“So gorgeous…”

She kicked at him, summoning all of her strength to push him off even as her energy seeped away and soaked into the sheets. “Please!”

Each scream egged him on. Every twist of her body beneath him made his heart race and his cock twitch.

Barely able to breathe, Tom burst from the shower and steadied himself on the sink, knuckles blanching as he held on tight. He forced himself to look at his reflection and nearly broke as he saw the lingering blood on his cheeks. The splatter had been fast and furious- an arterial spray that painted his face from temple to chin.

“Fuck…”

He closed his left hand around her delicate throat, harshly pinching the sacred arteries on either side.

Rose clawed at his arms, drawing blood as she fought for her life.

He squeezed harder and felt her pulse slow. Blue eyes were fading in a sea of wine, blood vessels bursting as his grip tightened.

“That’s it,” he grit, lifting the knife to her jaw. “Just like that.” He sliced through her vocal chords, silencing her cries forever. A sanguine tide covered her milky breasts, stained his steady hands.

Through a cloud of steam, Tom stumbled back into the bedroom and bit back a scream.

Rose was laid out on the right side of the bed, her naked body posed as if sleeping. Her throat was torn, her sides split, chest carved open exposing the pale bones caging her heart.

He swallowed down a wave of bile and fell to his knees.

“Not again…”

Above the bed, drawn in Rose’s blood, was a simple heart.

Tom laughed as the last bit of life drained from her beautiful face. He bent to kiss her cold lips, savoring the last taste of her, memorizing the soft push of her lips.

He licked the blood from his fingertips as he rolled over, tired and sated.

She tasted like cherry wine.

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

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[munsonsreputation]

I THINK THERE'S BEEN A GLITCH

CHAPTER ONE - WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE JUST FRIENDS

series masterlist | chapter two ↣

🎧 soundtrack

steve harrington x fem!baker + artist

word count: [20.2K]

warnings: no use of y/n, lots of mentions of self deprecation, reader talking about an emotionally exhausting past bf, steve talking shit abt his parents, cursing, steve & reader crushing on each other so mutual pining, lots of sweetness and fluff &lt;3

summary: you make friends with a girl named Robin who politely and hilariously mistakes some red paint on your jeans as blood. Who knew it would lead to you and her becoming friends and her inviting you to meet her other ones? The even bigger mystery is how her best friend, Steve, is starting to become someone you’re falling for.

Steve Harrington’s living room was packed. Not that it was particularly out of the ordinary since his place was the go-to spot for hangouts, but today it had been packed for a different reason and a new arrival. Though it seemed Robin was the only uneasy person even when she was the one who had begged for this to happen.

Trying to cope, she began fluffing up the couch pillows and straightening the books on the coffee table while she rambled. 

“She’s cool. I mean, she paints, for one, like totally realistic paintings, but she also really loves baking!”

Mike rolled his eyes, puffing dramatically and deciding to take a flop down on the couch where she just tidied up, “She sounds like my grandma.” 

“Piss off!” Robin hissed, smacking his knee as the rest of their friends watched on at the repartee. 

Steve was the skeptical one about the whole situation, considering what could happen if Robin’s new friend wasn’t entirely who she was supposed to be. It’s not that he didn’t trust Robin’s whole intuition about people, but you seemed too good to be true. Almost like a fantasy because the person Robin described to all of them for the past few weeks was pure perfection.

Even everyone else was beginning to question if meeting at Steve’s house for the first time was a good idea, realizing that you could be a creep or a murderer, but they were just being a tad bit dramatic. Before he could think too much into it than he already was, the doorbell rang, catching everyone’s attention and eyes that darted towards the front door.

“I’ll get it!”

Robin clapped her hands excitedly, darting to the door and unlocking it with vigor before opening it wide enough so she and everyone else could get a good look at you. 

You stood in the doorway with a big smile and your hands full. One balancing a bright yellow ceramic dish on your palm, and your other arm busy holding a covered frame between your body. 

You wore a white skirt, decorated with itty bitty eyelets that resembled a daisy cutout and a white top with the same pattern to match. A brown shoulder bag draped across your chest and a pair of strappy sandals on your feet. 

Only when you inched forward, meeting cheek to cheek with Robin, in an endearing hello, did they finally get a good glance at what you looked like.

Bright eyes, wispy lashes, and lids covered in the tiniest amount of sheer glitter. A glow from within on your cheeks and high points, like the sun and pretty pink petals were rushing to the surface of your skin. Dewy lips coated in gloss and flickers of sparkles that shined through your smile that you wore throughout the interaction.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” was the first thing that came out of your mouth and the first time they had heard your voice. 

Robin shook her head, opening the door wider and prompting you in, “don’t be!”

You looked around in curiosity, taking in the architecture and feel of the home before being greeted with a few smiles and waves from the strangers around the living room.

You returned it, though it never really dared to leave your face to begin with. Softly speaking out a few, “hi’s” and “hello’s” to them before turning towards Robin and holding out a big frame towards her.  

“Happy Birthday!” You declared gleefully as she stared at you confused.

The rest of her friends murmuring something about possibly forgetting her birthday, just as puzzled as her. 

She stuttered, trying to recall if she might have told you the wrong date or something, “I-It’s not my birthday?” 

Your cheek met your shoulder shrewdly, once again pushing the gift towards her, “I know! But I wanted an excuse to give you this.” 

You juggled the canvas into your hands, trying your best not to drop the pie pan. Robin reached her hands out, taking the pie from you as you flashed her a thankful smile, pulling the cover off the canvas to present her with a small gift of gratitude. 

“Tah-Dah!” You singsonged, turning the canvas towards her and watching the shock and amazement that covered her face before a wide smile appeared followed by the “oh’s” and “ah’s” of her friends that you completely forgot about.

Robin spun her arms to the left of her, hastily handing the pie to Steve who took it and placed it on the coffee table. The front entrance of his home, now the new crowded spot as everyone marveled at the artwork. He quickly joined in, not wanting to miss an ounce of it, finding an open spot between you and Robin. 

He took it all in, eyes fixed on the print that was gushing with blossoms of her favorite colors: sage green, mauve, and pale yellow. But it wasn’t an ordinary painting—the petals were formed with dollops of the paint, and it probably took days to dry. It was rare, something that he and the others had never seen before. 

His fingers brushed the paint petals, careful not to mess up your handwork,“This is incredible….” 

Flickering his gaze to you, he flashed you a toothy smile, letting his hand pull back from the canvas and stick out towards you.

“I’m Steve, by the way.” He extended his arm, making a sweeping gesture to catch your attention.

Tearing your eyes away from Robin’s heartwarming reaction, your sights drifted to the hand, then to the owner of it, instantly captivated by his friendliness and allure. Your stare lingered a bit too long, lost in trying to memorize him, so you shook your head, internally cursing yourself for the trance you fell into. 

“Oh, sorry! It’s nice to meet you!” Quickly you handed the entire piece to Robin, adverting your full attention to the new acquaintance whose house you just barged into. 

You knew just from the looks of it that he was Steve Harrington, the guy that Robin had described to you as being her insanely attractive yet idiotic best friend.

His hair, like Robin had described, was unquestionably perfect, falling into place as if he didn’t even try. Robin let you in on a secret that he was infamously called “King Steve” throughout high school for being so good with the ladies—now you were sure you knew why.

He chuckled when you grabbed his hand firmly, shaking it with vigor like how a father would but without the cynical look on your face. Instead, you looked genuinely thrilled, twinkling eyes and a broad smile gracing your lips. 

“Great to finally meet you. Robin’s been yapping all week about her new friend.” 

You laughed quietly, finally letting go of his hand and reaching over to sling your arm across Robin’s shoulder. She leaned into you, nuzzling her head against yours with a content look on her radiant face.

“Well, she’s been raving about all of her friends, so I just knew I had to meet you all.” 

Robin smirked, finally giving you a hug and murmuring a curt thank you for the generous gift and turning to all of her friends while keeping you close to her side. 

“Everyone, this is my new friend. I met her last week and now we’re attached to the hip!” Robin announced, her voice carrying a mix of affection and playful teasing.

Steve feigned a gasp, holding a hand over his heart, “Replacing me already?”

“Oh shut up, dingus!” Robin reached forward, whacking him with her palm as he yelped and pretended to be offended. 

A curly-headed boy sporting a baseball cap stepped forward, “Ignore those two, they’re literal children…I’m Dustin!”

You reached your hand out, shaking his before casually everyone began introducing themselves to you. 

Part of you was trying to remember each name connected to a face, but it was also a tad bit overwhelming with so many of them. Making friends was never an easy task for you, but you liked your own solitude, so you didn’t mind. But that also didn’t mean you didn’t long to have friends who you could talk to or hang out with from time to time and share your life with. 

So when Robin tapped you on the shoulder at the grocery store to inform you your period had arrived you were visibly horrified but relieved that she offered you her jacket as you two found the restroom. And in the bathroom you let out a ridiculous laugh, covering your mouth as she stared at you in the mirror’s reflection confused. 

“Red paint! This is paint! I must have sat on it or something!” 

You and Robin hit it off, talking for what seemed like hours inside that grocery store bathroom. The two of you had a habit of over sharing, but it helped you bond and grow closer. After exchanging numbers and spending afternoons on the phone talking and getting to know each other better , she invited you over to a hangout with her friends.

“You guys must have scared her or something.” Robin shook you a bit in her hold to grab you away from a little daydream.

You blinked, looking over at her, then back to her friends watching until you came through, “sorry! sorry! I zone out sometimes…I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. She does it all the time.” Steve pointed at Robin who stuck her tongue out at him. 

Nancy, the brunette who you remembered as one of the kids’ older sister, stepped forward hooking her arm inside yours, “Okaaaay, here, why don’t you come sit?”

She wore a warm smile and guided you further into the living room. Her touch was gentle, and the gesture alone made you feel like she was happy to have you here, easing a bit of your anxiety. When she unhooked her arm from yours, you mouthed a “thank you,” and she shook it off, just smiling and patting the empty seat beside her. 

You placed your purse down on your lap, while Robin sat on the other side of you. The rest of the friends finding their own area on the opposite couch or on the floor, making you feel less suffocated and more like an inviting circle. 

“Robin tells us that you’re mega cool!” Dustin exclaims followed by a thwack on the head by the red head Max and her boyfriend Lucas who sports the bucket hat. 

Timidly, you swung your head low, feeling a mix of bashfulness and gratitude for her words when you weren’t around. You glanced towards Robin, who beamed with pride because she genuinely thought you were the coolest person she had ever met—probably even on the planet. 

“I don’t think I’m cool…like at all.” You admitted, rubbing a hand up and down your arm.

Robin rolled her eyes, shaking her head at her friends then looking back at you, “She’s too humble, I mean really, she is so super duper cool and I’m shocked she’d even consider being my friend.” 

Jokingly, you nudged her, making her laugh, “Don’t sell yourself short, Robin—“ 

Before you could continue uplifting the spirts of self esteem, the boy with the unruly hair…Mick? Mike! 

Mike cuts in, eyes zeroing in on your torso where you begin to follow. 

“What’s that on your shirt?” He squinted, pointing at the recent stains on your top. 

Peeping your eyes down and looking meticulously, the stain was barely noticeable unless someone was really looking—anyway, the white color was a bit off from the shade of your actual top, and there had been some sort of residue left. 

Nancy realized it at first, seeing that the stain couldn’t be seen to the naked eye, unless her brother was being a disgusting little shithead. She swiftly grabbed the decorative pillow behind her, chucking it towards him.

“You’re such a pig, Mike!” 

Everyone switched their attention from you, and instead pestered and teased Mike for being so “observant” with you here in a spaghetti strap top.

But you attempted to stifle your laughter, not wanting him to feel so embarrassed despite his sudden interjection. You were hoping he wasn’t being a stereotypical depraved teen who couldn’t focus when your shoulders were out.

Instead, you attempted to swipe at it with your fingertips, but alas it didn’t budge and stubbornly clung to the fabric, “ It’s just paint and apparently…” You tugged the portion closer to your nose, scrunching it up, “Sugar. Powdered sugar.” 

The young boy almost looked impressed at your ability to articulate the specific ingredient despite the verbal onslaught he had just faced. “Sick.” 

Robin clicked her tongue, jutting her chin out toward Steve who sat across from you in a recliner. 

“Steve, give her something to change into,” she told him, prompting him to sit up, looking at you and instantly nodding. 

“Yeah, of course, follow me,” He motioned you to follow his lead as he stood up, yet you remained sitting, tipping your head slightly up at him.

You raised one of your brows, “Are you sure? I’m totally ok with it. It’s my fault, anyway.” 

“I’m sure…c’mon, it’s the least I could do.” Steve nodded again, waving his arm towards himself, and you got up.

Trailing behind Steve up the stairs, you marveled at the simplicity of the home despite its expanse. The wallpaper was a muted gray with cream accents and walls encasing the space leading up were decorated with a few framed photographs that you assumed were Steve and his family.

From what Robin had told you, his parents weren’t home too often, if at all, which explained why the photos were outdated and mostly from his childhood, having no evidence of recent portraits.

The hallway towards the bedrooms had a running rug across the wooden floors. The fuzzy textile felt worn yet homey against your feet. Steve’s bedroom was located at the end of the hall, and when he opened up the door, you seemed to feel more of his personality shining in that space. 

“Ignore the mess.” He apologized, twisting open the door to let you in first.

In contrast to the living room and main quarters of the house, his room felt more like himself. 

The wallpaper in his room, plaid with white, green, and black accents and, of course, matching curtains. His bed was somewhat neatly made with the pillows fluffed and gray sheets on the mattress. A few drawers to hold what you assumed were part of his closet and other belongings.

But his desk, which looked to be the most messy yet contained spot of his room, littered with tapes, books, and other papers. The only thing hanging on his wall was a photo of a vintage car that you couldn’t name for the life of you. 

You turned your head to look at him, where he stood, watching you taking in the space with a grin,“You’re actually really neat…neater than I am.” 

Steve let out a grunt, chuckling to himself as he turned to his accordion wardrobe doors and opened them in search of finding you something without a stain. It didn’t help that he had forgotten to do a fresh load of laundry, but that the rest of his clean shirts were polos and hoodies. 

“So are you from Hawkins?” He wondered, sifting through the hangers. 

“No, I’m from Roane, actually! I only really come to Hawkins for the art store but last weekend I decided to run my errands here since I was already in town and that’s how I met Robin.”

You explained, your fingers absentmindedly rubbing the fabric of your shirt between the stain still trying to get it out.

Steve plucked a hoodie from the rack, holding it up in front of you, trying to decipher its comfort. The fabric was way too thick, and he was certain that in this Hawkins weather you’d be drowning in not only a puddle of fleece but sweat too.

Shaking his head, he gave you an apologetic glance that you didn’t seem to catch.

“You live alone?” He planted the item back on the hanger and continued to look. 

“Yeah, but I actually used to live with my boyfriend…or ex-boyfriend now,” You clarified, giving up on the stubborn stain and sighing, “we were together for a little while but he just decided things weren’t working out and so he left.” 

He looked back briefly, eyebrows raised in curiosity, “How many years were you guys together…if you don’t mind me asking.” 

You shook your head, reassuring him that it was alright, “Six years.” 

The widening of his eyes made you giggle, but it wasn’t unexpected considering someone your age having a relationship that long wasn’t typically normal.

“Excuse me? Six years! I don’t even think I’ve had a single friend stay in my life for six years.” 

“Seems like a lifetime, right?” You joked with a comical lift to your voice and he nodded like it was the obvious answer, which it was. 

He knew that you both weren’t too far apart in age, both in your early twenties, but it was just shocking to hear that you were in a six year relationship at your age. The longest relationship he had was a year with Nancy Wheeler and even then that seemed like forever, but you must have really fallen deeply in love with your ex if you lasted that long. 

“We kinda just grew out of each other.  It’s kinda inevitable after dating all four years of high school then two years after that. We just realized that we wanted different things in life and by different, he wanted me to “finally start taking life seriously,” or whatever the fuck that meant.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, making air quotes with your fingers.

So that explains it, he thought to himself.

“He wanted to move out of Indiana?” Steve questioned, turning his attention back to his closet. 

You made a noise, unsure if that fully answered his question. But you moved up beside him, silently asking if it was okay to help him sift through the hangers. Nodding, he shifted over, giving you space to look through the untouched hangers.

You went back to his question, giving him an actual answer, that you hoped would sum up the story that was way too long to tell in whole. 

“Not necessarily…but he just didn’t like the fact that art was not only my hobby, but my passion. He always wanted me to get a real job, you know, those boring ones where you sit at a desk all day and think about what you did so wrong in your past life to be doing paperwork for the rest of it.” 

His eyes followed as your face contorted with revulsion as if that was one of the most heinous jobs in the world, but for someone like you who thrived off creative free rein, it truly was. Steve threw his head, laughing at your expression, finding it truly amusing because for someone like him, he also realized that even if he was a lost young adult, he’d much rather keep working at a VHS store than walk into work everyday wearing an uncomfortable suit and dozing off in meetings. 

His amusement turned your scorned face upside down, abruptly reeling in the fact that he actually found what you said to be funny. And you hoped that he wasn’t being overdramatic just to make you feel better, but you were positive that it wasn’t because it was the type of laughter that had the skin by his eyes creased because of how hard he was laughing—even his arm slinging over his torso, like the laughter was so infectious that it hurt. 

The sound of his hilarity, leaping off the walls of his room like music to your ears, wishing you possessed the ability to always make people laugh this freely, just to witness moments like this. Eventually, though, he settled down, snapping his fingers at you and pointing with a still carefree smile on his lips. 

“That was a good one! Now I’ve gotta use that when my dad keeps bugging me about getting a real job.” He praised, finally turning back the original spot in his closet and plucking it off the rod.

It was a bright yellow long sleeve, the fabric not too thick or thin, but just about right. You reached for the sleeve of it, feeling the material between your fingers, and Steve’s eyes waited for your approval. 

“Feels nice.” You said with a nod, dropping it from your fingertips and letting him slide the garment off the plastic hanger before placing it in your hands. 

He glanced back at the bedroom door, then back to you, “I’ll wait outside the door so you can change.” He offered, letting himself out and closing it behind him.

Inside the room, Steve could hear the soft rustling as you moved, wondering if what he gave you was good enough or if you were being too nice and not wanting to offend him by saying the yellow color was awful. Meanwhile, you placed your top on the lid of his hamper, making a mental note to come back here and retrieve it before you headed back home. 

His voice came through on the other side of the door, breaking the brief silence.

“Sooo…your ex-boyfriend. I’m sure he was a computer science major, right? Totally douchey with a superiority complex?” 

You snorted, pulling the garment over your body and slipping your arms through the sleeves. “You think computer science is douchey?” 

He leaned up against the door frame, humming a reply and then finding the words.

“Yeah, totally, I mean nothing screams douchey than a guy who thinks he’s better than someone because he works with computers and not a paintbrush.” 

Your movements slowed as you pulled your hair free from the collar and fitted the excess material underneath itself so it wasn’t drowning over you. 

There was suddenly that fond pleasant feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach and in the cage of your chest. When Robin had mentioned that Steve was charming, she wasn’t kidding. There was no reason he should have this much of an effect on you so soon. Yet, here he was, effortlessly tearing down your ex-boyfriend and making you feel better about your own endeavors. 

After a few seconds of taking a deep breath to collect yourself, you reached for the doorknob, turning it open to see his body supported by the one arm propped against the wooden frame. You bit your lip, watching his gaze fall down your face to his shirt on your body. 

“Then I’d say you’re right…you guessed it,” Your arms flared out before coming down to your sides, standing there not knowing what else to say considering he had hit the nail head-on. 

For the first time in the last fifteen minutes since he met you, this was the only time you seemed so sheepish. Out in the living room you looked so confident, even when it was obvious that the attention towards you was a little overwhelming, you still could change the subject or revert it somewhere else. Here with your eyes glued to your feet, not meeting him, he felt like you were trapped — that he might have said something that hit a little too close to home and made you uncomfortable. 

His eyes softened, clearly full of regret for being so upfront about a situation he only knew surface level stuff about. Just because you had talked to him a little about the horrible stuff your ex said, didn’t mean he understood the whole story. That there clearly was something deeper, possibly trauma that he didn’t know about and here you were forced to endure the awkward silence and flooding memories of what had happened all because he couldn’t shut up. 

Your view of your feet against the wooden floor was suddenly interrupted by Steve’s hands reaching forward, accompanied by his voice.

“I—I’m sorry, for bringing it up…I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or anything! I-It’s just, he sounds like a total dick and you should know that what he told you isn’t true—“ 

He spoke rapidly, stumbling over his words and making short pauses, making sense because the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel uneasy. 

You furrowed your brows, snapping your eyes up to his.

“No, no! You’re fine, it’s just that, no one has really said that stuff about him…about him being an asshole. And…I don’t know, it kinda feels nice to hear.”

Underneath your reassuring expression, your lips twitched up and Steve swore you were about to burst into a full on prideful smirk because of the jabs he took at your ex. So his words indeed took you aback, but in a good way.

He validated your feelings about your past relationship and suddenly there was a shift in the mood, and Steve closed his eyes, taking a relieved breath, grateful that he hadn’t scared you away with that conversation.

Meanwhile, you laughed softly to yourself, feeling a rush of giggles bubble up in your chest, seeing him relax under your certainty.

He opened his eyes, looking at you, trying to look stone-faced, “But, seriously, he’s sounds like a huge asshole,” He couldn’t help the cackle that escaped through his lips, breaking his solemn face, followed by you pushing a hand out and pressing his shoulder gingerly. 

“The hugest! I’m being so serious!” You added, only making the two of you laugh harder, not caring to contain it in the small space between the bedroom and the hallway. 

A simple moment in time was all you needed to know that Steve was genuinely a good guy, not just a pretty face with an idiotic mind attached to him. As the laughter died down, Steve stepped back, holding his hand out and gesturing you into the hallway with him and back down the stairs where you two were met with the noise of your friends chatting in the living room. 

Robin slapped a hand over her forehead once the two of you came into view, earning a raised eyebrow from you and Steve, both of whom stopped a few feet into the area. She exaggeratedly dropped her hand to her side, feigning exasperation.

“What’s the matter?” You crossed your arms across your chest, looking genuinely troubled and waiting for an explanation. 

All eyes turned to you and Steve now, grunts and smothered laughs coming from everyone, while you guys both stood there, oblivious to their reactions. Dustin, unable to contain himself, started convulsing with laughter and clutching his stomach, even going as far as to throw himself into Mike’s lap before getting shoved off.

Then he stood up in front of both of you, pointing an accusing finger at Steve’s shirt he lent you. 

“What did you do to make him hate you so much that he gave you that horrid shirt?”

His face twisted in disgust, and he mockingly gagged, sticking out his tongue and dramatically turning away. Steve should’ve seen this one coming. He swatted Dustin’s hand away from you, shaking his head with a playful scowl. Then placed his hands on his hips, adopting a father-like pose, something else they also teased him for.

He had worn the long sleeve a couple of times before, and each time he did, everyone poked fun at him. Commenting on the revolting color, comparing it to poop or vomit instead of the ground seed condiment he claimed it paralleled, according to the saleswomen at Macy’s who convinced him enough to buy it. And now that’s why he stopped wearing it, growing tired of the kids, but especially Robin and Eddie, calling him ‘Baby Poop Harrington’ in the middle of Star Court and Family Video.

“You guys just don’t get fashion,” Steve argued, raising his eyebrows and forehead toward the others in an unconvincing manner. He fanned his arm, gesturing at you.

“It’s mustard, and it clearly looks good on her.”

The compliment was sudden, causing your eyes to enlarge somewhat and cheeks to blush. You hoped that no one caught it, being too busy to notice you looking downward at the shirt pretending to examine it in order to play it off when in fact you were rubbing your lips together to stop the smile from rising with your cheeks.

The banter continued to go on, which made you relieved, as you were able to get some composure and flicker your sights back up to everyone else arguing with Steve. Eddie huffed out a laugh, stretching his arms behind his head where he lounged on the opposite couch. He pointedly stared at you and the outfit, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Nobody said it doesn’t look good on her. We just said the color isn’t very pretty.”

Nancy tilted her head, observing you and the shirt closely. Her eyes widened in realization, and she nodded in agreement.

“Actually, it does look really good on you. Maybe the styling was the issue.” She glanced at Steve with a grimace before waving it off and marveling at the color.

Steve raised his voice, as if trying to convince them through sheer volume. “I wore it with blue sweatpants!”

“Exactly!” the group chorused, their voices overlapping in mock protest.

You couldn’t help but snort out a short laugh, finding the entire situation amusing. You exchanged glances with Steve, realizing that this was obviously a very passionate but lighthearted topic within the friend group, kinda like their own inside joke.

Steve ignored the rest of the laughter and teasing, falling back into his comfortable recliner as you sat yourself back in between Nancy and Robin.

Lucas, the one seated next to the redhead who was his girlfriend, tapped his fist on the coffee table. “Can we cut into the pie? It smells delicious, and it’s been calling my name for the past thirty minutes.”

You nodded excitedly, rubbing your hands together, “Sure, it’s cherry by the way, so hopefully you all like that!” Your hands fell into your lap, looking over at Steve.

“I just need a knife to cut into it and some plates and forks.” 

Steve rose up, giving you a nod, “I’ll go get it,” he said before walking through the archway into what you assumed was the kitchen. 

The kids had gathered around the coffee table, smelling the air to get a whiff of the baked good you had spent the whole morning baking, and even Eddie got up from his relaxed state to push the kids aside and get a smell. 

You felt a little bad seeing as though Steve had already gone out of his way to open up his home to you and then lend you clothing after a mishap that was entirely your fault, yet you were still sitting here, not helping. 

You looked over at Robin, patting her knee smoothly, “I’ll go help Steve.” 

Before you could stand up, she grasped onto your wrist, waving the other in the air, signing off that he could handle it alone, “He’s fine, don’t worry about it,”

But of course you insisted with a reassuring laugh, feeling her touch drop your hand, as you got up. “No, it’s fine, I really should!” 

Before she could protest or take your spot, you were already striding away, following into the archway that Steve had just gone through. His back was facing you, arms reaching into the cupboard to grab a stack of plates that clinked together. 

“Let me help,” you announced your presence with eagerness, walking up beside him. 

He looked over at you, relaxing his arms back down,“Hey, no, you're not supposed to be helping!” 

Your fingers tugged the bottom of his borrowed long sleeve, the fabric dancing between your fingers as you shot him a mischievous smirk, “Oh, c’mon, it’s the least I could do.”

He smiled at your mocking tone having no choice but to give in, “Fine, but just this once,” pretending to let out an exasperated sigh like you were a nuance, when in fact you weren’t. 

He nodded his chin to the set of drawers where the utensils were prompting you to grab the needed amount of forks while he gathered the remainder of the plates.

“Does it ever get lonely living alone?” He asked, voice carrying a hint of interest, while shutting the cupboard and walking to the other side of the kitchen to retrieve a knife.

“Hmmm,” You thought for a second, shrugging as you bumped your hip into the drawer, shutting it gently.

“Sometimes, but I’ve grown pretty used to it. There’s some positives like not feeling so bad when you forget to start the dishwasher.” 

He chuckled, grunting an agreement for the simple joys that living along could bring, but he also wondered about the negatives, “And the cons?” 

Your heart skipped a beat already knowing the answer right off the top of your head because it was something that ate away at your heart every day. Leaving and coming home to the same space, roaming the halls and rooms—all of yours but only yours, the kind that was lonely.

“Not having someone you can go home to, or at least looking forward to coming to.” You confessed with a frown. 

Steve sympathized, knowing that feeling all too well considering the home life he had been living since he was a teenager. Left alone with no parents around to really parent him in the first place, there was a fine line between being a teen and also being the adult to make the house a home. 

He’d try to, even when his parents were away on trips, doing a load of dishes and laundry. Cleaning out the overgrown weeds in the yard. Vacuuming and mopping the floors. All of this in hopes that when his parents did come home and see how it had been maintained, that maybe they’d want to stay home and spend time with their son. 

But alas, that meant nothing to them. If anything, it proved his parents’ thoughts that Steve was more than capable of being home all by himself. Making the home even emptier that it already was knowing that his parents would purposefully be gone longer now. 

“Y’know, it’s nice having this house all to myself, but it gets lonely too. My uh—my parents aren’t really home much, my mom follows my dad on all his work trips…kinda making sure he doesn’t cheat on her or something.” 

He let out a dry laugh while you cringed, expecting that it is in fact a joke, but he continues letting you know it isn’t.

“Anyway, ummm, it’s nice and all being able to throw parties and invite people whenever, but sometimes I just wished there was more here.” 

Looking around the room, he gestured all around and exhaled, “Like family dinners where we actually talk or even just coming home from work and seeing my parents watching tv on the couch. I swear, I haven’t seen them sit in the living room or turn on the tv since I was like twelve.” 

Placing the forks on the stack of plates, you turned apologetically to him, resting a comforting hand on his arm, seeing the way his face fell and his voice wavered on the edge between resentment and misery. 

“I’m so sorry, Steve.” You withdrew, apologizing, though none of this was your fault. 

Steve cleared his throat with a hoarse cough, swinging his head. Placing the knife down on the plates, as he ran his hand down his face, “No, don’t apologize, it’s stupid. I should be grateful they left me with a house to myself, right?” 

He let out a laugh, as if that was going to make you feel any better for the way that he was feeling. Robin only mentioned little about the absence of Steve’s parents, and you knew it wasn’t any of your business, but it made you feel for him. For how lonesome it must be for him to be estranged from the people who gave him life, yet left him under their roof and pretended like he didn’t exist. 

You, however, made the choice to live alone. After you graduated high school, you hightailed it out of your parents’ house and got a lease to your now apartment all by yourself. It wasn’t until a few months later that your then boyfriend moved in, but still after the breakup you got to keep the place all to yourself, which was valuable in a lot of ways. 

But it was also sad.

You didn’t have many friends that you kept in touch with from high school. If anything, they weren’t really the nicest nor supportive types of friends that you wanted to keep anyways. They agreed with your ex that you had to start taking life seriously and cease pursuing art, but you never listened to them. So maybe it was better off to live alone in your own seclusion rather than just keeping them around for company. 

In spite of those not so kind friends of that past, things felt a lot different with the group that you met today. Like you could let your walls down and finally open up the door.

Your finger twiddled against one another, letting out a proposition, “M-Maybe you can come to my place and hangout? All of you…I mean!” 

You were crossing your fingers that he didn’t catch the slip up that made it sound like you only wanted him to come over. 

His hands stop at his jaw, fanning over the skin there, before turning slightly towards you with a surprised look on his face. 

“Really?” 

You nodded eagerly, “I haven’t had guests around for a while and I would really love for you—you guys to come and visit.” 

There was that slip again, but Steve was too engrossed to catch it. 

“I would love—“ 

“Jesus Christ, what’s taking so long!?”

The holler coming from the living room burst that bubble between you and Steve, ultimately making you giggle when he groaned heavily, muttering an, “I’m so sorry about them,” to you while you shook your head and followed behind him while he grabbed the kitchenware. 

“You guys were taking forever!” Mike wailed, making Steve roll his eyes as you gave a gentle laugh at his impatience. 

“We were barely gone two minutes.” Steve replied, placing the plates down on the table while you carefully grabbed the knife. 

“It’s my fault. I was talking to Steve about having you guys over sometime.” You said, looking up at the boy before making the first cut into the pie. 

Robin gasped behind you, clapping her hands ecstatically, “Oh my gosh, please! Steve and I are off on Thursday!”

She turned towards Steve, looking at him dubiously. “We’re off on Thursday, right?” 

“Yeah,” He snickered, nodding his head as he slid you a plate to lay the first slice on. 

Steve picked up the plate, giving it to El just to spite the impatient Mike who sat beside her and groaned until you finished cutting the next slice which was given to Lucas. So you continued to cut as Steve served everyone. 

“Jonathan and I have a half day on Thursday, so we should be able to swing by during the afternoon.” Nancy spoke before digging into her slice. 

The last two slices remained as everyone dug into their portion while you plated it up. Passing Steve a plate, “You first.” You said quietly with a smile.

He grinned, thanking you with a nod before taking a seat on the recliner. You got yourself the last plate, scooting back towards your original seat. 

“Where do you guys work?” You looked towards Nance and Jonathan.

He swallowed his piece before speaking. “Hawkins Post. I work on photography and she writes.” his fork pointed to her before she nodded and continued. 

“Technically, we’re still interning, but we’re hoping to secure a permanent job once our internship is up.” She told you as you nodded your head. 

“That’s cool! Roane has a weekly paper, but it’s usually just filled with the same political crap about our Mayor trying to drive out local businesses and replace them with big chain stores.” You said wistfully, shaking your head. 

She chewed faster, murmuring out a reply before she was able to respond with actual words.

“Our Mayor, Mayor Kline, is actually doing the same thing! Jonathan and I have been begging to do a story about it to help save the mom-and-pop businesses, but our boss Tom,” she exhaled heavily, shaking her head with annoyance, “he agrees with the Mayor and totally shuts us down every time.” 

You pouted, placing down your untouched plate, and placing a warm hand on her shoulders, “God, I bet you they’re such assholes…I wish I could help, but seriously, if at any point you guys do figure out a way to make it happen, I’ll be happy to help any way I can.” 

Your voice was somehow sweeter than the pie that Steve was scarfing down as he watched and listened on. Everyone was too busy in their own conversations to care about the one you and Nancy were having, but not him, though he was more so focused on you. He just hoped he didn’t look like a sloppy toddler that was too distracted to realize food was all over his mouth.

Steve was just so enamored by your grace and everything that was new to him. 

He noticed the way your eyes would trickle over with all of these different sentiments while Nance confided in you about the struggles at Hawkins Post. But he assumed this was just how you usually were, a part of you, so invest in people and wanting them to know that they could talk to you and you would do your bestest to give your deepest empathy.

Only one thing he couldn’t understand was how anyone, let alone your ex-boyfriend, let go of someone who was as pure and generous as you. Steve Harrington was sure, even after only meeting you today, that you were the sweetest person he had ever had the honor of encountering. That if he really knew you were too good to be true like this, he would’ve begged Robin to invite you sooner.

“Can I have your slice if you’re not going to eat it?” Dustin’s voice broke in, his plate already finished with only crumbs left behind.

Tearing your gaze away from Nancy and switching to the boy who looked on at your untouched plate on the table. You grinned, leaning forward to push the plate closer to him, “Go crazy, I’m not hungry, anyway.” 

So not only were you kind, you were also patient—Steve was making a mental list without even realizing it and knowing what for.

Here you were giving up your slice for the little teenage twerp that just insulted the top you were borrowing only a few minutes ago. If Steve were in your shoes, he’d tell the little shit to think about making fun of mustard again before thinking he’d give up a slice of his pie for him, but then again, you weren’t Steve and you definitely weren’t an asshole. 

“Dude, let her have her slice!” Eddie chastised with a mouth full of cherries and pie pastry. 

Max flicked him on the head with a grunt. “Yeah Dusty, no wonder Suzie broke up with you.” 

Dustin glared, pulling your plate to him, “Oh shut up, I told you me and Suzie are perfectly fine and still together!” he hissed, not hesitating to take a bite of his pie. 

You shifted yourself to face forward, eyes on the kids who were thoroughly not convinced about Dustin’s so-called girlfriend. 

“Suzie?” You spoke curiously, “Does she live in Hawkins?” 

They all shook their heads, and Dustin spoke with a full mouth, but still you could hear him clearly. “She lives in Utah! Her family is crazy Mormon though, so I can only call during certain hours to speak to her through my Cerebro.” 

Your eyes widened, “Cerebro? Like from X-Men?” 

“You know X-Men?” the kids all shouted. 

You laughed, nodding your head undoubtedly. “I only have a few, but X-Men #7 is one of my favorites.” 

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding when you said she was mega cool.” Dustin’s eyes darted to Robin’s, which made you laugh.

“So tell me more about Cerebro.” 

Honestly, it was hard for any of the kids to find other people who understood or got them the way that their older siblings and friends did. It’s mainly the reason why their friend group was so small and tight-knit in the first place and they’d be lying to say they weren’t the first to oppose the idea of bringing in a new person to the group.

But you seemed genuinely engrossed in the kids’ lives, not just instinctively nodding your head and humming so that they could feel like you cared, but you really did. Asking questions about Dustin’s summer camp where he and Suzie met and finding it quite adorable that he would go out of his way to build something to speak to a girl on the other side of the country.

Halfway through your conversation with the kids, Steve got up, heading towards the kitchen in hopes of finding you something to eat, seeing as though Dustin took hostage of your food. It didn’t help that he absolutely sucked at cooking and had nothing in his fridge to offer you other than a coke which definitely wouldn’t make up for your pie loss. 

With his back turned to the fridge, he could feel a presence behind him, trying to be quiet, yet failing, and he knew it was you, or at least thought it was because of the earlier instance.

“I thought I told you that you were a guest and you should be enjoying yourself in the—what the fuck Robs!”

She cackled, hunched over laughing to herself once Steve finally turned around and noticed it was, in fact, not you but her. 

“Jesus, what’s the matter with you? Sneaking up on me like that!” He crossed his arms over his chest at Robin who was trying to settle down. 

“You’re so gullible! Like I wasn’t even trying! I was just trying to see what you were up to and you thought that I was her!” She laughed maniacally, failing to contain herself. 

“Yeah, I came in here to try to find something she can eat, seeing as though Dustin lacks consideration and didn’t think to ask if she ate anything before coming here.” He sighed, turning around and opening back up the fridge, like something would magically appear before his eyes. 

Robin calmed down, nudging him away from the refrigerator so that she could get a look. Her fingers instantly pulled open one of the drawers where the fresh fruit that were barely touched were.

“This will do.” She grabbed an apple and orange, passing it off to Steve. 

He raised his brows, “Don’t you think she wants something else?” 

She shook her head. “Nope, she loves fresh fruit! Told me how much she loves them in her salads and how she picks up fresh ones from the market to make sweets and drinks with them.” 

“Fine. Just go back in there and I’ll cut these up.” 

She held her hands up in defense, slightly mocking in a higher pitched voice as she walked backwards, “Oh okay, Chef Harrington, thank you so much for your service to our pretty guest.” 

He closed his eyes shut, shaking his head as he heard a snicker come from Robin before she fully exited and gave him the kitchen all to himself where he cut and peeled the fruit, neatly placing them on a plate for you. Steve wished you would have snuck in just to get another chance to talk to you alone because he wasn’t quite sure if he could hold a conversation with you when everyone was around.

You didn’t intimidate him per se, but he liked speaking to you one-on-one when there were no idiotic teens around to make him feel weird for asking such silly questions. But you didn’t sneak in, still holding the conversation with the teens as he walked out and placed the plate on the coffee table in front of you.

“Here you go,” Steve announced softly, not wanting to break the conversation.

You looked up at him, seeing the plated fruit slices he had arranged in a circle, “Oh, you didn’t have to! But thank you!”

“No problem.” He grinned, heading back to his seat.

“So what about you?” You turned your gaze towards El, the quiet one of the bunch who sat and listened for the most part. “What do you like to do?” 

“Poetry.” She said faintly, making you smile as you popped an apple slice in your mouth. 

“I used to do a lot of poetry too when I was your age.” You told her, and she looked at you curiously. 

“I have a ton of journals from when I was in high school, but ultimately I think my calling has always been art.” You smiled at her, seeing the way she lit up at that. 

“What did you write about?”

“Typical teenage stuff. Growing up. Strict parents. Bullies. Boys.” 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Max cut in. 

You took a deep breath, unsure of how to bring this up, “Umm, well, I uh, y-yeah—well, no yeah! I meant no! I don’t have one! But I used to, but we broke up.” 

“How long were you together?” Mike asked. 

“Stop being invasive, Michael!” Nancy quietly scolded, earning a glare from Mike who paid her no mind and went back to you waiting for an answer. 

“Umm, you know, a really long time, but it was so long ago that—“ 

“Estimate?” Lucas countered. 

You swallowed anxiously, not really wanting to talk about this, but feeling you had to answer before it got awkward, “Like six—“ 

“Jesus, you twerps are nosey. Just let her and El talk about poetry.” Steve surged into the conversation, getting up to retrieve an orange slice from the plate as he ruffled the hair on the teen’s head walking back to his seat in order to play it off.

You took a deep breath through your light-hearted smile, eyes dancing towards him to shoot him a grateful glance for his quick thinking.

The last thing you wanted to talk to the teens about was your tumultuous relationship that came to a world crumbling end. Plus, the teens were in their own relationships. You didn’t want to jeopardize their ideas of their own relationships because of your past one. They were smart and kind, and didn’t need to hear about your ex to know that about themselves. 

Steve didn’t quite know what else your ex did to make you freeze up like this in front of everyone, but he wasn’t going to let it happen. It was his fault anyway for bringing it up in the first place and he had to make up for that, to let you know that he had your back, even when it came to his own friends who were just as innocently curious as him.

He got the chance to peel back a layer of your history in private, something that he knew was a privilege to learn about, but he wouldn’t let you be put on the spot like this when you weren’t ready. 

There was an ease to the room once Steve made it clear that your love life wasn’t up for discussion right now. Everyone just seemed to forget it was even brought up in the first place. El smoothly shifted topics back to poetry and took the moment to ask you if you still wrote from time to time, which you happily gave her the answer to. 

Thankfully, poetry wasn’t the only topic of discussion. 

Eddie had told you about his band Corroded Coffin that played every Tuesday and Sunday at the Hideout Bar where he also worked. The kids had been begging to go to a show in order to see him and his friends live, but since the bar had a very obvious and strict age limit, they’d just have to wait until they were 21. 

Robin finally told you about her and Steve’s creepy manager Keith who had been smuggling R rated tapes from Family Video, which they then used against him in order to get days off whenever they wanted. Things only got funnier when Steve revealed that Keith had accidentally forgotten to switch the tapes back to the original casing, which led to a very angry mother coming in and demanding to speak to the manager when her son had brought home “Star Whores: Attack of the Silicone.” 

At some point, you found yourself excessively laughing with Nancy and Robin while Jonathan reenacted his father, Hopper’s reaction to a stash of weed that he had bought off of Eddie. Hopper actually sounded pretty cool considering he was police chief and didn’t make the boy flush it down the toilet. Instead, just asking for a bit because he wanted to try to make weed brownies. 

You definitely needed to meet him one day and hopefully ask him how the baking process was. 

Lucas, on the other hand, had vented about the captain of the basketball team, Jason, who was a total asshole and didn’t know how to shoot a three pointer to save his life. Max suggested that one of them attack him from behind and break his leg so that Lucas could be the star player for the season.

But somehow Mike had an even more vicious plan, to poison him and take him out for good—but of course he looked at you, with cautious hands held out, “We’re just kidding by the way!” 

To say that you enjoyed yourself this afternoon would be an understatement because, for the first time in forever, it felt as though your social battery wasn’t draining. You would want to spend the rest of the day here in Steve’s living room listening to them talk about their lives and ask you about your mundane one.

But time always went by fast when you were spending it with people who were so fun and carefree, so when you caught the hour on Steve’s clock, you knew you had to get going. 

Everyone gave you a hug, thanking you for stopping by and of course bringing the pie, the same one that they were begging you to bring the next time you would come into Hawkins. And you sure did promise you would. Robin, being the sweet friend she was, attempted to convince you to stay a little while longer, but you knew you had to go, and you’d make it up to her another time—hopefully a girls’ night in the coming weeks. 

Steve was the only one missing from the living room having excused himself to the kitchen a little while earlier to get the dirty dishes done. He even warned everyone to make sure you stayed in your seat and didn’t come in to help him clean up, knowing you would sneak up and try to offer it. After releasing a very tight and giggly hug from Robin, you stood up, making your way to the kitchen.

“Steve?” You knocked your fist against the archway, catching his attention as he turned to look over his shoulder. 

“Hey, need something?” He asked, quickly shutting off the faucet and drying his hands on the kitchen towel hanging near the sink. 

You shook your head, gesturing down to your purse slung over your shoulder, “I’m actually heading out now. Gotta get home before rush hour.” 

He stooped dramatically, making you laugh as you offered your most sarcastic yet sincerest apologies for the departure of your presence. 

“C’mon, I’ll walk you out.” He gestured, leading the way while you waved goodbye to everyone in the living room before following Steve out the front door. 

“Thanks again for letting me come over.” You chirped, with your shoulders coming in shyly.

He waved it off, smiling down at you, “It’s no problem, it was really nice meeting you…I can’t wait to come over to your place.” 

“I’m looking forward to it too…I just don’t know if I’ll be half the host that you were.” 

“Don’t, you’re gonna be fine. Drive safe alright?” 

You brushed your hair back behind your ear, nodding as you smiled once more, “I will, see you around Steve.” 

Your arms didn’t hesitate to wrap around his neck, hugging him ardently. Even if you were wearing his clothes, smothered in the scent of his detergent and him, his senses were filled with you.

A bright vanilla aroma coming from you, and with your hair blowing in his face, he could help but drown in it, hoping this wouldn’t be the last time he’d get to hug you like this. 

But alas, he had to let go, his large hands giving your shoulders a warm one over before finally pulling away and seeing your smiley face. 

He stood by the porch, watching as you got into your car, taking note of every little detail of your movements.

Placing your purse in the passengers and checking the contents making sure you didn’t leave anything behind buckling in. You checked your mirrors while twirling the ends of your hair between your fingers, securing the locks against your back and the chair. After a few seconds, he could hear the gear change and watched as you twiddle your fingers upon the steering wheel, waving one last goodbye as you reversed out of his driveway. 

“See ya…” He mouthed, with a tight smile, waving before you drove off. 

The distance between Hawkins and Roane Country was almost an hour, which gave you a lot of time to think about today and especially wonder about Steve Harrington.

Honest to God, every time you’d catch him in your peripheral, beaming and nodding along at your conversations, you found yourself almost tumbling over your words. He was that distracting, in the best way possible.

There was something endearing about him, perhaps his ability to read your social cues or maybe the fact that he actually showed interest in you and whatever you were talking about. Even if he didn’t get it, you could tell he was listening intently, eyes following you wherever your hands and sights drifted, like a willow bending right to the wind.

You wished you had the guts to strike up a conversation with him in front of everyone else, but you were sure that if you did everyone would take note of how your shyness reached a whole other level with a pretty guy sitting in front of you. Steve was easy to talk to, but you didn’t know if you were easy to react when it came to anything he said.

His words. His smile. His laughter.

All of it trickled with a honey so sweet that it made your stomach ache and blood rush hot. A feeling that was so foreign after all of this time, yet you couldn’t help but want more. To get to talk to him, even if it was just him insulting your ex with low blows because he deserved it.

But his raw emotions. Him letting his guard down. His thoughtfulness.

It exuded the warmth of freshly ground cinnamon, something that had layers to it. Like a punch in the gut that surprised you in a way that was too profound to explain further. He didn’t even hesitate telling you about his parents and how troubling it felt to be given so much from them yet so little at the same time.

It felt like you were throwing a bunch of colors onto a canvas, not knowing where this was headed, maybe off a cliff or down a dead-end street. Or maybe back home with you where everything would be bliss. You could never really tell.

With Steve, it felt different, very complicated.

Perhaps you were getting too far ahead of yourself, after all, his actions weren’t too far fetched from the others who made you feel just as comfortable and made you laugh just as hard. Yet you didn’t feel this way towards Eddie or Robin and definitely not towards Nancy and Jonathan. 

But feelings like these oftentimes just over complicated things, like this very moment right now where you shouldn’t be contemplating this in the first place.

It was too soon to ever know and you could bank on it being counterfeit. Something you’d look back on and laugh at because maybe it was better off with you and Steve being friends, just like everyone else. Nothing more, nothing less, just friends.

The afternoon glow cascaded your kitchen, a soft ochre hue bouncing off your window pane and showering your body in the warmth. Stevie Nicks’ voice sang through the space on your radio while you stirred the florals in the boiling water.

A few knocks echoed through your door, accompanied by various voices that grew louder. Looking over at the time on the microwave, it read “3:12p.m.” in bright neon green lights. 

They were on time. 

“Coming!” you shrieked out, cutting the music and lowering the heat on the stove before you walked over the door, undoing the latch and twisting the lock open.

With a wide grin, you stretched the door open, and their chatter subsided, turning their attention towards you, their eyes glittering with anticipation. 

Your apartment wasn’t the biggest or the most lavish, but it was undeniably you. Just from the front door alone, your personality was oozing among the space—plants were displayed on a shelf near the door alongside a handmade pottery bowl for keys and small belongings that rested on a small table. 

Straight ahead was your kitchen just as personalized as the entrance. The counters complimented with a delicate flower-patterned backsplash along with wooden cabinets you had stained to wash out the unpleasant color that came with the place originally.

It was so very much you.

“Come in! Come in!” You ushered them with animated welcoming arms. 

The teens stepped through first, peering around as they traveled further into your home. Your living room another lively space with an olive green couch and swinging chair you splurged on and surprisingly hung all by yourself. And of course, unfinished and half-painted canvases decked the walls.

You met cheek to cheek with Robin and Nancy, the same fond welcome you had gotten accustomed to giving to your lady friends. Eddie and Jonathan took you in for a side hug, giving you a smile.

Steve was the last one to enter with a vase carrying a blend of lively flowers in one of his hands. He wore a striped polo, one of the many that you saw hanging in his closet, a pair of blue jeans, Nike’s Cortez’ that was totally his style, and of course his world famous smile.

“I’m so glad you made it.” You murmured, opening your arms as he walked into you and wrapped his arms snuggly across your back.

You squeeze your arms around him affectionately, inhaling the subtle aroma of mint and sandalwood that he wore. Something that you became familiar with since your last interaction where he walked you out to your car and said goodbye to you in the same way he was saying hello. 

Of course, Steve had made it. There was no way he was going to miss it. Not after you graced his home with your presence. If anything, Steve was the one who rushed everyone into Eddie’s van to get here on time to see you.

He looked down at you, seeing your eyes flutter open as you both released the hug, yet never stepped back to open the proximity.

“Been looking forward to it all week,” he brought the hand holding the vase up, prompting them towards you with a grin, “…and these are for you.”

You let go, wrapping your fingertips around the glass, admiring the blues, pinks, whites, and greens of the arrangements. Summer flowers, the kind that bloom the entire season before spring comes along and cuts their time too short before winter arrives.

You had been busy for the past couple of weeks that you didn’t even realize that you had forgotten to take a trip to your local florist to pick up some of your favorites, nevertheless Steve’s would suffice.

Closing your eyes, you breathed in the citrusy sweet fragrance from the baby pink peonies in the bunch, then you opened them back up, orbs filled with gratitude as you stared at him.

“Steve, these are beautiful. Thank you!”

He shrugged his shoulders lightly, “Unfortunately, none of us are good bakers, so I’m glad you like it.” 

Laughing, you gestured him towards the living room where everyone had already gotten themselves comfortable, while you made a quick pit stop towards the kitchen to place the flowers on the windowsill to get some sunshine. 

Making your way back to everyone you saw Nancy and Jonathan sat on the couch looking worriedly at the teens, “Guys, don’t break anything!”

They both warned in unison, watching as the youngsters made a beeline to the comics and magazines you had lying around on the coffee table. 

“No worries, I break something like every other day in here. Totally klutz!” You assured her with a wave, seeing her take a sigh of relief and Jonathan sending you a gracious nod.

“This place is cooler than you described!” Robin blurted, fidgeting her fingertips against each other as she continued to look around trying to spot some things that she remembered you telling her about over the phone. 

Striding towards the cluttered coffee table, you noticed the kids not having much space to flip the books and magazines. You had spent the entire morning doing laundry and touching up a painting for your upcoming gallery that you had skipped cleaning the mess up before they had arrived. 

You apologized, moving to pick up some paint bottles you had lying around “Sorry it’s a little messy…I was busy all morning,” placing them back in their designated bin underneath the table, while they waved you off, not bothered by the mess at all. 

“Did you paint this today?” Will sought, setting down the comic and shuffling towards the easel where a semi-wet canvas laid. 

You nodded, walking over and standing next to the piece, and holding your hands behind your back shyly.

“It’s supposed to look like the sunset from a few days ago.” 

The sky filled with purple, orange, and yellow tinges to encapsulate the sundown you caught on the drive back to Roane from Hawkins.

“Did you use a photo as a reference?” Mike inquired, squinting his eyes to really take in the detail of the sky and hues used. 

You shook your head, knocking your temple with your finger, “I have a really good photographic memory…once I see something I can usually replicate it when my brush hits the canvas.” 

“How fascinating.” Will murmured, allowing himself to walk along the walls, looking at all your other paintings you had hanging up. 

You clasped your hands together, a genuine sense of respite washing over you as you noticed everyone appearing at ease.

Robin was completely in her own world, fascinated with your overflowing vinyl collection that littered your tv stand.

Nancy and Jonathan were talking softly amongst themselves, smiling as they pointed and admired parts of your apartment, hoping they could have their own one day.

Eddie had taken a seat on the floor, back resting on the couch cushions as he flipped through a comic he picked up.

Steve looked to be just as comfortable, swinging slightly in the hanging chair admiring everyone else, happy that his friends were comfortable in the new space.

You clapped your hands together faintly, just enough for yourself to hear the celebration, “Just feel free to look around! I have a patio over there, but there’s nothing much out there except plants and a little table.”

They looked up to where your finger pointed at the sliding door on the other side of the living room, a cream meshed curtain pulled back to let in the natural sunlight. 

Then, you turned your attention to Eddie, bending down a bit to tap his shoulder and point again at the terrace outside, “Eddie, I put out a small glass dish out there if you wanted to take a smoke, just in case.”

You noticed that he had excused himself to Steve’s backyard in order to take a smoke break, so you figured you get that set up for him just in case.

He flashed you a sincere smile, nodding “Thank you,”

You nodded, patting his shoulder before standing straight and excusing yourself to the kitchen to get things prepared.

Steve didn’t quite know if he was more so appreciating his friends finally opening up to a new place that wasn’t his own or seeing you being so welcoming to people you only met a few days ago. Nevertheless, it felt nice, a little warm feeling inside to know that you were so kind and open to them.

He also didn’t know if it made him a weirdo for wanting to stray wherever you went, getting up to follow you into the kitchen just to get a chance to talk to you without the lingering ears of his friends.

You stood there with one hand on your hip and the other stirring some mixture in the pot before turning off the heat completely.

“What’s this?” his soft voice whispered over your shoulder, producing you to bounce slightly before glancing back. 

He had a small apologetic smile on his face, almost like a wince.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Steve said as you shook your head, lips curled into a grin when you turned back to stir the liquid. 

“Lavender and mint.” You bubbled, drawing the saucepan off the stove and holding it out, just enough to get a sniff of the aroma. 

His hand cupped together in the air, wafting the sweet steam towards him, “And it’s tea?” 

“Yeah!…Or you could refrigerate it and make it into lemonade, though I should’ve done this hours ago so that I could…you don’t think it’s too hot for tea do you?” 

Your forehead scrunched up in woe, setting the pot back down and reaching to slide the window in front of you open. Sticking your hand out, you flipped it back and forth, trying to feel the air and its warmth. 

It was totally warm out, but Steve wouldn’t let you know that. He just shook his head, following your actions and sticking his hand out to feel the air, “No, it’s like the perfect weather…I could go for some tea.” 

You looked toward him, giving him a sickly sweet smile as you turned to the opposite side of the kitchen, heading into one of the cupboards to grab mugs. 

“Let me help you.” Steve offered, taking the ones from your hand with ease and placing them onto the counter. 

He didn’t allow you to grab the other seven remaining mugs, as he did it himself, lining them up perfectly so it would be easier to pour and serve. 

“Do you like milk in your tea?” You questioned, padding over to the fridge and seizing every bottle of milk you had. 

He thought for a second, eyebrows scrunched together, trying to recall a memory, but he was sure that the last time he had milk and tea was when he attended one of his father's boring business conferences when he was a child.

“I’ve never tried it, is it any good?” Steve asked, leaning against the counter’s edge to watch you clutch the mason jars against your chest. 

You smiled with a nod, fingers holding up one of the glass jars you had labeled, “almond” before placing them all right next to the mugs. 

“You make your own milk?” He looked surprised, picking up the jar and inspecting the liquids that looked store-bought. 

“It’s super easy and because it doesn’t take my time I just make a new glass every week.” You told him as you waltzed over to the boiler, picking up the pot before cautiously pouring a serving into each mug. 

He watched you closely, noting how you bit your lip in concentration, making sure each mug got the same amount of tea, not wanting anyone to have less or too much than they wanted. You smiled to yourself, eventually letting go of your bottom lip when the last mug was filled perfectly, spinning around in your sock covered feet to place the remaining liquid back on the stove.

He did his best to hide his smile, endeared with your behavior for something as simple as pouring some tea. You rubbed your hands together, finally turning back to him and nodding your chin at the mugs.

“You should get the first taste!”

“You sure?” He asked, already reaching for the ridiculously adorable strawberry mug that you usually always drank out of. 

You giggled, bowing your head as he finally took a sip. His lips smacked against each other to search the flavor profile in an attempt to impress you with the enhanced taste buds that he clearly didn’t possess, but somehow he was still able to make you laugh, which was enough.

“It’s sweet but still a little minty—what milk do you usually go for?” He sat his cup down, fingers brushing over the jars, looking over the different milks you had. 

Oat. Almond. Cashew. 

“Oat, it’s the most neutral out of all of them and doesn’t disturb the flavor, in my opinion.” You responded, letting your elbow rest onto the counter to place your chin in your palm.

You watched him crack open the jar, pouring a tiny bit into his cup before looking at you, silently asking if it was enough. The jutting of your chin and smile prompted him to pour a little more, just until you squeaked and you both laughed before he sealed the jar shut.

The two of you watched the milk flow over the once sheer lilac brew as if it was going to stir itself. Only remembering now, you gasped dramatically, moving up to pull open the drawers on the opposite side of the kitchen in order to grab a handful of spoons.

“Sorry, I totally forgot!” You apologized, handing one to Steve as he snickered, shaking his head while he stirred his drink. 

“Don’t have to apologize. You’re too nice of a host already.” He encouraged you, taking another sip of the tea and giving you wide eyes when it rushed down his larynx. 

“Holy shit…this is good!” He said surprisingly, as you smirked, moving towards him to make yourself a cup. 

Your fingers grabbed onto the vintage basketball mug before pouring in your own splash of oat milk. “Oh! I forgot to mention, I like to add honey sometimes. Do you wanna try?” 

You tiptoed, attempting to grab the bear shaped bottle of honey, and Steve had easily raised his arm up, clutching it for you. 

“Thank you.” You whispered softly, taking it from him.

Steve was just happy to help, beaming warmly and watching you squeeze a tiny bit of honey into your cup and he happily did the same when you passed him the bottle. 

You both took a sip at the same time, smiling tightly as you watched each other before swallowing. It was silly. So the two of you chuckled. Shaking your head at how silly it was. 

“I didn’t mean to stare at you while you…sorry, that was weird of me.” You palmed your forehead dumbly, closing your eyes with a slight smile as Steve chuckled and hummed something that sounded like a “no” as he took another sip of the sweetness.

He shook his head, waving your worries away as he kept his hand on the handle of the mug when the other came down to rest on his hip, “I didn’t mean to stare either…I just didn’t want to look away from your tea-drinking skills.”

You cocked your head to the side, letting both sets of hands wrap around your warm mug as you rose a brow at him.

“My tea drinking skills?”

He smirked, nodding confidently, “Yeah, you know it’s a real art to not spill all over yourself. People do it all the time.”

There was a playful look coating your features, your eyes squinting shut as the smile took over before your laugh, shaking your head ridiculously at him.

“You’re impressed way too easily, Steve.”

Maybe it was the fact that you both were sipping tea in the middle of summer or perhaps the airflow in your kitchen was poor, but either way it didn’t take much for you both to notice the fervor that developed. You two were only inches apart. The space could be closed just by one sway towards each other’s bodies.

The lump in his throat bobbed as he swallowed, watching you take another sip as you tore your eyes away with the heat rushing to the apples of your cheeks. You looked pretty like this; he was sure you always did, but something about you here in your own kitchen surrounded by everything that was you felt just about right.

“I can’t help it…” You snapped your eyes back up at him, seeing him lift his shoulder with a placid grin on his face as he spoke.

“I’m always going to be impressed when it comes to you. Even when it’s just tea and a pretty—”

“What’s this!?”

The two of you jerked your eyes to Robin, leading the rest of the pact behind her into your kitchen. You swore he was just about to call you a pretty girl, certain even, but there were a million things he could’ve said.

Pretty mug.

Pretty kitchen.

Pretty apartment.

Pretty girl.

Pretty you.

No! He wasn’t. There was no way.

You quickly leaned off the counter, gesturing to them as Steve scooted over to make way for everyone else. They all picked up a mug, conversing amongst each other as they began drinking and popping open the milk and honey, serving themselves.

“It’s Lavender mint tea! I also have homemade oak, almond, and cashew milk so hopefully none of you are allergic…but if you want, I could run to the store and pick up some whole milk, it’s only down the road anyway so it won’t be long—“ 

Steve could sense the anxiety in your ramble, unsure if it was because of him and the line he had casted out towards you, or maybe because of the sudden intrusion of his friends that made it feel like you two had been caught when in actuality you both weren’t doing anything wrong.

Steve halted the jabber, resting a reassuring hand on your shoulder as everyone helped themselves to the tea, not aware of what you had been saying.

“None of them are allergic, so you’re fine…don’t need to go all out for some kids from Hawkins,” he looked around at his friends who were too busy to care, “everything you’re doing is perfect.” 

You clutched the mug in your hands, taking a sip again feeling your heart thump at his words. You didn’t understand what sorcery was going on, but you did know that Steve Harrington had a way with words and every sweet thing that left his lips made you feel like you were floating. 

Steve swore that he could see a pink blush creeping onto your face, but the mug you had tilted closer to your face hid it. It was cute; he didn’t know why you took so weirdly to compliments. It was something that he noticed right off the bat when you two first met. The way that if anyone said something nice about you, you felt the need to downplay it or not respond at all.

But Steve would keep complimenting you because you truly were someone that deserved to know their worth. So he smiled, continuing to watch the way you tried to hide your blush, while he sipped on his tea. 

Robin wasn’t clueless to the two of you, sure she didn’t have the best timing, but she could read the both of you. The way you and he would stare at each other for too long and even how you’d both stray to each other if the other ran off somewhere else.

She knew where this was going.

Coughing lightly to clear her throat, she tapped you on the shoulder.

“Do you mind showing me the bathroom?” 

You nodded, a tight smile on your face as you brushed past Steve, but not without your arms grazing before you led her out of the kitchen and into the opposite hallway where your bedroom and the bathroom was. 

“It’s in here,” reaching forward and twisting the door open to reveal the bathroom. 

Robin smirked wickedly, seizing one of your arms and pulling you into the restroom before shutting the door. 

You shrieked and snorted all in one, startled at her action and trying to steady the mug in your hand so you didn’t spill any.

“Robs!” 

She pressed her back against the door, a woozy smile on her face as she widened her eyes at you, “What the hell was that in there?!” 

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head frantically, “Oh my god, shush, he could hear you! It was nothing!”

Robin laughed, as you tugged her a ways bit from the door, hoping that no one, and especially Steve, didn't hear the conversation that was happening inside here. She opted to close the toilet lid, sitting on top of it while you leaned against the counter, still sipping on your tea to avoid talking about this, but Robin seemed to have no plans to stop. 

“It didn’t look like nothing! You guys were like milliliters apart, and his eyes were all dreamy and full of stars when he was staring at you!”

Her hands twiddled around in the air, trying to show you what she meant, and you knew exactly what she meant because you saw his orbs in the same light. Like an ocean of stars and glitter every time he had his eyes on you long enough for you to catch it—to make a wish on them.

“His eyes are always dreamy.” You countered out loud, instantly regretting that statement as Robin clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle her squeal. 

You bit back a smile, turning your head the other way so she couldn’t see the way you were absolutely blushing out of your mind.  

“I knew it! I could feel the tension in that kitchen and I just knew it! And the other day? You two just couldn’t stop looking at each other. You guys are totally crushing and are gonna fall in love!”

God, you couldn’t even remember when’s the last time you actually had a crush on someone attainable. All the guys you liked were fictional, from books, tv shows, and movies, because at least those guys were mesmerizing and actually respectable people. But Steve felt like that too, that one out of a million that you could actually see and have the privilege of being around let alone talking to.

He was so out of your league, there was no possible way he could’ve meant what he was going to say as a genuine romantic compliment. He was just being friendly. Just being the same Steve that Robin described to you before you had even met him. The same Steve who graciously covered for you when you didn’t want to talk about your asshole ex boyfriend.

The Steve that had you thinking about him on your drive back home wishing you were watching the sunset with him—

You heard the snap of her fingers, before feeling her stand up and make her way in front of you where she stood and clutched your shoulders, causing you to look at her. Shaking your head, you sighed heavily, finally prompting her a response after those grueling composing seconds.

“He’s just nice, Robin, and I’m sure he’s being kind because we just met. I barely know him! You said it yourself, remember? Steve’s a nice guy.” You said seriously, setting down your mug on the open counter space as she pouted and shook her head. 

“No, I mean yeah, Steve is nice, but he’s being abnormally kind to you. The kind of kindness where it’s all sappy and lovey. It kinda makes me want to throw up, but also makes me want to kick my legs like an idiot because seeing him this way after all this time is actually nice.”

She explained with a complicated look that quickly turned into smiles and fondness, realizing that Steve was actually putting himself out there and you just were too foreign to it all. She watched as you took another deep breath, letting your shoulders stoop against her hold as you held your head in your hands.

“I stood there like an idiot Robs. He said something really nice to me and I…I just stood there! Gosh, he probably thinks I'm totally dumbass or something.” 

She scoffed, shaking her head, giving your skin an encouraging squeeze when you finally looked up at her.

“Trust me, Steve doesn’t think you’re an idiot or a dumbass, or anything bad. He's genuinely so enthralled by you. And this is the same guy whose attention span is shorter than mine, so that’s saying quite a lot if, after the first hangout he’s already asking more about you.”

Your eyebrows curled into a frown before raising curiously, silently asking Robin to tell you what she meant before she licked her lips, eyes darting around the bathroom trying to pick one out of the many scenarios where Steve had asked about you.

“Umm, okay, this one!” She decided confidently, nodding her head and furrowing her brows roughly to mimic Steve earlier this morning at the florist.

“Which flowers do you think she likes best? She’s like super into florals, right? Is she allergic to anything? Jesus Christ, I don’t want to show up with flowers that she’s allergic to. That’s like fucking embarrassing Robs. Okay, you know what, I’m just gonna pick the prettiest flowers and hope she doesn’t end up sneezing or anything.”

You snickered at her impression of Steve’s voice and mannerisms, feeling your heart swarm as you thought it was pretty sweet that he was taking the time to ask about you, let alone think about putting in so much effort into those flowers he had brought for you.

“That’s actually really adorable,” you admitted, while Robin smiled and tilted her head, watching you thoughtfully. 

She removed her grip for your shoulders, hands softly clapped while she shrieked while you rolled your eyes playfully at her delight. “See! I’m like cupid or something! Just yennooo…try throwing out a compliment and if it feels weird or wrong, then you’ll know. But I think we both know how it’s gonna go!” 

“Sure cupid,” You rolled your eyes lovingly before going deep again, “I just don’t want to mess things up, alright? If somehow we’re both reading this wrong, I don’t want to lose him as a friend. It’s gonna put me in an awkward position if he doesn’t feel the same, so just for my sake, let’s just keep this conversation between us?”

You held out your pinky finger towards her, where she immediately crossed her fingers over her heart and proceeded to hook her pinky with yours. 

“Promise!” she vowed, kissing her thumb as you giggled and did the same to yours. 

When you two unhooked fingers, she crossed her arms and looked back at the toilet then at you, “I still really gotta pee, so…” 

You tsked, chuckling lightly as you picked up your mug and gave her a thumbs up before exiting the bathroom to give her some privacy. When you walked down the hallway back into your living room, everyone looked relaxed, sitting on the couch or just hanging around the floor enjoying their cups of homemade tea while they talked amongst themselves. 

Steve was in his previous seat, rocking back and forth in the hanging chair still nursing his lavender mint tea. When you came into view, he flashed you a smile, almost a questioning one, asking if everything was alright considering you were just in the bathroom with his best friend for quite some time. You assured him a nod and a small curl of your lips, ushering him to nod back.

That god he didn’t seem phased by the previous kitchen interaction.

“What’s that?” You requested, settling on the carpeted floor where Will and the rest of the teenagers were sitting near the coffee table flipping through a book. 

Will glanced over with a shrug, sliding the book towards you, giving you a chance to see the art that covered the pages. You were amazed, setting down your mug and pulling the book closer as you looked into each stroke of the pencil and all the shading. 

“Will, these are beautiful.” You nudged him casually with your elbow, making him smile, while he watched you flip through the next few pages where more illustrations filled the sheet. 

One of the pages that caught your eye was a figure, one dressed in a cloak with a pointy wizard hat, and it looked a bit like Will. Maybe a self-portrait of some kind for that fantasy game he and the boys played.

“They’re not as good as yours, but I wanted to bring it so I could show you what I’ve been working on.” He told you, while you frowned and reached to rest your hand onto his, giving it a squeeze. 

“No, these are amazing. I mean, this is just incredible…when I was your age all I could draw were stick figures.” 

The laugh that Will let out made you smile and so did the reinforcing words coming from his friends, egging him on and telling him how awesome all of his sketches were. You knew that art was subjective, and even when you yourself were hard on the work that you made, you also had to find it within yourself to be kind.

And you wanted Will to feel the same way, because he truly had a talent for art and you wished you had someone when you were younger who encouraged you to pursue it sooner. 

“I actually have a bunch of spare paints and brushes, and other supplies that you can take home.” You told him.

Shifting to your knees as you began reaching under the coffee table where some storage bins were located, filled with some paints you hadn’t yet used. You began pulling them out one by one, setting them on the coffee table and talking to Will about each of the brands and colors.

From Steve’s place, he could see more of you than Will whose back was facing him. He saw the way your nose crinkled distastefully as you expressed your dislike of certain paint brands because of the opacity and smell. Then how quickly the look of disgust was replaced by a bark of hilarity as Will told you something about his mom brewing a fresh pot of coffee to battle the horrible smell of some of the paints he used.

Steve hoped it didn’t make him a creep for always watching you, but it was out of admiration than it was out of flirtation. He preferred watching you because there was a way about you—an ease, almost one that even yourself didn’t quite notice, but he did.

To him, the best way to describe the feeling he got around you was almost like a secret garden.

One filled with every kind of flower blooming under the radiating sun. Trees growing so tall with birds settling on the stretching branches. The air the perfect kind of cool where bees and butterflies pass through as they soar through the sky. A calm waterfall trickling into a pond that calls out to everyone to jump in freely.

For Steve, it’s like jumping in and getting lost in you…exactly as he’s doing right now.

In simpler terms, people gravitated towards you, not solely for your sweetness or kindness, but for how genuine you actually were.

Even in Steve’s own experiences, he knew he was guilty of just nodding along and pretending to understand what any of the teens were talking to him about.

Video games. Computers. Poetry. Skateboarding. Dungeons and Dragons. Painting. Boyfriends. Girlfriends. Crushes. Whatever it was; just going in one ear and out the other while they kept talking and talking and talking.

But not you.

If anything, you immersed yourself into their world even when it wasn’t something that you could fully wrap your head around like that fantasy game. Yet you never failed to ask questions in order to learn more about it, but it was mostly because you loved to see their faced light up when talking about something that they enjoyed without needing to worry about sounding nerdy.

He wished he could talk to you about anything, and he knew he could, but just not right now. Not with everyone sitting here when all he wanted to do was tell you how down to earth you were and how it was even impossible for you to be real.

But indeed real you were meeting his eyes for only a split second before you turned it all back to Will as he spoke.

“Do you think I could try to paint something?” Will asked you timidly, almost anxious of being a nuance, but you bubbled out an excited yelp, scrambling to your feet as you rushed to your bedroom in order to grab a blank canvas that you were sure you weren’t going to use. 

“Where is it?” You puffed, hauling open your closet door in hopes of you finding it in some bin that you stored all your excess supplies in. 

A knock sounded on the doorway wall, prompting you to call out a reply instead of actually looking at who it was, just assuming that it was Will or one of the other kids. 

“Need any help?” 

Steve’s voice had you ceasing all movements, encouraging you to take a deep breath and realize that the whole kitchen thing was over. Right now, you needed to get it together and not make things weird. You exhaled softly, peeping back from behind your closet to see him leaning against your door frame with a small smile before you nodded. 

“It’s so bare in here.”

He joked, looking around the room where the only piece of artwork hanging was one above your bed. A total lunar eclipse with its blood-red moon shining bright against a dark sky with tiny stars scatters around it. 

You gasped subsequently, finding the smaller canvas and standing up from the ground, “I like that my bedroom is sorta away from all the chaos out there.”

Your hands motioned to the outside of the door, making circles and rolling your eyes, as if the living room was such a chaotic mess, when it really wasn’t. He chuckled, shaking his head before raising his brow at you.

“Anything else we need?” 

Yeah, some fucking composure, Steve, because now I’m thinking of a compliment to spit out so we can get a feel of whatever the fuck we have going on.

You nodded, dropping the canvas on your bed and strolling over to the bottom drawers of your dresser where more supplies were stored.

“Yeah, some new brushes and a paint pallet for him.”

He watched you, totally oblivious of your nerves and instead in awe of how considerate you were being, by lending Will new items rather than just letting him borrow what you already had. 

“You’re going to spoil the kid rotten.” He quipped, seeing as you couldn’t pick between two different shades of blue paint tubes and instead, just threw both of them into the pile you were amassing for Will. 

You looked up, looking as innocent as ever and shaking your head, more than happy to spoil the kid.

“These have just been sitting here waiting to be used and Will will probably use it more than I ever will.” 

He chuckled, coming down beside you, kneeling on the floor to help gather the paint tubes in his hands knowing you wouldn’t be able to carry it all by yourself. Your fingers brushed each other as you both grabbed a few, eyes flickering up to each other with a quiet laugh, continuing on before he spoke just as delicately.

“You’re really too sweet.” 

Now’s the opening…just be smooth and throw it out there.

“I’d like to think I am,” you replied, snickering to yourself, when on the inside you were screaming.

He looked to you, seeing as though you tried to brush it off, “No, really, I mean it, you’re probably the nicest person I’ve ever met…no one has ever put this much thought into a hang out before.” 

You looked almost smitten under his gaze, tucking your cheek into your shoulder and trying to play it off as a shrug despite the smile he could see seeping upon your face. He found it cute. Though he didn’t know why you tried to hide it, he wanted to make you smile and make you feel good about yourself. 

“You really think so?” You asked unabashedly, following his head nod with a grin. 

“I’d go as far as saying you’re the sweetest girl I think I’ll ever meet.” 

Play it cool.

“You must not have met many girls then?” You stood up, hearing his chuckle as he followed your lead. 

“Don’t really want to meet any other ones anymore.” He countered. 

Strike and get a feel of it.

You grabbed the canvas off your bed as you swooped by. “Robin wasn’t kidding when she said you were charming.” 

“She said that?” He said comically, and you giggled nodding and walking out of your bedroom with him trailing behind you. 

Throw it out there.

“Yeah, which isn’t totally surprising, considering the fact that you’re pretty sweet yourself.” 

There was a glint of teasing to your voice, not that it was too different from the sweetness that dripped from it regularly, but he could tell there was something more there. He didn’t want to think too hard about it, not wanting to ruin the moment with his never-ending questions, so instead he clung to it, hoping he’d get the chance to hear something like that coming from only you ever again. 

“Here you go, Will,” you crooned cheerfully, entering the living room with Steve trailing behind you with the paints. 

Will’s eyes lit up with excitement, sitting up on his knees as you two placed the items on the coffee table. You sat beside him while Steve went back to the chair, watching in on you explaining to Will each of the pigments and their properties.

This time he wasn’t doing a lot of listening, his mind still caught up in your words and if it meant what he thought it did. He was going to call you a pretty girl back in the kitchen, that is before Robin and the rest of the gang had stumbled in to stop him.

Was that compliment supposed to be a response to his?

Was what you said even a compliment?

Of course it was…hell you could’ve you said he  reminded you of a golden retriever and he’d take it with pride and brag to everyone that a pretty girl compared him to a cuddly animal.

But was he just maybe reading into it too much?

You were always dishing out compliments to everyone, saying how great and talented they were, but not with the undertone you had spoken to him with. Perhaps he had misheard you and now he was doing all of this overthinking just to end off at the same place you both started, which was friends.

Just friends.

“Steve, could you come with me and Eddie to the kitchen, please?”

Robin and Eddie both stood, looking at him sharply as they shuffled into the kitchen, signaling for Steve to follow their lead.

He furrowed his brows, standing up quickly and heading for the kitchen, “What’s up?” 

“You’re being fucking weird!” Eddie's whisper shouted, pointing an accusing finger at him. 

Steve looked taken aback, looking at his two friends puzzled. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“Don’t think I can’t tell when you’re thinking too hard. What’s the matter?” Robin softly prodded, crossing her arms across her chest. 

“W-what? No, I’m fine…I’m just thinking…” He said, avoiding Robin’s knowing eyes as he looked at Eddie instead.

Eddie rolled his eyes, “You keep following her everywhere, yet you’re not making a move. Everyone in that damn living room can feel the tension between you guys.” 

“There is no tension!” Steve claimed quietly, peering back and making sure you still were laser focused on the painting.

He looked back at his two friends, resting his hands on his hips, “I’m being friendly alright. I want to make her feel comfortable and help out the same way she did. That’s all.” 

Robin threw an unconvinced look his way, before gesturing towards Eddie, “When you met Eddie, you made fun of him for nicknaming his guitar sweetheart, it’s not the same.” 

“Because Eddie isn’t a girl!” Steve argued, only causing Eddie to raise a brow, holding a hand over his heart pretending he had just been wounded. 

“Are you saying I’m ugly, Harrington?” 

“Oh my god,” Steve grumbled, rubbing his fingers over his temples. 

Robin reached forward, grabbing him by the shoulders and forcing him to look at her, “Dude…stop thinking so hard about it. If you like her, just be cool about it. Ask her out if you want. I don’t know…j-just do anything besides what you were doing out there because you looked like you were in pain and it was just weird.”

Did he really looked pained?

Steve blinked, trying to process debating if he wanted to ask Robin if he really looked that bad or for some fucking advice to man up and ask you out already. He didn’t know what he was avoiding, knowing that usually if he liked a girl, he’d just go in and take the shot to ask, but with you, he just couldn’t.

There was too much to lose if something went south.

His thinking was cut short by Eddie who began snapping his fingers, pointing victoriously like he and Robin cracked some sort of secret Russian code or something.

“We were right!” He started poking at Robin’s cheek as she grumbled yet bit back a smile.

Eddie pointed towards Steve again, not bothering to hide the smirk on his face, “What’d I tell you? Harrington is usually so quick to slide on in and ask a girl out and now suddenly he meets a gorgeous down-to-earth-painter-baker-girl and now he’s whipped!”

He drummed his fingers on Robin’s shoulder, making her laugh before turning to her best friend, suddenly bright pink in the cheeks. 

“You must really really like her if you’re not using those god awful pickup lines to make her fall for you.” She said half jokingly. 

Steve shrugged, moving away from the two and instead reached for his tea mug and taking a sip of the now semi-warm liquid. “Maybe…I—I dunno…I just don’t want to rush things because she knows about King Steve and I don’t want her to get the wrong idea.” 

Robin tilted her head, looking apologetic, “She told you I told her about that?” 

He shook his head, looking at her dully, “No, but she did say you said I was charming, which pretty much gives it away…also you’re such a terrible liar.” 

“Am not!” She gasped, lightly punching him in the arm.

Steve didn’t look so convinced, arguing back without hitting her, “Yeah you are!” 

“Fuckin’ kill me,” Eddie sighed, rocking his head at the two. 

“Is everything ok?” Your cool speech came ringing in the small kitchen, making the three of them stutter, trying to not look so suspicious. 

“Y-yeah, fine! Umm, they were just wondering if you had more tea!” Steve lied, turning his eyes back to Robin and widening them, signaling for her to let go of his shoulders, which she did. 

He made his way over to the stove, peeking into the pot that had only a bit of tea left.

“Oh, I can make some more if you’d like?” You responded, moving further into the kitchen to meet Steve at the stove. 

With your back turned to Robin and Eddie, they both motioned their way out of the space to give him more time with you, but not before shooting him a suggestive wink. 

“Uh, no, no need for that. I’ll just take what’s left…Eddie and Robin have ummm, small bladders! I don’t want them complaining the whole way home later.” 

He closed his eyes shut, shaking his head to himself while you attempted to stifle a laugh reaching for his mug and pouring the rest of the tea into his cup. 

“Here you go,” you said, turning to him with his mug filled.

He flashed you an apologetic smile, saying a quiet “thank you” while you shake it off. 

“Need anything else? A snack?” 

His ears heard you loud and clear, but his eyes were stuck on the living room where Eddie and Robin were wildly gesturing their hands in the air, mouthing, “Just do it!”

For my friends to stop being dumbasses is what he wanted to say, but he shook his head, tearing his eyes away from the two friends and giving his sights back to you. 

“No, this is all. Thanks again.” He reassured you, earning a smile as you both walked out of the kitchen and back to the living room. 

Taking your place between Max and Will who were painting, you were able to get a glimpse of the work they had completed for the short time you were gone. Max had wanted to join in after getting tired of the comic she was reading.

“Oh, this is amazing—shoot, I’m so sorry!” 

You weren’t quite sure why you were here apologizing at the fact that Max had accidentally turned towards you with a paintbrush in her hand, smearing gold all over the front of your shirt, but here you were.

“Shit, it’s my fault. I’m so sorry.” The red head said, clutching a hand over her mouth as you shook your head. 

“No, it’s my fault! I shouldn’t have snuck up like that. It’s okay, the paint comes off easily in the wash, I’ll go get changed!” You yelped, getting up and jogging down the hallway into your room.

Max turned to Steve, glaring at him.

“Really? Eddie and Robin have small bladders? That’s the best excuse you came up with?” 

He scratched the back of his neck, leaning forward, “W-what?” 

“Max just bought us some time to tell you how weird you’re being.” Lucas smirked, glancing at Max who looked proud of her quick idea.

Dustin snorted in agreement, finally tearing his eyes away from his comic, “If you’re gonna keep staring at her and following her around like a minion you might as well as her out!”

“I’m not asking her out on a date with all of you here!” Steve countered, staring at all of his friends like they were insane.

Robin rolled her eyes, looking at Nancy, then him, “You asked Nancy to have six kids that time we went road tripping a few years ago. What difference does that make now?” 

Mike groaned, covering his face in discomfort remembering overhearing that conversation. “I didn’t have to be reminded of my sister hypothetically having six babies with Steve.”

Jonathan snapped his eyes to Nancy who widened her eyes at Robin, “When was this?” He asked. 

Nancy shook her head, brushing him off, “A long time ago, so it doesn’t matter. And they’re right, you and her obviously have chemistry, so why not just stop wasting time and get it over with?”

“No, we don’t,” Steve shook his head, not sounding as convincing as he’d like. 

Nance tilted her head, giving him those doubtful eyes, “Really? Do you actually believe that for one second?”

“You keep following her around like a lovesick puppy.” Jonathan admitted, forgetting about the stupid six children thing and saving it for another day, seeing as though Steve really expected that they all couldn’t see right through you and him. 

“Every time I look over at her to see if I’m doing something right, you’re in my peripheral ogling at her like a piece of art.” Will responded, tearing his eyes away from his canvas. 

“It’s kinda cute.” El said with a giddy smile. 

“She’s always smiling at you for some reason.” Max continued. 

“Which is funny considering that you’re not that pretty to look at,” Eddie quipped, earning a scowl from Harrington. 

Robin rolled her eyes at the men’s consistent banter, knowing she had to work fast before you came back out.

“What we’re trying to say is that she clearly likes you and you like her. You can try denying how you feel, but we know how you get when you start crushing on a girl, so don’t think your lying is going to fool any of us.”

She told him, which would've been reassuring, but asking a girl out in front of a crowd of people wasn’t something that sounded like a good time for him or you. It was just going to put you in that sticky spot with all the attention and most likely to say yes to save him the embarrassment.

He couldn’t do that to you.

“Well, I’m still not asking her out with you guys down my throat. Her and I are just friends. I need to get to know her first. Hell, I don’t even know what her favorite color is or if she likes sports? These are things I should know before I ask a girl out!”

Who was Steve kidding and when did he start caring about frivolous shit like that? You and him could have nothing in common and still he would fawn over you and snowball this crush into something more. Even going as far to turn himself into Picasso's reincarnation if that would make you like him better. 

“I’m back!” You grinned, sauntering down the corridor sporting none other than a cropped Red Sox t-shirt. 

Steve’s favorite team, of course. 

Eddie grunted, already on the tip of making a subtle note, just to see if he was right.

“Nice shirt, but didn’t they lose—“

“Oh, don’t even get me started! The game was totally rigged and if Buckner didn’t mess up that inning, Boston would’ve taken that championship home.” You said intensely, taking your seat between Max and Will once again. 

Everyone’s eyes turned to Steve’s, watching them muddle with even more affection than before. You were his total dream girl. He knew it, and so did everyone else.

“Everything alright?” You chuckled after the short seconds of silence. 

Grunts and hums came from everybody attempting to not fixate their gaze solely between you and Steve, but it was a bit tough considering the stare that Steve had locked on you. 

“Peachy, just trying to remember that date because it was so memorable, and I wished that someone here would make a move and remember it.”

Robin emphasized her words sharply, snapping her fingers to get Steve’s attention in order for him to stop staring at you before you caught him.

Eddie joined in, coughing loudly to “clear” his throat only stopping when Steve finally snapped his eyes away from you.

“Yeah, you know what’s so funny about dates is that they mark something special and really help solidly the—“ 

You lifted your eyes from Will’s painting just in time as Steve shook it off the stare.

“October 27th 1986 but the series went from October 18th through the 27th if we want to get specific.” 

Holy fuck. Holy shit. Holy Mother Of God.

“I—I gotta go to the bathroom!” Steve spat out speedily, resting his mug on the cramped coffee table and shooting up. 

You creased your brows together, watching him trudge down the hallway, clumsily, “The first door on your right—“ 

“Right! Yep! Got it!” He called out, reaching for the handle and nearly propelling himself through the door and slamming it shut. 

You tilted your head, letting out a grunt before turning your eyes to Robin, “I—Is he okay?”

She nodded with a broad smile, sitting up from the couch and knocking Eddie’s arm with her elbow, “He’s actually the one with a small bladder so…yenno, when nature calls am I right?” 

“He and the toilet are gonna be awhile, a date if you will,” Eddie snorted, making you choke on a laugh before giving them a slow head nod and turning your attention back to Will and Max. 

This was by the far the longest time Steve had ever spent staring at himself in the mirror for something not related to his looks. This time around, he was staring for another reason, trying to find the Steve within him that would actually pull the trigger and ask you out already. It was clear as day that he liked you. He didn’t need anymore confirmation of it, he knew his feelings.

But he also knew you were worth more than this and more than the old Steve. 

The old Steve could easily swoon you with a pickup line and flirty eyes: the King Steve that you had heard about from Robin. But that wasn’t who Steve was anymore and it sure as hell wasn’t the version of himself he wanted to be when he was with you.

He wanted to be better, to show you that you actually did deserve someone with character within them. Even after all this improvement and trying to actually search for a relationship that consisted of love rather than just sex, he didn’t know if he was good enough for you. If you’d even want to go on a date with him. 

He wouldn’t know if he didn’t take a chance. 

But what if all you wanted was to be friends? 

Would that ruin your friendship with Robin? 

Could you possibly imagine yourself ever being friends with her again after her best friend made a pass at you?

He liked you, but he loved Robin and knew this friendship meant a lot to her. The last thing he wanted to do was jeopardize it because of a crush even if Robin was fully in support of it.

Maybe you and him were supposed to be just friends. 

“Steve! Dude, c’mon we gotta go.” Dustin’s voice came from the outside of the door, knocking firmly against the wood. 

He furrowed his brows, unlocking the door and pulling it open, “Go? Go where? We just got here.” 

Dustin sighed, gesturing back to the living room where you were helping the others clean up, “Nance called home and Mrs. Wheeler said that Holly had an allergic reaction. We gotta get home ASAP!” 

“So why can’t Nancy and Mike go home and we stay?” Steve hissed more harshly than intended. 

The boy shook his head in incredulity, crossing his arms over his chest, “Need I remind you we drove here in Eddie’s van? We all need to leave together or else you’re stranded in Roane, but by the sound of it, you wouldn’t mind at all.” 

Dustin wore a knowing sneer while Steve bit down on his tongue, not really wanting to lash out on the kid who was pointing out the very obvious feelings that he did a horrible job at hiding. 

“C’mon lover boy, we got a hive covered six-year-old who needs the hospital and we gotta house sit for a few hours.” Dustin said, finally patting Steve on the arm before turning on his heel and heading back to the living room. 

He followed closely behind, seeing everyone begin the file out the door where you hugged each of them. 

“I hope everything is ok with your sister! Please, just don’t hesitate to call if there’s anything I can do to help!”

You tightly wrapped your arms around Nance, closing your eyes as you rubbed her back affectionately and heard her murmur a “thank you so much,” before pulling away. 

“Bye! Thanks for having us, again!” Dustin saluted with a toothy grin before you giggled and hugged him. 

Steve was the last one left in the doorway with you, keeping his hands to his side not knowing if he should open up to hug you first or not. 

“Oh! Hold on, don’t go anywhere. I gotta give you something!” You pointed your finger at him and jogged through your apartment into your room, coming out a few seconds later with his yellow pullover folded neatly in your hands. 

You held it out to him, wearing a smile on your face. “I washed it and ironed out the wrinkles. Sorry if it smells like honeysuckle, it’s just the detergent I use!” 

His heart ached even more knowing this thing would smell like you until the next time it’d be washed. Only fueling the crush he had and taking every ounce in his body not to jump at the opportunity to tell you how down to earth you were and how much he’d like to take you out on a date if you’d let him. But instead, he could only muster out a few sentences. 

“T-thanks! I won’t mind at all…and thanks for having us over, even if it was only for a little.” He laughed, watching you shake your head. 

“No, it was really fun having your guys over, and umm, I invited everyone to come to my art gallery this weekend, and it would really mean a lot if you could make it, if you’re free.” You said tenderly, rubbing your hand over your opposite arm watching a smile break on his face. 

He nodded, “I’m free this weekend so I’ll definitely be there.” 

“Thanks! Robin has the directions and whatnot.” You spoke, nodding your head as you both stood there for a second totally forgetting that he had to go until Eddie beeped his horn. 

You snapped out of your stance, instantly apologizing, “Shit, sorry! Okay, I’ll see you!’ 

Steve wasn’t at all prepared for your arms to wrap around his neck, hugging him closely, feeling your breath fan again his skin as he hurriedly draped his arms across your back, squeezing you tight, “Y-yeah! See you then…” 

Pulling away from Steve felt difficult just as hard as it would be knowing that you wouldn’t be able to see him for a while. It didn’t help that you and him didn’t get to speak as much as you’d like because you really wanted to get to know him more. To ask him about life in Hawkins and how he liked Roane so far.

It just didn’t help that you felt like you crossed a line after telling Steve that he was “pretty sweet himself.” 

Was that too forward of you? 

Maybe it was too corny? 

Did it throw him off? 

It probably did throw him off. It had to have been that. After you replied with that sad excuse of what was supposed to be a compliment, Steve started acting weird. Strolling off to the kitchen with Robin and Eddie, probably telling them all about how you sucked at flirting. Even excusing himself to the bathroom in a haste when he clearly didn’t have to use it.

For a minute, you thought that you really did blow your chances with him, but it all drifted away when you caught the smile and wave that he threw at you from the passenger seat of Eddie’s van. 

He looked happy, yet sad to be taking off, kinda like how you looked after needing to leave the Harrington house. You just didn’t want to get your hopes up living for something that had a small probable chance of ever coming to life. There was no telling what mood you and Steve would be feeling the next time you saw each other, and you didn’t want to jinx it before it was too late.

You just closed the door, pressing your back against the wood knowing that everything in your system was dying for the moment you and Steve would see each other next.

For now, you’d have to pad across your apartment thinking about him wherever you strayed, wishing he was following close behind like he always was. But he wasn’t.

The only trace he left behind was his scent lingering in the air and the strawberry cup that was yours, but you didn’t mind if it belonged to him now.

Truly, you were screwed, living for the hope of it all.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated 💌

a/n: chapter one is here!!! ive been working on this for a while and was actually supposed to make this series only 3 parts but i love it so much (and tumblr is laggy lately) that i wanted to split them up into more parts and ill also be opening my inbox to blurbs for what im coining "glitch universe" very soon!!! i hope you all love this chapter and stick around for the rest!! a big thanks to effie again for helping me proof-read and hyping me up through all this!!!! happy reading to all!!!!! 🍰🍓🧸

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @scoopshxrrington @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss

[allamericanfinalgirl]

(TW; Assault, Sexual Harassment)

(PART TWO)

“Good Morning.”

A dark-haired young man wrapped his hands with tape as he listened to the news anchor on the kaleidoscope of multicolored TV screens bearing the morning news.

“This is Ari Arya with Mumbai in the Morning, and it’s about time you fell in love with something that will love you back.”

In the dingy back rooms of an underground arena, the fighters prepared for their matches in various ways, shadowboxing in the corner and rubbing chalky powder on their biceps and hands.

A fighter who went by ‘The Kid’ preferred watching the news, even if it was a doom viewing of the state of the world as of late.

But Ari Arya somehow had a way of making the worst of life work out.

In a pink and white gingham skirt, long, curled hair, and a bright sheen of lip gloss, Ari was quickly becoming the city’s TV sweetheart.

“And that, my friends, is the news.” Kid liked Ari’s Bengal accent; it added a unique lilt to her pronunciation that he was obsessed with. “It doesn't judge you, and neither will I.” If the side of his face wasn’t throbbing, Kid would have smiled.

-

Blood sprayed the tarp-covered floor; Kid grunted and rolled with the impact when his back hit the exposed springs and splintered wood. The wind got knocked from his lungs. ‘Fuck!’ He hissed through his mask, popping to his feet, only to be knocked back down again with three times the force.

A plum hoodie caught Kid’s eye as he went down. Normally, it wouldn’t have mattered, but it was in a shade and style uncommon to his area of the city.

Ari had heard whispers of an illegal underground ring in Yatana: a fighter in a black monkey mask coined ‘The Beast.’ His arms, chest, and bandaged hands were smeared with chalk.

Men were fighting in the streets to earn their pay, women and their children treated like second class citizens, the elderly begging for food and sleeping on benches.

Ari didn’t think it was fair, how she was forced to zip around the news station with a stack of papers and coffees, forced to give every man that pinched her thighs and made lewd comments a bubbly smile as they tugged on the curled end of her ponytail.

Ari wanted to tear back the technicolor curtain and make a change for the better for her city. It was unfair how the elite got to recline back in their high rises under the guise of “spiritual leading” and other shady goings on.

The sound of the crowd chanting; “KILL The Beast, KILL The Beast!” Echoing the arena as The Beast went down, Ari had to cover her ears from the sound of his pained cries as he was beaten down into the floor.

After a countdown, The Beast rolled off the mat and landed hard on the ground, breaking a table underneath him as he fell.

Coughing up blood through his mask, Kid dragged himself through the dirt floor until he could crawl to his feet and limp away while the crowd booed and jeered at him, wincing at the rotten food and cigars thrown into his path.

So, there Ari was, following an illegal underground fighter as he limped down the basement tunnels of the arena. The Beast did not remove his mask once, even as he left the arena and embraced the humid Yatana air.

In Ari’s effort to remain unseen, she trailed too far behind The Beast and lost him in the maze of alleyways. It wasn’t the first time this had happened; on the bright side, she was getting closer to finding his place of residency.

Kid winced as he took a running start, jumping up, hooking his bruised and bloodied fingers around the rungs of the fire escape. He pulled himself up with a pained grunt, to the first platform, and began to climb the iron bars to the top of the building. Like always, he disappeared over the edge.

Ari sighed and tugged on the front of her hoodie in frustration, turning to go back the way she came when her blood ran cold; A man, blocking her from street view.

Kid was stretching on a rooftop when he heard the unmistakable sound of a woman’s scream muffled, followed by the shuffling of feet and a thump. Kid’s feet moved fast, dropping down from the building, back into the alley below.

The plum hoodie was on the ground next to a broken phone; Kid followed the trail to a man surrounding a young woman.

Kid clenched his fists so tightly he could feel his wounds reopening as he walked up from behind and yanked the man into the shadows.

Shouts in Hindi echoed in the dark, with the sound of sick, wet blows to the face and body.

Ari watched the silhouette of a masked man as he lifted her assailant off of his feet and slammed him head-first into the pavement.

The man scrambled to his feet and swung out at The Beast, only angering The Monkey Man further as he snapped his head back to avoid the strike to the throat.

His rage back with a vengeance; Before the assailant had a chance to recover, The Beast had managed his time window to send an elbow into his face, rocking his body just enough to use the momentum.

Unlike this man who relied on brute strength to incapacitate his weaker victims, Kid was used to fighting bigger opponents.

The Beast snarled at the assailant and pounded on his chest. Realizing that fighting The Beast or robbing the girl wasn’t worth it, he retreated down the alley, leaving Ari alone with The Beast.

“Please!” She held her scratched and bloodied arms up. “I-“ Ari realized she didn’t want to beg for her life.

Climbing to her feet, Ari felt a sudden wave of nausea when The Beast turned away. Even with the mask on, he shielded his eyes as she pulled her torn shirt to cover herself.

“Are you hurt?” The Beast’s voice was muffled through his mask, hands trembling and dripping with blood.

“I can point you to a nearby clinic.” He was shaking with rage at what the man had nearly done to the young woman; Blonde hair plastered to her face in a mix of rainwater and blood from a cut upon her forehead.

If he hadn’t saved her, what would have happened? Ari noticed The Beast clenching and unclenching his fists, a perfect picture of a tense young man.

“I understand if you want to go and find the authorities, but I want to clean you up.” She felt heat rise in her face, and she sensed he had realized his accidental implication. “Sorry-“

“Okay.” Ari sniffled and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand as The Beast retreated in the shadows and returned with her plum hoodie folded up in his hands, her belongings placed gently atop it.

“Thank you.” She whispered, taken aback by his gentleness as The Beast took her back to the fire escape, grunting as he pulled the ladder to the pavement and gestured for Ari to climb.

Guiding Ari to the top of the building, Kid cast a cautionary glance around before driving his shoulder into the fire escape door, guiding Ari inside to a tiny room he had made up inside. A mattress with blankets strewn about, a tiny radio, and cans of discarded food.

Lifting the mattress, Kid swiped away a magazine cover of Ari he kept folded up and pulled out a first aid kit, wetting a piece of fabric with a water bottle before gently wiping the blood from Ari’s face, neck, arms, and legs.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, running a bandaged thumb over a scar on her forearm. “God will see those men pay for their sins.”

‘A Religious?’ It wasn’t unheard of in India. Ari found herself thinking it was unfair to assume The Beast wasn’t a man of God because he let himself get the hell beaten out of him by men twice his size all hours of the evening.

“Thank you for saving my life.” Ari began to open her purse, searching for money to give him, when he gently placed a hand atop her own.

“I don’t need charity.” The Beast murmured, shaking his head as he applied anesthetic to her forehead, “I need your word.”

Ari swore she could see big brown eyes staring intensely through the eyes of The Monkey Man’s mask. “You never saw me. We never met. The arena does not exist.” Ari closed her eyes in disappointment; if she did, that meant no story.

“I can’t.” She shook her head resolutely, holding her chin up high. “India deserves to know what its people are resorting to to get by. Beating each other to bloody pulps for an earning, is that what we’ve come to? Behaving like-“

“Beasts?” The masked man finished, his voice low and even. “We could help each other.” Ari offered, throwing all her cards on the table and cautioning against the wind.

“Tell me your story.” The journalist side of her leapt out, despite her near-death experience.

Staring at each other, a silent but furious conversation between Ari and The Beast ensued through tense looks and clenched fists. ‘Fuck It.’

The Monkey Man acquiesced.

“What do you want to know?” Despite the traumatic experience, Ari felt a hopeful smile tug at the corner of her lips as she held up a small, hand-held recorder.

The Beast watched Ari click the device and a red light began to blink.

‘Recording.’

“Tell me everything.” Ari recorded hours of conversation, and when she finished it was daybreak. Despite his protests, Ari left behind money for The Beast.

As Ari began to gather her things, she didn’t notice Kid slyly nick her lip gloss and travel-size flute of perfume.

“I can’t thank you enough.” They stood together under a street lamp. “Anyway,” Ari bit her lip, wishing he would remove his mask.

Nodding to each other, Ari and The Beast were desperate not to tear their gaze away from one another.

“Don’t be a stranger.”

-

Ari stared dead-eyed ahead. Nothing on the planet was worse than the sound of her male colleagues' voices bouncing off one another, singing each other’s praises.

“Smile!” One of the older executives insisted, tugging at the corner of Ari’s lips with his sausage-like fingers.

It was a sick affair. Ari had gotten looped with an upper-level executive who set his sights on her from day one and would not let up. Now, it was either attending every menial event on the arm of the executive or losing her job.

‘Kings’ was the tower club that rose above the Mumbai skyline. Ari hated it there, how the other women were exploited like caged animals for the men to toy with, how much opulence overflowed from the tower in the form of drugs, sex, and money.

Ari had spent enough time at ‘King’s’ to notice the change in staff.

Raven hair that was curly in almost a prince-like way, large, unmistakably scarred hands; Wide brown eyes that held a lost look as if he were searching for his Mother in the market, but almost as if…He was letting the world see that.

Almost as if he were hiding something.

‘Bobby.’ Read his name tag; Ari scrunched her nose at that, if it was the right setting, she would have laughed.

“You don’t look like a ‘Bobby’.” It must’ve been the champagne the studio exec insisted Ari try, or otherwise she would not have said that comment aloud.

The waiter stared at her intently, as if he had seen her before.

Ari was perplexed before realizing he probably recognized her from the news, and then embarrassment snuck into her demeanor from being caught in such a place.

“She’s a pretty face!” Ari’s studio executive excused her comment with a laugh, painfully squishing her cheeks between his fingers.

It took everything in Kid not to break the man’s arm in two. “Excuse me.”

The waiter made himself scarce; Ari’s dark eyes surveilled him like a hawk as she watched him disappear through the kitchen’s double doors. “Excuse me.” She said as well, primly dabbing the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “I need to powder my nose.”

Heels clicking echoed in the alley, The Kid’s head snapped up, dark brown eyes locking on an angel from on high. “Hello.”

Shooting to his feet, Bobby’s cheeks were red, hiding his hands behind his back.

Nodding in acknowledgment, Bobby tried to sidestep Ari and return to his job when she stopped him with a small hand against his broad chest. “Wait!” She dug into the tiny pink clutch that ‘The Beast’ had returned to her the evening before. “Can I ask your point of view, working here at the King’s?”

Bobby stared mutely at the recording device in the palm of her hand. “I know you could lose your job and I don’t want to jeopardize your position here.” She hated how hard it was to look professional in a pink mini-dress and high heels made by a man who hated women.

Ari felt her heart drop when Bobby mutely shook his head ‘No.’ She could see he was apologetic.

Bobby gestured for Ari to go back inside, but she only frowned dejectedly. “Don’t make me go back in there.”

It was like a shark tank and Ari was a tiny fish staring up at their grinning barbed teeth.

“Please.” She begged, tears filling her brown eyes.

Sighing, Kid disappeared through the kitchen doors, leaving her alone.

Surprised, Ari hugged herself as she looked around the alley, tear-filled eyes landing on a tiny yellow dog that had trotted into view.

“Hyālō praṇaẏī. (Hello Sweetheart).” Ari cooed, kneeling and holding out her palm for the dog’s tiny brown nose to sniff at.

The kitchen doors swung open and Bobby came down the steps with a tiny plate. “I told them a waiter spilled wine on you, you’re in the coat room getting cleaned up.” He said, handing her a slice of chocolate cake he had nicked from the dessert cooler.

“You’re not afraid of anything, are you?”

Ari snorted and gave Bobby a sidelong glance. “I’m afraid of everything.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose, resisting the slice of cake for precisely two seconds before swiping her finger through the frosting. “I’m not allowed to be afraid if I want this career.”

“What are you afraid of?” The Kid smirked at that, rubbing his jawline, letting the mask slip.

“You ask a lot of questions.” He picked a chocolate chip off the cake and popped it in his mouth. There was something about the look on his face that said ‘You don’t want to know the things I’m afraid of.’

“Anyways. Someone has to do it. Because if I don’t; who will?” Bobby looked at Ari with hollow eyes.

‘Someone hurt you.’ Ari glanced at his hands, burn marks scarred his large palms, she wondered what they would feel like against her skin.

“Tell me one thing then,” Ari’s pink press on nail pushed on the little gold name tag pinned to his chest. “Bobby, why are you here?”

“I’m returning a favor.”

[bunnisanblog]

We'll Break up in the End

Chapter 1: Black Coffee Previously: Summary and Story Info Word Count: 1.1k

You throw on yesterday’s going-out clothes after a sniff test and decide that it’s still good for a short trip to the bakery. It's just called "Bakery," so you have high hopes that the pastries would taste more exciting. Before you head out the door, you sneak a glance at the bathroom mirror and examine your state. Dark circles were the first thing you noticed, but you shrug it off since it's just going to be a quick trip. You give yourself some credit though, for taking the time to do your skincare routine and brushing your hair, which were almost impossible feats just a few months ago when you found out about your ex's double life. Aside from those, you were ready to go, until something catches your eye. Your makeup bag. You haven't thought of applying makeup since then, but you can't help but slightly frown because of how much you spent on lip glosses and eye shadow palettes that you begged your boyfriend- ... ex-boyfriend... to buy you even if you knew only two of the twelve colors would be used. You shake your head at the memory and head out the door, making a mental note to do a closet purge and toss out anything that reminds you of him.

The sunlight blinds your eyes when you start walking, so you make a little shade with your hand to block out the sun from your face. It just occurred to you how long you've been cooped up inside and ignoring any invites to go out. You check your phone that was once bombarded with texts from friends and a lover, and now it's just dry. 'Like me,' you thought and snort to yourself. There's no better way to cope with a shitty situation than making a joke about how shittier the circumstances are now, like for example, taking a jab at your sex life. You check the navigation to make sure you're still headed in the right direction before letting your mind wander. Left, right, left right. It's not like you forgot how to walk or weren't active inside your apartment, but walking outside is different. You know where everything is inside your space, just enough so you don't run into tables or the messily organized piles of junk you thought to save for later. The outside, however- your train of thought is interrupted by the burning sensation of steaming coffee going through your now-needs-to-be-washed sweater and hitting your skin. You look up at a fairly tall man, clad in a white apron, with a fair-looking face. As if your body wasn't already feeling the heat from the coffee, your face feels like it's on fire from embarrassment. The cute stranger's eyes widen and he places the sample tray of the other coffees on a table to quickly pat you down with his hand towel. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry are you hurt?" His bangs cover a bit of his eyes when he looks down at you with concern.

"No, no I'm fine," you reassure him, taking the towel from him and wiping your arm. (You're pretty sure you might have some burns cause it stings with contact.) "I'm sorry, I should've looked where I was going," you sheepishly say, looking in his general direction but trying to avoid eye contact.

He extends his hand towards you, and you feel the blush on your face grow, but you're frozen. You have no idea what to do because you just met and surely he's not asking to hold your hand-?

"If you'd like, I can take that towel from you if you're done with it," he smiles. You completely forgot about the towel you had a death grip on, and you shove it in his hand a bit rougher than you planned.

"Oh! I'm sorry again, I didn't mean to-" His wholesome and full laugh just cuts you off. Based on his exterior features, you wouldn't expect him to appear so... light and carefree? His defined jaw line and muscular build gives off a more stern vibe about him, especially his matching dark circles to yours, but he somehow makes them look good.

"It's okay, no need to apologize. Please, come inside the bakery. If you need any assistance, you can ask for Nanami." He says, with his signature smile.

You walk in and your senses are flooded with the mouthwatering scent of fresh bread, but all you can think about is Nanami- and how nice he was to you, of course. You can't afford to have another man take up space in your head rent-free again, at least not so soon. You pick out some custard buns, garlic cheese breads, and you notice a lone ham sandwich. It's in a shiny plastic wrap, and you thought what better way to express your gratitude for helping you than to get him a sandwich for lunch! You knew it was a reach, but it's not like you can just strike up a conversation randomly with him, no? You gather all your things and after paying, you see Nanami at the door.

He smiles at you in a kind of way that makes your heart beat ten times faster and feel like it'll bounce up and out of your chest. Before your overthinking forces you to miss this opportunity, you stick your hand in the pastry bag and present the sandwich to him. His eyes slightly widen in surprise and his lips part, but nothing comes out. "Here! I hope I didn't cause you too much trouble earlier with the coffee... so I bought you a sandwich for your lunch. If you haven't taken it yet. Or maybe your dinner if you've already eaten lunch. Not to say that you don't have any other food at home..." Oh god, you already messed up. You mentally curse at yourself for going on and rambling. You honestly expected him to just ignore it or just brush you off as just another girl in the long line that has a crush on him. (Do you have a crush on him?)

Instead, he smiles so wide that his eyes follow suit, and your ears are blessed with his laugh again. "Great minds think alike," he says, while pulling out the same ham sandwich from his apron pocket. "How did you know it was my favorite?"

"Lucky guess?" You start to ease into the conversation with Nanami and find yourself genuinely smiling - not out of nervousness or embarrassment.

"Well, it's not everyday you meet someone with the same taste in sandwich. If you're free, maybe we can eat it together in a few minutes when I go on my lunch?" You're sure you mistake the hopeful glint in his eyes when he asks you to spend his lunch break with him.

"Sure, I can wait at a table," you smile up at him, not getting over the height difference. You watch as he slips his apron off on his way back inside, and there's only a single thought in your mind.

You should've at least brought your makeup bag.

*:･ﾟ✧ Author's Note: Yay, I got the first chapter out! I hope I can improve in my writing style as the story goes on. This was just to set the scene, but wowowow an impromptu first like-date after a meet-cute?!

*:･ﾟ✧ Taglist: @an-ever-angry-bi 🫶

[suchan3rd]

New Flame FemReader x Leo Valdez Part 3

this is part 3 please read the other two parts before this one.

Tw: Claypso being a bitch to Leo

The next few mornings were filled with your siblings gawking over you and your lack of makeup. When coming to camp the last thing you thought to pack was lip gloss and eyelash curlers. So your siblings spend twenty minutes every morning doing your hair and makeup, coordinating it with your outfit. (Which is almost exactly the same, every day) Every morning you'd complain about it, you did have to get up earlier for them to do it. But in reality you loved it. Finally feeling like you belonged to something, finally feeling like you were a part of a family? This was what you always wanted. This was why you were always so eager to be claimed. But Aphrodite? You just didn't see it. At all of your previous schools you'd never been the prettiest. No one was lining up to date you. But when you stepped out of your cabin and walked across the sage green grass, you couldn't help but notice the prolonged stares. The quick glaces behind coffee cups. You'd never had this kind of attention before. And you weren't sure if you liked it or not. One morning in particular you were sitting next to Piper at Aphrodite table when Caleb from Hermes cabin walked up to the head of your table.

"Lookin' fine ladies" he said, addressing everyone, but glancing down at you. You blushed and rolled your eyes.

"How do I look Caleb?" Asked Drew, fluttering her eyes at him.

"Hot as ever Drew" he said, flashing a grin before going to sit at his table. The thing with Caleb is, he's not bad looking. His hair was a close to yellow blond, slightly fluffy. He had blue almost gray eyes. He was tall, with deep abs. You knew this because any time he was training, he took his shirt off. So yeah, he was like any basic white boy. But you weren't attracted to him. His personality sucked. Self-absorbed, and always thought that he was the center of attention. Like everyone was so blessed to be in his presence. The only good trait about him were his siblings.

"Caleb was totally checking you out" Piper commented, shoveling a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

"That's a disgusting thought" you say, picking up a piece of butter toast.

"He was though," she said pointing her fork in your direction, "and why wouldn't he? You are gorgeous" you blushed and rolled your eyes, pretending not to care. But in reality it meant a lot to you that she thought you were pretty. Gorgeous, even.After breakfast Aphrodite cabin had sword fighting with Apollo cabin. These two cabins often got paid together because their hearts were never into the fighting. Apollo mainly used Bow and Arrows. And Aphrodite didn't really fight, but it was still required for them to take it. This time you were paired with Kayla. Your sword was a long curved scimitar made of celestial bronze. The hilt was made of dark metal covered in a brown leather, little divots in the handle made room for your fingers to fit perfectly into place. When you'd choose your sword when first arriving at camp you had been drawn to this sword for some reason. And apparently it had belonged to some important ruler in Ancient Greece that you haven't heard of. Kayla had been at camp longer so she had a slight advantage over you. Lucky for you, she was more used to fighting with a bow and arrow. After 10-15 minutes you beat Kayla. You two had been the last ones fighting, since most of your cabin mates didn’t really do, fighting. So most of Apollo cabin had won. Except for you and Piper, who were actually trying to win. The rest of the day’s training went like that. You and Piper trying. The rest of your cabin not giving two shits. Lunch came and went, so did dinner. Nothing that day had been eventful until the Campfire after dinner. Everyone was pumped up, the fire blazed ten feet high and glowed a bright mix of orange and gold. Everything was great. You even started to feel better from the day's uneventfulness. But it all stopped once you heard the crashing. Coming from the woods were large crashing noises and shouts. And bursting through the woods came a giant metal dragon. The same one you’d seen many times before, Festus. And who came running out after him? The one and only, Leo Valdez.

“Festus, come back!” he shouted, “You’re not fixed yet!” A series of clicks and squeaks came from Fests as he ran towards the other part of camp.

“Leo what the Hell are you doing?” Came a shout towards your left. You turned to see a lean figure standing up. Calypso. Leo’s snotty girlfriend.

“Chasing my dragon?” he said, slowly coming to a stop by the fire. Calypso rolled her eyes and stomped over to Leo. You were close enough to them to hear their hushed argument.

"You are causing a disruption" Calypso chided, holding a tight grip on Leo's arm

"Ok?" Leo said, confused, "there are disruptions all the time at camp,"

"I just got here Leo!" She shouted through gritted teeth, “And you are embarrassing me”

“How am I embarrassing you? I’m the one with soot all over his face, chasing a broken mechanical dragon.” Leo reasoned

“You are so obnoxious Valdez!” Calypso shouted trying to get one last grasp at control and spun on her heels and stomped off towards nowhere in particular.

[randomfandom-3]

@honeii-puff. The story!!

ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 

        If you were to walk down the monotone streets this late, there were many things that would stand out as abnormal, the way the breeze almost whispers, the calm, still, icy waters of the barge below the arched bridge, the way even the leaves seem to freeze when in company. The cool night air is stale in the small town of Port Nickiloly, it was a normal cold and quiet night. well, except for the sound of two hollow gunshots ringing through the stale air.

        Around eight (8) am, only an hour after the sun rose the next day, the detective agency’s phone was ringing off the hook with calls from the police station. They were a well known agency, but this was ridiculous. Upon entering the office, Micheal Caddwell was met with a stressed intern, messy dirty blonde hair. Hm, who the- oh the intern. Philip, right? The short one. He wonders before inquiring about the rushed behavior.

      “Where on earth have you been?!” Philip questions angrily, but is met with a nonchalant wave.

       “I was getting coffee.”

        "These cases are stacking up! Your slacking off-”

            “Philip, philip. Calm down. It's not a big deal. Just give me the most important case, I'll head out… After coffee.” Philip thinks he just might punch him.

          Micheal and the case manager arrive at the scene, an uptown three story manor, white paint with trimming on the edges,with small gold accents here and there, it would've been gorgeous if it wasn't for the blue and red lights flashing, or the bright yellow crime scene tape blocking off the gate.

         Micheal makes his way through the crowds of police men taking statements, and the crime scene investigators bagging things. He steps inside the house, cops following him.

        It looked straight out of a movie, high ceilings with fancy lighting, a curved white wood staircase, with a curved banister michael would have loved to slide down had the circumstances been different, the walls were white with gold trimming at the top, and the coffee table of glass, though it had been smashed by what should  have had michaels attention. The body of Mrs.Dima was on top of the pile of glass, eyes glossed over, a pistol shot wound on her forehead, her head against a dark brown grandfather clock, a hole through the face, locking the time at 11:23. Micheal takes one look at the body, his green eyes landing on the wound. He briefly examines the body, taking in the room more than anything. He kneels beside the body, with about two feet away from it, before he picks up a piece of the broken glass from his table, dropping it as he nicks himself on the edge, a dark crimson covering the dull pink scratch.

“What a waste of a good room…” he mumbles briefly before rising to his feet, taking a small step closer, the glass crunching beneath his loafers. It's not hard to tell he has everyones eyes on him, he had a reputation, they knew the case was over. He moves closer to the body, before turning to the nearby investigations division's supervisor.

“Husband shot her. He keeps a pistol in the house, does he not? He shot his wife around 10:00 and later staged a break in, breaking the windows from the outside.”

And so it was. The revolver morphed to a pistol in the evidence bag, the bullet hole alters itself to match the bullets from her husband's pistol, the pistol itself melting away upstairs in the safe, the clock hands moving themselves, 10:00, and even the very thoughts and memories in the witnesses head alter, the husband remembers shooting her from behind the couch,watching her fall onto the table, and placing the gun on the once pristine couch, and going outside, to break the window, and stage a break in.

“And that's how that's done.” he walks out the large white wooden door, trying his hardest to ignore the tangy metallic smell of blood leaking from the room, it was easier that way. The less he noticed the smell, the lifeless eyes, the easier the job.

Micheal makes his way to the slick plain black work issued car, setting himself in the passenger's seat, taking in the smell of the pine wood air freshener, before opening the messy glove box, papers fall, but he ignores them and sifts through the mess and pulls out a small red box, as he opens it the strong smell of rubbing alcohol makes him half gag as he pulls out a small pack of wipes, cleaning the blood on his hand before putting a bandaid on it.

When the case manager  arrived, they left the scene, Michael stared out the window at the busy streets, the entire drive was silent. When he gets back, Philip once again assigns him cases, of course he gets back in at most thirty minutes, spending most of his day out at each house, announcing a cause of death, until the sun sets. He leaves his office as it always is, papers scattered on his desk, a empty mug, and the daft smell of chocolate, and he ends the night as he always does, the click of his office lock, he walks down the creaky oak stairs,  walking through the still hectic lobby, the noises echoing through the sage green walls, ricocheting off the white curved ceiling, and the sound of shoes clacking against the once white tiles.

The next day he returns to work, once again met with rushed and frantic cases from Philip, he sighs and stops to listen to whatever he's ranting about, a bit interested in whatever's got him so worked up, though he wouldn't admit it.

“Right then, it's early,” he motions for Philip to walk with him. “What's this about?” The man follows his pace.

“Well, you have a new case, they need help as soon as possible, and if you had got here on time-” he declares, agitated, before being cut off.

“What makes this case worth my time, my morning time?”

“It's Mr. Johansen. He was shot.”

He's much more alert on the ride to the scene, as they make unfamiliar turns down the smooth paved road, into the gated, and armed, neighborhood.

Mr. Johanson..? How the…? A sniper, I bet. The voice in his head reasons, as they go drive into the neighborhood, he hasnt had to come here, after all it's not everyday the mayor is shot dead in his house.

They arrive at the manor, two stories, modest, the light blue paint peeling, the air smelled of gunpowder and what was almost like burning.

As he steps over the threshold of the house, the smell is stronger, he steps through the living room, though the house belongs to a dead man he still feels he should have wiped his feet at the door, when he saw the white carpeting leading to the kitchen.

The kitchen catches him by surprise, as  he observes the body of the mayor, slumped to the ground against the counter by his sink, he immediately notices why the place had smelt burnt, a small pot left on the stove, blackened food, practically ash. Micheal turns his attention back to the mayor, he could almost believe he was asleep, had it not been for the small trickle of blood from the back of his head. He looks around the room briefly, broken glass from the window behind the table, glistening in the light as the sun begins to rise at last. He turns to the case supervisor, and makes the obvious assumption.

“Hired hit. Sniper from a roof behind him.” as he speaks, the other detective and a cop look at each other before the detective speaks up.

“With all due respect sir, how? The house is more of a diagonal, it wouldn't be possible for him to make a straight bullet through the window." The whole room seems to go silent, the sound of the wall clock ticks heavy and hollow in michaels ears. Impossible. The word rang through his ears, he was never wrong, and he was about to say as such, when his phone started ringing, he picks it up, and is met with a barrage of complaints from philip, michael guesses he found out about the case files hed hid in his desk because he didn't want to do them, though he wasnt mad about the excuse to leave.

“Right well, you get me the weapon, I'll return later. I'm needed at the office.” he leaves the room, motioning for his supervisor to follow. He gets in the passenger seat of the car, per usual, and remains entirely silent throughout the drive back to the agency.

He walks into the lobby, ignoring the loud buzz, and walks past Philip, ignoring the lecture he's giving him, and heading straight to his office.

Has it always been this messy? The air feels stale, I should open a window…  his thoughts are moving almost as much as he is as he moves over the window by his desk, opening it to breathe in the air, but even that felt off. Nothing felt right, the room felt small, the air felt too dry, it felt too moist, it just felt off. He couldn't stop pacing, rubbing small circles into the bone of his wrist with his other thumb.  He snapped out of his jumbled thoughts by a loud knocking on the door, he knew before he even opened the door that it was Philip, probably here to bother him about the cases. He opens it anyway. Philip walks in without a word, setting a pile on the messy desk.

“You need to make sure that these-” he notices that Michael is overly fidgety. “Right. What's wrong? Is this about the buzz about this case?” Word had spread fast, they both knew it, though Philip did not understand why it was a big deal.

“I shouldn't have been wrong.” micheal says after a beat. Philip rolls his eyes.

“You had a bad day, everyone does.”

“Not me. I don't.” micheal states, his breath still sort of shaky.

“Okay, this is clearly bothering you,you need to breathe. Inhale exhale.” Michael hates being told what to do, but he obliges, slowing his breathing, when Philip notices he's calmer, he speaks.

“And you might not wanna hear it, but you need to suck it up. You aren't perfect, you aren't  flawless, you made one mistake, you're still the smartest guy I know. Breathe. You just might have to actually think about this one.”

“I tried. It just doesn't make sense.”

“You haven't even got evidence files yet, michael. You're expecting too much of yourself. You can't keep yourself calm long enough to understand you need assistance.” and with that, he leaves, leaving micheal to ponder his words.

The next morning, he has one assignment, to go get the evidence. He thinks about bringing philip. He  walks silently, thinking about whether he should or shouldn't, once he's a few steps past the front desk, he hollers to him.

“You! Hey! You're coming with us.” he walks over, and grabs gently by the cuff of his sleeve, leading him to the car. He sits in the backseat, behind the passenger's seat, gently pushing Philip into the seat beside him, the case supervisor following shortly after.

The rest of the day was uneventful, they arrived at the police station, looked over evidence, micheal making a file of evidence, and philip occasionally calming him.

The next few days go the same, though Michael spends more time in his office,and Philip is taking less calls. Micheal thinks this has to be the best way to work. Occasionally Philip comes up with drinks, snacks, and helps him go over the case, before he has to head back down stairs, though he did learn some things about philip, he's always enjoyed writing, horror usually,he has 2 sisters, and has always wanted to visit paris and that he has green eyes, and that they only seem brown in the dim light. The latter wasn't important, but Michael thought it was neat.

About 5 days into the case, in the middle of silently pondering with Philip, sipping hot chocolate, he sits up a bit straighter and turns to him.

“I know who did it.” The words hung still in the air, but Michael didn't notice, the silence didn't feel awkward, it never did with philip.

He quickly reorganizes the files, before rushing down the stairs, Philip walking behind him.

In 2 weeks time they both sat in the courthouse, for the trial of Ms. Johansen, on trial for the murder of her husband. The trial was over quick, an immense amount of evidence persuaded the jury, they won.

The next day the phone rings off the hook, global calls, global cases, when philip excitedly informs him that his name is known, setting down the pile of files , he grabs a file from the middle of the pile.

“Well, are you up for a trip to paris?”

[coochiemilk]

Back Again Black Ash Furniture and primarily Black Chest of Drawers

This guide is going to focus on the most popular types of furniture through the years - black ash furniture. This kind of furniture has had several cycles of being in style with the last one in the 90’s when black ash furniture was very popular and lots of folks were going to kit their particular bedroom furniture assortment out in black ash. This period gradually died out and lots of people begun to get rid of their click here to learn more black wardrobes and beds to be replaced by newer ranges for instance French style furniture. However in the past few years this kind of furniture has begun show up again with numerous ranges popping up with some excellent pieces like black tv cabinets and black dining chairs.

So what is responsible for this resurgence? Well one particular component that has driven this reputation is glass furniture. This kind of furniture can be found in numerous colours of which a popular style is black glass. The growing reputation of black glass furniture in turn has started to restore other black furniture like black ash. A different factor influencing the return is the recent well-liked furniture designs like gloss furniture, French furniture and white furniture. Each one of these types usually have a white, cream or ivory painted colour to complete them therefore black provides total contrast and brand-new look. As with all styles people become bored as time passes and want some thing totally different which is what a black style gives.

As a lot more ranges of black furniture appear the choice of styles and pieces increases, currently it is really difficult to find many high quality black bookcases, coffee tables or black sideboards. However black bedroom furniture is appearing more readily found with a variety of black beds, bedside tables and black chest of drawers. You will find many of these pieces from a number of great furniture retailers in the uk, on the other hand go online where you will discover much more choice and, sometimes get a saving from the price.

The best black collections currently available are the Metro Black Bedroom range that features chunky solid black ash wood plus some fantastic bedside tables and beds. A popular range for the living and dining room would be the Cuba Black range with a very similar chunky build like the Metro. Both of these ranges combine the fantastic black ash look with a good quality solid construct, perfect illustrations for anyone searching for this excellent style of furniture.

[coffeecat1983]

Just a little fetching (Femme Crow/Az AU fluff)

"What in Heaven's name did you do to yourself?!" Aziraphina nearly screeched. The year was 1966 and Aziraphale and Crowley had physically shifted a few years earlier to female forms. Wanting to fit the change, the Angel had changed her name. Crowley however, kept hers, figuring she could be any name she damn well pleased.

She looked up from the dressing table, tilting her head at the other, clearly flustered woman. "Care to rephrase that?" she asked, crossing her legs to show off the sleek black nylons. Aziraphina swallowed hard, eyes lingering on the long legs and shiny black high heels. "I um, I m-meant your lips, what have you d-done to th-them?" she stammered out.

"Oh. That." Crowley glanced back in the mirror, pursing her lips to show off the jet-black gloss. "Got it off a sweet little thing at the club last night. You don't like it?" She posed on the plush stool, hands draped over her knees to show off the long fingers decorated with oynx rings and ruby red nails. Her outfit was a black silk short skirt, stopping just above the knees and wrapping tantalizing around her hips. Her top was black, sleeveless, and the collar low cut with a red belt loosely hanging around her waist. The look was completed with her dark sunglasses and a black hat with red trim, both of which were on the dressing table. Long, red curls hung down, neatly framing her face.

"It's, well it's not that I don't like it..." Aziraphina mumbled. Her dress was a simple coffee-with-cream, with little pearl buttons going down the top half. Simple white flats, plain cream nylons, and a cream ladies overcoat suited her. The look was finished with a gold broach depicting angel wings over the left breast of the coat. Her makeup was light, a touch of blush, pale, sensible pink lipstick, and faintly tan eyeshadow. "I admit, it looks rather fetching on you." she said, glancing away. Crowley stood and coming over, teasingly ran her nails across Aziraphina's face, trailing down her cheek to her neck. She savored the trembled she felt beneath her fingertips. "Look me in the eyes when you say that darling." she coo'd. Leaning in, she drew the other into a kiss. Breaking the tender moment, Crowley smirked, her thumb lightly sweeping over Aziraphina's lips and the black smudge she had left. "It looks quite fetching on you, too."

By "CC"