#OKAY like seven said he remembered the names of three kids that were on that last nonary game

[finntheehumaneater]

from the prompts lists for a lil steddie sickfic 👉👈 bonus points if you can get an uncle wayne cameo in there too lmao

“I’m gonna be sick.” & “Look at me - just breathe, okay?”

hallo, liebe!!! I had way too much fun with this. I want to make this universe its own thing. Everybody send me asks about this I want to talk about my domestic steddie AU please, I love them so much.

(All ask prompt lists are in my pinned posts, and sorry for any mistakes, most of this was copied and pasted from photos of notebook paper, and it does not like my handwriting lmao)

TW: throwing up

Ozzy only liked to eat if someone was watching him. Steve said it was because he wanted to feel safe and protected, but Eddie knew it was because he was an attention whore.

He was currently perched on top of the table, his black tail swiping impatiently as he meowed at Eddie—not pawing the open laptop closed yet, but it looked like he was thinking about it.

“M'doing work, babe,” Eddie muttered gently, reaching out to pet the cat but he ducked away. He rifled through his notes again, trying to remember what name he and Steve had decided for the elven lord. Steve didn’t normally help with Eddie's novel—said he didn't know enough about fantasy and the like, and he didn't want to ruin it—but he had sat down with Eddie on the couch and looked through lists of Welsh names until he found one he thought sounded fit for an elven lord.

And Eddie had agreed, it was a name fit for an elven lord, but he couldn't remember, and he just needed to find the stupid paper with the character names—

Meow!

Eddie's eyes moved back to the cat, and that added on top of the stress of writing made something inside of him snap. “Ozzy, babe. I’m working.”

The cat shied away, his ears flattening and his eyes widening. Eddie ran a hand down his face.This wasn't worth yelling at his cat over.

“Oz…” he closed the laptop and picked up the cat, carrying him to the laundry room. They kept his food on top of the dryer, because when he and Steve had moved in (what... three years ago?) Ozzy had decided that the laundry room was his room, and that people could only actually do the laundry if he liked them.

Eddie set Ozzy down in front of the food dish and pressed a kiss to his side before going to get the hampers from his and Steve's (and Wayne’s) room.

Wayne had been living with them since they had bought the house, and he had lived with them in their apartment before that. he was in charge of doing the “adult things”, even though Eddie and Steve were nearing (thirty twenty-seven for Steve and twenty-eight for Eddie, although Eddie was almost twenty-nine), because Steve's memory couldn't be trusted for things he wasn't one hundred percent in on, and Eddie just couldn't be trusted to do most things on his own. He would much rather be writing.

Wayne still worked as a mechanic, downtown, but this time he liked his job. He'd never leave if he  could, but that meant that he wouldn't get to watch baseball with Steve.

Eddie swore that sometimes it felt like Wayne loved Steve more than him.

Steve was working as a teacher—middle schoolers—and he hadn't been doing it for all that long, but the kids loved him. And he loved them back. Especially one girl named Hayden, because he said she reminded him of Max (Max worked with Gareth at a bookstore a little while away. They shared an apartment, and Max didn't really "work" at the store, seeing how her eyesight fluctuated, but Gareth didn’t mind the company)

And then there was Eddie. Who wrote. The whole rockstar thing hadn't really worked out for him, but he and the guys still got together to play whenever Grant and Jeff were in town.

He was working on his hovel, and he hated every second of it. Sure, he loved writing, but writing an entire-ass-novel was hard.

"It's basically a Lord Of The Rings fanfiction!" He had sobbed to steve one night in bed after he had finally (after six months) finished the rough draft for the outline. “I hate it.”

Steve had just hummed in acknowledgment for a moment, half-curled around Eddie with the messy papers in his hands. "Isn't everything based off of something?"

Eddie had shrugged, keeping his face tucked into Steve’s neck.

“I like Ophelia.” Steve had whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of Eddie's head. "Isn't she the one that stabs the guy with the horns?"

Eddie tried to hum an “mhm” of confirmation, but it came as more of a whine of despair. 

“The drawings you did of her for El were pretty,” Steve had continued, his voice gentle and patient in a way that Eddie adored as he nudged his nose into Eddie's hair a bit more. "You should show her these on Sunday when she and her friend Maya come to visit." Eddie had. And honestly? Aside from Steve and Wayne, El was the only reason the novel was even being made. He wouldn't be able to even open his laptop without her nagging and consistent support over the phone.

She lived up north near Jonathan and Argyle, somewhere near New York, and she drove out with her roommate to visit him and Steve occasionally.

Eddie blinked when Ozzy meowed again, rubbing against his flannel pajama pants he hadn't changed out of yet. "All done, bud?" Ozzy didn't answer. 

Sometimes Eddie felt like he was going insane, talking to his cat.

He put in the detergent and made sure the clothes were spiraled so that they would wash better, before turning it on, the clear lid closed. He didn’t know what buttons to press, but he knew what noise they were supposed to make and in what order. Steve was normally in charge of laundry, but most of the kids had presentations to do, and the other half were doing theirs tomorrow. He’d probably be too tired to do the laundry when he got home.

Eddie heard the door open and close, and he assumed it was Steve, because Wayne wasn't supposed to be home for another hour or two.

"Stevie?" Eddie called out, and he kept talking when he didn't get an answer, because sometimes Steve got home and had what Eddie called Quiet Time, where he would just stay silent and listen to Eddie talk for a while before taking a shower and maybe having a nap." You want any apple? I had one just before you got here, but I left the peels on a bowl on the table, because I love you and things you like, even though it's weird. There’s seltzer too, but it's probably still warm because I only put them in the fridge like…fifteen minutes ago. Might be fine if you put ice in it, though.”

Eddie knew something was wrong even before Steve shuffled into the kitchen—all hunched over, his eyes rimmed red and his cheeks wet, glasses perched low on his nose, nearly slipping off of his face—because there were no arms wrapped around his waist, no face pressed into his neck, and no Robin Buckley perched on his counter. 

She had been driving Steve to and from... basically everywhere since he had gotten his license taken away. The doctors—and anyone—didn't trust him to drive with his seizures. It had taken Steve a while to get used to not being everyone's personal chauffeur anymore.

"You okay, babes?" Eddie asked softly, concern seeping into his tone as Steve leaned against the doorframe. 

"I feel like I'm gonna be sick,” Steve choked out, his voice strained.

“Oh, sweetheart...did one of your kids get you sick? "Eddie asked, taking Steve’s glasses off and setting them onto the kitchen counter before cupping his elbow and helping him over to the bathroom.

He gently pushed Steve down to kneel in front of the toilet, tugging his hair up and out of his face. It wouldn't have gotten in the way, but it looked adorable when all of the fringe that would normally sweep over his forehead in its coif was gathered up in a little ponytail on top of his head.

As much as Eddie would always be there for Steve, he still made a face and cringed away slightly when Steve threw up, smoothing his hand up and down Steve's spine and shoulders as Steve gagged and sobbed between painful-sounding heaves.

Eddie slipped off Steve's jacket when he went limp in his arms, reaching over to flush the toilet. “Shower?” 

Steve shook his head, his face contorting into something pathetic that made Eddie’s heart tug.

"What's the matter, baby? "Eddie murmured, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist, his chin tucked over Steve's shoulder. He'd make Steve get up and brush his teeth in a bit after he had sat and rested. He was still shaking, so Eddie doubted he would be able to stand okay right then.

“I’ll have to call in sick tomorrow,” Steve gasped, shaking his head. “I won’t be able to go in.”

“You don’t want to stay home and rest? Darling, I love you and you are so beautiful, but you look like death right now. You’re more pale than me.”

“Liam has his presentation tomorrow. I have to be there! H-he has a hard time speaking, and—a-and I don’t want him to be nervous. I promised him I’d be there for him,” Steve said, his voice broken and desperate, and God, Eddie was so in love with man that it physically hurt.

Steve was so kind, and caring, and sweet, and compassionate, and the list just went on, and on, and on. 

“Look at me,” Eddie whispered, his fingers brushing over Steve’s stomach. “Just breathe, okay? Liam will be okay.”

Steve shook his head again, his breath shaky and his hands gripping at Eddie’s arms like he was scared to let go. He looked like he was going to throw up again if he didn’t calm down, and didn’t want him to have to go through that anymore. 

“Liam will be okay,” Eddie repeated, his voice a bit more firm as he pressed a hand gently to Steve’s chest. “Breathe.”

Steve did breathe, but his voice was still shaking, and Eddie’s hand went up and down with each movement. “I promised him…”

“I know you promised him,” Eddie whispered, pressing a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “But you can’t control these things. He’ll be alright, baby, he’s a good kid.”

Eventually, Steve’s hands loosened and slid up to Eddie’s shoulders. He pushed himself to stand, and Eddie followed after him. “I’m…I’m okay now.”

“You’re okay,” Eddie parroted back, rubbing Steve’s arm up and down as Steve got his toothbrush out of the mug Wayne had put in the bathroom shelf. It was for some fishing company in the Adirondacks that Eddie had never heard of.

The door creaked open just a bit more than it already was and in strolled Ozzy, meowing lightly. Eddie picked him up when he stood to paw at his thigh, cooing, “Aw, there’s my baby…”

He pressed a kiss to the top of Ozzy’s head, and the cat meowed in protest, now seeing it be a bit against his original plan of being cradled and snug in Eddie’s arms if it meant he had to be kissed.

The poor thing lived a very hard life. 

“M’thought I was your baby,” Steve muttered around his toothbrush, and Eddie rolled his eyes, gently knocking his hip into Steve’s, kissing Ozzy’s head again as he squirmed and tried to escape the confines of Eddie’s arms.

“I can have more than one baby,” he said, and then his voice turned more serious. “Oh, shit, I have to call Nance and tell her that we can’t have Megan over tomorrow afternoon.”

Megan was Nancy’s three year old daughter, and she was lovely, but she was stubborn.

Steve’s face crumpled slightly as he washed the toothbrush off, and Eddie watched him try to hide it by pinching at his nose and sighing. “I’m so sorry, Eds, this is ruining all of our plans…”

“Hey, no,” Eddie set Ozzy down when he started to kick at his arm, biting at the sleeve of his t-shirt. “Steve, honey…”

Steve’s eyes were glassy again when Eddie finally got him to look at him. “I hate being sick,” he practically whimpered, his expression pleading, and fuck—if Eddie could make him feel better he would, but that wasn’t really an option.

“I know, sweet thing,” Eddie murmured sympathetically, pressing a kiss to Steve’s knuckles. “You wanna go and lay down? I’ll get you some Tylenol?”

Steve nodded and Eddie helped him to bed, getting him changed even though he could do it himself. He got Steve the pill and some water and told him that if he wanted to shower when he woke up he could, but the water couldn’t be hot in case he passed out again, like he had the last time he was sick. Head injuries with Steve were no joke.

He got Steve’s bag from where he had left it by the front door when he had come in, then switched the laundry over and when he was just sitting down to work again, Wayne got home.

“You’re early.”

Wayne shrugged, picking up one of the apple peels out of the bowl and popping it into his mouth. “Katie forced me to come back before I started workin’ on another car.”

“Hm,” Eddie hummed, opening the laptop. “Steve got home sick, so be nice.”

“M’always nice.”

Eddie sighed, shaking his head slightly with a smile before getting back to work.

Steve hadn’t wanted Eddie to sleep with him in case he got sick, too—offering to sleep on the couch instead so that Eddie could have the bed, but Eddie had very lovingly said “fuck no” to that. He was curled around Steve, nose pressed into the sweaty hair on the back of Steve’s neck. 

Wayne was out on their neighbor’s porch smoking, and Ozzy was put away in the laundry room (his cat house had been moved there before Eddie crawled into bed, he wasn’t evil) so that he wouldn’t wake everyone up at four in the morning. 

There was a trash can by the bed, because Steve had thrown up again after dinner, even though he had barely eaten anything. 

“How much did you write today?” Steve whispered, voice scratchy and hoarse 

“You’re supposed to be sleeping, babes,” Eddie muttered, pressing a kiss to Steve’s shoulder.

“But how much?”

“Three thousand, maybe. Maybe a bit less.”

“That’s a lot.”

“Debatable.”

Steve laughed, then coughed, wincing.

“Go to sleep,” Eddie whispered, his lips brushing against Steve’s skin.

Steve still had that ridiculous ponytail on top of his head. Either he didn’t know it was there still, or he had finally come around to realizing how adorable it was.

(More of this au, and the Doemstic!Steddie AU MasterList) Permanent taglist: @anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @here4thetrama @goodolefashionedloverboi @gregre369

#Like I had so so so much fun writing this #Poor Steve #I’m so serious though please let me ramble about this universe ask me questions I’m begging you #Let me procrastinate my history homework with my silly little guys #Please #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fic #steve x eddie #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #max mayfield #jeff stranger things #gareth stranger things #teacher!steve harrington #Writer! Eddie Munson #Finn writes #My writing #my fic

[hairstevington]

flowers and ink (part 1)

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve and Robin work at a flower shop together. One day, the pair decides to get matching tattoos at the place across the street. You can probably guess who their artist turns out to be. (requested by @thereindeerlady)

part two, part three, part four part five part six part seven part eight final part link to Ao3

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: This is just cute fluff, nothing too serious, modern day AU, Tattoo Artist!Eddie, platonic soulmates Steve and Robin, also I threw Bob Newby into the mix because I love him

A/N: I'm wrapping up the semester and am finally tackling my request list! Thank you for reading! :)

Robin applied to Flowers for All because a really pretty girl worked there and Robin needed a reason to go in and talk to her. 

She was hired, then the pretty girl promptly quit. Also, she was straight and engaged to a man. That was a huge bummer.

Still, the job stuck, and since they were down an employee…

“No,” Steve said when she brought it up.

“Please?” Robin begged. “Come on, you hate your job and it’s been forever since we worked together. It would be just like old times and -”

“Robin, we never used to get anything done when we worked together. We were terrible employees.”

That was true, but it did not deter Robin from her master plan. 

“Okay, well so far the only other applicant is the seventeen year old son of the owner who thinks the shop is actually a marijuana dispensary, and there’s no way I’m gonna work with that little twerp -”

“He didn’t take himself from the running when he found out you just sell literal flowers?” Steve asked, amused.

“I think he’s going to set up his own business in the back, honestly,” Robin sighed. “Please, I promise I’ll do everything and you can just hang out and -”

“Okay,” Steve said. 

“Wait, what?” 

Robin wasn’t anticipating he’d agree to it so quickly.

“I said okay. Sure. Fine. Where’s the application?” Steve took his phone from his pocket to find the Flowers for All website. He clicked on the “apply now” button and scrolled through the questions. 

There were basically no requirements. He just had to put in his name (Steve), education (high school), and any experience he’d had with flowers (none), and then boom, submitted. 

He got an email the next day to come in for an interview. Robin was assigned to be the interviewer.

He got the job. 

-

Eddie started as an apprentice for Ink About It when he was fresh out of high school. It was run by this dorky middle-aged man named Bob, who didn’t have any tattoos and initially seemed mismatched for the profession. Still, Bob was supportive and kind, and he let Eddie grow and thrive in the tattoo shop. He also happened to be amazing at working with clients and was a decent artist. Go figure. 

“Hey, Eds?” Bob asked as he tapped his knuckles on the door. Eddie was on his break, snacking on some chips while watching YouTube on his phone. 

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking of inviting Joyce’s son here sometime so he could see the place. He’s this great artist, and I think he’d love to meet you and see how we work here.”

“How old is he?” Eddie asked, his eyes still fixed to the screen. 

“He’s seventeen. Just about to graduate high school, can you believe it?”

Eddie didn’t really pay attention when Bob talked about his family. He probably should have listened more, but the man was just so dorky. 

“Okay,” Eddie agreed. He didn’t really want some kid in the shop snooping around, but it wasn’t really his decision. 

“Okay, great,” Bob replied with a smile. When he didn’t leave the room, Eddie knew he had more to say. He shut his phone off and turned to face his boss. “You see, uh. Will’s been having some trouble lately. Bullies and all that. He just came out, you know? And he’s a great kid. He’s so great, and some people at school are just - well, they’re bullies.”

Eddie didn’t really know where Bob was going with this. 

“That sucks,” Eddie acknowledged. “I remember when I came out, people said all kinds of shit - I mean, uh, stuff. Sorry.”

“That’s kinda why I’m telling you about it,” Bob said, shifting his weight on his feet nervously. “I think Will could really use someone on his side right now. Someone who really understands, you know?”

Ah. Eddie got it now. 

“Someone who’s gay,” he deduced. Bob knew that Eddie was gay, and he never cared or said anything about it, which was great. While he didn’t really want to be some motivational story about overcoming adversity in a hetero-normative society, he knew that Bob didn’t ask for much, and talking to a struggling kid seemed easy enough. “Okay, yeah. I’ll talk to him, if you want.”

“Great,” Bob said, breaking out into a smile. “You’re gonna love him. He’s a huge fan of that Dungeons and Dragons game, just like you.”

“Shit, really?” Eddie replied. “I mean - shoot. Sorry.”

“I never told you to stop cursing in front of me, Eddie,” Bob chuckled. “I know I may seem naïve and innocent, but I got into all kinds of trouble in my youth. You’re free to be whoever you want to be here, as long as you’re nice.”

He was just so wholesome it hurt. Eddie imagined the trouble Bob was referring to being something along the lines of sneaking a beer into a movie theater. It would probably break his heart to know some of the things Eddie had gotten into before he’d started working at this place. Maybe Wayne already told him, and he had just never said anything. Eddie certainly wasn’t gonna bring it up. 

“Hey Bob,” Eddie said. “Why did you start this job in the first place? Aren’t you this huge tech wizard?” Bob smiled warmly.

“Sure was. Bob the Brain, they used to call me. I still love a good puzzle, but life takes you to all kinds of places you don’t expect to go.”

“Yeah, but that seems like a pretty big career change,” Eddie continued. 

“Well, did you know this building used to be a RadioShack?” Bob asked. Eddie shook his head. “It was, and I used to work there. After it closed down, some artists tried to make it a tattoo parlor, but had no idea where to start. I stepped in as manager and they did the tattooing. I rebranded it, changed the name, and have been running it ever since. The rest of the story you’ve been around for.”

Bob was a great guy and a wonderful manager. He motivated Eddie to get his life together, and things had really leveled out for him just by having a stable job he enjoyed.

After their conversation, Eddie’s break was over, so he went back to work. He continued a design for a client who’d come in wanting a quarter sleeve, and then at 4pm he was scheduled to tattoo a bird on a guy’s shoulder blade. 

Overall, it was a normal day.

-

Robin knew every single plant and flower in the shop. She knew their names, their seasons, how to take care of them, and what they meant. 

She just happened to be really bad at keeping track of watering schedules, and tended to kill anything she touched. 

“Maybe I should work at a pet store,” Robin sighed, discouraged that the gardenias that had just come in had already wilted.

“What? Robin, why would you do that to the poor animals?” Steve replied, horrified. 

“Shut up, Harrington,” she snapped back. “Animals can tell me when they’re hungry.”

She looked sad, and Steve hated when she looked sad. 

“Aww, Robbie,” he said, jumping off the counter to put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. I can help. If you tell me what to do, I can do it.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked. 

“Nope,” he responded confidently. “But they’re already dying, so it’s worth a shot, right?”

Steve actually turned out to be a natural at taking care of plants. He tended to be very good at looking after people, so it shouldn’t have been that surprising, but what was most shocking was how much he enjoyed it. Robin caught him talking to the flowers quite a bit. It was adorable. 

Ink About It was right across the street from Flowers for All. Steve and Robin stared at it every single shift through the front window. Neither of them remember who started the bit where they’d come up with weird matching tattoos they’d get with each other, but it became a staple every time they worked together. 

“Salt and pepper,” Robin greeted him as he walked in one day. 

“You’re pepper?”

“Obviously,” she responded with a smirk. They continued working, but it was a slow day. The ideas got progressively unhinged as the hours went by. 

“What about…” Robin wondered, her chin resting on her hand as she sat at the register. “You get my face and I get yours.” Steve chuckled. 

“Or we both get Harry Styles’ face.”

“Yes!” Robin’s face lit up as she laughed. “What about something flower themed?”

“Like what? A flower and a pot?” Steve proposed.

“Sure, you can be the pot,” she remarked. 

“What? Why am I the pot?”

“Because you smoke pot and I don’t,” she explained. Steve shook his head and scoffed. 

“Weak reason, Buckley, but fine. You’re the flower.” She smirked, pleased with herself, but then Steve added - “The flower is dead, though. For obvious reasons.”

“Steve!” She yelled, laughing. “Harsh, but fair.”

Their shift ended, but instead of going home, they went to the bar next door. They continued the bit until they were tipsy, and ended up arguing over who would be Bert and who would be Ernie. It got kind of heated. 

“Whatever!” Robin huffed, throwing her arms up. “It doesn’t matter, because you know I hate puppets. We’re not getting Bert and Ernie tattoos.”

“You’re acting like we’re actually going to do this,” Steve said as he sipped his beer. 

“I mean, if we find something we like, why not?”

“Why not?” Steve echoed. At first, he was going to give her all the reasons he could think of why they shouldn’t get tattoos together, but then he realized he didn’t have any reasons. “Uh, I guess you’re right. Okay, so no Bert and Ernie. What about Frog and Toad?”

“Are you just going through all the queer-coded best friends in children’s media, Steve?”

“Basically, yeah,” he replied, smirking. “Fuck, I’m Toad aren’t I?”

“I’m glad you said it and not me,” Robin replied. They sat in silence for a moment, coming to the same conclusion. 

“Uhh, so maybe that’s - Like, maybe that’s not such a bad idea,” Steve said. “Am I just buzzed, or -”

“No, I’m right there with you,” Robin responded. Of course she was, she always was. 

Before they knew it, they were stumbling towards Ink About It.

-

Eddie had just wrapped up his final appointment and was quietly working on other designs. Bob had left for the day, and sometimes Eddie stayed late just because it was a quiet place to be. 

It became less of a quiet place to work when two tipsy idiots stumbled in. 

“Hello!” The man greeted Eddie. “We would like tattoos, please!”

“Okay?” Eddie replied, confused. 

“He wants Toad and I want Frog. You know, from Frog and Toad are Friends?” The woman said. “Can you do that?” Eddie eyed them both and did his best to refrain from rolling his eyes.

“I can do whatever, pretty much,” Eddie replied. “Except, uh - I mean, do either of you have tattoos?” The pair shook their heads. “Do you know where you want them?”

“We didn’t get that far,” the man responded, prompting both of them to giggle.

“Right, okay,” Eddie said. “So, since you’ve clearly been drinking and this is your first tattoo, I’m gonna say it’s a no-go. Think about it, and come back tomorrow if you’re still interested.”

This kind of thing happened every so often, so Eddie was used to it. People never came back. They always came to their senses once they sobered up, and Eddie would never see them again. He figured it would be the same for these two. 

It wasn’t. They showed up again the next day. 

-

“We’ve thought about it!” The woman said as she walked into the shop. She dug into her bag and pulled out a picture. “This is what we want. Inside of the ankle.”

“Wow,” Eddie said as he looked at what they’d chosen, impressed. “I really didn’t expect you’d wanna go through with this.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” the man argued. “It’s an amazing idea.”

“Yeah,” the woman agreed. “And work’s been slow, and we’re bored, and this is not even close to the wildest thing we’ve done together.”

Eddie didn’t find spontaneous tattoos to be that wild in the first place. He was covered in them, and most of them were on-the-fly. Once you have a few, it gets easier and easier to add more. 

“Right,” Eddie said, wondering what the other wild things they’d done together were. He wondered if it was some sort of innuendo, like they were the kind of couple that secretly went to BDSM clubs or something like that. “Well, lucky for you, it's slow here today, too. Shall we?"

Eddie had them fill out paperwork while he got the stencil ready. He had adjusted their reference picture a little bit just to add his own flair, and after they approved it they were basically ready to go. It turned out their names were Steve and Robin. 

Eddie thought that Steve was kind of a stupid name, and didn’t match the pretty boy associated with it whatsoever. 

They didn’t even seem that nervous, which was baffling. Eddie figured there must be more to them than he had originally assumed. They were also a lot less annoying when they were sober. 

“So, who’s first?” Eddie asked, gesturing to the chair. 

“I’ll go,” Steve answered, raising his hand. Eddie put the stencil on his ankle and got final approval before they got started. 

“You ready?” Eddie asked, holding the tattoo needle in his hand. He waited for Steve to back out, but he nodded instead. “Okay. It’s gonna sting a little.”

“I have a pretty high pain tolerance,” Steve replied. Eddie tried to hide the smirk on his face. He’d heard that line before, many times. 

Eddie put the needle to the skin, and Steve didn’t so much as blink. Huh. Well, okay then.

Tattooing someone naturally involves a lack of personal space. It never bothered Eddie, because he tended to not think about personal space at any given moment, but some clients were a bit more hesitant than others. Ankle tats were thankfully not as intense as a rib or hip placements, but it did mean Eddie had to have a stranger’s foot close to his face, which wasn’t amazing. 

He wasn’t a foot guy. The man attached to the foot, however…

Eddie couldn’t help it. Steve was gorgeous. He also was charismatic, which was a quality that Eddie always appreciated and was attracted to. Steve chatted with Eddie during the whole 45 minutes he was being tattooed, and even made Eddie laugh a couple times.

Robin started to show her anxiety the moment it was her turn. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Steve reminded her. 

“Uh, of course I do!” she retorted. “This was my idea. You think I’m just going to let you have a loan toad on your ankle?” Steve and Eddie laughed. 

“I don’t mind. It came out pretty badass, thanks to Eddie.” Eddie smirked at the compliment. 

“If you can do it, I can do it. Come on, Eddie, let’s do this.”

She was shaking a little at first, so Steve pulled up a chair and held her hand. He asked her to start naming all the flowers they sold, and she did so rapidly. Eddie hadn’t heard of a lot of the plants she’d listed, and the list was unending. Ten minutes in, she eased into the process, and the rest went by without a hitch. 

Steve and Robin were really cute together. Eddie wasn't sure how long they'd been dating, but he wished them the best.

Steve left a sizable tip - like, an absurdly high tip - and then they were off. 

This time, Eddie was sure that would be the last he’d see of them. 

It wasn’t. 

(part 2)

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#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #st fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve and eddie #eddie munson x steve harrington #flowers and ink #robin buckley #platonic stobin #bob newby #writing #modern day au #eddie munson #steve harrington

[we-out-here-simping]

Chapter 1: Three inches minimum.

(s.h. x gn!reader)

from the river to the sea (educate yourself and help however you can)

Warnings: y/n might or might not be used; no pronouns used (gn!reader); flashbacks within a flashback; suggestivenes (no smut); trauma; might be canon divergent in future (cuz screw the canon) ; very questionable food choices on readers part (don't ask me I have no idea why I put it in)

word count: 9.5k

A/n: alright gang! we start all over again and imma do this right this time. i really am liking doing this rewrite/revamp of the old stuff now that i know where to take this story. so ive added new stuff that i really wanted to and got rid of some stuff as well.

i dont write smut but this is an 18+ blog mdni

promises series masterlist

...

Life in Hawkins was not a normal one. But then again, what did you know about the norm anyway?

You ran away from the Hawkins lab in 1980. Even after all these years, its memories still haunted you. You still got nightmares, they had never really stopped.

It was hard to forget, you in your dirty hospital gown, the cloth had still smelled of smoke. You had been lethargic, exhausted, but you had a goal in mind. Find Eight. 

You didn't know where she was, but she was your best bet. In the lab, she was the closest thing you had had to a friend. she was your sister. She told you about what her life was like before she had been taken to the lab, she had remembered a lot from then, you on the other hand, didn't. she used tell you all she remembered from outside.

it had been so long since you had last seen her. two years. 1978.

“Come with me”, she had almost begged, holding your hands in her, “we’ll do all that we wanted to. We’ll be free”

You don't know why you couldn't do it then. 

“Please. We’ll have names, we’ll find your real parents, we'll find mine, we’ll be together, we'll be free, that's what you wanted too, didnt you?” she swallowed, desperate, chest heaving. the alarms had been ringing through the halls. The clang of the heavy metal doors and boots stomping rang in the air— they were coming, Papa was coming. you were running out of time. you could run far far away. But you were stuck, your throat dry.

“I.. we can’t”, was all that came out. Your words betrayed you because Eight was right, it was all you wanted. It was all both of you wanted. More than anything. But in the heat of the moment, everything was scary, you were so damn scared. 

Eight stared at you, she stepped back, your shaky hands slipping out of her own. The noise got louder, the stomps closer. The betrayal and confusion on her features quickly morphed into a stoic expression.

“Maybe he’s right.” she swallowed, shaking her head, “You are too weak”, she turned and started walking away. you wanted to call after her but nothing came out. she stopped– the guards were so close– she turned her head a little yet still not showing you her face.

“Goodbye, seven.”

You had to find her because despite what she had said, she was your only hope. two years later, it was a shot in the dark at best, but what other choice did you have?

you tried looking for her, but the void was nothing but emptiness, yet crowded as a maze. she wouldn't let you see her. She was hiding, or rather, just not letting you in. you just hoped she was okay.

You weren't sure how, but you managed to stay out of suspicion for a week before an old woman found you trying to ‘steal’ clothes– a jacket more specifically. 

That's when you met Jim hopper.

“Ok, kid. How about you start by telling me your name?” a low gruff in the man’s voice. You stayed silent as you looked down to your hands in your lap, there was dirt beneath your nails. Water was hard to come across when you're on the run, especially in this cold.

“How about, where you're from, ‘cause I know you're not from around here” Hopper spoke up again. You pulled the sleeves of your full sleeved t-shirt further down, palms sweaty.

“Listen, kid”, he sighs, “ you’ve gotta give me something” you infact continued to give him nothing. you tuck your cold fingers under your thighs, trying your best to hold back the shivers. The ill-fitted t-shirt and joggers you'd found the day after you'd run away didn't do much in matters of protecting you from the cold. That was why you had tried to get that thick jacket. the very same you were caught ‘stealing’ that had brought you here.

“Mrs. Lauter wanted me to arrest you, y’know?” he tried to prompt you. you didn't look up from the tattered shoes you wore– they didn't fit you, they weren't yours.

“Hey!”, he raised his voice a little, your gaze snapped to his– eyes panicking. “look at me when I am talking to you!” he said sternly.

His gaze softened up along with his voice. “don't have to worry though. I got it under cover. Dumpster diving isn't much of an offense. But you gotta tell me where you came from so i can take you back home”

“No”, you finally speak up with a finality that he hadn't expected.

“Oh, so you do speak”, he leaned back in his chair, looking at you, analysing every detail about you. you avoided eye contact, your frame shivering, the dirt on your skin, your hair, “What's with the whole buzz cut, huh? Last time i checked, that wasn't what the kids were doing these days”

you wrapped your arms around your body, eyes still trained down. “C'mon kid you gotta give me something”, he huffed.

the only movement he got from you was you blinking down at your shoes. “Fine”, Frustrated, he got up, his chair pushed behind him, “then i guess you wouldn't mind being locked up in juvie then”

You looked up at him, eyes wide, brows knotted, not understanding what he said meant.

“That's little people jail”, realisation flashed across your face and he waited for you to say something but when you didn't say anything, he picked up his hat from the table with a deep sigh and moved to walk out.

Just when he was about to push the door to head outside his office, “I need to find my sister”, came a quivering voice behind him, your eyes finally looking at him. 

There it is, he thought to himself. 

“So”, he started, walking back to his chair, “this sister of yours. What's her name?”

“I– I don't know”, you stuttered, gaze moving back to your hands. You mentally berated yourself for letting it slip. you weren't even sure why you trusted him enough with that information, maybe that was just your 14 year old brain being stupid. you wondered what her name was now.

“You don't know? Your own sister's name?” he waited for an answer, leaning against the table, “what did I say about looking at me when I talk to you?”

You looked at him apprehensively, arms wrapping tighter around yourself, trying your best to not shiver. 

He sighed again, voice low, “Listen kid, it's late. So I'd appreciate it if you gave some answers.”

No response.

You weren't sure why, but Jim was willing to help you. you lived under his roof for two weeks, during which he considered what to do with you. 

Whenever he inquired about your past, he would be greeted with nothing but silence. He tried asking about the sister you mentioned– nothing.

He decided calling child protective services was the best choice but you knew that as soon as Hopper would make it that call, your Papa would be at his door– ready to take you back to the lab. 

Just when he was about to do it, you had grabbed Hopper's hand before he could dial the number and made him forget all about it. 

you needed time. you had to find your sister. and for some reason this man wanted to help you, for some reason you felt safe. you felt guilty, using him as just a means to your end. you promised yourself to not use your powers on him ever again.

Hopper didn't adopt you. He was aware that he was a drunk smoker and his place wasn't exactly the most child friendly place, filled with unprescribed medication that he popped like candy.

Hopper did find you the cheapest place in Hawkins, paid your rent until you could get a job, and even enrolled you into school. 

Speaking of which– School was fun….. for the first five days– those five days you'd managed to stay invisible, making sure to not draw attention to yourself. But on the sixth day, you realised that you were behind, classes were hard, neither the students nor the teachers were kind. 

So you'd get in fights, and the principal would tell you to call your parents and you would call over Hopper– him being the closest thing to it. Hopper would make you promise that you won't repeat your actions, but you would break that promise too.

Then the year 1983 came and Hopper came across the upside down. He instinctively hid the true story of the missing Byer's kid from you– adamant to keep you away from danger. not knowing that you had always been part of it.

You had taken up a job at a gift shop near melvalds. And were now finally making somewhat of an income to survive but now no longer in as much contact as before with Hopper. You were blissfully unaware of your troublesome past lurking only two steps behind you.

The following year, you somehow got roped into the madness of the upside down. When you found out about Eleven and her powers, and you couldn't lie anymore. You recounted your past with Hopper and the young girl who you shared a similar past with. 

Hopper had forced you to stay with the kids at the Byer's house with a boy from your school year. Steve Harrington. You knew Steve, he was given titles like "the hair" or "king". Far more better than the titles you were given. 

That night you both stood up against Billy, a rage-filled moron. When Steve was down, and he was closing in on the kids, you decided to step in between– shielding them. You had extended your hand, palm splayed across his chest. While pushing him away, you had tried to use your powers, control his mind, maybe just make him faint– you’d done it before. You had done much worse in the past.

Much to your horror, though– your powers didn't work, they were gone. 

as soon as the realisation had hit, there had been a pause. Billy had looked at where your palm touched him and then back to your face. He had smirked. 

The situation spiralled out of control. You then helped the kids with their plan sporting a broken left arm and dragging along a very concussed Steve.  

At the snowball, hopper told you that he was planning on adopting both you and Eleven. Ecstatic, you dropped Eleven off to Mike so they could have their much earned time. Nancy, to whom you'd talked to once, was sharing a dance with Dustin. And Jonathan clicked everyone's pictures. You had decided it was better you wait outside with Hopper. 

On your way out, you noticed a familiar car– looking in closely, you realised that it was Steve– his face no longer covered in scars and bruises. The sudden urge to go over, talk and maybe even thank him for helping you back there with the Billy situation. You looked over to Hopper, as if silently asking for permission to go over to him. After he had given a slight nod, you walked over to the car and knocked on the window. He cranked down the glass.

"Hey”, he smiled.

…

Eleven was out again with Mike. Hopper had left for the station and now you were all alone. No one to talk to. You found it ironic how you'd lived in loneliness almost all your life yet you still weren't used to it. 

You didn't even want to bother calling anyone because literally everyone had gotten either a job or internship over the summer– Steve at scoops ahoy, Nancy and Jonathan at the Hawkins Post and- well you didn't have any other friends who were your age. 

So here you were, in the quiet of Hopper's cabin– save for the chittering of the squirrel Eleven had named Mr. Fibbly. You were alone with nothing to do so might as well do some sort of chores. After racking your brain for what chore to settle on, you decided– Laundry, it is. 

Your mind went on autopilot as you gathered the laundry from your adopted father's and sister's room. As you padded to the room with the washing machine, you felt a disturbance. Come to think of it, you had also felt something the night prior as well.

A headache, it was a much milder version of the headache you felt when you used to use your powers but you had lost your powers almost a year ago. So, you brushed it off as your mind playing tricks on you– which you found hilariously ironic, considering that it used to be you who used to play tricks on the mind.

As you unloaded the laundry basket, you felt something again. This time, it wasn't a headache but it felt as though there was a presence. Your actions stopped as the past year's memories came flooding back. The fear that those things could be back weighed heavily on you. Your heartbeat picked up its speed. You had almost been mauled by those demo-dogs, you were traumatised to say the least.

The whisper of wood creaking reached your ears and your throat went dry. Perhaps what's scarier than being alone is realising that you never were. but you're in the cabin, it's safe here. It's supposed to be safe here.

then you heard it again– another creak. You wanted to run and hide yet you also wanted to look at the intruder but your legs wouldn't budge, as if stuck to the floor. 

When you finally managed to move your feet and turn around, you were suddenly engulfed in arms and a scent that you've grown all too familiar with.

"STEVE!", you let out a yelp as you turned around to face him, "YOU ASSHOLE! YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME!", you smacked his shoulder as he laughed but then atleast he had the decency to give you a sheepish smile and breathe out a quiet "sorry". 

Before you knew it, his lips caught yours, heart still beating loudly against your ribs and lips moving with a rhythm that you'd now gotten used to. 

Kissing wasn't really your strongest suit as you'd never really done it before Steve stumbled into your life but you'd gotten a lot of practice in the last seven days.

A smile crept onto your face as he kissed you deeper, his hand held the back of your head. Your hands dropped the shirt that you were holding back in the laundry basket and instead held his jaw as your thumbs rubbed against his cheeks– the skin warm under your fingertips. 

"Missed you so much", he mumbled between kisses. Heat crept up your neck as you giggled through the kisses, "you were here yesterday."

"Yeah, so?", he pulled away– not too far though, your noses still touching, "i just wanna be with my favourite person." He planted another small kiss on your lips as if to punctuate his sentence. Another giggle erupted from your throat as he pulled you impossibly closer. 

"I thought Dustin was your favourite person"

"Let's not bring Henderson into this, he's barely a person. besides, I'm not interested in kissing him"

Your hands went up to Steve's hair, fingers mindlessly playing with the brown strands that fell on his forehead. "How exactly did you get in?", you asked with an arched eyebrow. 

"Same as always– your bedroom window", he said as if it was the most obvious thing.

“You didn't fall again did you?”

“What? No– no, I'm too agile for that”, he paused when you looked at him with raised eyebrows, "who am I kidding? I almost fell. again" he said as his head hung in embarrassment.

"you could've just used the main door– you know no one's home except me", you laughed.

"Where's El?"

"With Mike", you said with a slight scowl, "God, she's with him all the time and they're always swapping spit!"

"Bit like us, isn't it?", He wiggled his brows and you rolled your eyes, "just let her be– she's a kid. Y'know hormones 'n stuff"

"Yeah, I know– it's just– she's barely home and I'm just worried about her, y'know?"

"Yeah, and it's completely okay to be worried", Steve started drawing circles on your shoulder with his fingers perhaps to provide some semblance of comfort, "but you know that she can't always be here right?"

"But I am always here."

"you don't have to be", he frowned and slightly shook his head– looking right in your eyes. This wasn't the first time Steve had mentioned this. He would try to convince you to visit him at the mall, to which you'd mention Hopper's rules and that it was too many people. He would then ask you to come over at his house, since it was always empty, you would again say no– never elaborating.

"But it's like the only place I feel safe, since everything that happened…. Last year", that was only partially a lie. The truth was it was the only place where you had felt safe ever.

"Hey", he held your face in his hands, "those things are gone, okay? Your dad made sure of it." You nodded, choosing not to tell him about the apprehension you've felt in the last couple days– knowing full well that telling him of your anxieties would inadvertently lead to you having to tell him about your now non-existent powers and your past in the lab. The past that you've left behind and have decided to pass off as nothing but a bad dream. 

You make a note to maybe tell Hopper or Eleven about all of that though.

A lazy smile adorned Steve's lips as his thumb swiped back and forth on your cheeks. "You look so cute when you're worried", he said with a smirk, as he held your chin with his thumb and forefinger. The smile on your lips grew wide, the corners of your mouth morphing into a suppressed smile. You wanted to say something, your lips even parted to tell him how much you think he's cute and handsome and pretty and how much you were glad that he was there with you but nothing came out. And he didn't need you to. He lifted your chin up to his and you were kissing again– this time more slower and softer than the last. 

In that moment, when your bodies were pressed together, you felt like you were in one of those movies that you and Eleven would watch with Hopper on movie nights and then your father would leave around the 30 minute mark, saying that it was too 'awkward'. cheesy rom-coms, that's what he had called them.

Everytime felt better than the last with Steve. As your lips moved in tandem, his arms wrapped tighter than ever around your waist, slightly lifting you off the floor for a second. You gasped into the kiss and your hands slid down from his hair to his chest, laying flat above his heart. 

"Steve-" you whispered in between kisses, "Steve I-", he just kept kissing you, "Steve- Harrington!-", you whisper-shouted. The boy let out a hum against your lips, the sound so warm that it was sure to melt you up into warm and happy goo. You almost wanted to give in to him, be engulfed in his scent and warmth while he kissed all your anxieties away. Yet you reluctantly nudged his chest away from yours. Your faces were merely inches away– his warm breath breezed against your cheeks and when your eyes met his, you saw his pupils dilated and lips swollen. His chest heaved a little as he steadied his breath– he was still staring at your lips.

"Steve, I have to do the laundry", you breathed out. 

"C'mon you do that like every day", he huffed as he pressed his forehead against yours.

"Yeah, well there's new laundry every day", you begrudgingly moved out of his arms.

"That's preposterous."

"I don't even know what that means", you said with a laugh.

"Neither do I, honestly–", he said with a chuckle, "Dustin used that word and I was like 'I have to use it', so I can fool you into thinking that you actually have a smart boyfriend."

"C'mon you are smart."

"Only to you." He sighed.

“You have to stop talking about yourself like that…. I mean it, Steve." you frowned with a sigh. “You are smart"

"Yeah, that's exactly why I'm scooping ice cream for a job"

"Smartness isn't all about school or marks or jobs or any of that bullshit." You ranted as Steve looked at you with enamoured eyes, "you are smart. You are strong. Last year when everything went to shit, you were the one who made sure of the kids even with a concussion. You looked after them and me. You took Billy Hargrove's beating to make sure the rest of us were okay-"

"That's not what smartness is–"

"-shut up! I don't wanna listen to you putting yourself down." You huffed in frustration, "you protected Dustin, Max and everyone else, you saved me! You make such a huge impact– if it wasn't for you, someone could've died, Steve. But you were there, you made sure that that didn't happen. You aren't weak. And you are a hero. D'you understand?"

Steve nodded, almost dumbfounded as it was probably the most you'd said in one sentence, ever. a faint smile painted itself on his face, his cheeks rosy.

You nodded, “good”, pecked the tip of his nose. you turned around, facing the washing machine– getting back to laundry. 

You picked up Hopper’s shirts, checking the pockets in case there were any bills or coins hidden in them– your only form of income. Steve once again tightened his arms around your torso, resting his chin on your shoulder– nuzzling into your neck. His warm breath fanned against your collarbone. “Don’t mind me”, his chest rumbled as he spoke through a smile. You let out a playful sigh and continued your work. 

Both of you stayed that way for a while. You checked the pockets of shirts and trousers, separating colours from white just like Hopper had taught you. All the while, Steve landed lazy kisses on your cheek, neck and collarbone. You'd wish you could stay that way forever– so warm, so comfortable, so nice. Maybe it was the fact that it was your first relationship ever and had only now felt safe enough to think of someone in a romantic way but you wanted it to last forever. 

Feelings were weird and hard to talk about, and you weren't the best at conveying them. The past week you've wanted nothing more than to tell Hopper and Eleven about yourself and Steve. But your communication skills (or lack thereof) prevented you. 

Steve loved watching you just doing normal everyday things, it reminded him of his mother– back when she was around more. So whenever he was not at work or being used as a valet driver by Dustin, he was sneaking over to your cabin. Before you both started dating, he would call you– making sure that Hopper wasn't home and then come barging in with a new cassette tape or to make you try some new ice cream flavour. It took him a couple months to realise that he was essentially looking for excuses to be around you– to feel that lovely and fuzzy feeling that he felt whenever he was with you. 

So, eight days prior, he finally built up the courage. 

Staring at the wood grain of the cabin door, your favourite ice cream and some flowers in hand, Steve was starting to consider backtracking a little. He really didn't want to mess things up between you two. And as he knocked on your cabin's door, he was contemplating the entire thing but before he could turn around and disappear, the door opened. And there you were, in a plaid shirt that probably belonged to Hopper at some point, hair sticking up in places. 

"Steve?"

"H-hey", His cheeks turned pink when your eyes met his and then your gaze trailed down to the flowers and ice cream held out in front of him. The corners of your mouth curving into a smile. That smile– the one he'd couldn't get enough of. "You didn't call today, hopper could've been here”, you said, looking back up at him. he wondered if you could tell how nervous he was.

"Yeah, sorry, I uh- I bought this", he held up the ice cream cup and then the bouquet, "and- and these f- for you", he stuttered as he handed you both. God, whatever happened to the harrington charm?

You let out a giggle as you hugged the flowers close to your chest, "yeah, well duh", you joked, not truly understanding the meaning behind his gesture. It was pretty common for Steve to bring you ice cream anyway, the flowers didn't make sense but then again you weren't the greatest at grasping social cues.

You turned on your heel, socked feet moving toward the kitchen so you could grab a spoon for the ice cream. Steve was still stuck, standing at the doorway, face bright red.

You started rummaging through the drawers in the kitchen to try and find two spoons. When you found them, you held the pair up in the air, one for him to take, “Here,” looking back up at him, you saw that he was already looking at you as if about to say something.

say it.

“You okay?” you asked, brows pulled together.

okay, maybe don't say it.

“Steve? Why do you look so–”

fuck it.

"I like you", Steve blurted out– like he was ripping a bandaid. You stopped in your tracks and stared at him, the easy smile on your face fell. He fucked up, didn't he? He has ruined everything, and now he has lost another friend–

You burst into laughter, “yeah, I know Steve. I like you too." you playfully hit his upper arm before holding up the spoon again, "Here.”

the utensil still stayed in your hand, the deep furrow in his brow hadn't disappeared, only, it grew deeper.

"What?" you asked with an uneasy laugh.

“That not what I… meant”, he paused, "I- I like you."

You blinked, processing it, all that came out was, “oh.”

He calls out your name. He let out a deep breath, you however looked like you had forgotten how to breathe. Steve squeezed his eyes shut, mentally berating himself for being so nervous– it was a first for him.

you looked at him like a deer caught in headlights, he could almost see the cogs and gears turning in your head. after a few seconds you spoke up, “We’re… we’re best friends...” your voice barely a whisper.

Steve swallowed, trying his best not to show any disappointment on his features, nodding slowly before before turning to rush out of the door and get the hell out of there.

“Steve?” he heard behind him and despite his mind telling him to leave, his heart echoed. he swallowed, turning around hesitantly. and there you were, hair still messy, clothes wrinkled as always, hands fidgeting by your sides, you looked as if you were preparing yourself to say something.

You walked towards him and as you stood infront of him, you gulped. but you didn't say anything.

next thing he knew your lips were on his and the moment after it they were gone. it ended as quickly as he felt it.

You looked at him with doe eyes, Steve knew he probably had the stupidest grin on his face. a shy toothy smile grew on your face too. he extended his hand to you, you took it and he realised that you were trembling. He squeezed your hand. His gaze trailed down to your lips, you bit your lips before speaking up in barely above a whisper. "I think... that I like you too."

Steve let out another exacerbated breath as he smiled wider. His face was all red, and his stupid dopey smile that probably looked as though he'd won a lottery.

He murmured your name through bated breath. "Yeah, Steve?"

"Can I- uh- do that again?", His fingers intertwined with yours almost as if to make sure that this was actually happening.

You nodded quickly.

Your eyes fluttered close as he landed a chaste kiss on your lips. Steve made sure that the kiss was light and soft, almost as if dipping his toe to test the waters. And before you knew it, it was already over. He pulled back eyes wandering over your features, looking to make sure that you were okay with this. You looked back up at him with your lips slightly parted– in an unreadable expression.

"You okay?", He asked quietly. You nodded, "yeah, you okay?"

"never better."

...

That was the start of something big, Steve knew that. Although it had only been a week since the incident, he knew he didn't just like you– there was way more. There was care, there was understanding, there was trust and more.

Memories swirled in both your heads while your hands worked on their own accord, still doing the laundry. You picked up Hopper's dirty uniform pants, following the routine of checking the pockets. Then you reached for the shirt of the pair in the basket yet it was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, Stevie", you piped up and he let out a small hum behind you. "Could you go and get Hopper's shirt from his room?"

"Sure can." He mumbled before pecking your cheek and then he went to Hopper's room to retrieve the shirt. He was back within mere seconds, "here ya go, your highness", he said, handing you the shirt that reeked of way too much sweat, cigarettes and beer.

You continued with the work, taking out the cigarettes from the pocket with a sigh. Hopper had promised that he'd quit smoking so much– guess he broke that promise. 

Steve picked up the pack and took one in his mouth, searching for a lighter. You took the cigarette out from between his lips and the pack in his hand and threw it in the trash. "C'mon don't be like Hopper" you said with a frown, "he literally can't stay away from those."

“One smoke wont hurt. Besides I haven't smoked in more than a year now”, Steve said returning to his previous position of holding you, "don't wanna be a bad role model for the kids, I guess."

"Wow, now you really sound like a dad", you let out a chuckle.

"I'm not their dad", he groaned.

"So, mom, huh?"

"I wont kiss you if you keep calling me that", he mumbled behind your ear– a giggle erupting at the ticklish feeling and what was now an inside joke between you two. "Let's just stick with ‘role model’" you nodded.

"I'd say that they look up to you…. Especially Dustin"

".....Y' think so?"

You hummed in response. It didn't take a genius to notice the bond between Dustin and Steve. Sure, it was a bit out of normal to befriend someone five years younger than oneself but then again none of the circumstances they'd been through were normal. And ever since the previous year's events, Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson had developed a sort of brotherly bond.

"cool", he muttered nonchalantly.

Comfortable silence once again fell between the two of you. Steve drew circles on the exposed skin beneath the hem of your shirt, his fingers leaving sparks along the surface. In all honesty, you wanted to drop all your laundry and just let him hold you, kiss you.

You and Steve had only been together for more than a week at this point– only going as far as kissing. You were still incredibly new to all relationship stuff, so Steve (despite being quite a horndog) had given you plenty of space. The last thing he wanted to do was make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe– and you were grateful for that. However, it was hard to ignore the attraction you both felt for each other. In ways both emotional and physical. Hopper hadn't ever truly given you the birds and bees talk, so you were a little clueless in the process of it all. Yet you knew that you felt something when it came to Steve Harrington. Something that you've never felt before. 

You put in the last shirt in the machine, with the detergent and started it. You turned around in Steve's arms as you wrapped yours around his neck. 

His hair was short of a mess, but it was still a pretty mess and stray strands bounced against his forehead. You both were so close that you could count all the moles and freckles on his face. Your gaze ran over all his features, taking it all in, engraving it to memory. Because you didn’t want to forget about the slight pinkish hue of his cheeks, the small bump on his nose that might’ve been the result of being hit a few times too many, or his lips. His soft, pink, warm, yet slightly chapped lips. The very same that had been on yours just a bit ago. Your proximity even allowed you to see the scars that the previous years had brought to him, they were small and barely noticeable now but they were there and you wanted to trace them and kiss them all. 

“Y’know I would’ve called you creepy for staring so intently, if you weren’t so cute”, Steve smirked.

You tried to hide your face in his chest to hide your embarrassed features. He kissed the top of your head, mumbling a little, “you’re so cute”

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking….”, your voice tapered off as you tried to look for the right words.

“Yeah, what were you thinking?”

“Y’know… Thinking about... us?”

His breath hitched as the worst case scenarios started racing through his mind. Did you want to break up? Did you not feel the same? Were you going to leave? Were you-

"And…. I think that–", you gestured vaguely with your hands, trying your best to convey what you were trying to say without really saying it but Steve's mind was running a million miles a second. You could almost see the gears turning in his brain, and perhaps he was starting to understand what you were saying but still wanted you to say it out loud, "I'm y'know– Ready?"

"Ready for?"

"Y'know! Ready for…", you fidgeted with his hair, your eyes not meeting his, "Sex?" 

"Oh." Steve let out a breath of relief as his concerns drifted away.

"If u want to, obviously", you quickly added.

"Oh, I want to but are you sure? We don't have to rush, and we won't do anything unless you're sure of it, you know right?"

"Yeah, I– I know "

"So? Are you sure?"

"I think so, yeah", you mumbled in the most unconvincing way, you really weren’t sure if you were being honest. Steve frowned, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"How 'bout you sit on this idea a bit more, ok? And if and when you're sure then and only then will we do it, ok?"

You nodded, shoulders relaxing. "Can I still get a kiss, though?"

"Of course your highness", he murmured with a smile as he leaned his head to kiss you. Your hands went to his hair again and his went to hold your cheeks. He held you so softly as if you'd break if you were to slip out of his hands. His palms helped in tilting your head sideways so he could kiss you deeper. But before you could continue, there was a knock at the door. You both immediately moved away as a reflex. 

"I thought you were going to be alone", Steve ran his fingers through his hair to fix his brown locks.

"It's probably El", you reason while fixing your own hair, "Please hide in my room?"

"But–"

"Steve, if she finds out about us she'll tell Hopper, and I wanna tell him myself please?"

"Ok ok, Jesus."

"Thanks", you mutter before landing a quick kiss on his cheek and then jogging to the front door of the cabin. There you are met with the faces of your little sister and her boyfriend. 

“Hey guys! You are–”

“We’re late, we know”, Mike huffed out, annoyed.

“Yeah, so late”, you hadn't even noticed that they were late.

“Are you mad at me?”, Eleven looked at you with such puppy-dog eyes that your heart immediately melted– you could never truly be angry at El. Mike however-

“No, El. I’m not mad, don’t worry”, Eleven grins at you and then hugs you tightly– squeezing you mercilessly. Suddenly, the young girl stills. When she pulled away, you noticed that her eyebrows were knitted together– her eyes were roaming around the cabin as if looking for something. 

"What's wrong?"

"There's something– I felt something" she spoke with a cautious tone as she walked to the middle of the room– next to the coffee table– looking for any signs of the upside down, demogorgons or demo-dogs. You weren't the only one traumatized, Eleven perhaps more so than you– not that it was a competition. The girl had single-handedly fought interdimensional monsters multiple times already and she wasn't even fourteen yet. The hair on her hand arose in goosebumps, "there's something in here."

Your mind went back to the previous night and the uneasiness you'd felt. You'd chalked it up to your imagination and anxiety– there's no way they were back– but what if they were? Eleven sure as hell was feeling something and you felt it the night before too– it couldn't be a coincidence. Perhaps Steve Harrington was wrong. Perhaps those things are still out there, waiting for the correct moment to attack– ready to tear you apart, the moment you look away.

Eleven walked towards your rooms, Mike following behind her. The short-haired girl's steps stopped right in front of your room. The same room you'd felt that thing last night. The same room in which Steve was hiding. Steve.

Steve.

Uh oh.

"El– it's probably nothing–", you tried to stop her from discovering your scandalous affair but before you could complete your sentence, the superpowered girl used her powers to open the door wide open. Your gaze darted across the room– no Steve Harrington in sight. "See? told you", a sigh of relief left your lips, he had probably gone out the window, "its nothing."

But Eleven's posture was still stiff, she took careful and cautious steps towards your closet, eyeing the thing as if it was your poor hand-me-downs who she fought against the previous years.

"Eleven–"

Mike shushed you. Eleven moved closer to the closet, she braced her legs and held out her arm, ready to use her powers.

"El–"

Eleven yanked her hand and the doors to the closet flew open and from between your clothes emerged none other than Steve Harrington– in all his messy hair glory. "Woah, woah woah woah!--" His back slammed against the wall and he let out a pained grunt. 

"Steve?!" Both Eleven and Mike questioned.

"hey", he whimpered.

"Oh god, are you okay?" You walked over to him, helping him stand up, checking for any bruises or signs of injury.

"What is Steve doing here?" Eleven inquired.

"He's here because.. Because I- I called him" he nodded along to you "I was kinda bored" you added

"And why was he hiding?" Mike interrogated with a cocked brow. 

"Well—"

"I wasn't hiding—"

"El, you know how Hopper feels about people visiting the cabin", you fidgeted with the edge of your shirt, "he'd get mad."

Eleven knew. She knew how much convincing it took for Hopper to allow Mike to visit her at the cabin– it took him weeks. So she knew how you felt. "Okay", She nodded. She held Mike's arm and started pulling him to her room.

"Okay– uh— El, D'you need anything to eat or something?"

"Eggos!", she said over her shoulder.

"Soda f'me!", mike shouted back.

"Okay."

El closed the door behind her, let go of Mike's arm as she went to wipe the droplet of blood that was on her upper lip. 

"So are (y/n) and Steve like, fucking?" Mike asked with a disgusted look.

"F–fucking?" She repeated, confused.

"Um— you know like…", Mike scratched the back of his neck, "are they dating? Like us?"

"I don't know."

"Cuz I'm pretty sure they are."

"Fucking?"

"uh..... Sure", he was going to regret teaching El that word, most definitely.

...

"I think Wheeler might be onto us."

Steve was sitting on the countertop as you loaded the toaster with eggos. 

"Of course he is– of all people—"

"I swear that kid hates me."

"I mean— you are his sister's ex so it's a little bit weird"

"Yeah, I guess"

You walked over to the fridge, taking out the whipped cream, chocolate and candies.

"Oh, am I about to witness the triple decker eggo extravaganza?"

"No. The eggo extravaganza is made specifically by Hop for when El is mad at him. This is the eggo spectacular sandwich", you state while setting down the ingredients, "my recipe!" You added with a proud grin.

"Wow, so I guess eggo is to El, what ice cream is to you?", He suggested with a small smile.

"I suppose."

"I wanna know the secret recipe"

"You can't! It's a secret!"

You both let out a laugh. the radio from Eleven's room started blasting "good old-fashioned loverboy" by Queen. Steve then hopped down form the counter, running his hands through his hair. He stood right beside you on the counter, knocking his hips with your— you returned the action. Giggling at your antics. The brunette boy started singing along to the lyrics. He brought your hand up to his shoulder and held the other one with his. His right hand rested on your back as you danced goofily. He started kissing you.

You pull away when the eggos pop up from the toaster. You quickly assemble two eggo spectacular sandwiches and carry the two plates to Eleven's room. "Oh shit— Steve? Grab the soda for Mike please?"

Steve took out a can of coke from the refrigerator, kicking the door close behind him as he followed behind you.

"And here's your eggo sandwiches!", You announced with enthusiasm.

"Here's your coke, man", Steve muttered without an atom of enthusiasm while tossing the can in Mike's general direction— the black haired boy barely managed to catch it. The boy looked at you and then Steve with narrow eyes as he opened the tab, he maintained eye contact while he took the first couple sips of the fizzy drink. Both you and Steve tried your best to avert your gaze.

"Uh– okay I'll be in the TV room if you guys need me", you uttered awkwardly before pushing yourself and Steve out of the room's confinement.

"God, I swear if Wheeler figures out about us, he will tell Will, Lucas, Max, and Dustin. And that kid won't ever shut up about it", Steve said— rubbing his face in frustration. "And if Hopper finds out about this? I am screwed!"

"Please Hop wouldn't do that", you stated, "and I'm thinking of telling him and El today, anyway."

"Wait, seriously?"

You nodded.

"You think I should be there?"

"No no no, I wanna do it with just them around"

"Oh, okay", he fixed his hair— gaze falling on the wall clock, "Oh, shit I gotta go" he pecked your cheek, "or I'll be late…. Again "

"It wasn't my fault last time and it isn't my fault this time either ", you commented behind him as he picked his jacket up, slinging it over his shoulder. He muttered a quick "bye" before he was out the door— off to the mall, to his job.

You let out a deep sigh— reminiscent of your old deadbeat job you had at the gift shop near Melvald's when you lived in the camp next to the Munson's. Although Jim had gotten you a place to live you still needed money, so you'd gotten yourself a job— wrapping gifts and bouquets for people. It would always flutter your heart when people would tell you and ramble a bit about their lives, then you'd spend hours filling in the gaps— wondering how the day turned out for them. You reckoned it was one of the reasons why you were so infatuated by the idea of love. Up until recently it had been such a familiar yet alienating feeling.

But now here you were! Sure, you were unemployed now, but you had a father, a sister and an amazing and beautiful boyfriend and you weren't alone. But the more you thought about it the more you realised that you were— alone, that is.

You still locked yourself in the cabin, telling yourself that it could be still dangerous— and you weren't willing to take a risk.

It wasn't always like this, there was a time when you would actually go out with Steve— sometimes to his house, sometimes to Dustins, or the arcade or anywhere. But ever since you graduated with Steve, you'd made rules for yourself. You won't leave the house anymore, it was too dangerous anyway. You quit your job because it was shitty and you didn't want people seeing you. And although you'd made those decisions, you still wished for a job, missing all the stories you'd make up about the people who visited you. 

You spent the next couple hours going through a cardboard box that was filled up with all things Steve and you. Whether it be the graduation hat you wore, or the beer cans from when you got drunk for the first time, or polaroids of you both, flowers he'd bought you, and everything else that tied you two together.

A couple hours passed by, Jim made his presence known with a knock at the front door. You went up to open the door. And as you looked up at Hopper you noticed the bags and dark circles under his eyes— he looked tired and smelled of beer and cigarettes. "Hey, kid", he muttered through his bushy moustache. You let out a sigh and went in to get him some water. 

"El back yet?"

"Yeah", you said giving him the glass, "in her room with Mike", you pointed towards the door with your thumb.

"Wheeler's here?"

"When's he not?" You rolled your eyes. The man handed you the glass back and took off his shoes and went into his room. He emerged out within a few minutes.

"Movie night?", He offered

"But El is with Mike."

"What about just us two, huh? Haven't done that in a while"

You agreed and before you knew it you were Cozied up in a blanket while hopper was on the lazyboy. You both watched a random movie while sharing chips, candy and soda. After about thirty minutes into the movie, you noticed Hopper was distracted, the muffled music from Eleven's room was in fact breaking your immersion too. He shoved a handful of chips in his mouth while downing some beer from the can. You turned your gaze back to the TV screen. 

"Hey!" Your eyes averted from the screen to him who was now looking at Eleven's now shut door with seething anger. He got up quickly, shouting, "HEY! Three inch minimum! Leave the door open three inches!" He went for the locked door handle, "El? Open this door", he said with gritted teeth, "Open. This. Door—"

The door opened but El and Mike weren't kissing, they were just reading magazines. "What's wrong?", You tried to hold in your laughter at noticing that Mike was holding his upside down. Hopper clearly noticed too.

"Thank God, you don't have a partner," he said pointing at you, "I can't imagine another stupid, undeserving boy hogging up my child." You bit your tongue at his anger. There went your chance to talk about Steve.

It was 12:30 a.m. and you really didn't feel like sleeping. You'd been feeling the headache, again.  You went to the kitchen, heading straight to the fridge— taking out the peanut butter jar and pineapple can. Right when you put a spoonful of the mixture in your mouth the light of the kitchen switched on.

"Why in the hell are you up so late?", Hopper interrogated.

You let out a loud yelp, cringing at the sound— the volume sure to wake up neighbours, if you had any. Through the three inch opening of Eleven's room's door, you could see that the light also turned on. 

"What are you doing?", The man asked, tucking his gun in his waist belt— surely he had thought of your midnight snack sounds for an interdimensional monster's sounds.

“Nofhing”, you said through a mouthful.

Hopper had known you since you were fourteen, he knew it might've had something to do with a nightmare. “Did you have another one?”

You stopped mid chew, avoiding his eyes– a tell.

“Same thing?”

Before you could say anything, the door to Eleven's room creaked and the short haired girl slowly stepped out, said hair sticking up as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"Everything okay?", She asked.

"Yeah, El shorry.", You apologised.

"Oh, it's okay," she said with a soft smile.

"It's not okay, what are you doing up so late?"

"I was Exshpanding my taste horizons", you stated, looking at Hopper like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"With peanut butter and pineapple at 12 in the morning?" He asked with narrow eyes.

"Please don't question my methods, Hop. I was hungry and wanted to try something new"

“How's that working out for you?”

“I... haven't decided yet.”

"I want to expand my taste ho- horizons too", Eleven imparted, struggling with the pronunciation of the new word.

"See? El gets me."

"Sure, whatever." Jim waved his hand off, "expand whatever, but you both better be asleep within thirty minutes", he ordered before going back to his room.

"Let's go to my room."

You and Eleven were lying on your bed now, covered in blankets. Much to your dismay Eleven wasn't a big fan of the food combo so you took her remaining portion too. Eleven looked around the room, eyes bouncing from one thing to another. It had dawned on you now that eleven had never been in your room for this long.

She got up from her place and picked up a brown teddy bear with a blue ribbon around its neck that was kept on top of your room's table.

"Oh, you found Mr. Arnold Bearenbearer"

"Arnold, w- what?"

"You can just call him Mr. Arnold", you laughed at the stupid name Hopper had given to the soft toy, "Hop gave it to me the first time I was here. I didn't have a place to live, so he took me in for a few"

"I remember being so scared that the bad men were going to get me or worse", you smile soon faded at the thought of the people from the lab and the amount of fear you had felt. "I'm sure Hop noticed and he gave me Mr. Arnold— I think he belonged to Sarah"

"Sarah? Hopper's daughter?"

You nodded with a hum. 

"I don't know what it is about Mr. Arnold. It's like he has powers— just holding him makes you feel so safe"

"Mr. Arnold has powers? Like us?"

"Just like us— he uses his powers to help others who get a little scared or lonely, with a hug!"

Eleven gave the soft toy a tight squeezing hug and she visibly relaxed.

"He smells like you and Steve", she whispered into the fur of the bear.

"Yeah, well, don't tell this to anyone but Steve gets scared sometimes too."

"He does?", She asked with wide eyes as if what you'd told her was the most unbelievable thing.

You hummed "Everybody gets scared every once in a while, it's completely okay too." An image of Steve hugging Mr. Arnold tightly like a scared little boy flashed in your head. How he'd once visited you in the middle of the night with red eyes and disheveled hair-- saying he couldn't sleep because of the nightmares. You'd told Steve about Mr. Arnold and just an hour later he was asleep-- free from all the bad dreams.

Eleven came underneath the blanket with Mr. Arnold snug in her arms. She lied down on her side while you lied on your back. after a moment of settling in, she called out your name softly.

"Yeah?", You turned your head slightly towards her.

"Are…. Are you and Steve fucking?", She asked with the most earnest look.

"... what– what did you say?"

"Fucking?"

"D'you know what that word means?"

"Kissing and dating?"

"Who told you that?" trying your best to not laugh, El was a sensitive girl, you didn't want her to think that you were making fun of her– you could never.

"Mike told me."

"Of course he did", you mumbled to yourself before turning on your side— towards her. "Why don't you ask Mike what that means again tomorrow, huh?"

"Okay", she paused as if making a mental note to do so, "So are you and Steve….."

"Yeah, yeah we are."

"You're like me and Mike?"

"Yep."

"why did you not tell me or Hopper?"

"Steve and I have been together for like a week and I was planning on telling both you and Hopper today— but I don't think now's the right time y'know?"

"You will not tell Hop?"

"I will, I just need some time, okay? you know now, I'll tell hopper soon too, I promise", you really were tired of sneaking around, you wanted Hopper to know. tomorrow- you promise yourself. "Promise you won't tell Hopper till then?" its not like you didn't trust her but she isn't the best at hiding something.

"But friends don't lie."

"I'm not lying El, its keeping a secret. I'll tell him but I want to be the one who tells him. you know how I don't tell Hopper if you sneak off with mike without telling him or something like that–"

"So I don't tell Hopper?"

"Yeah", you looked at her with anticipation.

she looked at you, mulling over it before nodding and saying a whispered, "Okay."

silence settles over the two of you. you were almost asleep when eleven's voice saying your name brought you back to consciousness. "Does Steve kiss you?"

you cleared your throat, heat rushed to your cheeks, "uh, yeah, that's what boyfriends do."

"D'you like it?"

"Sure do."

"I like it too, when mike does it."

You hummed, you weren't really sure how to respond. Both you and Eleven fell silent for a bit. your eyes started drooping again.

you heard the girl say your name again, you hummed, "Yeah, El?"

"I think Steve's nice."

"You think so?", You smiled. she nodded in response, a smile of her own.

"... Do you think Mike is nice?"

"I don't really know him that well, but he seems nice, he really does care for you." you really didn't know how to feel about the boy. he seemed to really care about your sister, but you didn't know why, you didn't trust him. not in a he's-gonna-betray-my-sister kind of way but rather, i-don't-know-if he's-right-for her. but maybe you just needed to give both of them a break, they weren't even fourteen, for god's sake.

Your name was called again, you hummed.

“You're awake because you had a nightmare again, aren't you?” the sleepy smile on your face slipped, you looked at her. she looked at you expectantly.

friends don't lie, “...yeah", your voice came as all but a whisper, before the girl could say anything you quickly added, gaze back at the ceiling, "but i don't feel like talking about it right now.”

"Okay", she said, suppressing a yawn.

"Let's get you to bed okay?"

"Here", she wrapped an arm around your torso and mumbled into the pillow, "I wanna sleep here."

"Okay, 'night kiddo", You put your palm behind her head, playing with her hair, scratching her scalp lightly.

She let out a sleepy hum before breathing out a "'night" herself. You continued carding your fingers through her slightly tangled hair as her soft snores floated in the air— before drifting off to sleep yourself.

Hopper wanted to be resting but he also wanted his two kids to be fast asleep at a reasonable time. he was trying his hardest to be the best father he could be— emphasis on trying. So, thirty minutes after he'd found you in the kitchen, shoving pineapple covered in peanut butter in your mouth, he went to check both your rooms to make sure you both were back in bed.

When he saw Eleven's room empty, he felt the beginnings of anger rising in his head. He then looked through the three inch gap of your room's door and saw both you and Eleven cuddled up and sound asleep. Any amount of anger or worry simmered down as he noticed your calm and serene faces— both your gentle snores muffled by the quilt. 

He felt a smile creeping onto his features. He then turned back towards his room— footsteps as quiet as possible and went back to slumber himself.

...

A/n: i hope the time jumps weren't too confusing. if they were let me know! i'll try to explain them <3

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x you #stranger things rewrite #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x gn!reader #promises series fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction

[dreamsontheirway]

Cynophobia | S.R.

Summary: the reader has cynophobia, the fear of dogs, and spencer is there for her. Warnings: fears? Word Count: 0.9k

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"What's your biggest fear?"

You recalled asking Spencer the question several months ago, while the two of you were curled up on his couch. The two of you had enjoyed a typical weekday night; the dishes from dinner were running in the dishwasher and the show you were binging played softly in the background.

Spencer hummed, brows furrowed as he considered your question.

"I know it sounds silly, but probably losing something or someone I love," he said, a small smile playing at his lips. "I guess my biggest fear is losing you."

You smiled at him, and rubbed your hand along the stubble on his jawline. You reached up and placed a soft kiss where your hand had been.

"You're so cheesy."

"What's yours?" Spencer asked, peering down at you through hooded eyelids, his long lashes on display.

"You'll laugh at me."

Spencer's brow furrowed, his mouth opening before lifting up slightly.

"I won't laugh at you."

"I'm afraid of dogs," you admitted, shying away from him in embarrassment.

"I had to get stitches as a kid because I got bit by our neighbor's rottweiler. Ever since then," you trailed off, shivering at the memory.

Spencer's brow furrowed at the idea, and he rubbed your goosebump-covered arms.

"Cynophobia," Spencer stated, and despite your reddening cheeks, he only looked at you with adoration.

-----

It was an average, summer day in Virginia, and the team had just been assigned a case. It was a hostage situation; the unsub had several people trapped inside of a bank. Fortunately, his only weapon was a knife. In theory, it should be easier to get him into custody without the possession of an automatic weapon.

You, along with Spencer and Emily, were driving in one of the BAU's black vans. Spencer drove, with you in the passenger's seat, and Emily in the back reading through the case files.

"His name is Edward Fisher," Emily stated, her eyes skimming the paper. "He's twenty-seven, no priors, but it looks like he was recently divorced."

"I'm sure that's the stressor," Spencer offered, his eyes squinting as he drove.

Upon your arrival at the bank, you were met by the rest of the team standing alongside some local officers. You and the others were beginning to craft your plan of action, when another van pulled up.

Another group of local police exited the van, and what followed them shook you significantly. Three large dogs exited the van with the K-9 officers, two German Shepherds and, much to your dismay, a large rottweiler.

You would have been able to compose yourself if it wasn't for the fact that one of the dogs got loose and began running towards the team. Of course, the dog was trained, so it merely sniffed around on the ground, but you immediately backed up in fear.

You backed up straight into the strong chest of your boyfriend. Your eyes were wide, frantic, and your breathing began to pick up rapidly. You felt hands grip your shoulders - Spencer - as he pushed you behind him.

As observant as he was, Spencer had immediately noticed the dog that was set loose. He remembered your fear despite talking about it months ago and protectively stepped in front of you, hollering towards the officers, who were approaching in order to retrieve their dog.

"Hey! I thought these dogs were supposed to be trained, keep a hold on them, would you?!"

The officer nearest to you mumbled an apology, giving Spencer an odd look, and pulled the dog back towards their group of K-9 officers. You let out a large breath that you hadn't realized you were holding, and relaxed against Spencer.

He turned to you then, his eyes wide in concern and anger.

"Are you okay?" He asked you, and his thumb wiped under your eyes. No tears had actually fallen, but Spencer noticed the wetness that began to pool, both from fear and relief.

"Yes, thank you," you spoke and let out another shaky breath.

"You're really scared of dogs, pretty girl?" Morgan chimed in, smirking at you.

You could feel the arms that were wrapped around you tense.

"Morgan," Spencer gave him a stern glare, warning him not to continue with his jokes. Derek's hands went up in joking surrender, despite Spencer's seriousness.

"Y/L/N, go back to the van. Reid, you go with her. Catch your breath," Hotch ordered, and nodded towards the vehicle near you.

Spencer wrapped his arm around your shoulders and guided you to lean against the door of the van. He leaned next to you, wrapping his hand in yours.

"So you remembered," you started, a hint of embarrassment in your tone.

"Of course I did," Spencer joked, hinting towards his eidetic memory. "Don't be embarrassed, love."

"I can't help it! I'm an adult woman who just cried at the sight of a dog."

Spencer's face appeared in front of you then, his brown eyes trained on yours. He leaned his forehead against yours and planted a sweet kiss on the tip of your nose.

"It's okay to have fears," he cooed, and leaned in to place a chaste kiss on your lips, which were pouting.

"The whole team saw that, Spence. It was mortifying."

"If they say anything about it, they'll have to deal with me."

You smirked at him, admiring your tall, lanky boyfriend. You knew he couldn't hurt a fly, unless he absolutely had to, which made his statement all the more amusing.

"Don't give me that look, I'm serious," Spencer gawked at you, incredulous.

"Sure, sure,” you waved your hand at him, giggling. You gave him a peck on the lips before continuing.

“Whatever you say.”

-----

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CM Taglist: @cynbx @random000000 @lockwoods-coat-and-reids-vests @miralgr @xoyouronlyamorrxo

#spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid flangst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid scenario #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #angst criminal minds

[youmademyheartsurrender]

Anywhere u go - part ten

Author’s note: and the school fic comes to an end. This is the last piece of writing that I will be posting on this blog so I just want to say thank you to everyone who read this series and supported my writing, it truly meant a lot to me. I hope you guys enjoy this last bit ❤️‍🩹 love you

Also I found this picture on Pinterest - if you know the owner please let me know so I can credit them!

wc: 1155 - English is not my first language! Feedback is alway appreciated

Part one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine

If you would have told anyone this entire story, people probably wouldn’t have believed you. You feel your heart beating fast in your chest as you wait for Ross to appear near the backstage door.

Once your beautiful fiancé shows up with a big smile, it’s like your heart calms down for a bit. Ross embraces you in a warm hug as you smile back at him.

“How are you feeling?” - you ask him.

“A bit nervous, but excited to play. And very happy that you’re here” - he smiles a bit more before kissing you softly.

“Good luck out there babe, I know you’ll be amazing. I can’t wait to see you and scream at the top of my lungs how proud I am of my fiancé” - you smile wide at the tall man in front of you, now blushing like a little kid.

“I love you” - he confesses as you give him a reassuring kiss.

You go to the side of the stage, next to the other wives and the boys’ families.

You spot Molly immediately, it’s hard not to when her pregnant belly is so noticeable. Her hand rests on her bump and the engagement diamond shines right next to her wedding ring. She looks proudly at George, with her eyes shining a beautiful shade of love for her husband.

You miss her, it’s something you can’t deny. She was your best friend and will forever hold a special place in your heart, even after all the bad things that happened between you two.

You stare at her for maybe a little too long and she notices. She walks to you and gives you a soft smile.

“How is the little one?” - you ask her gently.

“Growing up really fast! It’s a girl, by the way” - she tells you.

“A girl? Lara?” - you question and Molly’s face lights up in response. Of course she would name her daughter Lara. When you two were kids, she learned about that name in some book she read. “It means home and protection! How beautiful”, she would explain to you. “There’s no way I’m not naming a future daughter of mine, Lara” - you remember.

“Yes, Lara” - she confirms and you two fall into an uncomfortable moment of silence.

“Listen, I want to say I’m sorry. I acted like a real bitch” - Molly says to you. You look into her eyes and try to see some truth in them.

“It’s okay, that’s long forgotten already” - you simply reply.

“Yeah. And truth be told… if I didn’t left your side, I wouldn’t have found my soulmate. I wouldn’t be married and expecting a baby with George” - Molly says proudly.

Ouch. That leaves a bittersweet feeling inside of you. It stings a little, knowing that she doesn’t regret leaving your side. She clearly doesn’t miss you in the same way that you have been missing her.

The lights start to dim and music starts playing. All of you turn your attention to the stage, waiting for the boys to show up.

And there they are. Singing and playing their hearts out.

You, and everyone around you are screaming the lyrics like true fangirls, hyping up your boys. You even held a paper where you wrote “only here for Ross!”, which made your fiancé laugh out loud when he noticed it.

You were tremendously proud of him. Who would’ve said that the boys you first saw playing at Matty’s garage, would now be playing to a sold out Madison Square Garden. It’s like your heart doesn’t fit in your chest anymore and Ross is its physical representation. He would hold all the love, pride and care that you ever felt for someone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this next song is very special because Ross and George wrote it together” - Matty explains to the audience.

“Long story short, they were in love with the same girl, Ross got the girl, George got his heart broken, and they used what they’ve been through in that experience, to write this next song” - the lead singer continues to say on the microphone.

“And that girl is right here tonight, give it up for Y/N, soon to be Mrs. MacDonald” - Matty cheers and the crowd goes crazy at his words.

The curly boy runs to where you stand and holds your hand for you to join the band on stage.

The music starts playing and you look at Matty smiling while he starts singing. On your left, you see Ross winking at you with a huge adoration in his features as he looks so tenderly at you.

Matty indicates you to follow him through the song, as he playfully dances with you.

You start to feel a little nervous as your turn is getting closer, but Matty gives you a soothing and reassuring hug.

You take a deep breath and start singing your verses. The crowd sings along with you and you feel alive, like you have the world in the palm of your hand. At the same time, you feel so tiny, compared to the thousands of people that are watching you and making you feel like you’ve just been engulfed in a warm hug.

And I'll miss you on a train, I'll miss you in the morning

I never know what to think about

I think about you

You sing your final words and look at George with an apologetic look in your eyes. George hasn’t been speaking much to you since everything went down, but now he gives you a warm smile back, which makes your heart flutter a little bit.

In the end of the song, Ross hugs you strongly, speaking in your ear and telling you how proud he is of you, and how lucky he feels to have you as his life partner.

You’re the lucky one, though. No matter how bad things would get, Ross never left your side. And everything that you’ve been through, helped you building your character and taught you important life lessons.

You’re sorry that you won’t be the aunt of Molly’s daughter, like you two always talked about. You won’t see the little girl grow, you won’t help her making surprises to her mom. No matter how hard we may dream, some things are made only for us to watch and admire from afar, like the stars.

Molly won’t be the godmother that you’ve always dreamed for you baby, either. But in the end, it’s okay. You’re grateful for all the moments and experiences you both shared, and you must move on from the past, into the future.

You now have other things to worry about, like finding a way of breaking the news to your fiancé on how you can’t marry him just yet - your dress won’t be fitting you in a few months from now.

#the school fic #anywhere u go #ross macdonald x you #ross macdonald oneshot #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald #adam hann #matty healy #george daniel #the 1975 x reader #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfiction #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975

[autisticlancemcclain]

prev chapter

———

Seven in the morning on September 8th, the mourning doves gently cooing as the sun rises, the walk to the minivan is as silent as a graveyard.

“C’mon, guys,” Luis tries, but not that hard. “Let’s try for a good year, okay?”

To her credit, Veronica does her best to muster up a smile. Marco manages a nod.

Rachel does nothing. She hasn’t so much as spoken a word since the accident.

The half-hour drive to where everyone needs to do is completely silent. Luis tries initially to put on the radio, but he hears Marco’s sharp inhale when he averts his eyes from the road to change the station and stops immediately.

It’s been three months since Mamá and Papá passed. Sometimes Luis feels like none of them are ever going to be okay again.

Rachel and Marco are dropped off first.

“Remember to check in with your guidance counsellors,” Veronica says. “Luis and I talked to them last week. They’re aware of the…situation.”

Not that it did much. They’d made an appointment to talk to the school administration as soon as the high school opened, just before classes started, but they’d made it to the office and neither of them knew what to say. ‘Hey, there’s a very good chance that both of these kids are going to have extreme drops in performance or even fail because they both just lost their parents in one night?’ No, of course not. ‘Please be aware that Rachel has regular panic attacks at the sounds of car horns and brakes squealing, and that Marco sometimes just gets up and leaves and you don’t hear from him again for hours?’ Probably, but still. How the hell were they even supposed to breach the subject? Luis and Veronica aren’t fucking guardians. They’re barely even legal adults. Hell, neither of them can fucking drink, yet!

But there was no one else to do it. So they mumbled their way through an explanation — parents dead, kids traumatized, go easy — and high-tailed it the hell out of there. Both of them have been hanging up the phone whenever the school calls.

“Love you guys,” Luis says as they wrench open the side door and hop out of the van, slinging their backpacks on behind them. Veronica repeats the sentiment. Marco mumbles something in return, Rachel says nothing, and then they’re both off.

Before they can fade completely out of sight, Veronica calls Marco’s name.

“Watch out for your sister.”

Marco hesitates for a moment, eyes shining like broken glass, and then he nods. He turns back around without another word and disappears into the crowded mass of teenagers.

“We knew today was going to be rough,” Luis mutters, starting the car and carefully navigating out of the parking lot. “We expected this. That’s what all the parenting books said.”

Veronica’s silent for a long moment.

“Doesn’t make it any easier.”

It takes them a little farther to get where Veronica needs to go. Her apprenticeship is entirely dependant on whether or not she can find a welder willing to take her on — it’s 2003, for fuck’s sake, it shouldn’t be that hard, but some people suck. Some people will be completely incapable of seeing her as valuable as she is, and they won’t even bother. It’s a shit reality, and frustrating as hell, but it’s their best bet for money in the long run. Veronica’s always been good with her hands, and with Luis already eating up funds in tuition and God knows how much savings they have left with Mamá and Papá gone, Veronica working as she’s learning is their best bet. The trades pay well, too, and they’ve got three more kids to save up for.

Luis swallows the lump in his throat. Marco has always wanted to go to Juliard.

How the fuck are they gonna afford that?

“Drop me off here,” Veronica says, pointing at a shop just down the road. Luis slows to a stop in front of it, peering through the windshield.

“…That place?” he asks skeptically. “You sure?”

If it weren’t for the two people arguing just inside the garage doors, Luis would assume the shop is abandoned. The sign’s paint is so faded and scuffed up that it’s impossible to read, and several windows are boarded up. The walls are more graffiti than brick.

“I looked it up online,” Veronica explains. “They don’t have a website, but I found a couple blogs mentioning it. Apparently it’s the most competent shop in town, and it’s run by a woman.” She shoots him a small smile, grabbing her bag and opening the passenger door. “I’ll be fine, you big loser. Or have you forgotten that I’ve kicked your ass in every fight we’ve ever had?”

Luis snorts. He has not forgotten. He’s pretty sure he has minor brain damage from the time Veronica slammed his head into a side table when they were fighting over a girl in middle school (who didn’t like either of them, go figure).

“Believe me, asshole. I didn’t forget. Keep your cell on, though, okay? Call me if things get weird. I’ll be here, you know I will.”

She smiles at him again, and seeing some genuine happiness and excitement bleed into her expression for the first time in months is more relieving than Luis has the words for.

“I will, Luis. Now get lost. You’re gonna be late for class.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He waits until she’s inside the shop and talking to who he assumes is the owner before carefully peeling off, mindful of the early morning traffic around him. Once he’s well on his way and a little more comfortable behind the wheel, he adjusts his rearview mirror slightly to see the baby seat strapped tightly in the back.

“You and me, now, huh, Lance?”

Lance grins at him around the thumb he’s got stuffed in his mouth, babbling happily.

“Yeah, that’s right, buddy. You’re going to be the first college-educated baby, because we sure as shit cannot afford daycare.” He grimaces. “Sorry. I shouldn’t say shit around you. The parenting books say you pick up on bad language and are more likely to be using it when you’re older.”

Lance does not seem to be too terribly offended, continuing to stare back at Luis through the mirror, brown eyes big and wide and knowing.

The parenting books say that he will have just barely gained a sense of self and awareness in July — 7 months — but Lance has always appeared so knowing. He’s ten months old, now, and sometimes Luis is convinced he already knows how to speak in full sentences and just doesn’t feel like it.

Babies grow at their own rate, Mamá had said years ago, when Luis asked why Rachel wasn’t walking yet. She’ll get there, mijo. Don’t worry your pretty head about all those milestones your textbooks tell you about.

It hurts to remember her words. Even now, months after the accident, thinking of his parents makes something like bile rise up in his throat.

But he’s never known anyone wiser than his mother. And certainly no parents better than his own, so he might as well get used to thinking about them.

He pulls into the first available parking spot he sees, in what has to be a fifteen minute walk at least to the main buildings on campus.

Oh, well.

He turns off the car, running through the checklist in his head — windows up, lights off, no check engine light, keys in pocket, seatbelt off — before getting out and opening the back door.

“Alright, Lancey-pants. You ready to come sit through Calculus III with me? Huh? Yeah, I bet you are, you little nerd. Let’s go.”

Lance’s carseat is big and clunky and heavy most of all, and combined with the diaper bag and his own backpack he feels like a fucking packhorse. He feels like a freak, too, with all the stares and giggles from other students he walks by.

He swallows, ignoring the burning of his cheeks, and walks on.

He just barely makes it to his class on time, sliding into one of the only available seats just as the lecturer starts speaking. He keeps Lance strapped in his carseat, rocking him gently with his foot as he takes out his notepad. He prays that Lance falls asleep so that he can get through the next couple hours without incident.

“…and hopefully you’ve all read the first chapter of your textbooks, and we can dive right in…”

———

They almost make it.

They get so close.

For the first two hours of the lecture, everything is fine. Luis is paying as much attention as he can, scrawling down notes to keep up with his rapidly-speaking professor. Every so often someone shoots him a dirty look when Lance says something in baby-talk, but they can fuck right off. Lance is being an angel, by baby standards. He’s almost completely silent, brown eyes wide as he observes the world around him, vastly different from the home he’s been confined to for the entirety of the summer. Any sound from him is no louder than the occasional whisper of any confused students. He’s fine.

And then the sniffling starts.

Luis isn’t quite sure what sets him off. He made sure to feed him just before they left, so he shouldn’t need anything else for another two hours. He’s obviously not sleepy. It might be a diaper thing, but Luis doubts it. He took care of that before he left, too.

Regardless, Lance begins to sniffle, and then he begins to cry, and no amount of desperate shushing and cooing from Luis does anything before Lance truly begins to wail.

Like a scene from a nightmare, the professor stops what she’s doing. Every eye in the classroom turns to him.

“Is everything all right?” the professor asks.

“Fine,” Luis chokes out. He doesn’t even take the time to gather up his bag, he just scoops Lance from his seat and flees as quickly as he can. Hopefully he can come back for his stuff when the lecture ends.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Luis soothes, gently bouncing an inconsolable Lance as he walks the campus grounds. Numerous people give him nasty or pitying looks as they walk by, but Luis ignores them. They’re not his concern right now. “What’s wrong, huh? You miss your parents? Me too, sweetheart. Fuck.”

Lance gets like this, sometimes. He just cries and cries, like his heart is breaking. Veronica thinks his heart is a little broken, and he needs time to heal, like the rest of them.

“It’s okay, Lancito. Let it out. Let it out.”

By the time he sees his class file out of the lecture hall, Lance has finally calmed down to hiccups and sniffles.

“Let’s go get our stuff, yeah?”

Luis tries to slip back inside as inconspicuously as possible, making a beeline for his seat and is relieved to find his stuff untouched. Thank God.

Lance protests when he tries to rebuckle him in the carseat, so he just dumps all his books into the seat and holds Lance instead. It’s fine. If Lance wants to be held, he can hold him. It’s the first day of classes, after all, so he probably won’t miss too much, note-wise —

“Excuse me, young man.”

Luis startles at the voice, whipping around to face whoever’s approaching. His professor stands a few feet away from him, straight-backed and tall, orange saree almost reaching the ground. Luis turns to face her, setting down the carseat and holding out one hand.

“I’m so sorry for interrupting the lecture earlier, Professor. I’m Luis Sanchez.”

“Sarah Lee,” she says. “And no need to apologize.” She smiles kindly, letting go of Luis’ hand and extending hers out to Lance. “And you, little one? What’s your name.”

Lance giggles. He doesn’t remove his hand from his mouth — thankfully — but leans forward to bat his head gently against her hand.

“This is Lance.” Luis pokes him in the stomach, making him giggle again. “He’s noisy. I wouldn’t usually bring him to class, I swear, but I had no other option and I already paid tuition —”

“Walk with me,” Professor Lee interrupts, and then she’s out the lecture hall without so much as a glance behind her. Luis frantically throws the rest of his stuff into the carseat and scrambles to follow her. She doesn’t speak again until they reach the campus gardens — the projects of fourth year environmental science students.

“You’re nineteen, yes? Twenty?”

“Twenty,” Luis affirms.

She hums. “Thirty years ago, I was in your exact situation.” She leans forward and plucks a sprig of mint from the garden, holding it towards Lance. “Good for digestion,” she explains, at Luis’ wary look. “And soothing the mind.” Luis nods once, and she hands it to Lance, who immediately shoves it in his mouth. He makes a face initially, but seems to decide that he likes it, gnawing on it slowly.

“You were in my situation?” Luis prompts. This is…not what he expected, but he’s so lost and the professor is speaking so kindly that Luis is willing to take any helping hand, at this point. Plus, Lance seems to like her, so.

“Yes,” she continues. “Twenty years old, freshly married with a newborn baby, desperately trying to get my degree so I didn’t throw away everything my mother sacrificed to get me where I was. Not an easy task.”

“Oh.” Luis feels horrible for misleading her. “Lance isn’t…he’s not mine. He’s my brother. My parents —” his voice cracks — “my parents passed, early this summer. I have no one else to watch him. My other siblings can’t take him right now and it’s not ideal, but I figured university has other adults, you know? People will be mature about it. I just — I dunno. It’s — I’m sorry if I implied our situations were the same. I can’t imagine what you had to go through.”

“Luis,” she says gently. She stops, facing him fully. “I am so, so sorry for your loss.” She considers him carefully. “You are carrying a lot on your shoulders right now, child. You don’t need to carry unwarranted guilt, as well. True, our situations are not identical, but they are very similar, no?“

“I guess,” Luis says weakly.

“I’m trying to offer my help, child,” Professor Lee says, reaching out and squeezing his hands. “Just like I was helped when I needed it. Accept it.”

Luis shudders, then nods. This is almost too good to be true, and he’s in no place to refute it. He’s not sure exactly what she’s offering, but anything is better than dragging poor Lance to class every day and hoping for the best.

“Good. Now, thankfully there are much better systems in place now than there were in the seventies. Did you know the university offers on-campus childcare for reduced rates, to help train the student educators? Come. Let me show you where to sign up.”

#i know no one cares about this au but i’m obsessed with it okay #anyways #vld #voltron #luis mcclain #veronica mcclain #marco mcclain #rachel mcclain #lance #lance mcclain #lance & lance’s family #brown-eyed lance #langst #angst #hurt/comfort #idk how the hell to tag this #my writing #fic #altho at this point this is practically original lol #longpost #welder veronica

[lionydoorin]

Got any Tamber headcanons? :3

you know i do!

they met when tara was seven and amber was six, right before tara was held back a year again. they were waiting for their parents together on the sidewalk, sitting side by side, not really talking but fidgeting and smiling at each other from time to time. tara saw amber pull a psp out and start playing a game she was interested in, and amber, noticing it, asked if she wanted to play, as well. time didn't seem to pass after that; they waited for hours before sam finally got out of class and amber's parents finally remembered they had a daughter to pick up, and parted with waves and smiles, not even knowing each other's names.

they become best friends, though, after tara's parents divorce and she's held back another year. the kids bully her because tara's older but she's smaller and why is she studying with them? is she stupid? and amber beats the hell out of a kid that says that loud enough for tara to hear. after that, they're stuck to each other like glue.

tara dictated everything she did based on amber's wants and needs. not necessarily because amber required her to, no, but because she felt she needed to in order to keep her close. amber loved it, though.

their first sleepover is after sam doesn't come to pick tara up for the sixth consecutive time after class. amber always waited for sam to show up before she walked home, not wanting to leave her friend alone; after three hours watching the street, she stood up, stretching her hand out for tara to hold. come on, she said, you're sleeping at mine's today.

(it becomes a daily thing. they never ask their parents about it — no one cares, in reality. they're all too far gone into work and alcohol to care.)

amber was always kind of bossy, even before she lost her mind. she always took the lead in their friend group, and despised if anyone tried to prove her wrong. tara's admiration for her stemmed from that at first – that, and the fact amber protected her, amber stayed with her.

so, she didn't care if amber was a little aggressive sometimes. she didn't care if there were things her best friend wouldn't let her do. she thought that was what love was about.

when sam left? tara called her in tears, locked inside her room, scared out of her mind because her mother wouldn't stop yelling at her like it was her fault and she had broken the kitchen's glass table in rage. amber talks her through her panic attack on the phone, and promises her she'll let her stay for the rest of the week, if tara wants to.

(she was so glad sam left, so glad her biggest competition was gone. she could never tell tara, though.)

amber hates wes. we all know that. it all started when they were fourteen and wes called her out for not letting tara befriend a new kid from their class, simply because she was jealous. he said it didn't make sense and that tara wasn't her property. she all but needed to prove him wrong.

because tara was hers. only hers.

their first kiss happens when they're fifteen, sleeping over at amber's, a slasher playing on the background. i could elaborate but i'll leave that for a separate post, maybe :3

tara gave amber the necklace after said first kiss. she knew it was a gift her father apparently wanted to be given to her when she was fifteen, something he bought years before the divorce and told christina to wait for her sweet quinces. tara couldn't bear the idea of keeping it, instead wanting to give it a new meaning. something that could symbolize maybe, just maybe, amber was hers as much as she was (undoubtedly) amber's.

they never really dated. it was complicated. they were so much for each other but never verbalized nor made it official – for everyone, it was only "tara's amber" and "amber's tara", if that makes sense.

okay so. amber dies. it's complicated. we don't know how much she actually felt. this thought plagues tara forever.

when she goes to bed, she sees amber's eyes. hears her voice. feels her touch. it's all too much, it has always been too much, but now tara simply doesn't know how to handle it.

she doesn't sleep. she doesn't eat. she fears the possibility of seeing her in the shadows, and once she does see her, it's like a ghost keeping her soul trapped to amber's.

the voice talks to her. it tells her things she always wanted to hear, and things she never wanted to think about. how much she meant to amber. (you were supposed to be my perfect opening kill, baby.) how much amber wanted to be with her. (if only you had let me finish this. we could be together. forever.)

tara hates that she loves loved amber. hates the idea of ever having missed her. she misses her.

#ask #autism swagger #scream #tamber #tara carpenter #amber freeman #ma talks scream #:3 it turned into angst im sowwy

[iowriteswords]

Lex Learns Batman's Identity - Preview Snippet from Flightless Birds Part 4

Lex has known Bruce Wayne for most of his life. They used to get dragged to the same boring parties, until Bruce’s parents died. (He’d disappeared for several years after that—he was too young to attend social events alone, and no one wanted to invite his guardian, who was a butler.)

Neither of them had fit in with the other kids, who’d thought that Lex was mean and Bruce was weird. This could have made them friends if they hadn’t shared their peers’ opinions of each other; as it was, they disliked each other more than the other kids disliked either of them.

He remembers one gala he’d been dragged to, the boys had been trying to set up some kind of game. One kid, he didn’t remember who, had decided, “And Lex and Bruce will be the bad guys.”

Lex hadn’t cared what his role was—he’d play the game to make the night go a little quicker, and when it was over he’d spend the rest of the summer with his mom. But Bruce had turned red and stomped his feet and insisted, “I’m not a bad guy.”

They were at an impasse. Eventually, Oliver Queen intervened. He often did, then, for obnoxious child Bruce, and later, for a very different but equally obnoxious teen Brucie, when he was old enough to come to parties without the uninvited butler. (When Bruce was six, Lex had watched him bite a man for calling him Brucie. At sixteen, it was how he introduced himself.)

“We don’t need two bad guys,” Oliver had said. “Bruce can be on my team.”

The game went on. It was a night like many others. But Lex is picturing that Bruce, tiny, red faced, indignant, insisting, “I’m not a bad guy,” when the epiphany hits.

He looks across the room at his son. His son, who now trusts him enough to do homework in his office, instead of meeting in public. His son, who’s dating, of all people, Bruce Wayne’s son.

“Kon?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you dating Batman’s son?”

Kon stares at him. There’s that split second pause that Lex knows means he’s about to lie. “No,” he says, speaking very slowly, like he thinks Lex is stupid, “I’m dating Tim. You know that.” He pauses. “Does Batman even have kids?”

“I suspect he has seven of them. Named Tim, Jason, Dick, Cassa—”

Kon bolts out of the room at superspeed.

Well. He left his homework—he’ll be back.

-

It takes Kon two hours to come back. When he does, he knocks on the front door instead of the office window, and he has Tim with him.

“You forgot your homework,” Lex says. He walks back toward the office, confident the kids will follow him. He’s not about to have some sort of confrontation with a teenager in the front hallway.

Kon sits down. “Tim’ll talk to you when he’s ready,” he says, then resumes his homework.

Tim stares at Lex for a long moment, leaning against the back of Kon’s armchair. Lex waits. He’s had enough encounters with Tim by now to realize pushing him is utterly impossible.

“I was born in a different world,” he says, finally. “Six of the seven of us were. That’s why all my paperwork is fake.”

“Batman brought you here?”

“Yeah. In my world—in my world you paid a psychopath to torture me for three weeks. I was fourteen.”

Kon’s hand snakes around the side of the armchair to grab Tim’s. Otherwise, he seems occupied with his homework.

“At the end of those three weeks, my kidnapper and my world’s Batman were both dead, I was insane, and you were the president of the United States.”

“You killed him,” Lex says.

“Yeah.”

Kon’s hand squeezes Tim’s; Tim squeezes back.

“Batman’s my dad. You aren’t going to ruin another world for me. Because you love Kon. And Kon loves me.”

“I’m not going to ruin anything for you, Tim,” Lex says. He’s trying to picture an even younger version of the very young man in front of him killing Batman. It’s an unpleasant image.

“I knew Bruce flunked gym on purpose,” he says, hoping to lighten the mood.

All the tension goes out of Tim, and he smiles. “He only did it to upset you.”

Kon comes around the chair to stand pressed close to Tim. “Okay?” he asks.

“Okay,” Tim says.

Kon smiles at Lex. “Congrats on being the second smartest person in the room. Tim figured it out when he was nine.”

“Well, accounting for universal variants—”

“Oh, this world’s version of me beat you to it, too.”

Lex decides to ignore that. He checks his watch. “We have dinner reservations. Tim, you’re welcome to join us.” He’d rather have a tag-along than wait for Kon to fly him back to Gotham. And they’d probably miss the reservation. Kon doesn’t fly as quickly as Superman—Lex’s contribution to his genetics, unfortunately.

#my writing #batfic #batman fanfiction #flightless birds

[ifonlyitwasmidnight]

Hi, hope you can see this…can I request a Oneshot or a Scenario for Tokyo Revengers? Which the Toman boys got converted into toddlers and the reader (who’s the only one how didn’t got converted into a toddler) have to take care of them?

Hey! Sorry for the delay, but here we go! This was so much fun to write! I really hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it for you :)

Summary: The Tokyo Revengers boys were turned into toddlers! It's up to you, Emma, and Hina to keep them in one piece!

Word Count: 1826

Insistent and unrelenting banging on your front door roused you from sleep. Beside you, your phone vibrated against the nightstand, reverberating loudly through the wood. You rolled over with a groan, stretching your muscles to try and relieve yourself of the urge to ignore whatever was going on in favor of more rest.

You fumbled for your phone, which stopped ringing as you slammed your hand on it. The backlight from the screen was bright in your dark room, blinding you momentarily.

15 missed calls.

“What the…” you whispered, clicking on the call log. A mix of Emma and Hina’s names filled the screen.

The banging on your front door started again, causing you to drop your phone. The noise was much louder this time. Panic began to sink in. What if something had happened overnight? You shot from bed, tripping over your feet as you scooped up the nearest jacket and all but sprinted to the front door. You unlocked the door and pushed it open, only to be pushed back against the wall when Hina and Emma rushed in, talking over each other frantically.

“What took you so long to answer?” Emma sputtered, clearly out of breath.

You looked between them both—they looked okay. 

“What happened? Is someone hurt?” You were panicked. They would never show up like this if something weren’t wrong.

“Not hurt, exactly,” Hina muttered.

Emma and Hina stepped aside, and your eyes were drawn to the space between them, where seven tiny toddlers stood. Something about the grumpy little faces looking up at you seemed familiar. Unruly blond hair pinned back at the top, a braid down another's head, lavender, long black, two more blondes, and one that looked like tiger stripes… 

You gasped, slapping your hands over your mouth. These were the boys. All the boys. But they were the size of toddlers, pushing and shoving at each other, filling the room with childish laughter. 

“What the fuck?” You stammered. 

“We don’t know!” Emma threw up her hands and nudged little Mikey off her leg as he pulled on the hem of her shirt. “Mikey quit!”

“Hungry!” Mikey yelled, voice silencing the other boys. The noise suddenly turned into demands for food. 

You knelt so you were at eye level with them all.

“Hey, guys. You all hungry?” 

Shouts of “yes” and trampling feet rushed past you further into your apartment. Almost all, at least. Little Kazutora walked up to you silently and put his arms out. You scooped him up, straddling him on your hip as you moved towards the kitchen, Emma and Hina at your back.

“Do you think they know what’s going on?” You shot over your shoulder. 

Hina squeaked as Takemichi, Chifuyu, and Baji ran past her, chasing each other around and jumping off the furniture. 

“Boys!” You raised your voice to get their attention. They stopped in their tracks, looking at you with wide eyes. “Not on the furniture—you’ll get hurt. Got it?”

The two unruly blondes nodded quickly, and Baji pouted, his lower lip sticking out under his fangs. Draken and Mitsuya giggled at their friends getting in trouble. 

“How did you do that?” Emma said as she looked through your cabinets for food. “They’ve been like this all morning. I’m never having kids.”

“Little siblings, remember?” You adjusted Kazutora as you reached for bowls and spoons. All you had was cereal to feed them. “It’s how Mitsuya and I bonded. Whole having to raise little ones while you were barely grown thing.”

You three worked in tandem, getting them all settled with of bowls of cereal in front of the TV, putting on some unknown kid show full of colors and music to keep their attention. This was the craziest thing you had ever seen. This was something you would see in a B-rated movie on prime TV. Mikey was the first to finish, dropping the spoon on the table where it clattered loudly. He got up from his spot and began to make his way towards the couch, presumably to fall asleep like he did whenever he ate, but Mitsuya caught him by the tail of his shirt before he could get too far.

“You need to pu’ your stuff ‘way, Ikey.”

You, Emma, and Hina stifled giggles at how Mitsuya couldn’t quite say Mikey’s name. Mikey stomped back to his bowl and picked it up, going to the kitchen to deposit it in the sink, barely tall enough to get his hands over the lip of the counter. He stuck his tongue out at Mitsuya as he collapsed on the couch, his eyes closing instantly.

“What do we do with them now?” Hina was looking at Takemichi with worry painted across her delicate features.

“Entertain them, I suppose?” You offered the solution at a loss yourself. “We don’t know how it happened or if it will reverse.”

“You mean they might be stuck like this?” Emma groaned. “I’m too young for this.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

You snapped your fingers. There was a park around the corner from your apartment. 

“Emma, why don’t you stay here with Mikey while Hina and I take the rest of the boys to the park?” If you could get their energy out and get them to sleep, maybe that would reverse the effects. 

The six that were still awake all looked at you at the same time, excitement painted across each face. You were slowly putting together that they didn’t just look like toddler versions of themselves; they were the toddler versions. You shushed them as they all started talking at once, pointing at the sleeping form of Mikey. They all instantly quieted down, shushing each other. 

You and Hina were out the door not five minutes later, keeping a close eye on Baji and Draken as they ran down the walkway. 

“Red light!” You called to them as they got too far, and they both froze, waiting for the adults to catch up impatiently. 

Kazutora held one hand, clinging closely to you, and Mitsuya held your other. Hina was carrying Takemichi on her back as he rambled about everything he could see, and Chifuyu was holding her free hand, swinging it back and forth, bright eyes taking in his surroundings.

“How did you all round them up?” 

Hina reached for Chifuyu as he ran ahead to join Draken and Baji. She sighed, giving up on trying to keep him close.

“We were all at our house last night. When I woke up this morning, they were all,” she gestured widely, encompassing all the boys in the motion.

You nodded. You were supposed to be with the group hanging out last night, but after a long day at work, all you wanted was to go home and climb into bed. Hina leaned down so that Takemichi could press the button to cross the busy street, the park within sight. When the little man on the panel lit up, all the boys raced across the street, even Kazutora, desperate to get to their favorite pieces of the playground.

Pushes on the swings turned into helping on monkey bars and watching tiny bodies fly down the slides. Each one demanded your attention the longer you were there, getting jealous of the others if your or Hina’s eyes weren’t equally divided. Slowly, each boy began to sit on the nearby benches, finally running their energy out. 

“Baji!” You called for the only one who was still going strong. “We gotta go, buddy. Everyone else is tired.”

“No!” Baji yelled back, folding his arms across his chest. 

You raised an eyebrow at Baji as Mitsuya walked up to you, requesting that you pick him up where he tucked his head into your shoulder, exhaustion quickly overtaking his not-so-little-anymore body.

“Baji, you either get over here, or I will come get you,” Hina said sternly, a clear mom voice coming out. 

Baji kicked at the ground a little before giving in and coming to join the group. You grunted as you adjusted Mitsuya to be a little higher.

“I swear, he’s gotten bigger since we got here.” Hina looked over at you, but her attention was captured by Draken, who was now at the top of her hip. He may have always been the tallest one, but he was defiantlytaller than he was this morning. You looked him over, and he flashed a smirk back up at you, more in line with a kid rather than a toddler. 

“Let’s get them back,” you said as you grabbed Baji’s hand before he could wander off again. He yawned widely, giving into the handhold quicker than you thought he would. 

Settled back in your apartment, all the boys collapsed on the couch, piled on each other like a pile of puppies. 

“They’re all bigger. Even Mikey,” Emma whispered as you all gathered back in the kitchen, the only place you could talk freely without fear of waking them.

“Maybe it means this is over?” Hina peered around the corner for a quick look, giving you both a thumbs up, signaling they had fallen asleep already.

They all stayed asleep for hours, and it seemed like they morphed each time you looked at them. Tiny limbs extended into lengthy, awkward teenage phases. Draken stirred first, the sounds of grunting as he untangled himself from the group drawing your attention. He was taller than you again as he stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before enveloping you in a hug like he usually would.

You stiffened for a second before he pulled back and looked at you, a questioning look crossing his face when you didn’t hug him back.

“What?” He grumbled.

“Are you back to normal?” You looked him over. He seemed normal. 

“What’da mean?” 

You pointed back to the couch where the rest of the boys were still slowly returning to normal. Drakens eyes shot open as he took in the frames of his friends.

“Holy fuck, I thought that was just a bad dream.” He looked around, suddenly realizing he was in yourapartment, not Takemichi’s.

“Nope,” Hina popped the ‘p’ in the word, blowing gently on her cup of coffee.

The restored Draken stood with you in the kitchen while the others slowly woke up, returned to their original forms. The sun was setting when Chifuyu finally woke up, all his friends waiting patiently for him to join them. He sat up and stretched his returned-to-normal arms over his head, groaning overly dramatically as he did.

“You guys would not believe the dream I had. Wait, why are we here?” He looked at you all, eyes bouncing between each person.

“Wasn’t a dream, man,” Baji said as he flipped through the channels on the TV. 

“I’m never drinking again,” Kazutora said as he leaned his head against your shoulder. You patted his head affectionally, laughing at your bizarre day. 

#Midnight requests #Midnight answers #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers #manjiro sano #mikey sano #ken ryuguji #draken #kazutora #kazutora hanemiya #mitsuya takashi #takashi mitsuya #Baji #baji keisuke #Chifuyu #matsuno chifuyu #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyo rev fanfic #Takemichi #takemichi hanagaki #tokyo rev fluff

[duaghterofstories]

Okay I’m very sorry I’m very new to this app haha. Anyway I’d love to see a fic about Xanthous and Emarelda’s friendship because they are adorable maybe they get together and have a sleepover or something!

Whoo!!! Loving this one. It's short, but it's fun, it's quirky, and it's my favorite besties!

Sleepover—Emeralda and Xanthous Best Friendship

Rating: T Ships: N/A Fandom: A Tale of Magic Other: Post Worlds Collide, Post TLOS, references to TLOS, references to Seven, references to gambling.

~~

Emeralda looked up as Xanthous walked into her room.

“Fire off. My things are flammable.” she said, then went back to what she was doing, which was working on making pearls. Emeralda may have been able to make and manipulate minerals, gems, and rocks, but pearls were not technically any of those. She liked to make them to help herself go to sleep.

Xanthous flopped onto her bed, flames extinguishing. “Ugh!” he complained, rolling over to stare at the ceiling with an annoyed look.

“Is something wrong?” Emeralda asked, turning away from her project and walking to the back of her cave-like room to grab an extra set of metal sheets for the fire-fairy.

“Nah, just feeling not great since the whole world ending thing.” he took the blanket and laid it over himself. “It just feels like it happened way to often.”

“Well, do you remember when we were kids?” Emeralda asks, sitting next to him on the bed, on her normal bed sheets. “every fucking year there was some more bullshit.”

“You should curse more. The human Royals would lose their shit.” Xanthous commented. Then he sighed, sitting up and pulling the blanket around himself. “And I mean, yeah, but that was three incidents, and they mostly just affected the magical community, not everyone.”

“Eh, you did commit a genocide. Well, not a genocide, but you killed a lot of people.” Emeralda joked to him, giggling.

“That wasn’t me.” Xanthous said, tossing a pillow at her. “Anyway, other then that, and the whole ‘Righteous Emperor trying to take over the world’ thing, it really only affected the Magical community. And most definintly not two different worlds.”

“Mm, yeah, fair. But face it, if ‘Emperor Gallant’ was alive, he would try and take over the Otherworld.” Emeralda said the name in a mocking tone, as he fucking deserved.

“Mmm. He would.” Xanthous laughed. “He probably would have done better then them to. I mean, I don’t support him, but he would have been effective about it.”

“Mmm… true. He would have been. Though, considering we’re about a billion times more powerful then we were when we were kids, we could stop him pretty quickly.” Emeralda said.

“Yeah.”

The two fairies continued to sit in silence, Xanthous quickly heating some water into hot chocolate, passing it over to Emeralda. His metal blanket was wrapped almost completely around him, his arms gently poking out and it rested, bunched up, on his shoulders.

Emeralda took a long sip of her hot chocolate and tapped her fingers against her dress, forming a plate of some type of gem underneath it. Her finger nails tapped against the crystal, making a gentle and ASMR-esque tapping sound.

“You ever think we go to far pretending we’re weaker then we are so no one forces us to help them?” Xanthous asked, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

Emeralda looked over at him. “Huh? No.” She shrugged. “Literally no one asks me to help them ever. It’s so easy. I literally never have to save the world anymore.”

Xanthous shrugged slightly, and he sipped more of his hot chocolate. He shrugged off his blanket and pulled out a deck of cards.

Emeralda raised her eyebrows. She vanished her crystal and smiled, leaning forward.

“Play?” Xanthous asked.

“Play?” she asked with a laugh. “Nah, not right now.” Despite her words, Emeralda took the deck of cards out of his hands and started to expertly shuffle them with a flick of her wrists.

“You spend too much time with Lucy.” Xanthous said, still taking his cards and getting ready. “What are we betting?”

“Winner can ask the loser one request, no refusing, nothing explicit, nothing deadly.”

“M’kay.” Xanthous looked up. “Go.”

#emeralda stone #atom emeralda #a tale of magic #a tale of magic fanfic #xanthous hayfield #darkempressjustice fanfic requests #darkempressjustice fanfic #fanfic requests #the land of stories #tlos #tlos fanfic #atom fanfic

[ghostly-penumbra]

Seven Ways to Summon the Ghost King

Chapter Two: The Friend of a Friend

[1] [here] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Ao3

Summary: Dean wants his brother's soul back. Danny is ready to help.

Warnings: Some blood and the aftermat of a fight.

- - -

Dean left the shitty store and Doc. Roberts’ shitty ‘office’, standing in the middle of the convenience store that served as a front for the doctor’s more arcane business. “This better work.” He said to himself. “Messorum evoco qui me titigit.”

“Dean? What the Hell?”

Dean turned around, meeting his reaper once again after all these years. “What do you know? It worked.” She seemed to remember him well, if her choice to go with her human-looking shape rather than her ‘spooky bed sheet ghost’ attire was any indication.

“I was in Sudan!” Tessa exclaimed. “What’s with yanking me ov-” She stopped, actually seeing his current state, “wait, why are you dead?”

Finally! To the point. “Tessa, I need a favor.”

“Oh, you’re kidding. You died to ask me-”

“Tell your boss I need to talk to him.” The hunter hastily interrupted. Only three minutes.

“No.” Tessa said immediately.

“Please?”

“Where do you get the nerve?”

“Desperate times.” That was as simple as he could say it, since he didn’t consider the bread aisle next to the rotisserie chicken to be the perfect place to talk about it.

“He calls for us.” The reaper finally explained. “We don’t call him.”

“You make an exception!” Dean snapped, his patience was wearing thin.

“I can’t!” But even a reaper had limitations. There were rules they were bound to.

“Can’t or won’t?!”

“Both!”

“Hey, um, sorry to interrupt, but you’re Tessa and Dean, right?” A lanky guy that almost looked like Tessa’s little brother interrupted and- wait, was he actually her Reaper lil’ bro or something? To be here with them in Limbo…

“Danny?” Was what she said instead, gobsmacked. “I mean, sir-”

“Danny is okay, really.” The guy said, putting up both hands in front of himself, as a placating gesture and to fend off the formality. “Anyway, Death sent me.” That caught Dean’s attention. “I’ll take it from here.” Danny told her kindly. “You can go back to work, don’t worry.”

Tessa looked back at Dean, lips pursed and finally nodded. “Behave.” She warned the hunter one last time before disappearing.

“So, who the fuck are you?” Dean demanded from the new guy. “Can you actually do something or do I have to ask for the big boss again?”

“Woah, calm down, man. I just got here. My names Danny, by the way. Death’s busy so she delegated to me. What do you need?”

Ignoring the odd pronoun, Dean went right back to the chase. “My brother’s soul is in Hell, in the Cage! While his body is up here being a fucking psychopath!” He was breathing hard, closing his hands into fists and then opening them again. “He’s down there being tortured by Lucifer and Michael and I… I can’t leave him there.” He looked up to meet Danny’s eyes.

Had they been green a minute ago?

“Where is his body?” He said with a chilling intensity.

“Why-”

“You said his body is up and about, I need you to keep it in one place. I don’t know how long it’ll take me, but I need you to keep his body in one place: where?”

“… Singer Savage, in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.”

Danny nodded. “Go there, lock up your brother’s body and wait for me.” He commanded firmly. “Understood?”

At Dean’s nod, Danny put a hand on the hunter’s chest and-

-Dean came back with a deep gasp, as his lungs tried to compensate for the time his body had been starved of breath.

“I have to go.” He sat up shakily, just in time to avoid a shot of adrenaline. “I need to-”

“Aw, this was the best part.” The goth chick next to him grumbled, syringe still in hand.

“Oh, boy, you’re alright! How did it go?” Doctor Roberts asked him, and Dean felt his heartbeat accelerate.

“It was- great. Awesome. And I have- I need to go back to Bobby.” He made for the door, but Roberts put both hands on his shoulders and sat him back down.

“Dean, you are in no state to drive. You just came back from the dead, you need to recover.” He said, handing him a glass of water of dubious origin.

“No! What I need to do is go back with Bobby and keep Sam in one piece- place, and quickly. Danny said-”

“Alright, big boy.” The assistant drawled, smirking. “No need to throw a tantrum. I can drive you there.”

Dean seriously considered saying Cristo right then, because the smile Eva gave him was nothing short of devilish.

- - -

Dean stumbled into Singer Savage, thankful he had left his baby back here, otherwise he feared Eva would demand to drive herself back. That girl really was hell in four wheels.

“Bobby!” He called, entering the old house and looking for the old man. “Where is Sam?!

“Over here, boy.”

As he walked towards the voice, he noticed the disarray the place was in, with broken furniture and stuff thrown around all over the place.

He found Bobby sitting in front of a big metal door nursing his flask close to his chest.

“What happened here?” He asked in concern.

“Your baby brother is what happened.” Bobby said, pointing at the door with his thumb and taking a swing from his flask in his other hand. “Fuckin’ tried to kill me and failed!” He told him, with the last bit thrown over his shoulder towards Sam’s cell.

“So he’s there? He’s trapped?” Dean looked through the small window, finding a dirty and bloodied Sam sitting on the floor glaring daggers at him with heartless –soulless– eyes.

“As well as ‘can be since we don’t have a human-trapping circle yet. You know, other than walls.” Bobby extended his hand and Dean took it, helping the older hunter stand up. “Did you make it? You got the deal?”

“Yeah, I- I got the deal.” He put a hand in his pocket where the ring-

The ring wasn’t there.

Had the kid taken it while Dean didn’t notice? How could Dean not notice? Had he tricked him into believing he would save his little brother so Dean would back off?

A lump formed in his throat and his knees trembled. Had he damned Sammy?

“Move over!”

It happened in a flash. One second he was questioning all his actions that led up to this moment and the next his life of obeying his father was kicking in and he instinctually followed the order.

The next moment, both he and Bobby had a lot to process.

Not just because a glowing, white haired kid with a bruised face caked with a green substance had just passed through the steel door dragging an equally bruised, equally glowing Sammy, but also because he had left another person behind, laid on the floor just as bloody and bruised but not glowing like them.

“What the hell was that?!” Bobby voiced their thoughts.

“Adam?” Dean knelt next to the still form of his half-brother. The surprise and confusion were clear in his voice, not only for the fact that Adam was there but for his current condition. Was he actually alive? Was this his dead body and had his soul already left?

A blood-curdling scream tore Dean away and back towards the door, where he only caught a flash of bright light through the small window before he could finally find both Sammy and Danny thrown on the floor, unconscious.

Bobby turned to Dean, confused, “Son, you better start doin’ some explaining.”

- - -

“So, this half dead thing, how does it work?” Bobby asked Danny, handing him another ice-pack, this one going to his split lip.

“Usually better than this.” The young man replied with a grimace. Young man. An adult again, while his other half had been just a boy. “Usually I heal kinda fast, but I don’t think that’ll be the case this time.”

“Because you took on two archangels.”

Danny almost doubled over laughing, but his cracked ribs and Bobby’s firm hand on his good shoulder stopped him from causing himself more damage.

“Easy, boy.”

“Sorry, it’s just- I didn’t ‘take on’ two archangels. I didn’t even face them! I just, got in while they were at each other’s throats, distracted, snatched up the guys, and turned tail as fast as I could when they noticed.

“If I had actually tried to fight them, none of us would have gotten out.” His face had sobered, looking at his bandaged hand.

Who had he been holding with that hand? Would it had been Adam or Sam who got dragged back to Hell? Bobby shuddered to think that. These boys deserved to be finally free.

Speaking of which…

“But you still went to the end of Hell and back to get ‘em back. And I owe you for that. Thank you.”

The boy blushed and ducked his head, shrugging. “It had to be done.”

“No, don’t.” The weathered hunter gripped Danny’s shoulder more firmly, but still mindful of his injury. “Don’t undermine what you did, kid. You saved these boys. So, again, thank you.”

Ha had saved Sam’s soul, and if his soulless body’s previous attempt at patricide showed something, it was that Sam saw Bobby as a father as much as Bobby saw him as a son.

And maybe he hadn’t raised Adam like he had his boys, but he still was so young, with a whole life ahead of himself. He would have to come to terms with his mother’s loss and the years he’d missed but if he had that Winchester stubbornness in him he would be okay. Eventually.

“If there is anything I can do…” Bobby offered again.

“Uh, actually…” Danny’s sheepishness turned into outright embarrassment. “I could really do with a ride home. My friends and sister are at college and I really don’t trust my parents’ driving.”

Bobby huffed out a laugh. Of all things he could have asked…

“Sure thing, kid. Do ya mind if I call someone to pick you up? I gotta fix this place, and I really wanna keep an eye on these boys.”

“No prob’, sir, just, generally speaking, if we could keep the ‘half ghost’ thing between the people here, y’know, don’t let word get out, that would be great.”

“Understood.”

- - -

Sam and Adam were still out cold, but alive. Dean had wanted to stay by their bedside, but Bobby left no room for arguing in that he had to thank Danny before he left for home. Home, which was his parents’ house in Illinois, when he wasn’t at college.

Was he seriously just some guy? Part-timing as a reaper… ghost… friend of Death of all beings.

Said guy was currently resting against Garth’s truck, eyes closed and face tilted upwards just basking in the sunlight after having gone to the depths of Hell and back. Because Dean had asked.

Yeah, he should thank him face to face.

“Hey.” He called out as he approached.

Danny looked back down and Dean finally got to see his busted lip and split eyebrow, which had been easier to ignore than the arm in a cast, but harder than the bad posture hiding his broken and bandaged ribs.

“Hey, man.” He said with a weak grin. “Ready to move on, huh?”

“Yeah, I already called my parents, told them I’ll be visiting… I didn’t tell them it’s gonna be a recovery visit, though, or they would have insisted in driving here.” Danny said with a grimace. “I’m just waiting for your friend Garth to finish talking with Mister Singer, and then we’ll go.”

Dean nodded along but on the inside he steeled himself, cowboyed up, and began, “Hey, listen, about Death’s ring, I know you already took it but-”

“I didn’t take anything.” Danny said calmly making the hunter pause. His expression was knowing and serene. “If you had something of Death’s that she wanted back, there was nothing you could’ve done to keep her from getting it back. Death is everywhere and you can’t escape her forever.” He said it so matter-of-fact and with such acceptance that it rankled Dean, who had already died and come back as well.

“Ok, well, then you still went to Hell and saved my brothers, and I know you told Bobby we owed you nothing and only want a ride home but-”

“Mister Singer owes me nothing, but you do.” The halfa interrupted him again, leaving Dean flabbergasted.

Was he really saying…? Well, it’s not like Dean wasn’t in the middle of offering anyway, but still…

The hunter nodded. “Okay.” He didn’t know what he was signing up to, but he had already sold his soul once to save Sam, and he would do it again if it came down to it.

“You don’t owe me because I saved your brothers.” Danny explained. “I’d have done that for free, any time. You owe me one for not telling your youngest brother that you didn’t even think of him when you asked me to go on a rescue mission to Hell.” Danny’s glare wasn’t hateful or even angry, just disappointed and disdainful.

Dean was still stunned, he closed his mouth then opened it again but no sound came out. He really hadn’t thought… hadn’t considered… fuck. Shit! Damn it!

He shook himself out of his thoughts and nodded again. He deserved whatever he got.

- -

Garth and Bobby wrapped up their conversation, and soon enough Danny was out of Singer Savage and headed back to Illinois.

They still had to deal with the angels’ war, and see what would happen with Adam, what he would choose.

His brothers were fine, they were safe for now, and they would get better soon.

Still, as he watched the back of the speeding truck get smaller and smaller, Dean was left feeling hollow.

- - -

The first bit of this chapter was directly taken from a transcription of "Appointment in Samarra", the episode where Death has Dean do his job for a day to teach him the lesson that murder is okay if done by someone better dressed than you! asdfghjklñ. I just added some descriptions.

There, Death asks him "which brother" to save from the Cage, since Dean tty forgot about lil Adam smh.

Let's just say that the setting (me, being the one to write this) demanded Danny to be Not Cool with that, so this is a little fix it. I did this for Adam and have no regrets. Youngest half siblings for the win!

#Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #supernatural #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Adam Milligan #Bobby Singer #SuperPhantom #ghostly-scrypts #ghost king au #but it's not mentioned here #Appointment in Samarra #fix it #fixing the part the bugs me out anyway #💅🏻💅🏻💅🏻 #Danny Phantom Crossover #Supernatural Crossover

[mariana-oconnor]

The Yellow Face pt 2

Last time I was possibly overly critical of Mr Grant (or Jack?) Munro who was not dealing with his wife's curious behaviour very calmly. I stand by the fact that barging into people's houses in a fit of fury is very much not a good response to thinking your wife is lying, but I guess we'll see if I'm right.

“It seemed to be of an unnatural color, and to have a strange rigidity about the features. When I approached, it vanished with a jerk.”

An unnatural colour. Yes, both 'chalky white' and 'livid yellow' at the same time. I didn't bring this up the first time, but I probably should have. Was the face white or yellow? The title of the story indicates yellow, but the first description definitely, clearly, stated 'white'.

“Have you ever seen a photograph of her first husband?” “No; there was a great fire at Atlanta very shortly after his death, and all her papers were destroyed.” “And yet she had a certificate of death. You say that you saw it.” “Yes; she got a duplicate after the fire.”

A lot of very convenient events right there. And of course the death certificate comes up again - although now there is indication that it might be erroneous. I didn't know until recently that apparently you can just go to the hospital where you were born in the UK and say 'I've lost my birth certificate, I need another one.' I assume there is more to it than that, but I can't imagine there was in the 1880s. 'Hey, my husband died of Yellow Fever and I lost his death certificate in a fire, can I get a new one please. Yes, his name was Coen Siddence?"

"Let me advise you, then, to return to Norbury, and to examine the windows of the cottage again. If you have reason to believe that it is inhabited, do not force your way in, but send a wire to my friend and me."

Don't force your way into the other people's house. Good advice there from Holmes. He only follows it sometimes himself, but I do appreciate that he's being clear on this front. Do not break and enter, Mr Munro.

“I am afraid that this is a bad business, Watson,” said my companion, as he returned after accompanying Mr. Grant Munro to the door. “What do you make of it?” “It had an ugly sound,” I answered. “Yes. There’s blackmail in it, or I am much mistaken.” “And who is the blackmailer?”

OK, so probably not her kid. Probably her former husband who isn't actually dead, I guess. Because the death certificate which was so very specifically mentioned is not real.

“Yes, a provisional one. But I shall be surprised if it does not turn out to be correct. This woman’s first husband is in that cottage.”

Welp, theory 1 it is. Theory 2 has been thrown out of the window.

Her husband developed some hateful qualities; or shall we say that he contracted some loathsome disease, and became a leper or an imbecile?

Holmes... I'm not going to bother to unpack that but... okay then.

Right the term imbecile was one of those that used to refer to a very specific level of IQ and apparently there was also considered to be such a thing as 'moral imbecility' which was believed to be connected to genetic criminality and part of eugenics (hoooooo boy). Basically I don't really know what it means in this context, but I'm guessing he's going for the moral meaning rather than an IQ issue as I doubt someone with "a mental age of three to seven years" would really be hatching a dastardly blackmailing plot. Although my nephew can be particularly cunning sometimes in his attempts to get more cake, and he's younger than that, so... what do I know?

HOWEVER.

After all of this, we have to remember that this story started by saying the Holmes was wrong.

So maybe I'm right after all. Hidden child is back on the table, boys!

I was going to put the 'looks like meat's back on the menu boys LotR gif here, but decided implied cannibalism of theoretical disabled children is probably not the best idea I've ever had, so have this gif of Jeremy Brett as Holmes instead.

"She has been married three years, and believes that her position is quite secure, having shown her husband the death certificate of some man whose name she has assumed, when suddenly her whereabouts is discovered by her first husband; or, we may suppose, by some unscrupulous woman who has attached herself to the invalid."

Ah, no... the blackmailer in Holmes version is the northern woman who opened the door and wasn't particularly welcoming. Though it makes no sense why she'd be from northern Britain when the husband would, presumably, have been cared for in the US and she would, also presumably, have had to come over from there with him in order to hunt down his wife.

So she's either really good at accents or... she was British to begin with and knew them over there...?

Taking down with her the photograph which had probably been demanded from her.

This is a very weird demand if Holmes' theory is correct. The photo was one of the things that made me think it was a child, because giving your child a picture of you to look at is just... a nice thing. Taking a photo of the woman you're blackmailing is... I guess it's a control thing, or a weird stalkery thing.

"...on which the wife, knowing that he would come straight down to the cottage, hurried the inmates out at the back door, into the grove of fir-trees..."

Again, a strange detail for the blackmailing plot. This implies that Effie would have had some sort of control over her blackmailers. Surely they would be more likely to stay? Her husband wouldn't recognise the guy, by his own admission. Or they'd leave of their own volition, surely. But allowing their blackmailee to smuggle them from the house seems very weird.

But we had not a very long time to wait for that. It came just as we had finished our tea. “The cottage is still tenanted,” it said. “Have seen the face again at the window. Will meet the seven o’clock train, and will take no steps until you arrive.”

A round of applause, please, for Mr Munro's self control, which appears to have finally returned to him.

“What is your plan, then?” asked Holmes, as he walked down the dark tree-lined road. “I am going to force my way in and see for myself who is in the house. I wish you both to be there as witnesses.”

It was a brief reunion, alas.

“For God’s sake, don’t Jack!” she cried. “I had a presentiment that you would come this evening. Think better of it, dear! Trust me again, and you will never have cause to regret it.” “I have trusted you too long, Effie,” he cried, sternly. “Leave go of me! I must pass you. My friends and I are going to settle this matter once and forever!” He pushed her to one side, and we followed closely after him. As he threw the door open an old woman ran out in front of him and tried to bar his passage, but he thrust her back

Effie... please just talk to your husband. Clearly the 'trust me' line isn't working. Just... like... tell him. I really hope you married someone you can trust. Although, given... y'know, Victorian era etc. maybe you didn't. But communication is a really good strategy.

Jack, Grant... Grack, whatever your name is... Just.. stop barging into people's homes. And telling your wife you don't trust her like that is a dick mood. You need to calm down and talk this through, too.

In the corner, stooping over a desk, there sat what appeared to be a little girl. Her face was turned away as we entered, but we could see that she was dressed in a red frock, and that she had long white gloves on.

Hidden child. HA!

Also... Grack you just frightened a child. I hope you're happy with yourself, you great numpty.

Holmes, with a laugh, passed his hand behind the child’s ear, a mask peeled off from her countenance.

First - mask! Ha again! I mean... you really shouldn't touch the kid's mask without permission, Holmes.

I... did not expect the mask to be hiding the fact that the kid is Black. But I live in the 21st century, I guess. Yeah...

I burst out laughing, out of sympathy with her merriment; but Grant Munro stood staring, with his hand clutching his throat.

At least she's laughing too, I guess. But Grack, you need to prove yourself not a terrible person pretty damn quick. I still have a few shreds of faith in you.

She touched a spring, and the front hinged back. There was a portrait within of a man strikingly handsome and intelligent-looking, but bearing unmistakable signs upon his features of his African descent.

Well that's a super sideways way to describe his race, particularly after the choice of words to describe the kid. Also, hello racist implications of that 'but' right there. Le sigh. This story is really pulling a bait and switch by calling itself 'The Yellow Face', isn't it. You expect racism against one group of people but Surprise! it's about another.

"When I left her in America,” she continued, “it was only because her health was weak, and the change might have done her harm. She was given to the care of a faithful Scotch woman who had once been our servant."

Not going to touch the colourism of the passage before this with a barge pole. That's a whole heap of ugh that I do not have the historical or personal understanding to unpack in a way the subject deserves.

Also, the woman is apparently Scottish, not just vaguely 'Northern'. It does read as a Scottish accent when I look back on it, but still. Coming from someone living in Norbury, which is in South London, 'Northern' could mean anything higher than Watford! Northern? How vague can you be?

(Incidentally if someone from Berwick-Upon-Tweed calls you Southern, it can mean anything south of Sunderland. The Midlands of England is Schroedinger's land. It lives in a permanent superposition of being both The North and The South. Your interpretation depends entirely on which direction you're looking at it from.)

"But when chance threw you in my way, Jack, and I learned to love you, I feared to tell you about my child. God forgive me, I feared that I should lose you, and I had not the courage to tell you. I had to choose between you, and in my weakness I turned away from my own little girl."

Dick move, Effie. On so many points. My theory was waaaaay more charitable to you than you deserved apparently.

"At last, however, there came an overwhelming desire to see the child once more. I struggled against it, but in vain."

Shucks. You wanted to see the child you abandoned. How terrible.

This little girl deserves so much better.

“We can talk it over more comfortably at home,” said he. “I am not a very good man, Effie, but I think that I am a better one than you have given me credit for being.”

That... is optimistic. I mean... you're essentially just walking out on the little girl immediately. But he seems to be saying that he's not racist, at least. So yay for that?

That poor kid. For so many reasons.

EDIT: It has been pointed out to me that I missed a paragraph when I was reading, where he picks up the little girl:

It was a long two minutes before Grant Munro broke the silence, and when his answer came it was one of which I love to think. He lifted the little child, kissed her, and then, still carrying her, he held his other hand out to his wife and turned towards the door.

OK! Far more satisfying ending if your brain doesn't skip a paragraph. D'oh!

That's really sweet. You have redeemed yourself Grack. Still have those anger and trust issues to deal with, but this is good. I approve. And I approve that Watson approves. Yay. There is a happy ending.

Still some marital issues, though.

Not another word did he say of the case until late that night, when he was turning away, with his lighted candle, for his bedroom. “Watson,” said he, “if it should ever strike you that I am getting a little over-confident in my powers, or giving less pains to a case than it deserves, kindly whisper ‘Norbury’ in my ear, and I shall be infinitely obliged to you.

I remember this ending. I like this little nod to Holmes being aware of his own failings. And his trusting of Watson to keep him in line.

Well... I was right. And I absolutely allowed ACD to manipulate me into feeling smug for having beaten Holmes to the punchline. I was not expecting the race reveal, sure. But I think I can be forgiven for that. Effie needs to take a long hard look at herself in the mirror. Grack needs to sit down and deal with his temper problems. And that little girl needs to not be forced to wear a mask and gloves and stay inside all day.

Also, both Effie and Grack need to learn to trust each other. I get different time period, different attitudes, different expectations, but maybe you shouldn't marry a person if you can't tell him about your kid? And maybe talk to your wife rather than going full on B&E?

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #The Yellow Face #long post

[mattypattypinky]

if you get this, answer w/ three random facts about yourself and send it to the last seven blogs in your notifs. anon or not, doesn’t matter, let’s get to know the person behind the blog! <3

gets off my ass and answers this

ummm

Fuck. Uh.

I'm just gonna tell three stories since they're facts.

So this one time, when I was in kindergarten, and I really had to piss like, really really bad, and it was recess time so I couldn't just go to the bathroom, so I had to ask one of the coaches to go (I remember this like it was yesterday) - My recess teachers name was Mr. Mario, okay? And he was currently being swarmed by little shit kids who were punching and kicking and fucking him up. Never knew kindergarteners could be so violent. But I was desperate and dumb and went into the crowd not realizing how bad it was or what damage they were doing, and bc I went into the crowd, I got blamed for attacking the teacher along w some other kids, and I had to desperately plead my innocence in Kindergarten Detention or whatevrr ots called time out? idk. And they wouldn't let me go to the bathroom until my mom came and picked me up so I ended up pissing myself on the ride home.

My second story is about a pool. So, I used to live at an apartment complex and there was a public pool there, and people could like, sneak into the apartment residency and sneak into the pool free of charge right, and so this one preteen boy did that and was there illegally/against the rules of the apartment complex, this is important for later in the story. But we were all swimming and fucking around and having fun, when all of a sudden this kid said "Hey wanna see something cool" and this motherfucker got out of the water, pulled his pants down shot his ass in the air over the water edge and shit in the pool. I'm talking full nine yards kneeling in perfect projectile positioning with his bare buttcheeks out and boom shit in the water, and everyone went running out of the water. And naturally since everyone was out of the water, and now theres shit in the pool, me and some other kids had to go get the people in the office of the apartments and they had to get the janitor to clear out the pool of shit w a net and drain the pool of its water and shit and like. The kid was looonngg gone at this point but it became a specific rule that this kid was BANNED from the apartment complex and if he ever to return he would be in trouble w the cops or smth apparently

My third story is a story about a festival. So me and my dad and mom were at a festival called the strawberry festival in Florida yk the drill, and I really, really like this one spinny circle ride that goes w the music and like goes in a circle its kind of like a musical ride? But anyways, I was hyperfixated on this ride so the entire time we were there I rode this ride AT LEAST. AT LEAASST 20 times, and my mom was with me for, a majority of itxbut eventually she was getting sick and dizzy so dad took over, and dad insisted to be on the outside of the ride for some fucking reason and he had his phone in his pocket (heres the thing.) - His phone was facinf SCREEN. OUT. in his pocket. SCREEN OUT... and he was on the outside of the ride. So naturally, every turn, he was being smashed into the rides metal door side, and by several rounds on this ride, he went to check the time and saw his phone screen was absolutely demolished and shattered to bits, so he forced me and my mom to leave the festival bc he was panickin so bad and needed it replaced right then and there. ☺

Was that good was that entertaining for u

#mattypattypinkyposts

[blossomingframe]

Horror house part one

This is the monster fucker feedism story I keep mentioning that no one cares about. This is one of three.

Kinks; monster fucking, slob kink, burping, farting, intox (weed), corruption, dumbification, weight gain,body hair

TW; weed mention, diet culture, xenophobia, serious “dead dove do not eat” situation on the tags

Howard’s speech

Charles’s speech

When Charles saw the ad for a makeup artist for a horror attraction he got confused. He knew the Parallel Plus Woodson Manor Walkthrough. He knew that they hired monsters, mostly succubi for their shapeshifting properties, on principle. He knew that they even teamed up with temp agencies to find enough of them to fill out the whole staff. Why would they need a makeup artist? But he needed work so he called them up and went to the zoom interview with the Parallel Plus HR guy.

On his first day they said that they would have the team leader pick him up at the gate because he needed an employee pass to get through the doors. He was still shocked when he saw a seven foot succubus on the sidewalk. While he knew that monsters were a part of society and the humanoid ones were sometimes even smarter than the average human it was still … intimidating. When he went up to the gate the succubi introduced himself as Howard. “I’ll show you around then you can start setting up your stuff”. Howard didn’t look like most succubi either. He had the typical light green skin, purple hair and horns but that was where the resemblance ended from the fit young demons he saw at the gym. Howard was in his early thirties with messy curtain bangs, grown out body hair and a visibly overweight body. He was dressed oddly too in a cropped shirt, a trench coat and low rise jeans with his hairy gut and love handles spilling over the waistband.

The space was two wings of huge mansion so it was majestic but creepy. Perfect for a horror tour. Eventually they left the building itself out the back and went to a large tent that served as a dressing room for all the monsters. “Because of our shapeshifting abilities and a few cultural differences in gender identity it makes no sense to divide by gender or sex so you might see the occasional half-naked person who looks like a woman but we’re all monsters not humans so just remember that. Our A team gets ready at four and our B team gets ready at six. I know your start time says three but we might call you in early if needs be and you’ll get paid for that time as well. Any questions?” “Umm if you don’t mind asking why do need a makeup artist if most of you can shapeshift?” “Oh I don’t mind at all. We actually have a bit diversity this year with us scoping out the local performing arts school so not everyone can shape shift. Our appearance undergoes a lot of changes throughout the month plus fake blood, mud and some fake injuries always help with scaring people.” “Okay then I’m going to go set up.” Howard grunted and pointed a long table with a few chairs in a line on it.

Charles was grateful for diligence in both purchasing and organising his products by the time B team arrived, led by a fae woman named Chris. He had already gone through two tubes of green concealer and a full box of fake blood when six rolled around and Chris sat and asked for a fake chin injury. People were bobbing in and out for the whole night snacking, asking for touch ups or changes, telling customer stories and eventually signing out and asking for a wet wipe to clean themselves. By 10:30 everyone was out except for Howard and Charles. Howard said “don’t judge Chris for running off. She has a couple kids and likes to feed the younger one before he actually goes to sleep” “wasn’t going to but thanks for the help cleaning up” Charles was starving. He had come in after a late but light lunch, thinking he would have a spare second to eat the oranges stowed away in his bag but he barely had time to drink water between clients. He hoped with extra help he would be done sooner but it was still 11:19 before he got out. Howard offered him a lift and a trip through the drive thru and he took it but alerted him that he was on a diet so might just have a drink.

By the time Howard drove in Charles was ravenous. He scoured the menu online for something he could eat. The abs would worth it come his next job he told himself as he said “can I have a garden salad with no dressing, a bag of carrot sticks and a Diet Coke.” Howard repeated the order then said “Can I have a family bucket with bbq for all the dips and a spicy chicken sandwich deal with large fries? Oh coke for the family meal drinks and a chocolate milkshake with the spicy chicken.” Someone should probably tell him about all the salt. It was clear how he got such a bulging belly and rounded face. He ate like a competitive eater as he drove Charles home. By the time he pulled up he was completely finished with everything and Charles hadn’t even started on his carrot sticks. It was mesmerising to watch Howard’s comedically stuffed belly churn to process the huge meal. Suddenly Charles separated from his body like there was a piece of dirty glass in between his thoughts and his actions and vision. Then he saw himself rubbing and kneading Howard’s stomach as the corpulent demon belched and farted. It was so loud he was sure the neighbours could hear it but it still didn’t wake him up. Then he left the car and entered the house still in a dream state and went to the fridge.

“Fuck fuck fuck” he said to himself as he looked around his house. It looked he ate everything in the kitchen and his secret stash in the bedroom. He could feel the blubber under his skin. He went to the bathroom and sure enough his pooch from stress eating all August and September had rounded out into full belly. He poked it and let out a loud burp. He drank a glass of water and got on the scale. His dance teacher told him to always get the “worst possible result” when weighing himself so his aim would be to be as small as possible and not just to be empty on the day. He was now 135 pounds, meaning he was up 8 from yesterday. That stupid succubus had to die. What the hell did he do to him?

He slumped on his couch until it was time to leave staring into space and drinking more and more water. According to his calculations from the food packets he now couldn’t eat anything for four days. The water would help him get full and make him pee to piss out all the fat. Another trick he learned from his dance teacher. Eventually it was 2:00 and he had to put on a shirt and walk to work. He put on a baggy t-shirt he usually slept in and an old tech hoodie from his job last year. Sweating would also loose calories. In the interest of weight loss he also ran to work. It was only 2:45 when he slammed his new employee ID against the gates sensor. He smiled. A thirty minute mile on an empty stomach wasn’t so bad. Sure the movement knocked a couple of loud farts out of him at inopportune times but he was running so quick nobody noticed.

As he set up Howard walked over to him. He had a smirk on his face. “I hope you’ve eaten breakfast because it’s a late one tonight. We’ve got a couple of stag do groups com-brrp-ing in” he said. Charles was furious “no I didn’t. I just drank water because thanks to you and your succubus magic bullshit I can’t eat for four days if I want a job after this one. I’m getting a lift from a mate. Don’t come near me unless it’s for work”. Charles immediately regret his outburst. Yes, Howard had violated his boundaries but how was he supposed to know how strict his diet was? “for your information it wasn’t my succubus magic. It was you. You’re the buuurpp one who eats like a damn bird. Maybe being around me did some passive shit but binging when you’re on a crash buurrrpdiet is really fucking common. Please eat by buuurrrp the way we’re liable if you faint” Howard shoved a protein bar into Charles’s hand. Charles sat feeling guilty about being so harsh with him. He finished setting up his stuff then started his shift.

He felt like it was taking forever. By 12:30 when everyone got out his vision was almost completely gone and he was dizzy as hell. Howard still helped him put everything away but did so in silence. Charles sat down and gripped the table. He had skipped eating before why was it so hard today? He took the protein bar and started eating it. He could go back to the gym. He was sick of having to stay so small but as a dancer he had to be incredibly light with good muscle definition. He was struggling to get jobs already he didn’t need to be fat too. Howard finally spoke “I’m sorry I yelled. I’m glad you’ve eaten.” Charles replied “I shouldn’t have accused you like that. I can’t get work as a dancer so my teacher and my agent put me on a crash diet because I gained weight. I was pissed because I knew I’d have to stop eating for a few days.” Howard looked at him in the eyes. He looked like he was planning something. Up close he was kind of handsome. His eyes were soft and playful. As Howard pulled Charles out of the chair to meet his gaze Charles felt himself blush. “Fuck that shit! Diets are dumb and theirs plenty of work for dancers buuurrrp who aren’t stick thin. Plus you’re really good at stage makeup. Life’s too short to buuurrrp be starving and cranky all the time. You’d look better if you put on a few anyway.” “Really” “Really. You look skeletal when you’re not bloated. If you gained weight buuurrp I’d hate to see you then. Cancel your lift, you are lucky you’ve got a pretty face. Im going to get you some food.” “Ok.” Charles was getting hard. Why was he getting hard? It was just some guy from work who kept bothering him.

Charles fell asleep in the backseat. Next thing he knew he was being offered a joint inside Howard’s apartment with five bulging bags of fast food and snacks at his feet. He nodded and Howard placed the joint inside his mouth with one hand and pulled his trousers down with the other. Howard himself had stripped down to his boxers revealing that he had a boner. Charles smoked it slowly enjoying feeling his muscles relax. He loved weed but rarely smoked because it tripled his appetite. That was a good thing right now though because he wanted to eat a lot to impress Howard who was getting sexier by the minute. In the back of his head he knew it was the weed and the succubus magic but he didn’t really care. This was the happiest he’d been in years. Howard started giving him bite after bite of food that he eagerly swallowed. After each one Howard heaped praise on him.

After two double cheeseburgers, three portions of fries, twelve chicken nuggets, a big bag of crisps, two litres of cola and four mars bars Charles was finally full to the point where he couldn’t be fed anymore. Howard who had polished off twice as much with ease started rubbing Charles’s belly “look at you. Already such a big appetite. BurrrpYou’ll be easy to fatten up. I know deep down burrrp you love big sexy fat boys. I saw you staring at my belly yesterday. I saw you bluuurrsh when I burped accidentally during the tour. I saw you today getting rock hard as burrpp soon as I turned on the charm. Buuurrpp Well now you’re going to become one. Buuurrp No need to worry about that diet I’ll take of your burrp job. I’m going to feed you until you become my fat, slobby fucktoy. Your going to eat tasty buurrpp food all the time, your going to belch and fart all the time, your going to sweat like a buuurrrp pig whenever you have to get up. I’m going to keep buuurrrp you high and hypnotised whenbuuurrrpever you’re not at work so you get really dumb too. We’re going to be fat slobs buuurrrrrppp together. You humans put so much work into being buuurrrp polite. Being gross is the most buuuurrrrpp fun part of humanoid bodies!” Howard said whilst rubbing Charles’s belly and letting out a stream of farts. Charles deliberately made every burp and fart he did as loud as possible. He was eager to please. His attraction to fat men and to monsters had been hidden for so long that he didn’t dare date either. He reached out and started rubbing Howard’s big green hairy gut. Now he was going to be the chubby, kept boyfriend of a giant succubus. A certified fat guy was going to teach him their ways. “Yes! Make me fat! BuuurppTriple me in size! I want to be a dumb slob! I want to be a fat boy! You’re so buuurrpp sexy, I’d do buuuurrrp anything for you! Fuck buuurrrp me! Please I’m so desperate! Buuurrp I’m so hard!” Charles whined.

Charles woke up bloated. But instead of being angry he smiled. Then he belched loudly. Today was different. Today was the first full day of his new life. He stroked his little belly and farted a couple times. Howard was next to him also sporting a bloated belly, snoring loudly and farting in his sleep. Eventually he stirred and smirked at the sight of Charles playing with his own belly. Howard reached over and pulled Charles in then belched in his face.

To be continued

#burp kink #belly kink #fart kink #eprocto #slob kink #fat slob #feedism.

[strangerdangerwrites]

Wild Child | N.F. (The Quarry) - Chapter Five

Summary: How do you hide your feelings? You don't run

Nick Furcillo x Female!Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: Bugs, Insects, and Cursing (I'm not great at tagging). Reader is an entomologist expert of camp.

Chapters: Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine

hide and seek your feelings

After your shared schedule with Laura, who was hellbent on teasing you. And Max was none the wiser, who was on it with his girlfriend. You’d almost scream at them to stop because the kids might hear, and when kids have leverage on you, they’d do anything to make you quiver in fear.

You were slightly getting worried your secret might slip, and to avoid it you must do everything in your power to avoid Nick today. To show Laura and Max that you weren’t attached to the hip with him, and you were a strong independent lady.

And didn’t you swear that this was the first step of trying to stop your feelings from developing further? That's what you would do, right?

And it’s only just 10 AM. You can handle it, you’re a big girl after all.

Deciding to distract yourself from the heartbreak, you would occupy yourself with your job and your growing collection of insects.

Your schedule was already packed to the brim, only lunchtime would be the exception. And you had already planned to find that wasp nest, not to endanger anyone else. As much as you love studying insects, you try to stay away from studying the Vespidae family, you weren’t trained or learned much about them aside from the textbook knowledge. You would just warn Mr. Hackett, and possibly make signs to avoid that area. After you find it. 

“And Ladybirds pretend to play dead to avoid predators.” You said in a happy tone, followed by awe in amazement. Holding one tiny ladybird in your hand and giving it to one of the children who was expectantly waiting for you to hand it to him.  

When you heard footsteps, you turned around to face Emma. You were done teaching Emma's campers for the day.

“Hey!” Her energetic energy radiated off of you, the campers excitedly greeted their cabin counselor. “Someone is looking for you.” 

“Who? Nick?” You asked, standing up from your squatting position. Groaning as it hit you, that you were severely out of shape and element. You didn’t even notice you blurted out his name, and here you were vowing to yourself that you’d be the one to avoid him.

You just can’t help it.

With her eyebrows, raised and smiling at you. “Sadly, but nope, it was Jacob. Also, I like your outfit today. You better hook me up with your connections.” Linking your arms together walking side-by-side. Not realizing that she was supporting your weight.

“What did he want?” You asked, the children walked ahead in front of the both of you.

“You tell me, he said you called for him earlier and never got to finish what you said. What was that?” Emma asked. 

Racking your brains for the answers, you remember he was supposed to take the dinner duty dishes, and you had forgotten to tell him. You groaned.

“It’s about dinner duty.” 

“But I thought you banned him from stepping foot in there?”

“Trying things for a change.”

“Hmm… weird. But okay.”

It wasn’t weird, you wanted to defend but you didn’t want to talk too much and expose what you’d been hiding earlier. 

“Where is he?” You said as the view of the camp lodge came into view. 

“In there. Probably in the main dining hall with your boyfriend, they were just done playing dodgeball with Dylan and Kaitlyn’s group.” Emma pointed out. Inwardly groaning, you were trying to avoid Nick at all costs. And it seemed like it was set in stone that fate wanted to play with you. It almost slipped your mind that Emma had teased you about your relationship with Nick. 

“He’s not, my– Fine.” You said, dropping Emma’s arm to march towards the doors of the camp lodge. You had faced bigger evil before, like rocks and the incline in Shady Glide, mosquitoes during nighttime, asshole you would rather not name and the little devil spawns. This was just a small obstacle.

Opening the double doors with a large push, rattling the door frame. You’d spooked most of the children with how angry you looked, scanning towards the crowd and spotting Jacob who was lounging on the chair, laidback. Kaitlyn and Dylan were also there, resting.

“You.” You called out to him, the room went silent and in your peripheral view, you saw Nick bringing out a tray of juice towards the tired campers. 

When Jacob realized you were pointing at him, he tried to subtly hide behind the backs of the children, which made them laugh. 

“Outside now.” Tapping your feet impatiently, you tried to avoid making eye contact with Nick who looked so adorable in his apron, trying to gauge the situation before him. “Don’t make me come there and drag you.” 

Jacob stood up, holding his hands in defeat. “Okay, okay, okay! I’m here.”

Walking outside the camp lodge, the door closed with a loud bang. Jacob held his hand out in front of him, as if he was taming a wild beast.

“Stop that.” You scolded him. Slowly his hands went to his sides.

“What?! I didn’t do anything wrong did I? I swore we are not the ones who put white paint under your cabin door.” He defended. Dropping the folded arms in front of you he flinched, you stepped back.

“You’re the one who pranked us?” You asked, and he avoided your gaze, scratching his neck like a nervous tick.

“What? I totally didn’t say that.” 

“That’s beside the point. You are now unbanned from the kitchen.”

“Unbanned? What did I do?”

“I need to do something important.”

“Something important… more important than spending your time with lover boy?”

“Why does everyone think that’s a bad thing? We’re grown-ups who don’t need to spend every passing minute with each other. God! How many times do I have to repeat that? We are just friends!” 

You screamed, not realizing that on the other side the whole campers were listening. You heard ‘oohh's’ and ‘burn’. 

Fuck. The whole group of campers heard that, and the other counselor inside as well. Now you really screwed up, the beautiful friendship, now flushed in the drain. You closed your eyes shut and exhaled. Jacob looking at you, waiting for you to burst like a bomb in anger. 

“That’s all.” You forced a smile, a smile too tight that Jacob knew it was forced. 

“Okay. Sorry.” He muttered, opening the door to walk back inside. You remain standing outside, you just need to catch your breath, and then you’d be fine. The door of the camp lodge opened, you expected the worst, thinking it was Nick. You’d hate to see him sad; you weren’t prepared for that. 

Except it wasn’t Nick, it was the other tallest counselor in Hackett’s Quarry. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath and that you had stared at him a little too angry looking, that he almost walked back and never came out.

“I’m just heading out, to the radio hut. Gonna make announcements since it’s lunch time.” He said walking slowly and pointing at the watch in his arm. 

“No need to tell me.” You claimed to lean towards the wooden railings.

“Oh, then a piece of advice from someone great. You two are very much alike. Trust me.” It was vague. You didn’t know what he was talking about. No clue. nada.

“Who?” You spoke.

“You’ll soon understand.” He softly said. Even with Dylan’s odd humor, he had a sense of wiseness. Realizing he was serious and had no hint of a joke coming out.

“Okay.” You nodded, he held out his fist for you to bump into which you did. 

Halfway down the stairs, he turned around: “Also, you don’t look scary when you’re mad. Just saying. I don’t know what Jacob sees but you're like this when angry.”  

Imitating a facial expression, you couldn’t comprehend when he scrunched his eyebrows together and held out his arms near his face to imitate cat claws.

“Like a cat.” He said laughing, you flipped him off. And started to run after him, but Dylan was too fast for you to catch up. So, you let him go.

You’d already have a tight schedule of looking for that wasp's nest. Even if you were tired and hungry, it’s better to avoid Nick entirely. 

Walking past campers who waved hello to you and Abigail, who smiled and stopped to ask where you were going. 

“Hey, lunch’s this way.” Abigail reminded you. But you shook your head ‘no’.

“Trynna find that nasty ‘bugger’ of an insect called wasps. It’s dangerous for kids to play with it.” You told her and she nodded.

“Funny, you’re also using Nick’s slang.” She said, and you just nodded. “Also, I think, I heard buzzing by Rocky Road earlier. You think it’s a little bit that way?” 

“Great tip! Thanks, Abi!” You said, heading towards the inclined and rocky pathway. 

You spent thirty minutes or so looking for it. In fact, you almost wondered whether it was just a trick of Abi’s imagination that she heard a buzz. Yet it remained far too quiet for you, you tried to tone out the laughter of children and to look towards the other areas. You were out of shape, and the trip of going up and down some inclines, trying to spot whether you can see a nest was slowly making you tired. You almost wished you had lunch instead.

You sat down for a minute, closing your eyes to listen to the breeze of nature. You see Hackett’s Quarry also had its quirks, something you wouldn’t admit out loud. That you were starting to like it here. It wasn’t like the life you lived, one filled with disco lights, loud music, and drinks in hand. This felt peaceful, and unchaotic, unlike you at all.

When you heard a scream near the outskirts of Shady Glade. The screams were slowly going down as if those who had shouted had been running. A loud splash alerted your senses. Someone was drowning.

Quickly running down towards the noise, you never went so fast to run and help the person in trouble. Jumping from rock to rock, just to make yourself go faster. Seeing the outline of the lake, you took off the cardigan you wore. When you see two splashing children in the lake, two heads bobbing up and down trying their best to stay afloat.

It was Jonah and his friend, Dave. You ran towards the dock and dived in. Grabbing both kids, as best as you can. You can only hear the loud splashing of water and them trying to put themselves on top of you. They were panicking, and you were starting to as well.

No. You needed a clear mind. You needed to save them. They were shouting, trying their best to shout for help, as you tried your best to drag both boys towards the shore. 

Shit. you just felt a cramp. You were severely out of shape from the running that already drained your adrenaline. 

Hearing screams, you tried your best to kick towards the dock. You felt your back hit the wooden support of the dock when someone jumped and supported you and the two boys were lifted to safety. You turn around and lift yourself up. Multiple footsteps ran toward the three of you, and you were back in the land of safety. 

You heard the two boys cough up the water they have drunk. You leaned back to catch your breath. You were safe. You saved them.

You opened your eyes to see the worried faces of Nick and Laura. His hair was wet and dripping in front of you. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, you coughed up the water and nodded.

“I’m fine. What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.” You joked which earned a disappointed but relieved sigh from your friends. 

“Come on Mr. H is not going to like this.” Laura said as she held your shoulder to support.

“Wait, I just needed to stretch my leg a little. I think I felt a cramp in there.” You said stretching your toes. “Also please get my cardigan that was vintage.” You were half-naked and all eyes were on you. 

“Laura, you need to check on them first. I’m fine.” You reminded her and Laura turned around to pat you in the shoulder to help the kids stand up. Looking up at Nick who was far too silent since he asked his question. 

He took off the shirt that he wore and handed it to you. 

You stared at it for a second.

“Wear this first and I’ll get you your cardigan.” He said and walked away towards what was supposed to be where you ran from. You watched his toned back walk away from you, and you felt yourself blushing.

God, you were just in a life and death situation, and you were blushing because he was shirtless. You felt like a giggling schoolgirl. And he helped you, only if the work was mostly on you. He lifted you up to safety.

And here you thought you would do everything to hide your feelings, but you were moonstruck. And your heart is about to leap out from your chest, ready to unravel itself and jump into Nick’s arms.

“Oh, fuck.”

#the quarry #The quarry game #supermassive games #the quarry x reader #the quarry nick #nick furcillo #nick furcillo x reader #.sd written works

[charred-toast]

He doesn’t really know how he died. And he doesn’t think of it much, he normally blocks it out like a reasonable adult(even though you never made it to adulthood-).

He’s just here now. On the floor, laying on his back. As a toddler whose brain finally decided to clock onto the entire soul in its head and restore their memories. Well most of them anyway(it seems your memory problems transferred too). He thinks he’s like 3. He could be younger he won’t lie. His sense of age went flying away the second she turned 11 and people started asking her about college. He thinks he has memories from this life but they feel like trying to remember which aunt you’re talking to at a family reunion. Like you know who they are, what they do but you don’t know their name. He thinks he knows what his mom and dad look like but well they aren’t here right now so like a 45% chance he could be wrong.

Wait what if his mental problems transferred too? God, he doesn’t know how to live without it. Even when it hurt her she clung on so hard to her diagnosis.

Ah.

He’s talking about his past self as if they aren’t the same(well you are dead, right?). He pushes it to the back of his head to examine never. Jesus he’s already using his horrific coping skills already. He really needs to hurry up and do something to get out of his head.

Alright.

One. Two. Three.

He wonders where his parents are. Cuz, he’s literally by himself right now. Wait hold that thought, isn’t it like kinda good they aren’t here? He would’ve probably been brought to a doctor or something if his parents were there to witness him gain years of memories in a couple of seconds.

Yeah, so a good thing his parents aren’t here.

Wait can 3 year olds walk. Holy crap he doesn’t know. Calm down you can test it out don’t freak out. Okay, he starts by moving his toes they move. Good, he isn’t paralyzed, he really would’ve freaked out then. Part two, move your knees. Don’t kids before seven like not have knees? Fuck, don’t think about it you’ll feel sick. Part three, move your feet under your knees and lift your torso. Achievement unlocked: sit up! God he shouldn’t be sarcastic too often or else dad’ll get pissed-(ah you’ll never see him again). So, at least 3-year-olds can sit up. Or he’s super special, has magic, and can shit rainbows. Yeah, as if. Anyway gotta get back to seeing if he can walk. He moves his arms and pushes himself up.

Huh, so 3 year olds can walk. Or he just spontaneously learnt how to walk. He doubts the latter though. His muscles wouldn’t be developed properly if he just learnt now.

He looks around. Still nobody near him. Well he should probably start examining his memories of this life. He wouldn’t want to hurt his new parents by not recognizing them. So time to assemble the facts. One, it seems he’s still French, he wonders if he’s from Paris(didn’t dad hate Parisians said; they talked too much ‘bout themselves, right?). He wonders if only one of his parents are French this time ‘round. His dad and mom-(aren’t you spitting on their memory by calling them that?)

He pinches his palm. One. Two. Three.

His father and mother, are pretty okay, he thinks. At least they don’t fight. Well, not in front of him. His mother has long springy blonde hair, and not a single freckle. She’s really pretty in a traditional way. Like in old antique paintings. His father has short black hair not a single grey hair in sight, he has a beard. He looks like those mafia bosses in old Hollywood movies.

He wonders if he looks more like his father or mother. He brings a hand to his head to feel the hair there. It’s short. Black. He twines his hands through it. He breathes. It’s soft he must’ve had a shower recently. Ah no. He’s too young for showers isn’t he?

He hears footsteps. Too light to be his father. It must be his mother then. She opens the door. They stare at each other for a second. Then. She smiles.

“Hello, dear. I’m sorry I left. I had to go get something.” Her arms are hidden behind her back.

And she shoves her hands forward. It’s a piece of fabric in an embroidery hoop. There’s embroidered snowflakes surrounding something written in light blue thread.

“Happy birthday, Neige!” She exclaims, a big smile on her face.

Seriously what kind of name is Neige anyway. It just means snow.

#twst neige #self insert #fic #twisted wonderland #neige leblanche #fanfic #i got bored and just started writing i guess #tell me if you like it #please #i crave validation