#we haven’t hung out since October!

[imfinereallyy]

hummingbirds

Steve’s crying on the porch of his parents' house, with a duffel bag and baseball bat, when Eddie pulls into the driveway.

“Jesus, Steve, what happened?” Eddie crouches down to get eye level with Steve. Despite being dark out, the sun set long ago, and the outdoor lights weren’t on. Steve turns to look at his parents' car in the driveway and thinks back to when the lock had distinctly turned shut on the front door. They were around to switch the lights on; they just didn’t care anymore to do so.

Steve is grateful for the moonlight, as he can see the pretty lines on Eddie’s face. Even if they currently curve into a frown.

“Hey Eds.” Steve’s voice cracks.

“Stevie…what happened?” Eddie asks again, this time it’s gently. It cradles Steve and holds him softly. He wishes Eddie’s hands would do the same.

“Did you know hummingbirds are the only birds that can fly backward?” Steve sniffles.

Eddie’s face scrunches in confusion, “What? Birds? You lost me.”

Steve pushes past Eddie’s confused face. “They are the only birds to fly backward. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Dustin to teach me that out of the munchkins. It was actually El. She’s apparently going through a bird phase. And I don’t think the others are very interested. So I try to pay attention when she talks about it. And she taught me about hummingbirds.”

Eddie settles on his knees, “That’s great, man and those little shits should listen to her more, but I’m not sure what that has to do with what’s wrong. You called me to come pick you up and hung up before I could even answer.”

Steve bites his lip, “Sorry, my dad clicked the phone off.” Eddie’s face shows surprise, but Steve keeps talking before he can interrupt. “And well, I guess hummingbirds have nothing to do with anything. It’s stupid, really.”

“No, no. It’s not stupid. Tell me about the birds, Stevie.” Eddie’s hand finally reaches out to Steve. He brushes the fallen hair out of his face, and something in Steve just sets him off.

“You see, they can fly backward. And well, no, I’m getting ahead of myself. You see, my cousin Tucker is here to visit. And let me tell you, he is the worst. Like Eddie, you would hate him. Conservative, capitalist enthusiast, real bootlicker kind of guy.”

“Sounds like the worst. Especially if he made you use the big words.” Eddie’s hand falls away, and Steve mourns the loss. Normally, when people make jokes about his intelligence, it stings. It makes him feel small. But when Eddie does it, it isn’t mean or a poke at how stupid Steve is. With Eddie, it’s almost like he’s reminding Steve that he is smart. That maybe Steve is the one making himself small.

He is.

“Anyway, he’s visiting, right? So my parents come home. And I haven’t seen them in months, since before spring break. It’s nearly October, and I haven’t seen them, and I can’t tell if I’m excited or dreading their arrival. It’s always a fight when they are around, how I’m not good enough, how I should be more. Their visits always end up being cut short, and me feeling like shit. But this stupid, stupid part of me was hoping it would be different this time. They haven’t seen me since the “earthquakes.” Surely they’ll be happy to see I’m okay, right?”

Eddie stays silent, his face revealing nothing.

“Of course, it’s not. They only came home because my cousin Tucker was in town. All the way from Indy cause it’s so far. And my mom ‘made’ dinner, as in she ordered it and pretended she made it. It wasn’t even that good, but we all pretended it was the best thing ever made. Cause that’s what they do, pretend. And the dinner is fine, boring. Most of it is just me staying silent while my dad and Tucker talk about the business. Tucker runs the Indy office while my dad is in New York. Ya see, Tucker has been gunning to take over for my dad when he retires, which is another word for dies—“ Steve let’s put a bitter laugh; he wonders if his parents are listening. He doubts it.

“—and they are going on for the whole meal, and I’m almost through the home stretch when my dad brings up me, coming to work for him.”

Eddie reacts finally, “You’re going to New York?” His voice is strained, like he is trying very hard not to yell, not at Steve, but at anyone who will listen. Steve is quick to correct.

“No, no, I’m not. This was news to me to Eds. I have no interest in my dad's business, and as far as I was concerned, he didn’t want me a part of it either. Guess that has changed. Has? Had? I don’t know…” Steve trails off.

“Harrington.”

“Don’t call me that. It makes me think you’re mad at me. Besides, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” Steve bites.

“Sorry, Steve. I’m not mad. I promise. Just, what do you mean?” Eddie’s head tilts to the side, his curls cascading down his shoulder. It reminds Steve of a river, dark water rippling in the moonlight.

“I was so shocked, Eds. When he said that. That I was quiet, I should have corrected him, maybe. Maybe I could have fixed it. But Tucker was so quick to act. He was pissed. He knows my working for my dad means me being set up to take over. And Tucker, he’s worked too hard to make sure he does get the business. But instead of yelling, he just gets this concerned look on his face. And he…”

“He what?”

Steve wrenches his eyes shut as he recalls the rest. As he recalls the way Tucker’s face faked worry as he struck. Like he has been waiting for the right moment to ruin Steve. He manages to open his eyes eventually, only to see Eddie’s face once again. The honest look on his face is enough to push Steve on.

“In the summer, Robin was feeling sad. This was before you guys knew about each other, and I was the only one who knew about her. And she was sad cause nothing had happened with Vicky and she felt so alone. And I hated seeing her like that. And so, so I took her to Indy. And, and—“ Steve starts to hyperventilate.

Eddie takes him by the shoulders. “Breathe for me, Steve. Come on, baby, match my breaths. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Steve matches Eddie’s breath. Ignores how the word baby calms him down instantly. “Tucker told my dad that he saw me in Indy. That he saw me come out of a gay club, Eddie. And he went on about how they should focus more on getting me help, than putting me in a power position, again Eds, which I don’t even want! And how I would be a bad look for the company. How would it look if a company whose whole image is family values, only successor, turned out to be gay.”

Eddie flinches a bit, but doesn’t let go of him. Steve feels instant regret. “That isn’t what I meant, Eddie.”

Eddie shushes him, “I know, sweetheart. You’re just upset. I know. Did you tell him that you weren’t there for you? Or maybe that Rick was mistaken; it was a regular club?”

Steve rubs a hand down his face, “And what? Tell him that my two best friends in the entire world are gay? So that I can be shipped off to New York and never see them again? Yeah right. I’d rather face the bats again than be removed from you two. And I’m not going to out you guys like that.”

Something warm crosses Eddie’s face, “So, you lied then?”

“Before I could say anything my dad reacted.”

Eddie freezes, a darkness swims in his eyes. “He put his hands on you?”

“No, no!” Steve panics, and he purposely leaves out the ‘not this time.’ Eddie isn’t necessarily a violent person. But he does have a protective streak. As admirable as it is, Steve doesn’t want him to get hurt.

Eddie relaxes but only slightly.

“He was actually pretty calm, which is even more terrifying. I expected him to yell, throw things. But instead he just turns and says, ‘Is this true, Steven?’. And what gets me is they didn’t even question why my cousin was anywhere near that club in the first place. Why did he see me there? Instead, he just asks me if it’s true. And it’s the first time in a long time, if ever, that my dad asks me this. He always just assumes I’ve fucked up. And this time, he really asked me about the truth. And I couldn’t, I couldn’t lie. I don’t know why, but it felt wrong to. So I didn’t. I just told him, ‘Yes. It’s true.’”

“Stevie…”

Steve throws out a bitter laugh, “And you know what? He still doesn’t freak out. He just tells me I have five minutes to get my shit and get out. That I needed to call a ride because the car was under the name Steve Harrington, and I was no longer a Harrington. And he was so calm. And my mom just sat there, and I just listened. I didn’t fight. I am so tired of fighting.”

“Steve, why not just tell them the truth? Tell them you were there for a friend?” Eddie’s tone isn’t scolding, only curious.

“See, that’s because I started thinking about hummingbirds, Eddie. I started thinking about how they fly forwards and backward and how they are the only ones that can do that. Isn’t that fascinating? These small birds are so strong and interesting, and can do something no one else can do. But no other birds understand; the rest of them just fly forwards Eds. And I—I feel like that sometimes. That I’m not flying in one direction, ya know?”

Steve feels like he isn’t making much sense, but then Eddie nods and looks at Steve. Like really looks at Steve, and sees him. And Steve feels raw, stripped of his skin, exposed, and it should hurt, but it feels so fucking good. And Eddie stares deep into Steve’s eyes and says, “Yea, I know.”

“I didn’t want to lie. Because even though Tucker was wrong, he was also right. I wasn’t there for me, but I think I needed to be there. To get it. And I think that I’m flying backward, Eds. And I’m worried it’s wrong of me, that it shouldn’t be allowed. And that there is no purpose to me flying backward if I can just go forwards. If I can just fly with the rest of them. But I don’t think, I don’t think I’ve ever really taken flight before. Not before I understood I could also go backward.”

It’s in this moment, where Steve is covered in tears and snot that Eddie finally takes his hands and cradles Steve’s face. Steve’s never felt safer.

“Listen to me, sweetheart; there is nothing wrong with you. Okay? Nothing wrong with you. Just because you can fly forwards doesn’t mean you have to, doesn’t mean you should. Sometimes you’re going to have to fly backward; you’re not going to have a choice. It’s just the direction you’re fast, huge, hummingbird heart takes you. And it might take you a bit to learn that. To understand that, but I will make sure that you do. Because you, Steve Harrington, are fucking fearless and fucking beautiful, and I am so goddamn proud of you.”

Steve finally reaches his breaking point and collapses in Eddie’s arms. Full body, ugly sobs wreck Steve. He is sure that he is soaking Eddie’s favorite Black Sabbath t-shirt to the bone, but he can’t find it himself to care. His fingers dig into Eddie’s back as he clutches tighter as his breathing picks up.

“Breathe, baby, breathe. Remember that. I got you. I got you.” Eddie whispers into Steve’s ear.

Steve picks his head up when he finally calms down, and looks at Eddie. “You.”

“What’s that?” Eddie says softly, rubbing circles through Steve’s polo.

“I called you. Because, I think—no, I know, that I’ve been flying backward, to you. For a while now. And I knew that, even if you weren’t too, you’d still show up. And I just—just need you to know that. I am so grateful you showed up.”

Steve knows he should feel nervous telling Eddie all this, but he isn’t. He strangely feels like his dad at this moment, calm and unmoving. Steve doesn’t understand many things in this world, but he understands that even if Eddie doesn’t love him like that, Eddie still loves Steve in plenty of other ways.

It’s still nice, though, when Eddie leans forward and kisses Steve’s forehead. Steve closes his eyes and releases a breath.

Eddie slides his head down slightly so their foreheads are pushed together affectionately. “Stevie, I’ll always fly backward to you.”

Although it’s awful how they got here, Steve can’t help but feel happy at this moment. He also can’t help the silly giggle that comes out of him, “I think we have just lost all meaning to this metaphor at this point.”

Eddie snorts, “Oh, have we? And here I thought we were having a nice moment, a poetic one at that, telling each other ‘I love you.’”

Steve blinks at him, “You love me?”

Eddie frown lines finally turn upwards, “Yea baby, I love you.”

“I—“

Eddie cuts Steve off. “Tell me in the morning. When your tears have dried, and I’ve woken up with you in my arms. I want to hear it in the daylight. Okay? Let’s go home.” Eddie stands, offering a hand to Steve.

“Home?”

“Yea home, got to fly back to our nest.”

Steve can’t help the snort he releases, “Dork.”

Eddie just smiles, “Thought I told you to save the ‘I love you’ til the morning.”

Steve smiles back as he takes Eddie’s hand, “I didn’t…”

Eddie squeezes Steve’s fingers, “Yea, ya did.”

****

I’m back, not dead, and in my feelings. Thinking about expanding on this one. I hope you guys like it. 🧡🧡

#steddie #stranger things #Steve eventually gets a hummingbird tattoo #everything I write is soft #they deserve to be soft #bisexual steve harrington #gay eddie munson #cw: implied homophobia #cw: internalized homophobia #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #robin buckley #steve x eddie #soft boys #post s4 #bisexuality awareness

[bitchinbarzal]

talk to me | f minten

summary: When miscommunication strikes he just wants you to talk to him.

-

You trusted Fraser with your life, he was your entire world.

Things were hard for you when he headed off to Saskatchewan after it didn’t work out well with the leafs. You were proud of him regardless but it was hard.

It was hard when you had so many classes back to back which was only made worse when his games and training schedule was on the opposite schedule to yours.

You’d hardly spoken in weeks outwith casual morning and what you up to text messages.

You missed your boyfriend.

You were supposed to fly to visit him for Valentine’s, finally having a long weekend to spend with him albeit watching him play but you’d rather watch him play and be able to hug him afterwards than just sending a text.

However, the tickets were sent to be refunded as soon as you saw the photo.

You always encouraged Fraser to go out, do something other than play hockey and when he did he was usually texting you, telling you how he wished you were there.

However, looking at the picture on your Twitter you realised he had avoided telling you he was going out which wouldn’t have been an issue if the photo you were looking at wasn’t a picture of him with his arm around another girl, curled into his side.

Your heart dropped as you flicked between the few images on the screen. The smile on his face hurt your heart, having been absent from your FaceTime calls for weeks.

You unpacked your bags for your trip and sat on your bed, turning on the tv to find a show to distract you.

A little later your phone buzzed, his photo appearing as your background, his smile wanting to make you smile. You looked at the notification and read the text

hey, call me when you’re checked in and send me your flight info so I can track you landing! I can’t wait to see you sweet girl 💙

You read the text and sighed, typing out your response.

Not coming, cancelled my ticket.

the typing bubble appeared, then disappeared over and over until he began calling.

You stared at his contact picture, a photo of you both together. You contemplated not picking up but you knew him, he’d never stop calling.

“Fraser”

“Babe… what’s wrong?”

“I just don’t wanna come anymore”

You could just see the frown on his face in your head

“Why? I thought you were excited, we haven’t seen each other since October?” He sighed.

“Just changed my mind Fras, sue me” you snapped to which he mumbled “Ok rude”

And you just hung up, unable to continue your conversation without getting mean.

When you did he text you.

somethings wrong with you, I know it. I love you and I wanna talk to you so call me when you want 💙

You rolled your eyes, why did he have to be so supportive when you were mad at him.

He’d sent you multiple DM’s and texts overnight to which all were read and none responded to, leaving him with only one option.

When you woke up the next morning there he was, asleep on your couch. You stared at him softly, noticing he was hugging into himself clearly cold.

You may be mad but never that mad. You waddled into your bedroom and pulled out your blanket, draping it over him.

You hadn’t noticed in the darkness of your living room that your movements had woken Fraser up until he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his lap.

You landed with an “oof” and looked at him, your eyes sad and red from crying all night. You hoped he couldn’t but he could see them in the light coming in off the streets of downtown Toronto.

His thumb brushed your cheek “Hi sweet girl, what’s going on? Talk to me…”

You shook your head, attempting to get up but be stopped you “Y/N you need to speak to me! We’re a team”

You just glared “were we a team when you had your hands on her?”

His grip kept tightly on you as he frowned “What?”

“You- there was that picture of you online with some girl from last week” you stumbled, picking up his phone from right next to him.

In the moment you never registered how he didn’t even flinch when you picked up his phone or how the lock screen was a picture of you.

You found it eventually and showed him to which he nodded “Yeah that’s Kayla”

“Well Kayla is too close to Fraser” you said as if it was so obvious.

Fraser smiled “That’s Easton’s sister, she was visiting him that’s all… nothing weird”

You huffed a little, not used to being spoken to so honest and calmly

“You didn’t tell me you were going out”

“You were asleep because you felt sick! Babe stop trying to find a problem where there isn’t one, please just let yourself be happy for once in your life”

You deflated, leaning your head onto his shoulder

“I was so angry with you”

“I get it”

“You’re perfect though”

“I’m far from perfect but to someone who loves you, you’re everything” he mumbles, holding your hand “You’re everything to me you know that right?”

“I guess…”

He grabs your chin to make you look at him “No, you are! I was so scared I’d lose you last night I had to come here… you’re too important for me to lose”

“I promise I’ll talk next time” you admitted, kissing his jaw.

“Just talk to me, I love to hear your voice”

#fraser minten imagine #fraser minten x reader

[heartss4matthewq]

NOTHING TURNS TO SOMETHING (pt.1)

Summary: You’ve known chris your whole life. When he gets a girlfriend you are happy for him, right?

Warnings: fluff, dom!chris, fem!reader,

—————————

CHRIS POV

7:00 PM

“matt hurry the fuck up we gotta pick up mya” i said.

mya is my girlfriend. we recently got together and our 6 month is coming up so i decided to take her out for dinner. We’ve been arguing a little more recently. I thought this would be a nice gesture.

“yo why don’t you shut the fuck up and get your drivers license then maybe you could pick her up yourself!” matt yells

“bro can you guys stop arguing, matt you do need to hurry up though chris doesn’t wanna be late” nick says

“wait mya’s calling me hold on” i said answering her call.

📞

“hey”

“hey, what’s up?”

“soo i kinda cant make it tonight..”

“what? why?” i said clearly upset

“well you know zack right? my best friend?”

“yeahhh…?”

“well he’s coming over cause’ like he called me and asked if i was busy but i kinda told him no and i missed him because we haven’t seen eachother since like….october so yeah sorry”

i heard her start..laughing? was she already with him?

“uh that’s fine i guess, i just thought we could have a night to ourselves”

“yeah well sorry but goodnight, bye chris.” she hung up on me.

📞

well what the fuck.

—————————

Y/N POV

8:08 PM

i was about to fall asleep when i got a text from chris

i’ve always said i was happy for chris and mya but was i?

i have had a crush on chris since i was little.

i know it’s bad and i truly am happy he found someone but, why couldn’t it be me?

8:30 PM

“bro lowkey mya’s a bitch don’t mind her” matt says to chris

“yeah exactly i mean i’m not tryna dawg on her but why would she do that if she knew you wanted to do this tonight??” i said sounding annoyed.

“yeah i don’t know guys i’ll just talk to her tomorrow morning, i mean she hasn’t seen him for a while.” chris wants to make the situation sound better.

“yeah you fucking better” nick says emerging from his room.

a couple hours pass and we had just been playing games and laughing until…

—————————

CHRIS POV

“guys myas calling!!” i said laughing a little.

📞

“i think we should talk” my face immediately drops

“uh about what??”

“we need to break up.”

“what?” i said clearing my throat

“i said we should break up.” she says firmer than before

“why, i thought we were okay?”

“well we aren’t, plus zach doesn’t like you so..” she trails off

“so that’s it? we’re done like that?”

“i mean yeah, that’s what i said.”

silence.

“also i’ve been sleeping with zach for 3 months”

“what?” i said angry and upset

“yeah, love ya, peace out chrissy”

📞

—————————

Y/N POV

everyone has fallen asleep by this point except me and chris.

we all tried comforting him but nothing seemed to work.

“it’s okay chris, it isn’t your fault she’s a self centered bitch” i said wiping his cheeks.

“yeah but what if i wasn’t giving her what she wanted. and she said she was sleeping with zach for 3 months” he said through sobs

“she did FUCKING what??”

“yeah, i know. what if i’m bad at sex and she just hates me because i couldnt give her what she wanted”

“chris i’m sure you’re good at sex and she’s just talking out of her ass, i bet zach can’t even make her cum” i said laughing

“yeah, maybe”

an awkward silence fills the room

“can i show you that i’m good at sex?”

———————————————————————

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #spotify #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets smut

[rustedhearts]

battlefield (boxer!steve x librarian!fem au)

summary: you reappear in hawkins after eight months away—only this time, steve’s nowhere to be found. what happened while you were away, and why are you refusing his calls?

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the king of the ring ♡

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, breakup (though not really), manhandling (steve leaves a bruise), toxic relationship, steve sucks! but he tries to make up for it, reader (libby) wears glasses and has a little brother.

a/n: here's what i have to say about this one: the girls that get it, get it. the girls that don't, don't.

“it would help me to know, do i stand in your way? or am i the best thing you’ve had?”

—battlefield, pat benatar

hawkins, indiana october 1990

In February, you said goodbye to your family. You gave a temporary two week’s notice to the library with a firm promise to return when Steve’s first tournament had finished. You packed up your old bedroom, said goodbye to childhood forever, and stepped out a woman. Steve’s woman.

And all you knew, for the next eight months, was: Steve. Training, dieting, fights, press conferences, and endorsement deals. Steve, Steve, Steve. Life revolved around him completely.

Until October, when you returned to Hawkins, and said hello to your family once more.

You appeared on a Saturday afternoon. A crisp chill hung in the air, scented of damp soil and the sweet aroma of autumn leaves. They filled the town with rust-colored enthusiasm; the tree in front of your old bedroom window, though, was golden yellow. They made your green lawn appear like a pool of honey. And it was on your yellow lawn that your mother gazed out to find you standing, luggage in hand, staring at the door.

She dropped the duster in her hand and flew to the door, practically tumbling down the front steps to fling herself at you. She squeezed and prodded and pulled, assessing you like some sort of miracle on her doorstep.

“Oh, honey, I’m so happy to see you! What are you doing home?”

You kissed her cheek, flashed a smile, and rolled your suitcase into the house. You hugged and kissed your father hello, laughed dryly when your younger brother Nick made a joke, and strolled upstairs with your luggage. It was half of what you’d left with eight months ago. You appeared just as proportionally empty—halved. Missing, quite literally, the other part of you.

There was no Steve, and no sign of him on you. Only the big black sweatshirt he bought you from the Hot Rod cafe, paired with a white turtleneck and old, worn denim jeans from high school. You climbed into your old bed—still made with the same colorful quilt and frilly sheets—and closed your eyes, still wearing the clothes you’d worn on your flight.

You said nothing of Steve, or why you were home.

You just…slept.

♡ ♡

You slept until Sunday evening.

Until the sunlight dwindled and your father’s knuckles rapped at the door. You brought your head out from beneath the covers to peer toward the door just as it cracked open. Your father’s glasses glared with yellow lamplight.

“Honey…are you okay? You’ve been in here…—well, sweetheart, we haven’t seen you since you got home.”

You shrugged, sniffling. The sound came with a slurp of thick snot, and upon closer inspection, your father immediately noticed the swollen bags under your eyes and their reddened, bloodshot state. “Sorry,” you murmured. “Just jet-lagged.”

Your father stepped into the room, leaving the door open, and sank onto the edge of the bed.“Honey, did he hurt you? Is that why you’re home?”

Huffing, you threw yourself onto your back and let your hands flop atop the mattress. You glared at the poster of James Dean above your bed.

“No, Dad—“

“—because if he hurt you…I know people. I can have him taken out in—“

“—Dad! Stop,” you groaned, rubbing at your swollen, aching eyes. The pillowcase under your head had been soaked and resoaked with a river of tears, and now they sat in a crusty, dried trail on your cheeks.

Your father sighed, though that look of furrowed concern and disappointment lingered. You wanted to assure him he was incorrect. You wanted to promise Steve didn’t hurt you, that you were here on your own volition just to visit. But you’d be lying. And you were tired of lying on Steve’s behalf.

You hoped and prayed your father wouldn’t ask you again—because the next time, you wouldn’t be able to muster anything but the truth.

“We’re happy you’re home, honey, but…we just wanna make sure everything’s okay.”

You pushed your hair away from your face, puffing air into your cheeks only to expel it out. “It’s fine, Dad! Okay? I just…I just want to sleep.”

Your father slid off the bed, standing to full height again. He rubbed at his jaw—salt and pepper beard sounding rough and dry—and backed away.

“Alright. Well, your dinner’s in the oven to keep warm. Mom’s making pudding. Chocolate, your favorite.”

You pursed your lips, feeling guilty and small, and nodded meekly. Your father flashed a minuscule smile and headed toward the door. Maybe you could blame the jet-lag for your sudden abruptness, but that would be another lie. You’d been a bristly version of yourself ever since you left New York(…and Steve).

“Alright, honey. Sleep tight.”

“Night, dad.”

When the door clicked closed, you groaned and kicked the covers off. The room was stiff and warm, the windows firmly shut to clamp off any semblance of an autumn breeze, curtains and blinds drawn to hide the leaves. You didn’t want to see how pretty the world looked while you suffered miserably.

But at least you could shower. You could try to do that.

In your old bathroom—floral wallpaper, pink tile, frilly bath mats, potpourri on the back of the toilet tank—you stripped down bare. You clenched your fists and gazed into the mirror, and almost instinctually, your eyes fell to your left forearm. A swell of blood popped beneath the skin just in the center of your arm, appearing violet in the aftermath, indigo in spots: the shape of Steve, left bruised on you in a handprint.

You turned away from the mirror and turned the shower on, heat high. You stepped in and closed your eyes, lip caged between your teeth to cease the trembling. The shower stream boiled your tears and drained your nose. The water smelled a little metallic: old pipes gone unused.

Eyes sinking closed, you tipped your head back into the water and let it rain over you.

♡ ♡

"Who the fuck was that?"

Seated on a padded leather bench on a gym in New York City—book in hand, glasses perched on the bridge of your nose—gazing up at Steve looming over you. His skin practically steamed, drowning in a sheen of glimmering sweat, hair clinging to his forehead, overgrown and neglected on the road. Cheeks swollen with red warmth, brows creased, eyes nothing other than empty.

You closed your book and glanced off toward the back of the strange man's head, exiting your periphery. "I don't know. He wanted to know where the bathroom was, Steve."

Five minutes ago, another gym-goer came up to you, towel thrown over his hulking shoulder, and asked you where the bathroom was. He smiled a dazzling white, catalogue smile, and you pointed toward the toilets. You directed your eyes back to the book in your lap and said nothing else. Steve wailed on the mitts in the ring, answering every of Big's 'one, two' with a sharp smack of fist.

And now here he was, towering over you like you'd asked the man to dinner.

"How come every time I turn around, some creep is all over you? Huh?"

You sighed, setting the book on the bench beside your purse. Big lingered in the ring, pretending not to listen as he slurped water from a Gatorade bottle.

"I don't know, Steve—"

"—oh, so he was a creep?"

"Jesus," you groaned, throwing your head back toward the fluorescents above you. Steve had been a tangy sour taste in your mouth since you arrived in New York two days ago. "No, Steve, he was not a creep. He was just—"

"—you know, you must be doin' somethin' to invite all these guys your way."

You turned back to Steve, gaping at his furrowed frown. Surely he didn't mean that. Surely he wasn't questioning your loyalty to him. You'd done nothing but cater to him all year. You followed him around the country for his career; put your life on hold for his career; neglected and abandoned your own needs and desires for his career—only to be scolded for every wrongdoing in Steve's eyes.

"Are you fucking serious right now?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm tired of having to worry if every time I turn around, the vultures will swarm my girlfriend. They just eat you up, huh?"

You leapt to your feet, the ache to cry growing stronger by the second. His words cut deep—the implications behind them cut deeper.

"That sounds like your problem, Steve. Those are your insecurities talking, and they don't have shit to do with me," you hissed, snatching your belongings from the bench.

You were a step away from Steve when he called back out. "Hey. Hey! Get back here when I'm talking to you, Libby."

You scoffed, shaking your head furiously as you stomped toward the door. "You're fucking crazy if you think I'm gonna listen to you—"

His hand was on your arm then, yanking you into a spin. You flew into his chest, a painful collision for both of you. But you glared, serpent-like, as mean as you could muster, into the death stare of your boyfriend. You didn't like that look on his face. You didn't like the grip he had on you. It came out of nowhere.

But his rage-fits usually did these days.

"You're not goin' anywhere," he growled evenly.

You yanked at your arm, teeth clenching together. "Yes. I. Am. Let me go, Steven."

He persisted, fingers squeezing tighter. You coughed away a yelp, wondering if you stomped on his foot if that would loosen his grip or make it worse. You weren't sure you wanted to try—and suddenly, that hurt worse.

You never wanted to be afraid of Steve, and he promised you'd never have to be.

"Harrington," Big called sternly from the ring. He leaned on the ropes now, watching carefully.

"Shut the fuck up," Steve barked his coach's way, though his attention never left you. You pulled at your arm again.

"Let me go!"

"Let her go, Harrington."

"I said shut up!"

Eyes stinging with tears, you pushed at his chest with your spare hand, smacking your book against his bare skin. "Let go, Steve!"

You sprung loose, exhaling a weak cry when your arm came away throbbing and splotchy. You adjusted the strap of your purse on your shoulder and clutched your book against your chest, gazing at Steve like a stranger.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you wailed, tears slipping free as you slammed into the door to exit.

He didn't come after you.

He stayed to train. You waited in the room, weeping noisily in the cold bathroom. As the hours ticked away, you found yourself dreading his arrival. Fearing what might come of it.

You scrambled to your feet, and in a rush of hyperventilation and buzzing nerves, you packed your bags. Anything you could grab on hand, anything you recognized as yours—you shoved it all into your suitcase on the floor and zipped it up. You knew, even as you slipped your coat on and rolled it through the door, that you'd forgotten most of your things.

And as you rode the elevator down, you stopped crying. You snatched the pen in your purse and hurried to the front desk, snatching a stationary pad and using the marble countertop for something solid.

Steve,

You promised me happiness, but all you've given me is pain. I can't do this anymore. I can't keep letting you hurt me, no matter how much I love you, or how much you claim to love me. Your anger and jealousy have ruined us, and I can't take it anymore.

I'm going home. Please don't follow me. Not even if you're sorry, and not even if you really mean it this time.

—Libby

"Please give this to Mr. Harrington when he comes back."

♡ ♡

"Hey, honey. Glad to see you up and...dressed! It's a miracle."

Your smile veered toward a scowl as you sank into your chair at the kitchen table, showered and in a fresh change of clothes: your high school sweatshirt from your final homecoming game, the green and gold of Hawkins High. It was still soft and smelled of laundry soap.

All your other clothes smelled like Steve.

"Yeah," you murmured, wet hair dripping on the table.

Your father shuffled into the room in his slippers, glasses perched low on his nose, just as your mother slid a cup of homemade pudding your way. You gingerly accepted the spoon, mustering the smallest grin of appreciation. You hadn't wanted to eat. You tried a packet of trail-mix on the plane and it made your stomach flop. The smell of Sunday dinner (meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans) still hanging in the kitchen air made you want to throw up.

But the pudding was smooth and sweet, and you ate small bites to keep your mother happy and your father quiet. You couldn't stomach another 'are you okay?'

You kept your sleeves tucked over your knuckles as you ate, limbs hidden in your sweatshirt and a pair of linty joggers. Soon, your entire family gathered at the table, licking pudding from spoons, tapping silver against porcelain to fill the quiet. The television hummed with an evening program in the living room. Even Nick sat, slump-shouldered beside you.

Their silence was almost as bad as their pestering.

"Guys," you sighed, spoon clattering on the table. "I'm fine, okay? I don't need you to...please don't hover, okay? I'm home now, and that's that."

You bounced between their gazes with a pointed look of your own, brows raised in question. Your parents bobbed their agreement, though the sourness to their expressions leaned toward hesitation. Your little brother, Nick, however, stared at the table with pursed lips. In his own silent way, his admiration for Steve spanned past athletic abilities and bled into morality. You didn't want to give him reason to believe Steve didn't deserve that admiration. Whatever happened between the two of you had nothing to do with him as a person.

You didn't want your little brother to think differently of his idol.

Before anyone could say anything else, the phone on the wall shrilled. You knew who'd be on the other line the moment your mother stood to answer, shuffling over in her pajamas and answering with a polite, chipper tone. You inhaled deeply when her eyes cut over to you.

"Sure, she's right here. Honey, it's Ste—"

You stood to your feet, chair screeching on the tile. "I'm sleeping."

You disappeared swiftly, steps ascending the creaking stairs followed by the clamp of your bedroom door slamming. Your father looked toward your mother, who pulled the phone from her chest and cleared her throat.

"You know what? She's sleeping right now. Try back in the morning?"

Steve's voice murmured through the other line in response, and your mother glanced at your father, who strained to listen.

"I'm sure she'll call you when she's ready, Steven. Just give her some space."

♡ ♡

Monday

You woke at noon and pouted at your disheveled reflection in the vanity mirror. A polaroid of Steve was wedged in the corner of the mirror: black hoodie, hood pulled up, strong jaw, cut cheekbones, a purpled split in his lip from a prior fight. He came home to you like that, bloody and bruised. He wasn't supposed to make you feel that way, too.

You pulled it from the mirror and placed it face-down on the vanity table. The kitchen phone rang while you coated your lashes in mascara, and again as you rummaged through your closet and a half-empty wardrobe left abandoned for months. You refused to touch your suitcase or the contents inside. It all reeked of Steve. All tainted by his touch.

The phone rang as you plucked your car keys from the glass bowl in the kitchen, and you heard it again—a distant, muffled blare—as you threw open the garage door and uncovered your untouched car. You drowned it in the growl of your engine, and for a moment, you felt relieved that it wouldn't be you crying today.

It would be Steve.

♡ ♡

You went to the only place you felt safe: the library.

Two words into your explanation speech, your boss, Shelly, placed a hand on your shoulder and slipped your name tag into your palm.

"Welcome back, sweetheart." She beamed, patting your arm and directing you on your way.

You dove right in, swimming through the stacks of books at a glacial, peaceful pace. You knew the system like the back of your hand, and soon all the books were in their rightful places on the shelves.

"Libby? Oh my god, when did you get home?" Lisa, another victim of abandonment for the sake of Steve, came rushing down the aisle you were in.

You hadn't spoken to Lisa since you left, and suddenly a pang of guilt crashed into you as she wrapped her arms around your shoulders. You returned the hug and mirrored her smile.

"Just the other day," you told her as she pulled away. "It was a last minute thing."

She bombarded you with questions, too blinded by enthusiasm to be upset with you for ghosting your friendship. You told her as much as you could, wincing when Steve's name came from her mouth. And like Beetlejuice or some other demonic figure, call his name three times and he shall appear.

"Baby."

You whipped around, smile crumbling at the sight of Steve stalking your way: sunglasses on, new Cadillac keys in one hand, a bouquet of pink roses in the other. Lisa became forgotten, and the stacks of books darkened like in vignette around you as Steve closed in on you.

You dropped the book in your hand on the metal cart you'd been working on, turning away from Steve to rush down the aisle.

"Lib—baby, come on!"

Lisa watched Steve zoom past her, mouth agape with confused awe as he chased after you. Your poker face remained bitter and impenetrable as you made your way through the center aisle, skirt flouncing with every stomp of your kitten heels.

"Libby, please, stop."

"I told you not to follow me," you droned without turning around.

His keys jingled with every jog after you, cellophane-wrapped flowers crinkling in his fist. You curled your fingers into a fist of your own, nails biting skin as his scent crept your way. You were grateful it was still school hours and the library was only half empty. Half the humiliation.

"You really thought—baby, please, stop."

Thick fingers circled your wrist, skirting you to a stop far gentler than the one that drove you away. His grip, much more delicate, still made your eyes sting. You kept your chin turned away but allowed your body to stop at his will. In your periphery, his puppy-dog look begged you to pay attention to him.

Steve heaved for air. "You really thought I wouldn't come after you? That I wouldn't fight for you? Baby, please. Come on, I love you so much. I'm-I'm sorry."

Your cheeks burned white hot, lip wobbling. He was always sorry.

You pushed at his hand, urging his touch away from you. He followed your movements, and like he didn't understand, he pulled you closer. You pushed at his chest this time, insistent on space between your bodies.

"Steve, stop," you sighed, wiggling your wrist in his hold.

"Baby, please just talk to me—"

"—you hurt me, Steve."

Steve sighed, head hanging toward yours. "I know, baby—"

"—you don't know. I told you not to come after me."

Steve took his hand away, shoulders drooping. He deflated with a syrupy sigh, the heel of his palms reaching for your jaw. The metal of his car key bit into your chin, the cellophane of the flowers you wouldn't be taking tapping your cheek.

"Libby, why are you doing this? Please, I'm here, I'm sorry." His voice wavered with undeniable guilt, dripped with sorrowful regret.

But it wouldn't be that easy this time.

How many times have you stood in this position now? How many times has he grabbed your face and kissed it clean of tears he triggered you to shed? How many times has he stomped on your heart, only to glue it back together for a chance to shatter again.

"Go, Steve," you mumbled, shoving his hands away again.

He'd never seen you so withdrawn. You were almost...cold. Unfeeling. Steve recoiled like you'd burned him, hands coming to dangle at his sides. You hadn't looked at him once, and you turned on your heel without doing so.

He watched you walk away, standing in the carpeted center aisle of the library with his heart in his hands.

♡ ♡

Tuesday

Steve sat on your porch with his head in his hands, elbows digging divots in his thighs.

Big and Mikey were frantic, calling his apartment phone insisting he return before the endorsements caught wind of his sudden departure. He spent the night tossing and turning, glaring at your flowers still wrapped and tied with ribbon on the kitchen table. He'd let them die if you wouldn't have them.

He woke this morning after barely a wink of sleep and found himself here. He parked the Cadillac on the curb and tapped his fingers on the wheel, wondering if he should wait it out in there. But then your mother tapped on the glass of the window, and he rolled it down to flash her a smile.

"Steven...I think she wants to be alone."

Steve nodded, looking off toward your window. "Yeah. Right, yeah. I just...I want...I have to—I just want her to—"

"—you can stay. But if she asks you to leave, please respect her wishes."

Steve nodded again, and watched your mother's car back out of the driveway moments later. When she was gone, and the house was empty aside from you, Steve hurried to the steps. He lifted a hand to knock and paused.

He really hurt you this time, he knew it all too well. But…you always took him back. No matter what he did, you always took him back if he said he was sorry. Why was this time any different?

Steve huffed, kicking the wedge of metal under the door. Why did he always have to snap? Why did he always have to lose control? You deserved better, and if you gave him a chance, he’d try to be that for you.

Muttering under his breath, Steve fixed his hands on his hips and began to pace the porch, rehearsing before he knocked: “M’ sorry…m’ sorry for bein’—ach, fuck. Libby, m’ sorry for—“

“—do you know what you’re sorry for, Steve?”

Steve whirled around, hands dropping to his sides. You were pajama clad and puffy-eyed, a pair of glasses too big for your face slipping down your nose. Your slippers had bunny ears and lint around the edges.

“Everything, baby,” Steve breathed, taking a wide stride toward the door. “I’m sorry for everything.”

You sighed, leaning against the doorway. You crossed your arms, and as you tucked them against your chest, Steve found the bruise on your forearm. He stopped in his ascent toward you, hands paused mid-air.

“Wha—what is…did I—is that from me—“

“Steve,” you whispered, yanking your sleeve down. “Just…it’s not a big deal, okay?”

He blinked at you, shuffling back a step. “Not a big deal? Libby, I never meant—it is a big deal, baby—“

“—obviously it’s a big fucking deal, Steven. I just…I don’t wanna do this right now, alright?"

Steve understood your sudden hostility, but it still made him frown. He took another step back, stumbled this time. He couldn't swallow past his heart, thumping in his throat. "O-okay..."

You looked anywhere but him. His shoes, the tree-coated lawn, the birds swooping down. You reached for the door behind you, stepping back into the house. Steve jerked forward, jaw clenching. He wasn't used to refraining from you. He didn't know how to stop from touching you, kissing you, feeling you. He felt sick over what he did.

"Is it—can I...come back? Can we talk?" He took his lip between his teeth and gnawed, ripping skin and splitting the seams. He sucked the blood into his mouth and you tipped your head, letting it rest against the front door.

His cheeks held the faintest pink glow, eyes doe-like and melancholic. God, you were easy, weren't you?

"Yeah...yeah, Steve, we'll talk."

Steve released his lip, nodding. His hands wrung together in line with his pelvis. "Tomorrow?"

You nodded, lifting your head from the door. "Tomorrow."

♡ ♡

Wednesday

The only place in town to get coffee was Laurie's, and you sighed as you stood on the curb outside the diner. The autumn breeze whipped around you in a brisk tunnel, skipping crisp leaves across the street, bringing wisps of hair to your eyes. Steve was already inside, tapping his sunglasses on the granite tabletop, knee shaking furiously against the booth. It seemed like a lifetime ago that you had breakfast in that very booth with him, smitten with his charm and drunk on his attention.

The bell chimed with your arrival, and Steve watched you with half-lifted eyes as you slid his way. You sank into the booth with grace, reaching for a pink sugar packet to fiddle with.

"Got you a coffee. Vanilla creamer," he said, motioning toward the stained white porcelain on your left.

"Thanks."

He sat, hunched, like halved version of himself. Sliced by his own wrongdoings, a pile of poisoned pieces in a diner booth. His knuckles ached from punching the old bag in his apartment, eyes heavy from crying. He cracked a toe on the end of his dresser and broke a mug. He nicked his finger on a shard when he fumbled to put it together again.

Even his regret was enraged.

Steve tapped his sunglasses again, scratching at his scalp. You cupped your palms around the mug for warmth, steam fogging the lenses of your glasses. He hated that he didn't know what to say. He hated that you weren't yelling at him, throwing things at him—something. He'd let you tear his hair out if it meant you still cared enough.

"Baby...I don't know what to say," Steve sighed airily, hands resting on the table.

You clicked your shoes together under the table, watching the vat of brown liquid ripple in your mug. "Yeah."

Steve looked at you. He watched you stare blankly, he watched you breathe out. "Yeah? That's...that's it?"

You shrugged. "I'm tired of being the one to explain, Steve. I'm tired of outlining your own behavior for you."

Steve dragged a hand through his hair, huffing through his nose.

"Alright, I'm not...I'm not sayin' you should. I just—I'm just sorry. You know I'd never hurt you—"

You cut him a look: incredulous, pinched, pained. Steve tossed his glasses aside, and they skittered toward the sugar packets.

"—on purpose...God, baby, I'd never hurt you on purpose."

You rolled your lip between your teeth, looking toward your arm, bruise hidden beneath another sweater. Steve mirrored your gaze, head sagging toward his shoulder.

"Can I...can I see it?" he murmured.

You turned to him, cheeks warm. The diner clinked with cutlery, clattering with piles plates. Only a few truckers and an old woman filled the space around you.

You pulled away from your coffee and nodded, hands falling to your lap. You took another look around as Steve sat up, inhaling to steady himself, and inched toward the edge of the booth.

"Not here."

Steve followed you to the alley, keeping a reasonable distance that killed him to maintain. You rolled your sleeve up, back to the brick wall, and let Steve cradle your arm to inspect. The hand that squeezed the skin scraped gently across you now. You shivered as his breath fanned the indigo mark. It was starting to fade at least.

You were about to remark on this small relief, attempt an ill-humored joke, when Steve collapsed to his knees. Chunks of gravel skittered with his weight upon them. You gasped and flinched at his sudden movement, gazing down to find his mouth coating your arm in weepy kisses.

You were frozen in his featherlight touch, fingers barely pressing into your wrist; smattering you in wet lip prints.

"Jesus, m' sorry. M' so—" He sniffled, loud and slurping. "M' so fuckin' sorry."

You leaned into the brick for support, mouth agape and only capable of silence.

"Please f-forgive me, angel, please. I'll never do it again, I p-promise," he whimpered, eyes like shallow, pink pools of water pleading up at you.

With unsteady fingers, you lifted your right hand to his cheek. He fell into you touch, sighing into the skin. He pressed a kiss to your palm, smeared tears against your uninjured skin. He hiccuped for air, jolting with stacattoed sobs. You'd never seen him so distressed. The closest he ever came to this was in Seattle, when the mention of his mother sent him into a spiral.

You slid your hand across the nape of his neck, lifting your palm to glide down the back of his silky hair. "Alright. Alright, Steve, it's okay."

He fell forward, arms winding around your thighs, face smushed against your stomach. You buried your fingers in his hair, kneading like dough.

"It's okay, you're okay. I forgive you, baby."

Steve nodded, squeezing you tight. You ached something awful in your gut, a piercing pang in your chest. You dipped down to press a kiss on his head, squeezing your eyes shut.

And right there in that sharp graveled alleyway, you got down on your knees with him. Eye to eye, mouth to mouth, you hid your bruise beneath a sleeve again and attached yourself to him. His tears were salty and cool, sucked free of warmth by the air nipping at exposed skin. His lips were soft and tasted like acidic coffee.

Remnants of a sob lingered on his tongue when he exhaled into your open mouth. His hands were hot and heavy on your cheeks. You clutched at his hoodie for dear life. He tore away from your mouth and journeyed kisses down your cheek—open-mouthed, full of breath, a little slice of teeth. He wandered to your neck and nuzzled deep.

A ceremonial on your knees.

Your mother would have questions. Your father wouldn't trust Steve for a long time. Your little brother would never know the difference. Big and Mikey would take the pair of you back without a word, because at least their pockets would still be lined with dough.

And Steve?

Steve learned that you'd stay, no matter how bad he could be.

♡ ♡

#rolly! #boxer!steve harrington #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #joe keery #steve harrington fanfiction #boxer!steve #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve the hair harrington #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #steve harrington hurt/comfort

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Fade Into You, Chapter Two: Holy Ground

pairing: nyc bookstore owner au!ezra (prospect) x f!reader

rating: M (nothing much here really besides reader’s pining and ezra’s charm, definitely ooc ezra but it’s an au so who cares!, talks of money/wealth/privilege, a situationship forming in front of our eyes)

wc: 2.7k

a/n: just as a disclaimer, these chapters are going to range in length. i know some people really love short chapters and some really love long ones, but i’m trying not to focus so much on word count anymore, just gonna try to stop when it feels right (to me)! but i’m sure once we start seeing their relationship evolve, so will the length of each chapter.

series masterlist | previous chapter | FIY PLAYLIST

Mid October

“I feel like these are only ever good straight out of the oven.” Jay was standing in your tiny kitchen, taking a tray of store bought frozen Halloween cookies out of the oven.

“Yeah, as soon as they get room temperature they get hard as a fucking rock,” you agreed, sitting cross-legged on your beat up leather sofa with a bowl of popcorn on your lap. Halloween was queued up on your TV, the big light off with only the orange and yellow glow of the string lights you’d hung on your TV to illuminate the room. As Jay walked over with the entire pan, setting it down on the coffee table, their phone started to ring, the sound of a generic banjo filling the room. “You gotta change your ringtone.”

“It’s for the bit,” they said, tugging their phone out. “It’s Ezra.”

Your head whipped up to look at them, your eyes wide with interest as she pressed her screen to accept the call, putting it on speaker.

“Hey Ez, you’re on speaker,” they said.

“Hey, just calling to see what you’re up to,” he replied.

As Jay filled Ezra in on the movie marathon the two of you had been having since noon, you mindlessly shoveled popcorn into your mouth, watching the screen as though his face would appear if you willed it hard enough.

“Is that the girl you were telling me about?” he asked after hearing Jay mention you by name.

“Yeah, you two need to finally meet,” they said, giving you a wink and a nudge with their elbow.

“Well, I just got back in town and was going to invite you to meet me for a showing of Practical Magic in the park in an hour, but if she’s up for it, she can come and we can finally introduce ourselves properly.” Your eyes widened and head began to shake in a silent plea for them not to accept as Jay turned to look at you with a wide smirk, their amusement over your crush evident in their voice as they ignored your anxiousness and let him know that the two of you would be there before hanging up.

“Oh, I’m gonna puke,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as you let your head fall back against the sofa. “I don’t have any time to prepare myself! I don’t even—what do I even—fuck.”

“Jesus, it’s just Ezra. He’s just a forty-four year old man who’s scared of commitment, not the fuckin’ messiah,” they teased.

“Yeah…you’re right,” you nodded, taking a breath of composure before standing up to walk over to your closet. “Alright. Super chill. ‘Hey Ezra, totally haven’t been fantasizing about you for the last month or anything. Super chill to meet you.’”

“Oh lord. I really do not get straight people,” Jay sighed teasingly, and you gave her a cocked brow as you turned around.

“Who said I’m straight?”

The city had finally started to cool down, the brisk autumn breeze hitting your cheeks caused you to shiver as your navy knitted sweater did its mediocre job at keeping you warm while you walked through a lamplit Central Park with Jay at your side, their pale skin turning pink on their cheeks and at the tip of their nose.

The park was still full of life even in the pale moonlight; lovers strolled together hand in hand to the soundtrack of giggles from children on the playground as their parents looked on, or a few lonely souls sitting in contemplation on the park benches, wondering where they lost that childish joy. You liked to try and imagine their lives, the happiness and the sadness looming in their history weighing on them in a way you could only ever imagine and never feel. Sometimes if you thought enough about these faces without names, you could feel your heart breaking for them and tears would swell in your eyes, but tonight you couldn’t muster the energy to ruminate on anything but your own life—of the anxiety you felt over finally meeting this character you’d created in your mind.

“Oh, there he is.” Jay’s finger pointed at a park bench where a lonely looking man sat scrolling through his phone, the blue light glowing on his face. “Ez!”

Ezra looked up, a smile growing on his face as he stood, tucking his phone away into his back pocket.

“Jay bird,” he greeted them, pulling them in for a fatherly hug. “Missed ya.”

“Missed you too, old man,” they teased, pulling away to point at you.

“Hi,” you smiled, holding your hand out for him as you gave him your name.

“Ezra—nice to meet you.” You felt a stab of insecurity in your stomach as his eyes bounced across your features for a beat, suddenly feeling all-too aware of each flaw you picked apart in the mirror just that morning. “This isn’t a line, but the way your eyes are sparkling right now is making it hard to look away from you.”

“Oh?” was all you could manage, your heart’s quick patter making it hard to think of anything clever to say, Jay’s chuckle finally pulling his attention away.

“Quit it, she’s shy,” Jay scolded, swatting his shoulder playfully.

“Is that right?” he asked, one side of his mouth lifted in a smirk as he turned back to you.

“Unfortunately,” you blurted nervously, earning a deep, crackly chuckle from him that helped to warm you up better than the wool covering your body.

“Hang out with Jay’s crowd long enough and soon you won’t be,” he said, turning to Jay. “Let’s go find a place to sit.”

You walked beside Ezra, Jay on his other side, and found yourself counting each step and breath as his warmth radiated against your arm. You wanted to lean in, slide your arms beneath his leather jacket and hold him so close that you could hear the beat of his heart, but for now, you stuck to counting your steps.

“So fill me in,” he said, his elbow nudging yours. “Who are you?”

You took in a necessary breath and shrugged.

“Not sure yet,” you answered honestly. “I’ll be sure to let you know when I figure it out.”

Ezra chuckled and nodded, a permanent smile on his face as he kept his eyes forward.

“Well, tell me what you know so far,” he urged before pointing at an open spot in the grass in front of the large projector screen.

“Uh, well, I’m a writer—“

“See, that’s good information,” he grinned, shrugging off his backpack to unpack a blanket. “What do you write?”

“Some poetry, some fiction,” you said, watching as he and Jay laid out the blanket.

“I’m going to go get some food from concessions, you two want anything?” Jay asked.

“Yeah, just a beer,” Ezra said, tugging out a twenty and handing it to her. “And whatever our writer friend wants.”

You smiled at him before looking to Jay. “I’m okay, thank you. Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“No, you two get acquainted, I’ll be fine.”

You gave them a subtle look of terror, only earning a reassuring nudge of their head towards Ezra as he took his seat on the blanket.

“So you’re a writer,” Ezra said, his eyes following you as you awkwardly sat down at the furthest corner from him, crossing your legs to take up as little space as possible. “Is that how you met Jay?”

“No, I actually met her in your shop,” you said, finding the courage and confidence to meet his eyes.

“And we haven’t crossed paths yet?”

“Well, we sort of did once—the first time I came into the store, but you were leaving so it makes sense—“

“You must’ve caught me on a bad day,” he interrupted. “Those eyes aren’t the kind of eyes I’d normally forget.”

“Still not using a line?” you chuckled.

Ezra smiled, looking down at his lap before meeting your eyes again.

“Not a line if it’s sincere,” he said, shrugging with a smile as he turned to look around at the crowded park, each group talking amongst themselves like the world consisted of just them, just like it felt with you and Ezra. “Are you from the city?”

“No, I just moved here,” you said, continuing on about your hometown and the stark contrast in environment.

“How are you liking the change?” he asked, leaning back to rest against one elbow.

“It was overwhelming at first, but in a good way.”

“How do you mean?” he probed, full of sincere interest.

“Just…the thought that I could be anybody here—it’s overwhelming but an exciting kind of overwhelming. I’ve just been trying to figure out where I belong in the midst of all this energy.”

Ezra’s smile grew into a grin, his eyes batting fondly at you as he watched you mimic his position, your body now achingly closer to his than it had been just seconds prior.

“What about you?” you asked in a whisper, turning your eyes to face the projector screen that started to glow with the start of the movie.

“Too long of a story to tell right now,” he whispered back with a smile.

“Make room for me,” Jay said as they returned with two beers in one hand and a tray of nachos in the other, nudging their chin at you to scoot closer to Ezra. You obliged with both hesitance and eagerness, once again counting your breath as his arm brushed against yours. “Here, can you pass Ez his beer?”

“Sure,” you said, grabbing the cold bottle and handing over to Ezra who sat on your other side, his warm fingers brushing against yours as he accepted it.

“Thanks, honey,” he whispered, and although the endearment caused your head to buzz, it seemed to be something casual to him, as if he called all of his friends these pet names. A good chunk of you hoped that wasn’t the case.

After the movie, Jay made up some excuse about going over to a girl’s house, leaving Ezra to walk you to the subway, his jacket over your shoulders even though you insisted you were fine (you weren’t).

“So,” you said, breaking the silence between you as you walked through the park to get to the 96 Street Station to catch a subway headed for your neighborhood in Harlem. “Are you from here?”

“I am,” he nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Born and raised. My family is sort of…I guess we’re old money. Or, they were. I’m just a bookstore owner.”

“With more money than God,” you added, earning a laugh.

“I’m trying to get rid of it,” he replied, shrugging.

“You don’t like being rich?”

“I recognize it’s a very privileged problem to have,” he chuckled. “But no, I don’t really care for all of it. I just don’t see why one man with no kids, no family, should have so much while other people are struggling. So, I spend every single day trying to pawn it off on other people, try to help distribute the wealth.”

“How’s that working out?” you asked, your eyes fixed on his profile as you walked, the streetlamps illuminating his skin every few steps, bathing him in yellow glow.

“It’s a surprisingly difficult thing to accomplish, at least with an accountant like mine,” he chuckled. “Sometimes I just settle for not making any more money. I price my books specifically so I don’t make profit, I let people stay in the apartments my family owned rent free. My father’s rolling in his grave, I’m sure.”

“How did you guys get so rich?”

“Prospecting,” he said, glancing over at you. “My great-grandfather owned a lot of land that had a lot of minerals and stones, or…something. I never cared enough to ask questions.”

“What an odd life you live,” you teased, earning a playful nudge from his elbow as you rounded the fence to walk into the subway tunnel.

“Tell me more about you,” he prodded, keeping his body close to yours in a display of protection as a strange man began to stare at you too much for either of your liking. “What are you writing?”

“Well, it started as romance, but then I scrapped that once I started really thinking about the character and what she wanted. I figured it wasn’t love she craved. What she really wanted was to prove to her mother that she was capable of being loved. So, that led me to where I am now, just a story of a mother and a daughter and all the traumatic shit that goes into that relationship.”

“What a beautiful mind you’ve got,” he said, his eyes on you as you looked down at your shoes with a bashful smile. “Do you know how it ends? Do they heal? Or does it stay broken?”

“Well,” you lifted your eyes to meet his, a playful smirk on your face. “I guess you’ll have to wait for me to write and publish it to find out.”

“My best friend owns an indie publishing company,” he shrugged. “Just let me know when you’ve got it finished and I’ll help you get in contact with him.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—“

“I like helping people who are passionate about what they do,” he interjected. “And I can see how much you love what you do, it’s what makes your eyes sparkle like that, even in this shitty subway light.”

“Are you always this good with your words?” you asked, bumping your shoulder into his.

“I sure try to be,” he smiled.

“Well,” you lifted and dropped your eyebrows. “Makes it hard for a girl to tell if you’re just being friendly or if you’re flirting.”

Ezra studied you for a minute with that closed mouth smile that he always seemed to wear, his eyes bouncing across your features even when you looked away from him in a fluster.

“I’m not…a partner,” he said, a careful lilt to his voice. “I don’t believe in…lasting things, at least in lasting love. I can’t be a partner to you. I’m the guy people sleep with until they find their partner.”

“I’m not looking for a partner,” you said, unsure of where you found the courage. “So, if that’s what you’re worried about, don’t. I’m new to this city, to all of this. I don’t want to jump into anything, I just want to…I don’t know…live a little.”

“Well, here,” he said, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. “Let’s trade numbers and just…see what happens. No pressure, no expectations, just call me when you need a friend, or…something more if you feel like it.” He smiled. “Whenever you feel like it.”

You only grinned and nodded as you typed your number into his phone, feeling as though you’d stumbled onto some sort of prize you weren’t qualified to win. You tried to silence the voices inside that screamed at you for even daring to believe that a handsome, kind, self-aware, rich man like Ezra, with a world of opportunities at his fingertips, would want you. You knew that you had your own value, your own beauty and intrigue—you were a prize, too.

“Can I take the subway with you?” he asked as you handed his phone back. “Not—I’m not trying to follow you home or anything, I just don’t want to stop talking yet.”

“You want to ride all the way to Harlem and back with me? Just to talk?” you laughed.

“If you’d let me,” he smiled. “I think you’re interesting, and hard to read, and…well, I guess the best word for it is captivating.”

“Where does ‘beautiful’ fit in to all of that?” you joked.

“I knew you were beautiful the second I saw that sparkle in your eyes,” he said, his eyes flickering to your lips. “That’s not what captivates me, that’s obvious. What I find uniquely interesting is your mind, your thoughts and where they come from, and especially the way you string those thoughts into words. That’s…that’s captivating.”

With no room to argue and no words to describe what his words meant to you, you offered him a simple smile and nod before the two of you were filing into the subway, that dirty tile floor becoming holy ground in the matter of a second.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #ezra x you #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #ezra x reader #fade into you #pedro pascal fan fiction #pedro pascal smut

[hannuhbee]

𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗼𝗳 𝘂𝘀

steve makes a list of romantic clichés to do with you.

pairing; steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings; fluff, steve being a sweetheart, friends to lovers, pet names (sweetheart, bub), skimmed through so not fully edited

wc; 2.6k

“hi.” steve said as he greeted you at your door. the folded piece of paper felt like it weighed a million bricks in his pocket. “you ready?

you tilt your head. “for?”

“i’m taking you out, remember?”

you shake your head. “nope.”

“well, i am. get a jacket, it might be cold.” he turns on his heel and walks back to his car.

you shake your head laughing again, grabbing a light jacket. it was already cold, nearing october. 

right as you walk out, a large gust of cold air hits your face. you can hear steve laughing. he’s leaning on his car.

“ready now?”

you nod. he opens the passenger side door and lets you climb in. “you’re such a gentleman, where’s the steve harrington i know?” you tease.

“i’ve always been a gentleman, you just need to be more observant.”

“right. care to tell me what’s going on?”

he starts the car and begins to drive. the windows are down, letting the cold air in. it’s nice, would be nicer if the air was warmer though. “just thought we’d do something fun. we haven’t really gotten to hang out with just us in a while.”

you nod. “that sounds nice, i think we both need that.” you laugh.

since steve had taken dustin under his wing, the whole group of kids had followed. in the past month, you hadn’t seen steve had at all without a kid following close behind. you loved the kids, but it was nice to have just steve for a little bit. 

“have you heard of that new diner that opened up right outside of indianapolis?” he asks. you nod. “thought we’d go there, share a milkshake or something.”

you felt your heart swell at the thought of sharing a milkshake with steve. the closeness made you dizzy. “that sounds nice.” you repeat, only your voice was smaller. 

steve was never one to shy away from touching you, as he always had a hand on the small of your back or an arm around your shoulder. this was no different, as he placed his hand on your thigh. you hoped he didn’t hear your breathing hitch. “you look scared.” he said, glancing at you. you were driving through a forest, no sign of life anywhere. “i’m not going to kill you, i promise.”

“i didn’t think that, steve. just happy that we’re doing something is all.” you smile. he smiles back, that classic harrington smile. 

“did you know that dustin likes you more than me?” he says, laughing.

“have you seen the way that kid looks at you? it’s like you would’ve hung the stars or something. kid worships you.”

steve smiles. “he talks about you a lot. says you’re real pretty.” and that you’d be good for me. steve doesn’t say that.

“yeah, he’s real sweet.”

“i agree, you know. you are real pretty. maybe a star yourself.”

you hit his shoulder. banter like that was usual for you. platonic flirting you’d call it. “oh shut up, harrington.”

“oh no i’m not lying, swear. you could be a famous actress or something.”

“you flatter me, now focus on driving.”

he does as told, eyes fully on the road. 

you wished you could pull your eyes off him, but you couldn’t. “you’re pretty.”

he glances at you, then his eyes are back on the road. “what?”

“oh yeah, like phoebe cates.”

“you’re evil.” he shakes his head. he doesn’t deny it, he thinks it’s funny. he thinks you’re funny.

his thumb draws circles on your thigh. 

“and,” he draws it out for dramatic effect. “we’re here!”

you open the door before he can run over and open it for you. “again, evil! can i not continue my gentlemanly efforts?”

you shake your head. “nope. c’mon.”

he jogs after you, placing his hand on your back. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel like his hand burned you. a good burn, though. 

the diner was quaint, cherry red and cream seats. music was playing softly in the background, a song you didn’t know. very few people were eating. 

“hi there! you can take a seat anywhere.” the waitress at the counter smiles. “i’ll get you guys in a couple minutes.”

steve leads you to a seat in the back. “it’s nice here, isn’t it?”

you nod. “it’s cute.” 

there was vibrant colored lights overhead, lighting steve up beautifully. “you look nice in the lights.”

“as do you, harrington. like a christmas tree.”

“hi, sorry for the wait.” the waitress apologizing, handing you and steve menus. “what can i get started for you guys?”

“uh, a coffee please.” you smile. 

“just a water. i think we’ll need time to look over everything.”

“of course! i’ll get those drinks over quick.” the waitress begins to walk away, then turns back. “i recommend the peach cobbler, it’s very good.”

steve loves peach cobbler. his face lights up at that. “thank you.”

“i already know what you’re going to say, and yes. we should get it.”

“i’m not hungry, i think we should just skip to milkshakes and cobbler.” he suggests.

you smile. “read my mind.” 

your hand was on the table, so steve reached out and grabbed it. 

steve, though usually touchy, was even more touchy. it felt strange, but not bad. it made you have a ting of hope that he felt the same way. you shook your head slightly at the thought. it was just steve being steve, nothing else. 

“here’s your coffee, and your water. have you guys decided yet?” the waitress pulls you out of your thoughts. 

“can i get a strawberry milkshake with two straws, and then a large piece of that peach cobbler?” he asks, smiling politely. his hand never left yours.

“of course, you won’t regret it!”

she puts her hand on his shoulder, something that usually wouldn’t make you jealous, but it did. it felt like someone set your heart alight. 

when she walked away, you pulled your hand from steves and wiped it on your pants. “she was nice.”

“she was.”

“and pretty.” you say. your voice came out a little strained.

steve looked confused. “i mean, sure. what’s up?”

“nothing, just... observing.”

steve’s foot nudged yours. “can i hold your hand again?”

someone had poured water on your burning heart. “yeah, sorry. i’m just tired.” you were tired, but that wasn’t the reason you were acting strange.

you put your hand back in his, and he smiled. steve looked so pretty when he smiled that you wanted to reach out and feel if he was real. he looked unreal, and the vibrant lights only made it seem more so. 

“do you have to be home tonight?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over your hand. 

you shook your head. “my parents are gone, new mexico i think.”

steve knew all too well what it was like to be alone. that was only partially why he wanted to take you out. “good, because i had no intention on bringing you back.” he didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did. “no, wait. i’m not going to kill you i swear.”

you laughed. “are you saying you have more things for us to do?”

“yeah, got a list and everything.”

the list was something robin had come up with for the most part. she suggested that it be created and what was on it. steve had come to her for help on how to ask you out, and robin being robin, suggested that he go all out. 

the list read;

1. share a milkshake with TWO (!!) straws

2. stargaze at lover’s lake (no funny business)

3. dance to the radio (pls for the love of god pick something good)

4. confess undying love 

5. live happily ever after (update robin)

steve only wrote number 1, robin wrote the rest. robin ordered that she was to be informed of how everything went right after it all happened.

“can i see the list?”

“no!” steve shouted, a little too loud. “no, sorry. it’s top secret.”

“i see, so you are going to kill me.”

he hung his head on down, his head on the table. you could tell he was laughing because his shoulders were bouncing up and down.

“yeah, actually i am, you caught me.” he deadpans. 

“wow... what an honor to killed by the steve harrington. put that on my gravestone. ‘death by harrington’.”

he laughed, then stopped as he noticed the waitress coming back. he didn’t want to let go of your hand, so he slipped out so much as to only touch your fingertips. “thanks so much.”

the waitress put down the milkshake with two straws, then the peach cobbler. she looked at your hands, then said, “sure.”

“she turned sour real quick.” you mumble. 

“yeah, it’s whatever. this looks so good...” steve was practically drooling. 

you put your straw in the milkshake and took a sip. it was perfect, best milkshake you’d ever had. “oh my god, try this now!”

so steve did. “you’re kidding. best milkshake in indiana definitely.”

you nodded, agreeing. you leaned in again to take another sip. steve leaned in too. he was so close, you were sure you could count every freckle on his face. you wished you could, as he pulled away. 

“you fall in love?” he teases. you were still leaning in.

your face heated up and felt like it was going to melt off. “nah, you’re not that pretty.” you shrugged. you felt as if you played that off well. 

“that’s not what you said in the car.” he mentioned, leaning in again. 

your mouth was open, and it felt like your throat was closing up. you couldn’t reply. 

“i’m just joking, bub.” he laughed. 

“god, i hate you.” 

steve just laughed, and began eating the cobbler. “mm... try this.” he put a little bit on his fork and held it out to you. 

you ate it, sighing after. “this is my new favorite diner, i’ve just decided.”

“we’ll come back, i promise.” you knew he was telling the truth, steve would one day pick you up and come here again.

as you two finished eating, you noticed it was beginning to be night. “i think we should get going.” you nodded to the window. the sun was setting, a beautiful shade of pink filled the sky.

“yeah, i’ll pay.” he suggested. as you began to voice your complaint, he shushed you and pushed you to the door. “i pay, you wait in the car.”

“gentleman.” you muttered before leaving. steve had pushed his car keys into your hands.

after he paid, he waved to you from inside, and pointed to the bathroom.

you nodded. 

when steve got into the bathroom, a small one person one, he took out the folded note from his pockets and used a worn down pencil to cross off number one. “phew... okay. robin you better be right about this.” he whispered.

it hadn’t been obvious to steve that you liked him. dustin and the gang always told him you liked him, that you couldn’t have single conversation where he was not brought up. robin even voiced her opinion, saying “you are an idiot, dingus. it’s so obvious it’s almost painful that you don’t realize it. maybe you need glasses.”

once he left the diner, he smiled at the sight of you with your feet up on the dashboard. he heard the faint sound of the radio as he got closer. 

“hey, bub. are you cold?” he asked when he got into the drivers seat. 

you nodded. “a little.” your light jacket wasn’t doing anything to help.

“here.” steve tugged off his jacket and tossed it to you. “you’ve said i was like a human heater before, so i’ll be fine.” that was true, but also, steve just really liked seeing you in his clothes. 

“thanks.” absentmindedly, you breathed in as you put it on. it smelled like him, almost overwhelmingly so. “where to now?”

“secret.” he smirked, then started driving.

“lover’s lake, seriously?” you questioned. you had known steve long enough to know that he took every girl to lover’s lake. it was his place. 

he laughed, uneasy. “not for that reason, bub. you see how dark it is?”

you nodded. “i don’t get what that has to do with an-”

“stargazing. lover’s lake is perfect for stargazing. plus, people get crazy out here, water’s nasty.”

that made you laugh. you felt a little better, though you still wondered if steve brought any other girls out to stargaze. those thoughts were pushed away as steve opened your door and held out his hand. you took it.

“the stars are really vibrant.” you admitted. 

“it’s beautiful isn’t it?” he asked, almost silently. his voice was so soft you almost couldn’t focus on anything else. 

you nodded. 

lover’s lake was silent, you couldn’t even hear the water moving. every so often, you’d hear a bird make a noise, or a leaf would fall. 

steve had gotten a quilt out of his trunk and put it down. he sat down first, motioning for you to sit down next to him. 

your thigh pressed up against his, the contact making your skin burn yet again. 

“you know what robin said?” he broke the silence after a few minutes. 

“what?”

he took a deep breath. “she said that you felt the same way.”

it felt weird, him saying it that you liked him.

“uh... i guess.” your voice was so small steve had to lean in to hear you better. 

your mind had skipped over the fact that he said, “the same way.”

“hey.” he touched your face. it was different than the thousand other times he did it. 

“yeah?”

“i feel the same way.”

you laughed, shakily. your hand found his on your face, leaning into his touch. “so...”

“so, i think that was me confessing my feelings for you.” you both laughed. the note read, “confess undying love”, but it was all the same. “can i?”

he looked at your lips, you looked at his. you leaned in at the same time, and it felt like a thousand fireworks went off in your brain. you had always thought that if you kissed someone you truly liked, that your whole world would change, the world would become a little more vibrant, colors more saturated. you were just shocked that it was true.

“well.” he said, pulling away.

“well?”

“i think i like you.” the smallest smile on his face appeared. 

“wish you’d have told me sooner, harrington.”

he laughed, then got up and ran to his car. “just wait there!” he called out. 

he turned on the car, then the radio. it was perfect, the song that came on.

and i wanna spend some time with you.

“c’mon, sweetheart, let’s dance.” he said, pulling you up and grabbing your waist.

you didn’t know how to dance, neither did steve. you were both stepping on each others toes, but it was alright. you could write it off as romantic.

just the two of us

we can make it if we try

“just the two of us.” you sung.

“just the two of us.” steve joined in. 

you had gotten the hang of the dancing after a while, almost perfect near the end of the song. 

just the two of us.

the song ended. steve was staring at you, his nose almost touching yours. 

“that was so cheesy of you.” you sighed. you loved it.

“get used to it, bub.” he said, peppering your face with kisses. 

steve could cross out three things from the list. he couldn’t wait to tell robin.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fluff

[kanazawa-division]

ARB Birthday Special: Joey Kurusu

~~ October 9th ~~

“The dead cannot cry out for justice. It is a duty of the living to do so for them.”

Login Lines:

“Oh shit! Oh shit! I’m late for work! Haaah…why didn’t my alarms go off?! I set up six of them! Man, I knew I shouldn’t stayed up all night gaming! Wataru’s gonna have my a-huh?”

“What’s this? A present? And it’s for me!…Oh crap, so that’s why my alarms didn’t go off, it’s my birthday, haha!”

Voice Lines:

“Damn, I’m 24 now. I know it’s not a huge milestone or anything but after all the shit I went through and coming close to death more times than I would like to admit, I’ve come to learn that time is very precious and I’m thankful for every minute, hour, day, and year that I’m alive….wow, that was hella sappy lmao.”

“Everyone at the station sent me a happy birthday! Even the Narcotics Unit and those guys don’t talk to anyone! Man, it feels like yesterday I was just joining the force, I’m glad to make such nice and cool friends.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I just got a text from my dad, he wished me a happy birthday….’why do I look angry?’ I’m not angry! Really, I’m not! It’s just….this is the first time he’s reached out to me in four years…yeah…I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Hahaha! Oh man, my mom is hilarious! She sent me a book a puns….a book of police puns, hehe. Oh, I am definitely going to use these on Wataru and Kyler, maybe this is the day I finally get a smile out of both of them! Wish me luck!”

“Hey Shanny….I’m sorry I haven’t visited in a while, work’s got me in a chokehold right now, especially with all the DRB stuff happening…but I haven’t forgotten you, I would never forget you. I hope you’re doing okay wherever you are, I hope that you’re happy, your big bro is working really hard to find whoever took you away, they’ll get what’s coming to them, I promise.”

“Sorry guys but I’m spending the day with my lovely Mamoru! It’s been a while since we’ve been on a date, I know it’s my birthday but I wanna make this special for him….Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, call me a simp, whatever, I’d gladly be his Tier 3 Sub!….Wait-“

“Wataru! Buddy! You’re here! And here I thought you forgot about little ol’ me!…Ouch! That’s so mean! C’mon man, we’ve known each other for how long?…You’re so cold Wataru, you’re lucky I’m here to thaw that frozen aura of yours, otherwise you’d never have any friends haha, ooooh! A gift! From you! Let’s see what it is!”

“It’s a….a….okay, I’m stumped, what even is this?….Ohhhhh…This is…nice….I guess…Hey! My desk is not messy! Maybe to you but I can easily find whatever I need no problem! It’s called ‘organized chaos’, dude, there’s a method to the madness…Holy fuck, you’re old-“

“Kyler! My dude! Good to see you, man! Feels like it’s been forever since we last hung out…that’s still too long! C’mon dude, not only are we teammates but we’re friends! We should hang out outside of our jobs! Hm? You got something for me? Your bestie? Aw, you shouldn’t have…I’m joking, gimme.”

“Whooooa, sick! A new game! Deadpool huh? This is a character from your American comic books, right? Niiiiiice! I’ve been wanting to play more western games, this is just what I wanted! Thanks Ky! We definitely have to play this together, a game night with the boys! It’ll be awesome!”

Wataru Lines:

“Hello Joey, happy birthday…to be honest, I had completely forgot it was your birthday and even when I remembered, I originally wasn’t going to do anything…*sigh* For the umpteenth time, we are not friends, we are coworkers, I don’t know why that hasn’t clicked for you…Good grief, just take this.”

“It’s a desk organizer, something I noticed that you desperately needed ever since you started working here. It’s irritating to pass by your desk and see all sorts of junk everywhere, I implore you to use it, there is only so many times I can see your Hatsuno Miki pencils and notebooks lying around so haphazardly.”

Kyler Lines:

“Sup Joey, happy birthday, man…we literally just solved a case four days ago, alright, alright, you might have a point. Speaking of, I got something for you, I figured you would like it….fine then, I’ll give it to someone else…yeah, yeah, you’re welcome by the way.”

“It’s the Deadpool video game, I had it imported all the way from America to here so you better enjoy it…Nice, I’m glad you like it, I’ll admit, you do kinda remind me of him sometimes…but without the regeneration abilities, ducked up face, and is somehow more annoying. *Sigh* Y’know what? Sure, just text me when and I’ll be there, happy birthday, Jo.”

#hypmic #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic #hypnosis mic oc #hypnosis microphone #joey kurusu #wataru sasaki #kyler aaron #justice shield #happy birthday joey 2023 #arb birthday special #alternative rap battle #arb

[gothdaddyissues]

The Devil Came To A Small Town

Chapter Five available on Ao3

or under the cut (~7000 words)

PUMPKIN SPICE LATTES - October 1st has arrived and the pumpkin spice latte has returned. A trip to the coffee shop ruins Izzy's day, while Terzo and an over-caffeinated Ghoul cause trouble for Copia.

TW: Public freakout/bullying/discrimination (with some payback)

Tags: OC female, Cardinal Copia, Papa III/Terzo, Dewdrop Ghoul, a little bit of Cirrus Ghoulette, a smidgen of Papa II/Secondo (he angy), OC male, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Ministry Hijinks, Idiots in Love, Karens in the wild, swears and cursings, No Beta (we die like Terzo), Google Translate Italiano

Catch up here: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

⛧⛧⛧⛧

October 1

Izzy yawned into the back of her hand. She was still exhausted. She had tossed and turned after waking up from that dream, unable to fully drift off again. She couldn’t get the images - and the feelings, and the fucking questions - out of her mind.

It’s nothing. Not a big deal. It’s just your brain being stupid. It’s because you saw him yesterday, and you were at the Abbey reminiscing about the old days, you were listening to that music on your walk, you haven’t gotten laid in years… Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about him . It was just a dream… a dream in which you were getting absolutely railed. Dommed. By Copia. Copia , of all people. Awkward, shy Copia. With his face painted like a skull and calling himself Papa for some reason. Like a Daddy thing? Fuck, he was so Daddy, so sexy… hung like a… STOP IT. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not real, he’s not really like that. Is he? What if…? Shit. Why am I dreaming about him? It has to mean something…

Round and round and round in her head until her alarm went off. And while she was in the shower. And even now, sitting at her kitchen table finishing her breakfast and drinking her tea. She had her iPad out, open on a drawing app, and she was lightly sketching the painted skull face from her dreams. 

While she didn’t consider herself an artist by any means, her skills were adequate thanks to Ari’s teaching in the past. The features of the face were passable and she had the paint pattern in the right spots. She even took the time to make one eye green and one eye white. She stared at it for a while, adjusting things here and there until she sighed and gave up. At the top of the drawing, she wrote “PAPA?” in big letters.

No more time for obsessing, she had to get her day started. Izzy snapped the cover on her tablet closed and paced across the apartment, shoving the iPad in her messenger bag hanging by the front door. She was full of anxious energy. It was another beautiful autumn morning, perfect for a walk, but she didn’t dare. She couldn’t be certain she wouldn’t wander off to the Abbey again since she was so irrationally drawn to this man. The fates were practically throwing the two of them together. And that was the absolute last thing she wanted to deal with today. She prayed she wouldn’t see him today at all - she couldn’t handle it.

She walked back to her bedroom to grab her phone, stopping at the altar in her living room, remembering the spell she had cast the other night. Copia’s business card was still there under the rose quartz crystal. She pulled it out and held it between her fingers, feeling the energy dancing around her. It was like the electricity she felt when she was in his presence. Those intoxicating sensations from her dream were twisting in her brain and her belly as if she were under his thrall…

Snapping out of it, she waved the card grumpily in front of the large statue of Lillith keeping watch over her sacred space. “Girl, please help me out here,” Izzy said to it, “Help me figure out what the fuck is going on with this man. I’m open to receive your guidance.” She tilted back the base of the statue and slid Copia’s card underneath it. “And please give me strength to get through this day.” 

It was just past 9:30. She needed Ari to come into the store early today, but had waited until a little later in the morning to call him so she wouldn’t wake him up. He answered it on the second ring.

“Hey hey, good morning,” he said cheerfully.

“You’re awfully cheerful this early,” she remarked, suspicious. “What’s up?”

“Whaddya mean ‘What’s up?’ It’s October 1st! That’s what’s up.”

Izzy had been so preoccupied this morning she’d completely forgotten. “Oh yeah… Happy First Day of Halloween then!”

Ari laughed. “The most wonderful time of the year! And, you know what else that means?”

“Ummm…. No?”

“Pumpkin Spice Lattes are back, baby!” He sounded jubilant.

Izzy groaned. “Ugggh, god, really? You’re really that excited about cinnamon and nutmeg in your coffee?”

“No no no, it’s so much more than that, Izz,” he explained. “It is the essence of Fall in a cup full of steaming hot deliciousness. It’s like mainlining Jack o’Lanterns right into your soul. Like bonfires, and haybales, and crispy leaves under your feet…”

She was laughing now. “Jesus, Ari, it’s coffee . Relax,” she teased.

“Hey, let me enjoy my Christian Girl Autumn, okay?”

“Okay, fine, fine,” she giggled. “But first, could you maybe come into the store a bit early today and open up for me? I have to go to the bank to do a deposit and get some change for the register. I want to get it done first thing.”

“Yeah, sure. No problem!” 

“Cool, thank you.”

“Since you’ll be at the bank, which is right next door to the coffee shop… maybe you could pick up a PSL for me on your way back? You know, just to thank me for coming in early?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” she sighed. “You’re so basic… but I love you anyways.”

“I love you too,” he said. “See you soon.”

⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧

The coffee shop was busy - apparently, Ari wasn’t the only one excited about the return of the Pumpkin Spice Latte. Isabelle took a spot in the line and pulled her phone out of her pocket, figuring she’d scroll through her socials to kill time. 

One of the features of living in this small town was she knew most of the people there, or at least who they were. Taylor, Nick, and Kayla behind the counter. Jim the insurance agent in line behind her. A couple of her regular customers. Penny from the grocery store. Affluent realtor Diane Francis and her pseudo-socialite friend Giselle in line in front of her.

But with that knowledge came the ordeal of being known. Instead of burying her nose in her phone in peace, she had to exchange ‘hellos’ and ‘how are yous’ and polite small talk with those she was friendly with while trying to ignore those she wasn’t. She turned her attention back to her phone screen to avoid the disdainful glances from the two women ahead of her. Because, despite the fact she was a successful business owner and benevolent member of the community, Izzy was still considered persona non grata with the town’s wealthy elite. Her beliefs were too ‘unconventional’ and her past too ‘immoral’ to be worthy of their approval. She avoided them whenever she could; unfortunately not possible today.

The women turned away and resumed their gossip. “So, they’ve taken over the whole Abbey property,” Diane told her friend, “Can you believe it? They fooled us all! They claim to be a Church when there is nothing pious about them. They’re worshiping…” she lowered her voice only slightly, her eyes shifting back to Izzy for a moment, “... the Devil !”

Giselle gave a nervous laugh as if it were a joke. “No! You can’t be serious?”

“Dead serious. They’re called the Church of Emeritus… look them up! It’s right there on the website. They talk about ‘the Dark One.’ Rituals. Upside-down crosses. Satanists. In our town! It’s disgusting,” Diane complained.

“What can we do?” Giselle seemed panicked. “This is unacceptable! That sort of thing isn’t welcome here.”

The two of them continued nattering and Izzy tried to tune them out. But she was wary. These women and their well-connected friends could easily cause trouble for the Church and its members if they wanted - especially Diane and her real estate developer husband Andrew. Between them, they owned the most property in town and used their money and influence to control so much of what happened here. Crossing them was dangerous, especially when they had the mayor and police department in their pockets. 

Anxious and angry thoughts were swirling in Izzy’s head. Who the fuck do they think they are? Why do they get to decide who’s worthy of being here or not? These assholes might organize protests, or harass them, or encourage vandalism, or wage some hate campaign… I have to warn Sister Imperator. And Copia… Oh fuck, Copia. Don’t think about him. Not now…

The sound of her name snapped her back to reality. Taylor, the barista, was calling out to her: “Izzy? You ready to order?” The busybodies in line ahead had already ordered and stepped off to the side. Izzy was too preoccupied to notice.

“Oh, hey Tay. Yeah, ummm… two Venti Pumpkin Spice Lattes, please,” Izzy said sheepishly. “Sorry, I spaced out there for a second.”

“No worries, I know it’s crazy in here today,” Taylor said, giving Izzy the total. As she was paying, Taylor leaned in close to her. “Is what they’re saying about Windermere Abbey true? Did a Satanic church really move in?”

“Yep, it’s true,” Izzy replied, keeping her voice low, “I’ve had a couple of them in my store already.”

“Really? Are they cool? Have you gone to one of their… services?”

“Yeah, they seem like cool people. But I haven’t been to a service yet. I’m sure I will sometime, though.”

Taylor was wide-eyed with excitement. She was a gorgeous young woman, with vibrant red hair, glamorous makeup, and elaborate tattoos. She was a regular at Izzy’s shop and a devotee of the occult. Izzy wasn’t the least bit surprised she’d be interested in what the Church of Emeritus had to offer. “I’m gonna check them out!” 

“You definitely should!” Izzy encouraged. “Let me know if you do.” She moved aside to join the group of people at the pick-up counter, perching on the window ledge to wait until they called her name.

Diane and Gisele sat nearby, their conversation about the Abbey still going. The customers waiting alongside them were an uncomfortable captive audience. 

“We could have bought that property, you know,” Diane said, flipping the ends of her blonde hair behind her shoulders. “We seriously considered it. But it would have cost four times the asking price to fix it up. I don’t understand why it wasn’t just torn down. It’s a rat-infested dump! Appropriate for the people who bought it, I suppose.”

Izzy knew she should stay silent. Bite her tongue, get her coffee, and leave. But the urge to defend her new friends was too strong. “It’s not a dump,” she said, as calmly as she could, “They’ve fixed it all up and it looks beautiful. Completely renovated inside and out.” 

A few people perked up when they heard Izzy’s voice, turning their heads to see how Diane was going to respond to this. She stared down her nose: “Of course you would defend them,” she scoffed, her voice dripping with contempt.

“I’m not defending anyone,” Izzy shot back. “Just stating a fact.”

“Are we talking to you?” Giselle snapped. “Mind your own business.” 

“It’s everyone’s business. We should be grateful someone went through all the trouble and expense of saving a piece of our town’s history.” Izzy was regretting this, knowing it would not end well, but it was too late now. “Better than putting an ugly condo building or a strip mall shopping plaza there in its place.” 

She saw the look of shock on Diane’s face. But the woman composed herself quickly, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at Izzy “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you insinuating something?”

“I know people on the Heritage Committee,” Izzy said, “They saw the proposal you submitted when the property went up for sale. You and your husband wanted the Abbey demolished so you could build there.”

“And what’s wrong with that? More amenities and conveniences mean more people stay and spend their money in town, rather than running off to the city. Modernizing is a good thing. It’s called progress, honey ,” she replied, smug and patronizing.

“It couldn’t have been that good of a thing if your offer was rejected,” Izzy countered.

“Well, that was a mistake on their part. The entire property has been a den of filth and depravity since the convent left. Burn it down and salt the earth.”

“What a horrible thing to say.” Izzy was fuming. “It’s a beautiful historic property that was worth saving. You’re just bitter because you didn’t get what you wanted.”

That did it. She could see the anger in Diane’s eyes as she stepped closer, pointing her bejeweled finger in Izzy’s face. “You wanna know what I’m bitter about? Weirdos and freaks like them - and like you - coming into my town and spreading your sick, godless beliefs. Since you’re so friendly with the Satan worshippers, why don’t you take all your spellbooks, and your crystal balls, and your jars full of bat wings and newt eyes, and move your profane little store down to the Abbey and off our main street? I’m sure they’re already your best customers,” she spat, “ We don’t want you here .”

Izzy flinched and lowered her gaze to the floor, humiliated into silence by this awful woman’s bullying. She bit her bottom lip to stop herself from lashing out with angry words. She wanted to give this woman a piece of her mind, but it was pointless. She shouldn’t have gotten herself involved in the first place. She saw Diane move away out of the corner of her eye, quite satisfied with herself.

“Izzy! Two PSLs for Izzy!” Nick the barista called out.

“What? Hey, no no no,” Diane stomped over to the pick-up counter. “Those are ours. We ordered before her!”

“She gets hers first because she’s nicer than you,” Nick snapped, motioning to Izzy to come up and claim the order.

“Excuse me?!” Diane was livid . “Don’t you know who I am?”

Nick rolled his eyes, not about to put up with this woman’s bullshit. “Yes Karen , I know who you are. You’ll get your coffee in a minute. We’re very busy today, as you can see.”

“My name is not Karen. And I want to speak to your manager. Now .”

“The manager isn’t available at the moment, unfortunately.” Nick was so very smooth and calm. “Also, the manager is my mother, AND she’s a regular at Izzy’s store. When I tell her what you said, you’ll be lucky if she doesn’t ban you for harassing our customers.”

“Harassing?! Me? But… but… She started it!” Diane sputtered.

Izzy took the opportunity to grab the two coffees from the counter and slink away while the argument continued and before Diane could yank them out of her hands. She glanced back to Taylor at the cash register, giving her a nod of thanks. Taylor shooed her away, mouthing “Go, go!” 

She made a beeline to the exit, past the long line of people waiting to place their orders, her eyes on the ground. All she wanted was to escape with a smidgen of dignity left. She got to the door when someone stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop and look up.

It was a silver-masked man from the Church of Emeritus. Izzy studied him for a moment before realizing it was not the same one who had been at the shop with Cardinal Copia. This one was shorter and leaner. She felt a gentle hand on her arm - not his, but someone beside her, also in a silver mask, only this one carved with female features. She looked at Izzy with worried eyes, tilting her head in concern.

“I’m okay,” Izzy whispered to her, understanding what she was trying to communicate. “Thank you.”

The woman nodded, turning to her companion and giving him a quick nod as well. He opened the door for Izzy like a gentleman.

“Thanks,” she said to him. “But watch out for her,” she motioned to Diane, still there waiting for her coffee, “She’s a nasty one.”

⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧

Izzy hurried down the sidewalk with one coffee in each hand, her pace as quick as she could manage without spilling hot liquid all over herself. She took deep breaths as she walked, trying to soothe the anxiety tumbling around inside her head. It was only a short trip back to the store, but at this point, it felt like miles. Embarrassed, shamed, singled out - she just wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.

There were footfalls behind her, speeding up to match her pace. She panicked. Oh shit, it’s her, isn’t it? She’s gonna yell at me in the street, she’s gonna throw hot coffee in my face…

“Izzy?” a male voice called out to her. “Izzy, wait up!” It was Jim, the insurance agent. He had been in line behind her and obviously saw the whole incident.

“Oh, Jim! It’s you,” she sighed, relieved. “I was worried it was Diane Francis chasing me down.”

He laughed. “Nah, she wouldn’t dare. Nick and Taylor were still giving her shit when I left, and the crowd was turning on her.”

“Damn, I’m sorry I missed that.” Izzy couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at the thought.

“You don’t mind me walking with you, do you?” he asked. 

His office was just a block past her shop so she could hardly refuse. “No! No, of course not,” she said, “I don’t mind at all.”

Their pace slowed to something more comfortable, and Jim took a small sip of his coffee as they walked. “You alright?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose. I should have just shut my mouth and ignored them, huh? I made an ass of myself.”

“No, you didn’t,” Jim said, “It’s about time someone stood up to them and their sanctimonious Boomer crap. They can’t keep getting away with treating people like garbage.”

“Well, as long as they have all the money, and the land, and the mayor wrapped around their finger, they will,” Izzy lamented.

They came to the intersection of Main and Richmond Streets. Izzy’s shop was on the corner across the road. “Thanks for walking with me, Jim. Good to see you,” she said.

“You too, Izzy. I hope you know that most people don’t agree with her. About anything. But especially about you. I don’t know anyone here who doesn’t think you’re an awesome person. Don’t let what she said get to you.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “And don’t let it ruin your day, okay?”

“Thank you, I’ll try. See ya,” she called as she crossed the road. Jim gave her a little wave and went on his way.

The front door swung open as she approached. Ari had been waiting for her to return with his treat, and he was smiling ear to ear as she entered the shop, almost yanking the cup out of her hand.

“Coffee coffee coffee coffee…” he purred, before taking his first sip and sighing blissfully. “Ahhhh, yaassss. I’ve been waiting almost a whole year for this!”

“Good morning to you too,” she muttered. She left her coffee cup and messenger bag on the cash counter and continued into the back room of the shop, shrugging off her jacket as she went.

“Hmph, someone’s in a foul mood,” Ari observed, leaning on the office doorframe, “You should try some pumpkin spice. That will cheer you up.”

“No thanks. You can have them both. I don’t have the stomach for it right now.”

“Why not?” He followed behind as she came back to the counter to empty rolls of change out of her bag. “What’s the matter? What happened?”

She couldn’t hide it - Ari knew her too well. “I got harassed by Diane Francis and her minion Gisele while I was at the coffee shop,” she admitted with a sigh.

“WHAT?” Ari gasped, almost choking on his drink, “Why!?”

“Because they were talking shit about the Church of Emeritus: ‘Oh no, devil worshippers in our town! Whatever shall we do?’ And I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, so we got into it. She gave me the usual godless heathen spiel, she called us all freaks and weirdos, and told me that I wasn’t ‘wanted here.’ Wouldn’t’ve bothered me so much if it wasn’t in front of a shop full of people.” Izzy shook her head. “Embarrassing as hell.”

“Fuck those crusty old bitches,” he growled. “Dammit, Izz… It’s my fault, I’m sorry. I’m the one that made you go there.” He pulled her into a hug and squeezed her tight.

“Hey, no, it’s not your fault. I should’ve known better than to engage with them. It’s not like they’ve never talked shit to me before.” 

He held her for several long moments before perking up. “Hey! We should hex them!” he suggested. “They deserve it.”

Izzy couldn’t help but laugh. Ari’s comforting presence and sense of humor always made things better. She leaned into his embrace and felt the tension in her body melt away. “Yes, they do. But I don’t want to give them another thought. Let karma have its way with them.”

He pulled away from her a bit to look into her eyes. “Aww… no hexing?” he asked, disappointed.

“No. No hexing.”

“But can I still drink both coffees?” 

“Yes,” she said, untangling from his embrace and giving him a playful nudge, “You’ll enjoy it more than I will.” Izzy turned back to the cash register to finish refilling the cash drawer. “You’re gonna be buzzing from all that caffeine though.”

Ari took another long sip of his coffee and smiled, giving her a mischievous wink. “I’m okay with that.”

“I should probably give the Church the heads up about Diane Francis and all her friends. They could make things pretty miserable for them.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agreed. “Gives you an excuse to talk to your sexy Cardinal friend, right?”

And just like that, Copia was at the forefront of her brain again.

Oh fuck…

⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧

“I have never been treated so poorly in my life!” the angry blonde woman yelled. “My lawyer will hear about this.”

“You’re gonna call your lawyer ? About coffee ?” the male barista replied, stunned by the stupidity of her statement.

Cirrus and Dewdrop gave each other the side-eye, annoyed but not surprised by an entitled human’s behavior. It definitely wasn’t the first time they had encountered such a thing, but for once it was not directed at them.

“Yes! This is discrimination!” she continued, eliciting scoffs and exasperated groans from some of the other customers in the shop.

“Aww… poor rich white lady, such a victim,” Dew muttered under his breath.

Cirrus gave him a light swat on the shoulder. “Shhh,” she whispered, “Someone will hear you.”

One of the female baristas placed two cups on the pick-up counter and said: “Diane! Two PSLs for Diane!”

“Finally!” Diane huffed, rudely grabbing the cups and handing one to her companion. “Terrible service. I’m never coming back here again!”

The male barista dismissed her: “Yeah, you’ve said that before. See you tomorrow - have the day you deserve, ma’am!”

Dewdrop found the entire incident endlessly amusing. Nothing like a good public freakout. He knew he should mind his business and let her leave, but his disdain for unpleasant humans like her was too strong to pass up fucking with her. Just a little bit.

As she stomped, head down, towards the exit, Dew took a sideways step out of the queue to block her path. She stumbled into him, almost spilling her drink.

“Watch what you’re doing, you…” It was only then that she looked up and saw who she had run into. She squeaked in shock, her friend behind her letting out a frightened gasp. She was wide-eyed, staring into his mask in terror.

Dew just tilted his head slightly and looked her dead in the eye. Unmoving.

“M..mm… move,” Diane stammered.

Dew remained motionless.

“You… you heard me. Get out of my way!” 

He could smell the panic rolling off of her. He liked it. Again, he did not move and continued to stare her down.

She withered under his gaze. “Um… excuse me.” Still nothing. “Please?” she finally said, through gritted teeth.

Once the magic word was said, Dew stepped out of her way with a deep bow, sweeping his arms toward the door in a dramatic gesture. The women scooched past him as quickly as they could, keeping a wide berth. 

“Fucking freaks,” Diane grumbled as she walked out the door.

Dew couldn’t help himself. He placed his hands in the shape of a heart, then blew exaggerated kisses at her through the window as the two women darted away. He took his spot next to Cirrus again, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter. 

The two Ghouls patiently waited their turn to order, with hardly anyone else in the shop paying them much attention. A few gave them a double take - understandable - and they even got a couple of pleasant nods from people on their way out, likely a way of saying ‘thanks’ for putting that awful woman in her place. But otherwise, nobody said a word to them, good or bad. 

When they arrived at the register, the barista gave them a warm welcome: “Hi, hello! What can I get for you today?”

Cirrus had her phone out, open on the notes app, and she had already typed their order onto the screen. She held it up for the barista to read.

“Two Grande Pumpkin Spice Lattes for ‘Cirrus’? Excellent… Anything else?” she asked with a smile.

Cirrus shook her head and pulled out a silver credit card to make the payment.

“Are you guys from that new Church in town?” the barista asked. “I mean, I figured you were, but…”

Cirrus nodded enthusiastically.

“Cool, cool, Izzy told me about you! So uh, can anyone just show up there? Like, do you have open services, or…?”

Cirrus nodded again and held up her index finger in a ‘just a moment’ gesture. Her fingers flew over her phone screen as she typed, and then she held it up again.

“‘Sundays at 7:00. Windermere Abbey. All are welcome,’” the barista read. “Awesome! I’d love to come. I’ll be there this week. Do you have a website I can check out?”

Dewdrop reached into his jacket and pulled out a business card with all the relevant contact information on it and gave it to her, while Cirrus clapped her hands in excitement. 

“Thank you! I’ll see you on Sunday.”

The two Ghouls gave each other a little fist bump while they waited for their coffees. When they finally left the shop with steaming hot drinks in their hands, Cirrus pulled close to Dew and whispered: “Drink up, L’il Dewdrop… We gotta finish these before we get back. Sister Imperator will lose her shit if she finds out you’ve had caffeine again.”

⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧

“The Magical Will is in its essence twofold, for it presupposes a beginning and an end; to will to be a thing is to admit that you are not that thing.”

Copia yawned. This was the third time he had read this sentence. It may as well have been in Greek for all the sense it made in his brain. At this rate, it would take him forever to get through this book.

He blamed it on another night of fitful sleep. The surprise visit from Isabella the previous morning had left him giddy. Her dark beauty, her smile, her laugh, her joy at seeing the Abbey returned to its former glory, her promise to return… all of it roused euphoric feelings in him that lingered as he went about his day. 

And oh, did it linger into the night. He awoke at some point past the witching hour with his hand down his pants, cock in fist and body tingling in release. Quite the mess to clean up too. He had been dreaming about her, but the details disappeared the moment he opened his eyes. After that, he never drifted back off fully, tossing and turning and burning with thoughts of her until the sun rose over the horizon.

And now he was struggling to keep his eyes open, blinking rapidly to keep the sentences on the book page from dissolving into a blurry jumble of letters. He fidgeted with his bookmark - Isabella’s business card - rotating it absentmindedly between the fingers of one hand while propping up his head in the other. This is not how he wanted to be spending his day.

There were three sharp knocks on his office door, and it opened without waiting for his invitation to enter. It jolted him out of his stupor, and he looked up from his book with a scowl, already annoyed with whoever thought they could just waltz right in…

“ Buongiorno Cardinale! ” Terzo greeted with a flourish.

“Ah, good morning Papa,” Copia deadpanned, “Thank you for knocking first.”

Terzo ignored Copia’s dispassionate response and sauntered right up to the desk, plopping himself down on the corner of it and making himself quite at home. “How are you fratellino ? I feel as though I have not seen you for days! Why have you been locking yourself away, hmm?”

“I’ve been busy,” Copia replied.

“Busy? This is busy? Reading?” He picked up the open book on the Cardinal’s desk, flipping to the cover to read the title. He made a face. “Crowley? Feh! Why are you reading this drivel?”

Copia pulled the book out of Terzo’s hands and laid it back on his desk. “It’s research , Papa. For the History of the Occult lecture Secondo and I will be giving in a few weeks.”

“Oooh, yes yes,” Terzo nodded, “I do recall that, now that you mention it.” He gave Copia a smirk. “So that’s what’s keeping you busy? And not…” He quickly yanked the business card from the Cardinal’s other hand, “... this?”

“Give that back, Terzo!”

Terzo hopped up off the desk and stepped out of Copia’s reach, holding the card delicately in his fingers to read it aloud. “Miss Isabella Bennett, Shadow & Light Metaphysical Boutique. This is the woman that Sister Imperator has been blathering on about for the last week or so, isn’t it?” He gave the Cardinal a lecherous look. “I hear she is very pretty. Dark of hair and fair of skin, with eyes so deep and warm you could get lost in them for days… She also enjoys exploring old, abandoned cemeteries, and chatting with shy, Satanic clergymen, so I’m told.”

Copia averted his eyes, feeling heat flush his cheeks. “And who told you this?” he asked quietly.

“Well, the Ghouls do like their gossip. Alpha was there in the greenhouse with you and Primo yesterday. And you know how close he and Omega are. Word travels fast.” He handed the card back to Copia with a wink. “No need to be embarrassed about it, fratellino . I think it’s sweet.”

Copia took the card and placed it in the book to mark his place. “And this is why you are here today? To give me your blessing?”

“Actually, no,” Terzo said, his demeanor becoming a bit more serious. He sat in the chair across from Copia’s desk. “I’m here to ask for your help.”

“Oh?” Copia raised an eyebrow, suspicious. “Help with what exactly?”

“Well, Imperator has been on my ass about the monthly expense reports for September,” he revealed, “It seems there’s a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

“I.. I didn’t do them,” Terzo admitted hesitantly.

Copia rolled his eyes, “For fuck’s sake, Terzo,” he muttered.

“And so,” Terzo continued, tenting his fingers in front of him, tapping them together nervously, “I was hoping that maybe you… could do them for me?” 

“Ummm… no,” Copia replied flatly.

“No?!” Terzo was indignant. “What do you mean ‘no?’ I am your Papa. You are my Cardinale . You are here to support and assist me!”

“When you were Secondo’s Cardinale , did you do his monthly expense reports for him?” Copia asked.

“Of course not!”

Copia shrugged. “Okay, so… that proves my point, si ?”

“That was different,” Terzo insisted. “Secondo was - is - a control freak. Very bad at delegating. Plus we were nowhere near as busy then. Our congregation has tripled in size since then. I am just pulled in so many directions,” he waved his hands back and forth, “as you surely know.”

“Then perhaps you should hire an assistant?” Copia suggested.

Terzo scowled like a sullen teenager. “Imperator won’t let me have one. She says I can’t be trusted not to keep my hands off them.”

“She’s not wrong,” Copia said with a pointed look.

“Copia, please. I am not too proud to beg. Please! I will make it worth your while.”

Copia leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Will you, now? What are you offering in return?” It was obvious to him that Terzo had just expected him to say yes to his request. He didn’t want to give in, but was willing to see what he might get out of this if he did.

“I’ll… ummm,” Terzo stalled. “Oh! I can help you with your bella signora strega ! I will help you woo her, win her. She will be on her knees for you in no time.”

An image flitted into Copia’s mind, fleeting, ethereal. Isabella, on her knees before him, pleasuring him. Sinful and submissive. It was the dream he’d had…  But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. 

He cleared his throat, composed himself. “What makes you think I can’t handle that myself?” Copia scoffed, quite offended. “That’s your best offer? Insulting me?”

“No! No no no no, I do not mean to offend, Cardinale ! Truly. Of course you can win this lady, of course! I just meant that… well…” Terzo sighed deeply, his dignity gone. “Shit. Alright, look. You are smarter than me. Better than I am at administrative things. I freely admit this. I rely on you so much - we all do. You are indispensable here. And Imperator - she scares the fuck out of me. Do you know about these visions she has? I don’t want her on my bad side. She will curse me, I know it. Please, Cardinale, il mio fratellino . Help me.”

Copia actually felt a pang of guilt refusing him. He sat silent, regarding him for a moment. “All right,” he said, “I will help you. That does not mean I will do it for you. We will do it together. And I’ll help you set up a system so this doesn’t happen again. Capisci ?”

Terzo furrowed his brow, groaning: “Uggggh…”

“That’s the deal,” Copia said, “Take it or leave it.”

“ Inferno del cazzo . Fine,” Terzo grumbled.

“Good,” Copia nodded, “We’d best get started.”

They were about to stand when there was an urgent knock on the office door.

“Yes?” Copia called out. “What now?”

The door opened and Aether entered. “Hey boss… oh! Hello, Papa,” he greeted. “Umm, Cardinal, something happened in town today that I think you’ll wanna know about. Cirrus and Dew were at the coffee shop, and…”

“What?!” There was panic in Terzo’s voice.

“Why was he at the coffee shop?” Copia asked. “He knows he’s not supposed to have caffeine. Don’t tell me he…”

The sharp sound of glass shattering echoed through the long corridor. Terzo and Copia both flew to their feet, Aether rushing back out into the hallway. A Ghoul zipped full-speed past Copia’s door in the opposite direction of the commotion, with Secondo’s voice booming after him: “DEWDROP GHOUL! What did you do? Get the FUCK back here!”

“Dewdrop! No… oh no!” Sister Imperator was distraught. “The stained glass!!” 

“Oh shit…” Aether muttered, hurrying off down the hall after Dew.

Terzo and Copia made their way to the end of the hallway, where a crowd of concerned Siblings gathered around Sister Imperator, inspecting the damage to the window and the shards of brightly colored glass strewn across the floor. Siblings were whispering amongst themselves: “How did he get up there?” “He was literally climbing the walls!” “It was crazy…” 

Secondo leaned against the doorframe to his office, his arms crossed over his chest, glowering at Imperator. “‘Summon more Ghouls’, she said,” he sneered under his breath, “‘They’ll be so helpful,’ she said.”

⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧

“Food’s here!” Ari announced as he entered the shop. He carried a large paper bag in one hand containing take-out from their favorite Italian restaurant in town, Brigantino’s - a late afternoon meal of fresh minestrone soup, salad, and just-out-of-the-oven bread. He brought the food into the back office where Izzy had already cleared off a section of the desk so they could eat, and began unpacking the neat take-out containers.

“Oooh, yum!” Izzy was excited to dig in. She was starving. “Thank you so much, Ari. You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know, but I feel bad about what happened to you this morning, and I wanted to make it up to you. Plus, we’re officially in soup season now.”

“I’ll take soup over pumpkin spice any day,” she giggled.

Ari took out his phone and propped it against a stack of books on Izzy’s desk. “Wanna watch something while we eat?”

“Sure! But hang on… I’ve got my iPad in my bag. That’ll be better.” She got up and went to the nearby coat hook where her satchel was hanging, pulling out the tablet and handing it to Ari to set up.

He flipped open the tablet’s cover and the screen automatically lit up. It was still open on the drawing program Izzy had been using that morning, on the sketch of her skull-faced dream man.

Ari’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh-ho, what’s this? Who is Papa?” he asked.

The day had been such a messy blur of activity that it took her a moment to register what he was asking. “Huh?” He turned the screen around to show her and she gasped loudly, the heated flush of embarrassment burning across her cheeks. “Oh! Uh… nothing. It’s nothing… nobody, I mean…” She tried to grab the tablet out of Ari’s hands but he pulled it away and out of her reach.

“Nobody, hmm?” He gave her a skeptical, sideways glance before turning his attention back to the sketch, looking at it with an expert’s eye. “You haven’t drawn anything for a long time. I didn’t know you were getting back into that. Don’t be embarrassed - it’s good!” 

She realized he had no idea that it wasn’t the quality of the drawing upsetting her. Using that to her advantage, she played it off: “Yeah, I’m out of practice. It’s just a doodle, a face I saw in my dream last night. I felt like sketching it this morning.” She managed to tug the iPad out of his hand while he was still examining it. 

“Any reason why his eyes look like Copia’s?” he asked cheekily before slurping up a spoonful of soup.

Shit… do I tell him?

The jingle of the front door bell intervened before she could stammer out a response. A young man dressed all in black had entered the shop carrying a large box in his arms. Izzy took the opportunity to escape from Ari’s question, getting up from her desk and hurrying out to the shop floor to greet him.

“Hello! Welcome, how can I help you?” she asked.

“Uh, hi,” he said shyly, “I have something here for Isabelle?”

“That’s me!”

“Oh okay cool, here you go!” He handed the box over to her and left as quickly as he came.

She placed the box down on the counter, suspicious. A nondescript person delivering an awkwardly shaped box to her shop the same day she had publicly gotten into it with one of the town’s most well known - and vindictive and petty - residents. The anxiety-controlled part of her brain was terrified to open it. 

Ari appeared in the doorway, munching on a piece of bread. “What is it?” he asked.

Izzy shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Are you going to open it?”

She shook her head. “I’m scared. What if it’s from Diane Francis? What if she sent me a dead animal or something?”

“Only one way to find out,” Ari said, approaching the box and slowly lifting the top off of it. He peered inside, his features tense for a moment before relief washed over his face and he smiled. “Definitely not a dead animal,” he assured her, motioning for her to come look.

Izzy peeked inside and gasped. In the box was a bouquet of flowers. Beautiful flowers, not at all your typical grocery store arrangement. Delicate pink carnations, black dahlias, and crimson amaranthus surrounded by emerald green foliage. There was a small envelope tucked in between the stems. 

“Who’s it from? Who’s it from?” Ari asked excitedly.

She opened the envelope and within found a small card that simply read: ‘Hope this brightens your day!’ No name or signature. Behind it was a $50 gift card for the coffee shop. She handed both over to him. “It doesn’t say.”

“Obviously somebody who knows what happened today, though,” he observed, “Coffee shop employee? Maybe the owner? Or just someone who was there and felt sorry for you…” He turned the cards over and inspected the envelope, just to make sure they weren’t missing something.

“There were dozens of people there this morning. Could have been any of them… but why wouldn’t they sign it?” 

“They don’t want you to know, I guess. A secret admirer?” Ari wiggled his eyebrows. “Maybe Jim the insurance guy? I saw you walking back with him.”

“I highly doubt he would do this,” Izzy mumbled.

“Why? Didn’t you guys used to date?”

“Yeah, for about three months back in high school. Does that even count as ‘dating?’”

Ari laughed as he walked back into the office. “If it does, then by that criteria you dated half of the boys in school.”

“And that would mean you dated the other half,” she shot back, grinning. She stood there for a moment, admiring the gorgeous flowers, savoring their rich, heady fragrance. She brushed her fingers along the petals of one of the carnations. There was a familiar energy there that made her tingle in all the right ways. At that moment, she knew exactly who sent these. The silver-masked couple must have gone back to the Abbey and told them what happened. 

The flowers were from Copia.

(bonus moodboard for this chapter)

#ghost #the band ghost #ghost fan fic #my fan fic #ghost fanfiction

[saintship]

Hi! Small request for you to play with however you want! Possibly something funny😊

Halloween's approaching and Reader bought some small, subtle decoration to keep the vibe in her room/part of the room. Then bragging to everyone "yall knew about ghost hanging out in my room everyday? I shit you not"

Obviously the rumor reaches Ghost himself and he's curious to know what is it all about. It turns out reader bought a small paper ghost decoration. He's not amused

LMAO

Y’all don’t understand how accurate this is- here you go

Can be read as platonic or romantic

Ghost & Reader - Happy Halloween

Yes it’s a peanuts gif bc I love them

October was a welcome month on base; the summer heat finally beginning to ease up, and your uniform began to feel like clothes again rather than a sweaty, steel trap.

Plenty of people on base enjoyed decorating, especially the units that rarely left the site. A visit to the cafeteria, med bay, or armory offices would show lots of little signs of the upcoming holiday. Seeing this, you decided to take advantage of your grown-up money and buy a few small decorations for your room. No blinking lights or animatronics, just a few small, faux pumpkins, a black cat figurine, and of course, strings of paper decorations. Bats, more pumpkins, and right in the center, a small paper ghost. You hadn’t felt so light in a long time, kneeling on your bed to string up the decoration with a small smile gracing your features. It wasn’t much, but somehow it felt perfect.

The 141 was lucky so far; there had been no missions longer than a few days since August, and though no one would say it in fear of jinxing their luck, it was a quiet month so far.

You’d always loved the 141’s area of the base; even though Ghost and Price had their own offices and tended to bow their head during the day, you bumped into Gaz and Soap constantly. The two of them were gathered in your corner of the room, complaining that ‘They get lonely!’

“I wish they’d come out of their dens every once and a while.” Gaz grumbled, leaning back in his chair to look across the hall. Ghost and Price’s doors were shut, as always.

Soap hummed in agreement. “I swear I haven’t seen either of their faces in days. What if they’re dead?”

“Don’t say that..” You murmur, your mouth slightly full of the candy you couldn’t resist while in the Halloween section.

“I could see ‘death by work’ on either of their tombstones.” Gaz retorts.

“I’d wager ‘death by brooding’ for Ghost.” You say thoughtfully.

Soap huffs. “You’re onto something.”

“You know, he’s actually been a bit more social recently..” You say passingly, toying with a candy wrapper.

“Like.. he’s always hanging out in my room.”

“What?” Soap closed his laptop halfway, looking up.

“Yeah, we see each other all the time.”

“Surely not!” Gaz retorted.

You shrug, resisting a smile at the sight of your coworker’s faces.

“No, Ghost wakes up, works, and disappears again, somehow without being caught in the hallways once even though he’s the size of two Gaz’s.”

“That’s not accurate.” Gaz snips.

“It is.”

“It is not! I’m not that small!”

“You’re a wee bit small.”

“You were second to me in boot!”

“Oh, here he goes with the boot camp story-"

You let them bicker some more until the conversation shifted, content with keeping your amusement to yourself. What you didn’t expect was that they would pick it up again with half the base. Recruits, medics, even the damn cooks were gossiping about how you’d broken down the big bad Ghost’s frigid walls. And because nothing can escape someone like him, he found out.

The rain pattered gently outside as you tidy the desk in your room, fixing the black cat figure that had tipped over. Your door hung open slightly, and a gloved hand reached through the gap, grasping the door’s edge and easing through. Ghost was in an uncommon attire; his pants and boots the classic issued uniform, but his top being a dark sweater.

“Oi.” He crosses his arms, leaning on the inside of the doorframe.

“Hi.” You greeted simply, setting down the figure.

“I’ve heard some talk that half this base believes I’m hanging around you for 23 hours out of my day. Do you know anything about that, Sergeant?”

His steely eyes narrowed as he asked his question, shifting his weight on his feet. You realized how ridiculous it was, but chose not to care, as you gestured to the decoration above your bed; a small paper ghost.

It took a minute for him to process, but when he did, his suspicious was replaced by what you could only call disappointment.

“Are you serious?” He huffed.

“Yeah..”

You’re saw his jaw twitch through his balaclava and he set out toward the decoration.

“Hey!” You blocked his path. “I’m sorry the base is gullible, but paper Ghost stays.” You insisted, blocking him from touching the decoration.

“Oh, I can’t be bothered..” Ghost grumbled to himself before taking his leave, though not without a devastating eye roll.

You leaned out of your doorway, smiling despite his annoyance.

“Happy Halloween!”

#cod requests #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod mwii #cod mw2 #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick

[the-magnus-institute]

Pinch - Statement 20141210

Statement of Abby-Lynn Grace regarding her experiences with an anomalous mirror. Statement recorded by the Usher Foundation, directly from subject, October 12th, 2014. Statement transcribed on 24th of March, 2019.

---

[Statement Begins.]

My mama’s always called me a bit vain. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve liked to look at myself— in spoons, in windows, in the bathroom mirror. My brothers used to tell me to get out of the shower when we were school-age. I’d just turn the water on and let it run and run while I sat on the counter and preened.

It wasn’t always self-indulgent. Sometimes it was like a– a compulsion, I think Frankie called it. That’s my husband, Frankie. He’s always been real good about keeping my head on right, God bless him. He’d come in sometimes, find me cryin’ in front of it. If you look at yourself long enough in the mirror, things start to warp, look all out of sorts. Your face stops lookin’ like a face and starts lookin’ like a problem.

This all started a few months back. That’s why I’m here. Frankie’s been worried, says I haven’t seemed myself lately. To be honest, I haven’t felt it, either. I think… Now, this sounds silly, but I know you all hear all manner of silly things, so I’ll come on out and say it. I think it’s the mirror’s fault. No– I know it is. I know it’s that mirror’s fault.

Me and Frankie got married in April– you see this ring? He bought it himself, I told him not to get one this big, but he insisted. I’ll get him somethin’ real nice soon, make him treat himself. Anyhow, we moved into my granddaddy’s old place. It’s small, but it’s real nice, especially in the evenings. All the lightning bugs and the crickets come out, you can sit on the porch swing and listen to the whipporwill. We had fun paintin’ all the walls bright colors, plantin’ trees out front, diggin up Granddaddy’s old garden beds. We even cleared out his old attic, made it into a nice guest room, just in case, you know. It gets awful hot up there, we’ll have to keep company strictly to the fall and winter [laughter].

But, ah. The attic is where I found it.

It’s this big ol’ mirror. Taller than I am, wider than I am, too, though I’ll outgrow it soon enough if June Harris keeps makin’ lemon bars for the church potlucks. It’s got this pretty gold border, all swirls and roses. Frankie said it was gaudy, but Frankie gets the basement for his model trains, so I got the mirror in our closet. I keep thinkin’ about what might have happened, if I’d just taken it to the Goodwill, left it on the street, smashed it to bits and buried it.

But I didn’t. I used it to get my face beat in the mornings– before church, before my shift at the Piggly Wiggly, takin’ all my makeup off at night before bed. Sometimes, I’d see somethin’ out of the corner of my eye in the mirror, but my imagination’s always run a bit wild, and so do the cats, so I didn’t think anything of it.

It hung there for weeks, until they turned into months. I noticed– well, no, that’s not quite right. It was Frankie who noticed. He told me I was lookin’ in the mirror too much, that he was worried I was havin’ one of my moments. That’s what we call them– my moments. When I look at myself too much, and it makes me miss church and meals. I’ve got help for them, so I told him he was bein’ overprotective, and that I was fine.

But then I started noticing, too. I’d be talkin’ on the phone– you know how people walk around when they use the phone?-- and I’d end up smack in front of that mirror again. It’s not like it’s easy to get to, either, it’s in a closet I get to through the master bathroom. Two doors, and I’d breeze by both of them like they were nothing. 

I’d clean, and there I’d be, wipin’ down the mirror like it wasn’t already shining. Sitting in front of it after I was done beatin’ my face up pretty, just staring. If I stared for long enough, it felt like I would fall right through.

I started doing odd things. I’d eat in front of it, when Frankie was out of the house, then when he was in the house. He noticed– I told him to mind his own. I’ve been awful to Frankie, he’s been onto this thing since the beginning, but I only just– 

[Soft breathing, sniffling]

Anyhow. I’m fine, put that away. I’m fine. 

It was a couple weeks ago, I think. Right after Suzanna’s baptism. I went into the closet at night, and I just sat right down on the floor in front of it.

At first, it was just like normal. I looked like me, a bit more tired, a bit less sunburned, but I was me.

I kept lookin, and it started to do that funny optical illusion. My nose started lookin’ a little too big, my eyebrows started seemin’ all wampus. I started pushin’ and prodding at my face, and… it stuck.

Look, here, my nose. It used to be crooked right here, and now it’s straight as an arrow. The mirror did that. My eyebrows are thinner, my lips are bigger. I was ecstatic; Kathy Lee spent three grand on her nosejob, and I’d just gotten one for dirt cheap. Cheaper, even. 

Frankie looked at me a little weird, that next morning, but I was over the moon. I’d go into the closet, push and poke, and come out a little more perfect than I had before. It got to be that I couldn’t go an hour before lookin’ at myself, making sure it’d stuck, that I looked alright. 

Then, about a week ago, I had one of my moments. 

I woke up, and I could tell it was gonna be a rough day. Frankie was already off to work at the power plant; he leaves early on Wednesdays. I didn’t bother makin’ myself pretty. I put on Frankie’s old sweatpants and my college hoodie– they’re my favorites for when I have my moments. They hide me away in folds and bags, and Frankie knows it’s my outfit for bad days, so we usually cuddle up on the easy chair and watch whatever’s on.

But the mirror was close, and I wanted to see if it worked on all of me. I wouldn’t have done it except for that I’d been cryin’, and I was all puffy, and nothin’ felt right.

It was hangin’ there, same as ever. I lifted up my shirt, sucked in my stomach, and… it stuck. No battlin’ with crunches, nothing. I turned, and it’d really stuck. That’s when things started goin’ wrong.

I started small. Just little pinches, like sculpting clay. Tuckin’ things in, pokin, lifting. I didn’t want Frankie to notice anything too different– he knows me, he’d notice if I suddenly looked like a Wal-Mart Megan Fox. I started to get frustrated; I pinched harder. My left leg wouldn’t match my right, I had to make ‘em even. I got so mad, I…

Lord, help me. I scrubbed my hands over my face. I didn’t mean to, it was just habit.

I screamed when I opened my eyes back up.

I looked like I’d melted. My nose was stickin’ straight up, my cheeks were dripping like candle wax. My eyes… You know when little boys get mad, and they pull their bottom eyelid down? Like that, but stuck, and I reached up, and that’s what they felt like, too. 

My heart was fixin’ to burst. I tried my best to fix it– I got out my phone, looked for a photo of myself. I tried to put everything back right, set my face back, but I’ve never been a very good artist. I look off. Like a twin, or a sister.

I went to bed early. When Frankie came in, I told him not to turn the lights on, that I felt sick. He believed me. 

He screamed, the next morning. He thought a stranger had snuck into his bed. I had to talk to get him to believe it was me. I told him everything– he broke the mirror. He wants to take me in to a doctor, one of those psychiatrists. Told me it’s for the best, that I need to talk to someone professional. Lord knows we don’t have the money to burn on useless things like that.

That’s why I’m here. I figure… you all have heard all manner of odd things. Surely I’m not crazy. 

[Cell phone buzzing]

Oh– that’s Frankie. I’m supposed to meet him for dinner. I’m trying to get out more.

Don’t tell him this, but… I’m not proud of this. I couldn’t take the chance. I have to be able to fix myself, somehow.

I stole a broken piece. It’s fitted into this compact blush. I need to fix it– I’m gonna. 

It can’t hurt, right?

[Statement ends.]

#entity:spiral #submission #submitted-statement #tma #the magnus archives #tma statement #entity:flesh

[rubywrite]

A Hint of Rosemary

I'm finally starting to work on this project! I'm sorry that I didn't do my stories in October, things happened and I couldn't focus on anything. (I was able to write a short story for school but that was I could do.)

Anyways though, I would like to share a quick sneak peek of "A Hint of Rosemary" under the cut.

The leaves had already begun to change as the air turned crisp that afternoon. The drive was longer than I had hoped it would be, but then again, I haven’t driven back to my hometown in two years. I left home on sort of… bad circumstances, I still kept in touch though so that’s good for me. Let’s just say I’m not proud of the way things were left and I want to make it up to my little sister Aster. Holderness New Hampshire was beautiful this time of year, Squam Lake was a few blocks down the road from my Uncle Jason’s house, the house surrounded by trees. I can just see it now, the shades of reds, yellows, and oranges scattered all on the ground. I miss it, I wish I could stay a few days, but I can’t. I miss hiking the trails, I miss Mrs. Winearts constant bickering with Mr. Winearts you could hear for miles down the road. They were a cute couple, but Mr. Winearts was starting to go deaf so Mrs. Winearts had to yell so he could hear. I can still hear them even now. I miss the town events that we always went to, small towns are the best. I miss that community feeling since I’ve been on the road for two years.

I turned on my uncle's street, his house was a little further down the street just a few houses from the end of the street from where I turned from. I continued down the road and slowly drove up his long windy driveway. I gradually came to a stop and sat in front of the house. It hadn’t changed a bit, gray roof, three windows put together on each side, it had dark brown siding. The front porch was medium sized and had a few bird feeders hung up randomly around it and comfy looking chairs on it looking out at the Sugar Maple trees surrounding the property. 

After another minute of sightseeing, I got out of my car and walked up to the front door. I stared at the “Happy Fall Harvest” sign before knocking on the door. I waited a bit before the door slowly opened. “Mary?” My sisters surprised voice from the crack she had in the door.

#wip: a hint of Rosemary #my work #paranormal #fantasy writing #supernatural writing #writers on tumblr #women writers #writers #writers of tumblr #writerscommunity #writers corner #writer community #paranormal romance

[becauseyouhaveto91]

Eras tour was cathartic for my grief. Five years ago I posted about my sister and how @taylorswift ‘s soon you’ll get better song resonated with me throughout my sister’s diagnosis. I haven’t been on here since then but I’ve just had another Taylor experience that I wanted to share.

This past year my sister hit 6 years battling her colon cancer. I got married and she got to be my maid of honor. She planned my bachelorette party and I got to have her by my side on my wedding day. Shortly after that I got pregnant with our first baby. My sister was the first person I told and she was so SO excited to be an Aunt.

I was due December 1st 2022. My sister started having severe complications from her cancer in October. I was too far along in my pregnancy to travel but had permission to leave if I needed to in the event of an emergency. In late early November my sister was admitted to ICU where we found out her cancer had spread to her brain. They decided to treat her with radiation which she started that same week. I was 38 weeks along and unable to fly but was standing ready to jump on a plane in case her health deteriorated. She was released back home 8 days later. All of this was going down around the time of the Eras tour pre-sale. I was planning on inviting my sister to come to Chicago to go see Taylor together since she missed reputation due to treatment.

I had my little girl, Emma on November 18th. On thanksgiving I FaceTimed my family including my sister to introduce them to our newest addition. That was around 4:30pm that evening. My sister told me she loved me and then we hung up. At 7am the following morning I received a phone call from my step dad that she had died suddenly that morning. My husband and I packed up our things and were on a plane to my parents house by 10:30am with my new baby and myself just one week after my c-section. It was truly some of the darkest days of my life. My daughter was the light in the midst of the darkness.

it has been a really rough few months since then. I miss my sister so much and my heart feels shattered. She was 33. Around the same age as my dad when he passed. Safe to say I never bought tickets to the concert and I have been struggling with my grief and being a new mom ever since.

Fast forward to this past weekend and Taylor is in town for the tour. Someone sent me a post a few months back about grief and loss that essentially said instead of counting all of the experiences you are missing with your loved one, carry them in your heart and take them with you.

so I decided last minute that I was going to that concert. I bought an outfit Saturday morning. Died the tips of my hair blue. Scoured the resell sites all day then finally at 4:30pm pulled the trigger on a ticket. I spent an exorbitant amount of money on that ticket but it was worth every. Single. Penny.

The concert was cathartic. I hadn’t realized how little time I have given myself to feel my feelings and the show really helped to give me that space. I brought her with me. I scream sang my lungs out. I cried through All too well. And I just finally felt something. Then today I saw that announcement of the vault songs from speak now and one of them has Emma’s name in it. I feel like it is a sign from my sister that she is ok.

thank you @taylorswift for helping me to find that space. I promised myself and my sister wherever she is that I will never miss a concert again. And I hope one day I will be scream singing shake it off in the car at the top of my lungs with the windows down and my daughter in the passenger’s seat just like I did with my sister for so many years.

#taylor swift #taylornation #eras tour #tswiftlover #tswift13 #speak now #midnights #chicago #chicago eras tour #taylors version #taylor swift lover

[wizardtxtmsg]

1-25 for the ask game 🥀🌙

You want me to answer all of them? Wow okay I’ve never had this before this should be fun

1. Song of the year?: psychosocial by slipknot according to my Spotify wrapped.

2. Album of the year: Daughter’s “before the storm” album

3. Favorite musical artist / group you started listening to this year?: I so technically started listening to slipknot back in 2019 but I never really got obsessed with them until this year

4. Movie of the year?: I don’t watch a lot of movies, mainly just sitcoms but my favorite movie this year was A Silent Voice. Watched it at least three times this year.

5. Tv show of the year?: either community or it’s always sunny.

6. Episode of tv or webisode that defined the year for you?: Remedial Chaos Theory from Community.

7. Favorite actor of the year: I don’t typically like actors all that much but I guess misha collins. The stunt he pulled back in spring/summer was pretty funny imo

8. Game of the year?: I fell in and out of love with genshin impact a few times this year but I did really also like phasmophobia

9. Best month for you this year?: October probably. I reunited with a friend of mine back mid September and we’ve been talking almost every single day since. October was the first month we talked to each other every day.

10. Something that made you cry this year?: no being able to keep up a stable romantic relationship

11. Something you want to do again next year?: watch all of its always sunny again

12. Talk about a new friend you made this year: I made no new friends but like I said, I reunited with one I made last year.

13. How was your birthday this year?: I stayed inside most of the day and took a nap until I got a headache. Then when my dad got off work I just hung out with him for the rest of the night. My dad bought me a katana even though I haven’t wanted one of those since I was 14 lol

14. Favorite book you read this year?: never finished it but house of the scorpion was really good

15. What’s a bad habit you picked up this year?: it’s really gross but I made a bad habit of picking at my scabs

16. Post a picture from the beginning of the year: I’ll be sure to do that after I’m done posting this lol

17. Post a picture from the end of the year: I’ll post it along with the other photo

18. A memorable meal this year?: my dad’s cheeseburger macaroni.

19. What’re you excited about for next year?: hoping I get a girlfriend

20. What’s something you learned this year?: I learned what a radfem is

21. What’s something new about your place of residence (room, home, or general location) now vs the start of the year?: I have a camp crystal lake sign hanging on my bedroom wall now.

22. Favorite place you visited this year?: there’s this beautiful place called Poetry my dad and I visit time to time. It’s a small church town that’s surrounded by forest and fields of cows and horses and goats. Sometimes we find deer there and a few times we even saw a buck! I found a whole deer ribcage on the side of the road there last month!

23. If you could send a message to yourself back on the first day of the year, what would it be?: let people in more. It’s scary, but it’s worth having someone to care about you.

24. Did you keep any New Year’s Resolutions?: didn’t make any in the first place

25. Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one: I hate my art style and I’m not particularly skilled at any artistic abilities so that’d be a no lol

#Dallas originals

[ianfm]

🔥💀❤️⛓🥀 Halloween 1979 ☁️✨🍸 🍰💌

An aesthetic moodboard for Ian Vogt @ Dolly Jensen ( @dollyjensen​ )

Below the cut is an excerpt from Ian’s journal during this time. 

October 24th, 1979 (Age 15)

I’ve been picking glue and red glitter off my hands for the past hour. I feel like Bo insisted on the glitter just because he wanted to get rid of it by how much he dumped everywhere. I feel I have to wear these pants to the party now because they’re so full of glitter. I’m glad I got his help though. I looked all over town and there wasn’t a single devil thing in town. I’m just glad the set of horns I had from when I was a kid still fit.

I didn’t think Dolly would ask me to go with her as her date though. We’ve been seeing each other for a while now but I didn’t think she’d be ready to tell people about us, you know? I mean last week Bo had to get me out of my gym locker because of some assholes. She sounds like she really wants to go together though and the way she talks about her costume in class… she gets so excited and her nose crinkles up. She doesn’t need to dress up like an angel when she already is one. I think I’m going to flunk our first quiz because I haven’t been able to pay attention to anything since she started sitting with me.

Grandma brought home some cookies from some lunch in at her work and I think I’m going to bring a few for Dolly when I walk her home tomorrow. Bo hasn’t been tagging along as much when walking home and it’s been kinda nice. The last couple of days we’ve stopped at the park and hung out for a while. The last time we got in the slide together and she practically sat in my lap I don’t know how we carried on a conversation. Tomorrow we can share the tire swing and eat cookies I think if the weather stays nice and if not I can just give her my coat.

#shrikejournal #I would go out tonight but I haven't got a stitch to wear ◑ musings #i've been staring so long at these pictures of you that i almost believe that they're real◑ image #dollyjensen dolly #it's always halloween in shrike #also no tiny text because tumblr being annoying

[thegovernmentkilledbigbird]

ღ -   𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: October 15th, 1994. The Great Hall was decorated with an abundance of fall-themed decorations. Tables were lined with a rich bounty of filling food. But at the Gryffindor table, tensions ran high between two siblings. Sebastian and Sabrina Leveret must come to terms with the inevitable “truth” of their parent’s past. 

ღ -   𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕:  2580

ღ -   𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Sibling violence, yelling, and a brief description of a panic attack.

ღ -  𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆:  I’ve taken this short story from my grab bag of plot points I may use in the future for a fic. I also really wanted to write Dad Remus.

The Great Hall was, expectantly, full of incoherent chatter and the clinking of utensils on plates. However, despite the crowd's jovial-sounding conversations, an air of uncomfortableness hung above them. Some first-year students were hesitant to pull their gaze from the windows where the wispy forms of dementors passed by on their search for their charge. Whether out of fear or curiosity, this was a shared feeling amongst many in the Hall.

“Sabrina, you need to eat. You haven’t eaten since this morning.” 

“I can’t. What if they get inside? You heard what happened on the train earlier in the term. To Potter?” Sabrina turned away from her brother’s look of disdain and to the window where a dementor began to peer inside. “Stop looking then. Focus on eating.” He points out the last piece of ham on the platter in front of them with his fork. “Take it before someone else does. You’re worrying me, ‘brina.

Further down the table, several exclamations of surprise erupted from a group of girls. Sabrina glanced in their direction, and their conversation stopped abruptly. She recognized one of the four girls as her friend Maisy Holloway. Maisy was a dainty girl with straw-colored hair and a smile that made Sabrina’s heart race. She was striking, even more so now that she had dyed her hair a flaming orange. The color suited her, but she wondered when she had done it. Perhaps between class and dinner? Maybe she could help her dye her hair too.

She attempted to get her attention with a smile and a wave. Maisy looked in her direction but quickly dismissed her. Her smile faded. Sebastian nudges her to get her to focus on their conversation. 

“Sabrina,” He whispered, leaning to the side so the boy in front of him couldn’t hear. “we can talk about it later in the common room, but I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with it.”

She glared at him, staring into eyes identical to her own. “It’s not an obsession. Have you read mom’s letters? Have you seen dad? They aren’t exactly pleased about this situation either. I mean, damn, Sebastian, dad can’t even talk about him without looking like a sad puppy. It sucks."

“Yeah, it does suck. But you know what sucks more? Having to hear about it every day for thirteen years.” His words stung. She moved back to her empty plate, her eyes following the fall-themed pattern along its edge. Leaves, pumpkin, acorn, pumpkin, leaves... She didn’t understand. Was she wrong to feel the way she did? Longing for someone she had barely met?

There was a commotion from the girls. Glancing over to them, she watches as Maisy’s face contorts to a half-snarled laugh. It was then that she knew why she refused to look at her. Earlier that week, Sabrina had accidentally alluded to knowing the crazed man in the wanted posters during a conversation with Maisy. Having felt that their friendship was finally to the point where she could trust her, she confided in her with her deepest secret. However, as the students around Maisy cautiously glanced in the sibling’s direction with awe-stricken faces, she realized that, perhaps, they were not that close. 

Without turning back to him, she could feel Sebastian’s gaze searing into the side of her face. “Sister dearest, would you care to explain why half of Gryffindor is currently oogling us?” She doesn’t respond. “Did you tell someone?”

“Maybe.” 

Sebastian clenched a fist beneath the table, his nails digging into flesh.“Who did you tell?”

She was silent for a moment, trying not to sink further down in her chair. It was getting hard to breathe. “Maisy Holloway.” “Anyone else?” “No.” She lied. She didn’t want to anger him any more than she already had. 

He nodded slowly, glancing around at the faces that stared in their direction, then stopping once he returned to his sister. “So, you told Maisy Holloway. The same Maisy that can’t keep a secret for longer than two minutes? What made you tell her?” “I thought she was my friend -” She paused to look around her, her chest rising and falling quickly—so many faces. “Sebastian, I don’t - can we talk about this later, please? I don’t feel well.”

“Oh, now you want to talk later?”

Blood pounded in her ears, overtaking her brother's insults. Her hands began to shake. Her heart was beating against her ribcage. She had to get out of the Hall. She had to leave. Everything felt as if it was collapsing in on itself. Sliding her chair back, she stood and walked quickly toward the Great Hall’s entrance. Their faces followed her as she made her exit.  

Sebastian took a long sip from his goblet as he gazed toward the tables at the front of the room. He watched his aunt’s scarred face shake as she sent a disapproving expression. Amber eyes dart to their dad, who had leaned forward to get his aunt’s attention. His mouth moved quickly, but he could not determine what was being said. He watched a minute more before standing to follow his sister. 

Once he left the Hall, he called out to her but received no answer. So he followed the hall until he heard muffled, gasping sobs near one of the staircases. She sat on the floor, her back against the wall and her knees pulled up to her chest. “What are you doing? You know we can’t leave without a prefect.” His voice sounded emotionless. Hollow.

Her face was red and glistening with tears once she finally looked up at him. “Just leave me alone.” 

“No, no, I’m not doing that now. You wanted to talk later, yeah? It’s a perfect time to do so.” He began to pace the width of the hallway, hands stuffed in his pants pockets. “So now that your friend, girlfriend, whatever you want to call her, has told her friends... it’s only a matter of time before everyone else knows. It’s what you wanted, right?” 

“No, that’s not -”

He loosed a hand to motion toward her. “Why? Why would you want anyone to know our father was a bloody crazed murderer? This should be something you never speak about. Ignore it. Move on.” “I don’t - I don’t want to move on. He’s our -”

“Father! I know! Do you think he would want a relationship with us after twelve years?” She opened her mouth to speak, but he continued. “He was arrested when we were two! We don’t have any connection to him. We don’t remember him. We are better off without him.” Angry tears began to stream down his cheek. Sabrina wanted to get up to comfort him, but she was afraid to move with how he acted. “Then why is he trying to get here then?” Sebastian stopped pacing and turned to her. “Not for us!” He screamed, his voice bouncing off the stone walls. “Don’t you understand? The only thing he gave us was a name we don’t use. He left mom after he -” “Stop it! That’s not true!” She exclaimed. “He wouldn’t do that!” He stormed toward her spot on the ground, jerking her up by the arm. “Sabrina, I know you’re smarter than that. Think!” He grips her other arm tightly and then shakes her. “Think, damn it! Do you truly think someone who murdered twelve muggles and his friend would have an ounce of love for someone like us? We’re nothing to him!” She tried to squirm from his grip. “Let me go! You’re scaring me!” 

The sound of footfall filled the lull in their heated conversation. Sebastian tightened his grip further, staring at her as if it would get his point across. She whimpered. “Sebastian! What are you doing?” A familiar voice called from nearby. 

He turned to find Professor Lupin rushing toward him. Before pulling them apart, Sebastian moved back to watch the Professor stop a few meters before them. Following behind Remus came Professor McGonagall, who looked much more peeved than Lupin had. Sabrina took this moment to scoot away to sit on the nearby bench. 

Turning to Sabrina, Remus noticed her rubbing her arm with a pained expression. “Sabrina, are you okay?” She nodded. He would check up on her in a moment. 

McGonagall glanced between the siblings, noting how shaken the sister looked. “Mr. Leveret, just what is going on? What have you done?” Sebastian said nothing. He looked to Remus, angry tears welling in the corners of his eyes. Remus moved forward to place gentle hands on his shoulders. “Just tell us what happened. Your aunt and I noticed something going on at your table.”

“I know you noticed, and you know why we’re out here. It’s not that hard to figure it out.” “Hey, I’m trying to help.”

“Sabrina ran her mouth, and now her friend is telling everyone that the escaped murderer is our father.” Sabrina shook her head. “He can’t even say his name.” 

“See what I mean? She doesn’t know how to let people go. Especially murderers who happen to be our fucking father and would kill us without hesitation.” He scoffs. 

McGonagall gasped. “I understand you are upset young man, but foul language will not be tolerated! Five points from Gryffindor!”

He looked to Remus with desperation in his eyes. This was the first time he had lost his house points. “Dad! You can’t let her do that!” Remus did not respond. “Fuck this.” 

“Ten more points, Mr. Leveret.” Sebastian stuck up a middle finger in McGonagall’s direction and turned to run up the stairs. He ignored the shouts from McGonagall declaring his detention and the sound of her stomping up the stairs after him. She, despite her age, was spritely and, unfortunately for Sebastian, much quicker than he had thought. It took no time before she had caught him by the ear and led him to her office. 

⸻

When he felt enough time had passed since her brother left, Remus sat next to Sabrina. She picked at the loose strings on her jeans, seemingly not realizing he had been seated beside her. He watched her for a moment more. From her faraway stare to the tremble in her hands, he recognized the signs of a post-panic attack. He had had many when he was her age.

“Hey, can you look at me?” She didn’t respond. She continued to pick at the loose strings, slowly making a hole at her knee. He bent forward to look at her with a gentle smile. “I know what will make you feel better.”

With her interest peaked, she watched him fumble through tweed pockets until he pulled out a silver foiled piece of candy. “Chocolate?” She asked. He nods, presenting the small square to her. “Chocolate. Do you remember the dementors on the train earlier this term?” “Of course. How could I forget?” “Ha, yes, they are rather hard to forget.” He paused. “The students in that train car were understandably upset. Chocolate can help calm you down.” Peeling the foil back, she popped the square in her mouth and let the bitter-sweet taste melt on her tongue. “I can see why. Thank you.” “Listen, I know this is a... difficult time. Your mother and I can’t imagine how you two must feel.” “Not great.” She began to fold the foil into overlapping squares. “You can always come to me if you need to talk, you know that, right? During class, after, I don’t mind. When I’m not here, your aunt is, and she would be happy to talk with you.” Sabrina raises a brow. “Talk with aunt Almira? No, no, can’t be done.” He frowns. “Sabrina.” “I’m sorry. I just can’t talk with her because she tells uncle everything. Like one time Sebastian told her he had a crush on one of his friends, Katie? Piper? One of them. Then the next day, uncle was making fun of him in class for having a crush. Pretty sure he told her too. Which is also really,” She was rambling. “Sorry. I’m just much more comfortable talking to you. I can’t even talk to mom because she gets so... sad. It’s why I’m hesitant to talk to you too. I don't want you to start crying like she does."

Remus let her continue. 

“I’ve tried talking with Sebastian, but he won’t talk about him even if we’re alone. Dad, I feel so stupid. I don’t understand. Sebastian said he didn’t love us and did something to mom. But I’ve seen the pictures of you three, and you guys looked so... happy. What happened?” He draped an arm over her shoulders, pulling her closer. The air around them suddenly felt much heavier than it had earlier. She knew the basics; truthfully, that was all that he and their mother knew as well. It was as if he simply changed overnight. One minute they were planning a get-together with James, the next, he was dead, and Sirius was carted off to Azkaban. What could he say? Could he stall? Does this make him a terrible father for not knowing what to say? Was it wrong to talk about it at all? He had to do something. He couldn’t leave her hanging.

Sighing, he looked down at her. God, she looked so much like him. “Sweetheart, sometimes people just change. We don’t know why your father did what he did, but I can tell you now that he loves you both very much. So do I. So does your mother.” 

“Really?” “Absolutely. We love you dearly.” He smiled. “I tell you what. Since tomorrow is Saturday, why don’t you and your brother come to talk with me? I’ll tell you what I can.” She nodded. “I would like that. I’ll have to drag Sebastian along, though. Oh! Quidditch practice is tonight! I wanted to watch.” “Oh, I see. Mind if I come along?” Sabrina beamed, moving back to look at him. “Of course! I mean you can come. Not that I mind you coming.” He laughed, standing to adjust his jacket. He looked to the Great Hall, then back to her. “I understood, love. Dinner is almost finished, but I’ll walk you to the dormitories if you like, or you can wait for your friends.” She thought of Maisy. “No, I want you to. Please.” She stood, starting for the staircase, and Remus followed behind her. 

⸻[Bonus]⸻

They continued up the staircase until a thought came to Remus. It made him laugh, but he had to keep his composure.

“As a professor, I am obligated to ask. Do you know anything about the third floor’s bathroom soap being switched with frog spawn soap? Both bathrooms. Every piece of soap.” “I do not.” She snorts. “Frog soap.”

#harry potter oc #harry potter fic #remus lupin #Sirius Black #minerva mcgonagall #sebastian leveret #sabrina leveret #remus x sirius #remus x oc x sirius #dad remus lupin #hogwarts #angst #fanfiction

[moominpapasfanficblog]

Snork Maiden Vs. Moomintroll The Terrible

On repairing broken relationships

Every Spring for two years, the first priority of the inhabitants of Moominvalley was to prepare for the inevitable arrival of the dreaded pirate captain Moomintroll The Terrible and his crew of criminals in their ship, The Scarlet Moomin. Every beast in the valley knew that they had to surrender half of their Winter stores to the pirates in order to be left in peace. This annual humiliation was particularly painful for the Moomin family, as they felt guilty about Moomintroll turning to a life of crime.

Snork Maiden and Snufkin felt particularly responsible. Moomintroll’s radical decision had completely blindsided them. Snufkin had panicked immediately after confessing his love for Moomintroll on the night of the October supermoon of the year when they both turned eighteen. He had run away after freaking out and yelling at Moomintroll, angrily telling him not to come near him anymore. When Moomintroll returned to Moominhouse in despair and explained everything to Snork Maiden and Moominmama through his overflowing tears, Snork Maiden’s reflexive jealousy got the better of her. She immediately bombarded him with cruel, angry insults.

Moominmama did her best to comfort Moomintroll, but he overreacted and swore that he would prove himself to all of them and make them all regret underestimating him. He packed up his camping gear in his backpack and stormed off towards the wilderness. Before anyone could organize themselves to go after him, Moominvalley was hit with a massive early Winter storm. Moominmama, Moominpapa, and Snork Maiden had no choice but to enter hibernation and hope for the best.

The following Spring, the three of them immediately began searching for Moomintroll. The first place that they went to was the big cave on the beach. To their astonishment a much larger cave at the far edge of the beach had been opened up by that storm at the beginning of Winter. When they explored the flooded cave in The Adventure there was every sign that Moomintroll had spent the Winter there and had made it through readily. What was more, he had rebuilt an ancient, large wooden dock and there was a considerable amount of wooden planks, several buckets of dried up handmade red paint, and a large cauldron of solidified tar hung over a long dead fire all neatly organized at the top of the dock.

“How did he do all of this by himself!”, exclaimed Snork Maiden in astonishment, “I realize that he had four months, but there was clearly a ship here, a very large one! He can’t have built it from scratch!”

“He didn’t.”, said Moominpapa solomnly, “I’ve only just realized that we forgot to check on Little My before we went into hibernation, and we haven’t seen her since we woke up. Between the two of them, they could achieve anything.”

It was at this moment that Snufkin arrived in Mr. Hemulen’s rowboat and docked it nearby. He was obviously highly agitated.

“So this is how Moomintroll spent the Winter! I…I can’t believe it! Actually, I can….He was certainly angry enough at me to go this far. Any sign of him?”, said Snufkin.

“I…I’m afraid that I only made things worse, Snufkin. I got jealous when he told us what happened between the two of you and said terrible things to him. He ran away and then there was a terrible storm and we went into hibernation because we had no choice.”, said Snork Maiden apologetically. “He could be anywhere in the world now. He swore that he would prove himself to all of us, so I’m sure he’ll be back in Moominvalley soon. We both love him in the same way, and I know now that we’ll both lose him if I try to keep him for myself. Oh, Snufkin, we have to get him back with us somehow!”

“I spent all Winter wandering aimlessly, gathering the courage to come back to Moominvalley and apologize to Moomintroll and all of you, you especially Snork Maiden. You’re right, he will be back. We just have to wait…and hope for the best.”, said Snufkin.

They didn’t have to wait very long. As soon as the weather turned warm and pleasant in early April, Moomintroll did return, but he had changed more radically than they could have imagined. Getting him back would take a long time and prove to be one of the greatest challenges they had ever faced.

To Be Continued

#moomin fanfiction #moomin #moominvalley #snufmin #moomintroll #snork maiden #snufkin